Category: General Fiction/Literature Page 13 of 49

Well, This is Awkward…

After watching the movie last week, I’d planned on watching the BBC Series to post tonight and then wrapping things up next week, but apparently that’s not available in the US. So, here we are, a mere 48 posts since the beginning to look back on this series.

What Did I think About Reading the Book This Way?

Back in December, Lashaan asked, “What’s it like so far to go through this at this pace/in little bits and pieces? Are you able to appreciate it as much as you’d like?” That was a good question then, still is.

I don’t know, really. It would have been better had my life not got strange, inserting a two-month break, for sure. Since I had tried this a few times before and had got distracted or ran out of steam partway through, this definitely helped me avoid that.

On the other hand, there are a few events and people I had to spend time looking up toward the end of the book when they were brought up again to make sure I remembered them correctly (or at all), and that wouldn’t have been necessary had I read all of this back in Jan. 2020.

I can make the argument to myself either way looking back on it, good idea or bad. I don’t see myself re-reading it this way, though.

How Would I Summarize The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling?

This is the story of a boy abandoned by his mother at the home of a wealthy benefactor who raised him as his own. He great into a generous, fun-loving, and not-incredibly disciplined young man. Tom was led by his heart (or other parts of his anatomy), not common sense or logic—for audiences in the 18th Century, I imagine that struck different chords than it does for us in the 21st. He does many rash, reckless, and foolhardy things, but rarely for personal gain. After losing his father figure and home, he’s aimless until he sees the chance to win back the favor of his first love, and pursues that single-mindedly as long he can—ultimately prevailing there, while also helping friends old and new along the way.

Sophia, that love of Tom’s life, is a fascinating character00headstrong and determined. She’s at once a submissive daughter and a defiant one. She’ll placate her father and aunt as often as she can, but she will not roll over and acquiesce on the important issues (for example, who to marry). Again, something that probably strikes contemporary audiences differently than Fielding’s. I don’t know if I’ll ever find an author so obviously in love with one of his characters as Fielding is with her.

There are other characters, other story arcs of note in the novel. But at the core, this novel is about those two, the rest is just window dressing.

Would I Read This Again?

Oh, absolutely. I plan on re-visiting this in a few years. Although I’ll probably get an ebook or paperback. As much as I like this hardcover, it’s heavy and inconvenient to hold.

So, In the End, Did I Like the Book?

I did. I don’t think it’s exactly what I anticipated (I blame Tony Richardson and John Osborne for that). I’m a big fan of Fielding’s narrative voice and love the way that he’d spend a chapter opining about whatever at the beginning of each Book.

I question his approach in the last book—and don’t know if I’ll ever accept it. But I do realize he trimmed at least 200 pages off of the book by taking that approach.

I honestly don’t know if I can sum up in a paragraph or two (now that I’m at the point where I need to) just what I think of the book—there was some great romance, some cringe-worthy dialogue, some fun dialogue, a lot of interesting characters that showed up for a page or two—and better ones we spent most of the book with.

I laughed, I chuckled, I rolled my eyes, I grew to appreciate some hard-to-like characters I got a little anxious, and sometimes annoyed—I even got a little bored—but I always wanted to come back to it, to see what Fielding had up his sleeve. And I was generally rewarded for that. It’s a good read and one I’m glad I finally persevered through.

After the hopeful note that we ended on last week, everything goes to pieces in the last two chapters—Mrs. Miller’s daughter/Nightingale’s wife dies in childbirth; Sophia can’t get over everything that Tom put her through, and dies lonely and miserable; Tom joins the Navy and dies of scurvy somewhere around Australia; Partridge becomes a successful playwright, Allworthy drinks himself to death, and Blifil becomes Prime Minister.

Okay, no. That’s not even close to it. Instead, we get something akin to Wayne’s World‘s “Mega Happy Ending.”

