Evelina

Evelina or the History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World isn’t the book that’s going to pull me out of my reading slump.  I think that’s the first thing to say about Frances Burney’s book.  It’s a Eighteenth Century sentimental novel (i.e. romantic drama) that clearly influenced Jane Austen in spades.  The problem is; Jane Austen so far exceeds Burney’s talent that Evelina becomes a bit of a drag to read. 

Burney’s book tells the story of country girl Evelina who is, naturally, not really a simple country girl but the beautiful daughter of a very rich and important man who, despite her unquestionable legitimacy, refuses to acknowledge Evelina as his child.  Intent on keeping Evelina away from the influence of her long absent grandmother, to stay with old friends of her guardian, Reverend Villars.  Of course, these old friends do anything but keep her out of trouble and drag her to the bright lights of London, along with its dances, operas, ballets and numerous suitors.  400-pages, one boringly obvious pantomime villain and an engagement to the utterly dishy and morally irreproachable (not to mention stinking rich) Lord Orville later, Evelina’s father is finally ready to accept her as a daughter.  There’s some nonsense side plot about a half-brother with pseudo-incestuous intentions too.  But it all ends in a wedding, that’s how you know it’s a comedy.

As I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t wild about the book and part of that is because of the style.   It’s an epistolary novel but the main body of it consists of long run on letters from Evelina to Reverend Villars.  The shear length and volume of Evelina’s writing makes the style null and void; it may as well just be a first person narrative.  It’s really frustrating because I wanted it to be like Les Liaisons Dangereuses which uses the epistolary form to such incredible effect and only came four years later than Burney’s book.  But whereas Pierre Choderlos de Laclos uses the style to switch between characters’ views and show the duplicity of the Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont, Burney only gives her main character a voice.  The fact that most of the letters are to the same person means that not even the tone varies greatly.  It’s such a wasted opportunity.

Evelina herself is also pretty dull.  We’re forced to be in her company and listen to her idle thoughts for so bloody long and they are so boring.  Aside from a few incredibly bitchy moments (“I fear you will think this London journey has made me grow very proud, but indeed this family is so low-bred and vulgar, that I should be equally ashamed of such a connexion in the country, or anywhere.”)  This is her own family she’s talking about.  Mostly, though, Evelina spends her time mooning over Lord Orville and being disgustingly nice and proper towards just everyone.  She needs to transgress a bit.  It’d make her far more interesting.

Evelina in itself is not a bad book.  It’s not wonderful, by any means, but it is not dreadful.  If I were less familiar with Austen or if I hadn’t read Les Liaisons Dangereuses, I would have liked it better.  Burney is similar to both, but comes up short in comparison.  Evelina simply doesn’t have the gumption of Lizzy Bennett and no-one writes a letter like the Marquise de Merteuil.  It’s a book full of potential ruined by its protagonist.  Burney has these flashes of brilliance, but the whole book feels too much like missed chance.  I can see a brilliant book in there, but it gets lost in all the small mistakes Burney makes.

My next read is spy novel Cause For Alarm by Eric Ambler.