In her essay, “New Fields,
Conventional Habits, and the Legacy of Atlantic Double-Cross,” Amanda Claybaugh argues that the traditional
categorization of literature limits the possibilities for interpretation of
it. She focuses on “the unthinking
resort to the nation as the organizing principle for both our scholarship and
our teaching” and marks Robert Weisbuch’s Atlantic Double-Cross as “authorizing”
the writing of more inclusive trans-Atlantic criticism and marking trans-Alanticism
as “a legitimate field” (443, 442). Similarly, in order to mark Mary Elizabeth
Braddon’s Lady Audley’s Secret as
a legitimate text and lay down the parameters for the interpretation of it,
nineteenth-century critics of the novel were quick to pigeonhole it in the
niche of sensation—a popular, low-brow location. This categorization of the
novel seems to insist that the narrative be read in a certain way, with certain
expectations. The urge to strong-arm the text into a clearly-defined space with
clearly-defined meanings appears in the guise of Robert Audley, the text’s
detective of sensational behavior. Throughout the narrative his character
points the reader towards meaning, discovering and deciphering significance to
curb unintended interpretation. Robert insistently directs reading of the novel
in a palpable way that suggests that Braddon may have had concerns that her
narrative was bleeding into unplanned social territory so that the novel itself
was becoming less and less easy to categorize.
This concern may have been a
monetary one—Braddon was a professional writer and it was important that her
novels were easily marketed and sold well. Controlling narrative also became a
concern because the novel was published serially, and as is the case in many of
Charles Dickens’ serialized novels, inconsistencies became more likely the
longer a text was worked on. However, I would suggest that this novel’s
insistence on categorization and conscious direction of reading exposes a
discomfort with the efficacy of the possible approaches to this text.
The possibility of the textual
movement between genres is suggested by the narrator’s suggestively ambivalent
description of subversive and acceptable behavior. Braddon’s narrator relishes
transgression and delights in the lurid details of Lady Audley’s fiendish
pre-Raphaelite portrait, her seductive and ornate appearance, and her
preternatural coolness as she commits necessary crimes with the “cunning of
madness” and the “prudence of intelligence” (Braddon 385). Furthermore, Lady
Audley becomes more sympathetic because her crimes are rendered as victimless
(she unsuccessfully tries to murder people, she commits bigamy inadvertently,
she abandons her son by leaving him with family) and clearly motivated by
unfair social practices. In contrast, the narrator’s rendering of Robert, while
suggesting that he is the hero of the text, is luke-warm in its description of
this “lazy, care-for-nothing fellow” whose scientific gathering of clues is
merely the antidote to his transient but transgressive “unqualified admiration”
of his new aunt (Braddon 71, 121).
This text does not combine “new
approaches with new objects of study” since there is nothing really new in the
events of the novel, its innovation lies in the way events are written about
and the resulting multiplicity of potential readings. Like Claybaugh’s
trans-Atlanticism, Lady Audley’s Secret
reorganizes “our existing objects of study in new ways” by challenging
categorization through an ambiguous narratorial voice and the sympathetic
depiction of socially deviant behavior (Claybaugh 445). Though the category and
plot of the text directs the reader to hope for the exposure of unacceptable
behavior, the tone of the narrator suggests a slippage between the meaning and execution
of the text that is suggestively open to and inclusive of meaning. The
sensation of this novel becomes one of discomfort in the lack of a fixed
approach to interpreting the text, rather than a reaction to the events of the
text itself. The construction of Braddon’s novel both resists and suggests
Claybaugh’s larger argument that category’s artificiality ignores the fluidity
of influence and the interdisciplinary reality in which all texts are both
engineered and understood.
Jennifer, the more you write about Lady Audley's Secret the more I feel like I have to read it immediately. I think your examination of the narrative "slippage" in this novel and its precarious position within its designated niche is really effective here. But though Claybaugh's ideas transfer fairly easily, I'm not sure that citing her adds anything your analysis. The general concept of trouble with categories is so important here, but I guess I feel like it's too general to belong to Claybaugh in particular, and as a result the fact that her article is specific to academic fields seems to stand out and her inclusion in your piece reads as a little superfluous.
ReplyDeleteI'm feeling worried about being too harsh here, so I want to stress again that I thought your post was fascinating and your larger argument really well-executed. It just seems like you don't really need Claybaugh to do what you're doing so well.
The ambiguity of categorization as being linked to a process of organization seems to be both an intriguing and productive way to think about _Lady Audley's Secret_. I haven't read the book, but it appears that thinking about "the narrator's suggestively ambivalent description of subversive and acceptable behavior" as a way to reorganize discursive structure secures a foothold in better understanding how we encounter the text. It makes me consider how this analysis may inform an account of the way in which our own conceptual structures may undergo reorganization.
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