We start with Allworthy and Tom going to call on Sophia with her Father. Straight away Allworthy and Western leave the two alone. It takes the two a while to start speaking, eventually, Sophia breaks the silence and calls him most fortunate thanks to being freed. Tom rejects that, saying he can’t be fortunate as long as she’s upset. The ice broken, words start flowing.

Tom ensures she understands what happened with that letter—she gets it, but wants him to prove his devotion. But, she assures him,

You will now want no opportunity of being near me, and convincing me that your mind is altered too.

He wants to know how long it’ll take, she guesses maybe a year (but implies it might take longer). He calls that an eternity. She tells him to back off and not pressure her, and he does so and insists he will keep not pressuring her.

Which leads the two of them to kiss. Naturally, that’s when Western comes back in. He’s overjoyed to see this and asks when they’ll get married. Tom tries to get him to stop this, but Sophia overrides that. She’s an obedient daughter, she says—what does her father want her to do? Marry Tom the next day? Well, okay.

Tom’s stunned, Western demands Allworthy’s presence. Allworthy makes sure that she feels no constraint and then gives his blessing. The four of them go off to meet with NIghtingale and his father, but Sophia wants to keep the engagement quiet.

NIghtingale’s father and uncle trade war stories about their offspring’s impetuous and ill-advised marriage? Allworthy’s counsel works its magic and the two fathers accept the new spouses. The next day Sophia and Tom are married in a small, private ceremony.

And just like that,

Thus, reader, we have at length brought our history to a conclusion, in which, to our great pleasure, though contrary, perhaps, to thy expectation, Mr Jones appears to be the happiest of all humankind; for what happiness this world affords equal to the possession of such a woman as Sophia, I sincerely own I have never yet discovered.

But Fielding doesn’t leave us like that—like in those movies that at the end give you a freeze-frame of a character or two with a chyron summing up the rest of their life in a sentence or three, Fielding tells us what happens to the major characters—Blifil never sees his uncle again, becomes a Methodist (so he can court a woman) and plans on buying a seat in Parliament; Partridge marries good old Molly Seagrim and opens another school; Western becomes a doting grandfather to his two grandchildren (particularly his granddaughter); and so on.

Whatever in the nature of Jones had a tendency to vice, has been corrected by continual conversation with [Allworthy], and by his union with the lovely and virtuous Sophia. He hath also, by reflection on his past follies, acquired a discretion and prudence very uncommon in one of his lively parts.

To conclude, as there are not to be found a worthier man and woman, than this fond couple, so neither can any be imagined more happy. They preserve the purest and tenderest affection for each other, an affection daily encreased and confirmed by mutual endearments and mutual esteem. Nor is their conduct towards their relations and friends less amiable than towards one another. And such is their condescension, their indulgence, and their beneficence to those below them, that there is not a neighbour, a tenant, or a servant, who doth not most gratefully bless the day when Mr Jones was married to his Sophia.

So, that’s that. The ending—all of Book 18—felt rushed. But I’m not sure I could’ve taken much more. After all this, it was really just a simple story about an unlikely guy getting the girl—with a lot of insane twists, turns, and hoops to jump through along the way.

I should have more to say. And probably will soon. I’m not quite done with this series yet—see you next week.

Last week we learned everything except who killed JR and what is the Colonel’s secret blend of herbs and spices. This week we see what happens after the beans are spilled (and learn a thing or two in addition).

Mrs. Waters has one more bit of commendation for Tom, telling Allworthy:

…it was then I accidentally met with Mr Jones, who rescued me from the hands of a villain. Indeed, he is the worthiest of men. No young gentleman of his age is, I believe, freer from vice, and few have the twentieth part of his virtues; nay, whatever vices he hath had, I am firmly persuaded he hath now taken a resolution to abandon them.

The attorney, Mr. Downey comes along at this point and Allwrothy gets him to spill the beans—why did he approach Mrs. Waters, who put him up to that, who put him up to getting the support of witnesses for the prosecution. He even gets Downey to admit that he knew Tom was Allworthy’s nephew, he’d told Blifil and had given Blifil a letter from his mother to Allworthy about it. Not surprisingly, Blifil neglected to pass along the messages. Which pretty much seals both of their fates in Allworthy’s eyes.

Western pops in, beside himself about this letter he’s found from Tom to Sophia—the most recent one. He wants these shenanigans finished and has locked her up again. Allworthy talks him down from that, promising to go talk to Sophia that day.

Mrs. Miller’s worried about what horrible things Mrs. Waters told Allworthy, and tries to defend Tom. Instead, Allworthy tells her what he’s been learning, closing with

O! Mrs Miller, you have a thousand times heard me call the young man to whom you are so faithful a friend, my son. Little did I then think he was indeed related to me at all.—Your friend, madam, is my nephew; he is the brother of that wicked viper which I have so long nourished in my bosom….Indeed, Mrs Miller, I am convinced that he hath been wronged, and that I have been abused; abused by one whom you too justly suspected of being a villain. He is, in truth, the worst of villains.

As he leaves to go talk to Sophia, Allworthy says something to his younger nephew about the letter from his mother, leaving “Blifil in a situation to be envied only by a man who is just going to be hanged.” While on the road, Allworthy reads the letter from Jones to Sophia, starts to understand what Tom feels about her, and gets choked up by some of what he reads about himself from Tom’s hand.

When he talks to Sophia, he spends a lot of time showing her that he’s on her side when it comes to Blifil.

I heartily congratulate you on your prudent foresight, since by so justifiable a resistance you have avoided misery indeed!

The scales are truly fallen from his eyes.

If I had married Mr Blifil—” “Pardon my interrupting you, madam,” answered Allworthy, “but I cannot bear the supposition.—Believe me, Miss Western, I rejoice from my heart, I rejoice in your escape.—I have discovered the wretch for whom you have suffered all this cruel violence from your father to be a villain.” “How, sir!” cries Sophia—“you must believe this surprizes me.”—“It hath surprized me, madam,” answered Allworthy, “and so it will the world.

This is so fun to watch Allwrothy catch up with the reader and narrator on this front.

Allworthy then goes on to try to convince Sophia to give Tom another chance—and tells her everything he learned about him that day. Sophia remains unmoved, however. I mean really unmoved.

At present there is not a man upon earth whom I would more resolutely reject than Mr Jones; nor would the addresses of Mr Blifil himself be less agreeable to me.

Things look dire for the two of them.

Squire Western, on the other hand, has a complete change of heart regarding Tom. He’s 100% Team Tom now.

After Allworthy gets back to Mrs. Miller’s, he sees that Tom is, too, and they meet again.

It is impossible to conceive a more tender or moving scene than the meeting between the uncle and nephew (for Mrs Waters, as the reader may well suppose, had at her last visit discovered to him the secret of his birth). The first agonies of joy which were felt on both sides are indeed beyond my power to describe: I shall not therefore attempt it.

A lot of flowery language flows between the two as they apologize to each other and take all the responsibility and blame for their recent problems on themselves.

Mrs. Miller tells Tom how she tried to explain things to Sophia who would not listen. Western comes in, assures Tom he’s very supportive of him now, all is good between the two of them.

The conversation which now ensued was pleasant enough; and with which, had it happened earlier in our history, we would have entertained our reader; but as we have now leisure only to attend to what is very material, it shall suffice to say that matters being entirely adjusted as to the afternoon visit Mr Western again returned home.

If that’s not enough, we get to learn the details of Tom’s release. Fitzgerald realizes that he was completely in the wrong about Tom and seeks to make amends, and gets Lord Fellamar on board, he wants to make things up to Tom, too!

Things continue to not go well for Tom’s younger brother:

…a message was brought from Mr Blifil, desiring to know if his uncle was at leisure that he might wait upon him. Allworthy started and turned pale, and then in a more passionate tone than I believe he had ever used before, bid the servant tell Blifil he knew him not. “Consider, dear sir,” cries Jones, in a trembling voice. “I have considered,” answered Allworthy, “and you yourself shall carry my message to the villain. No one can carry him the sentence of his own ruin so properly as the man whose ruin he hath so villanously contrived.” “Pardon me, dear sir,” said Jones; “a moment’s reflection will, I am sure, convince you of the contrary. What might perhaps be but justice from another tongue, would from mine be insult; and to whom?—my own brother and your nephew. Nor did he use me so barbarously—indeed, that would have been more inexcusable than anything he hath done.

Tom not only melts his Uncle’s heart with these words but lives up to them.

He goes to see his brother who is despondent—not that he’s treated Allworthy and Tom so poorly, but that it’s all falling apart. Tom encourages him that he’ll try to work things out with Allworthy, but in the meantime, Blifil needs to get his act together and take this like a man. Tom promises to treat him as a brother and to try to let bygones be bygones.

That’s a lot of stuff for four chapters of this book—and I didn’t get as detailed as I was tempted to. It doesn’t have the style (outside of a sentence or two scattered throughout) as the rest of the novel, but man, it’s fun to read now that everything is coming to light.

Next week, we finish the novel. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to wrap things up, but I have a pretty good idea how Fielding will. Guess we’ll see.

We’re in the last book, nearing the end of the novel and therefore ehhhhhh-verything is going to be revealed. And things at Mrs. Miller’s are busy for Squire Allworthy this day.

Square, who the reader may remember as the less-religious tutor for Tom and Blifil is dying, and has got real religion. Now has been driven to confess to everyone he can think of to clear his conscience and hopefully make things right.

As part of this effort, he sends a letter to Allworthy, in part, he states:

Believe me, my friend, this young man hath the noblest generosity of heart, the most perfect capacity for friendship, the highest integrity, and indeed every virtue which can ennoble a man. He hath some faults, but among them is not to be numbered the least want of duty or gratitude towards you. On the contrary, I am satisfied, when you dismissed him from your house, his heart bled for you more than for himself.

Allworthy also gets a letter from Thwackum, having heard of the murder accusation, who goes on and on about Tom’s villainy—and tries to get Allworthy’s support for a job. Allworthy’s a little shaken by this, but not that much.

But wait, there’s more.

We then discover that Allworthy’s lawyer, Dowling, was one of the men Nightingale talked to at the alehouse when he got the truth from Fellamar’s goons about the attempt to press him into the Navy via this trumped-up charge. Nightingale assumed Dowling was there, like he was, to gather information to help Tom. Allworthy is stunned by this news. Blifil explains it away—over the outspoken skepticism of Mrs. Miller.

Patridge stops by right then to update Mrs. Miller, but Allworthy corners him and

asked him many questions concerning Jones, as to his health, and other matters; to all which Partridge answered, without having the least regard to what was, but considered only what he would have things appear; for a strict adherence to truth was not among the articles of this honest fellow’s morality or his religion.

Allworthy then gets everyone to leave and speaks frankly with Partridge, accusing him of being Tom’s father. Partridge denies it, ” he was no more the father of Jones than of the Pope of Rome”. It’s at this point that Mrs. Waters shows up, and things get really interesting.

Also, it should be noted that by now, that anything that Mr. Square has said has quite been forgotten.

Partridge calls on Mrs. Waters to be a witness—if anyone can state definitively that he’s not the father, it has to be the mother, right? But, no. She flat out states that’s not the case (which will greatly relieve Tom, I’m sure)

I’m not really going to try to summarize what says:

“I am not his mother; nor would I now think myself so for the world….So far what I confest,” said she, “was true, that these hands conveyed the infant to your bed; conveyed it thither at the command of its mother; at her commands I afterwards owned it, and thought myself, by her generosity, nobly rewarded, both for my secrecy and my shame.” “Who could this woman be?” said Allworthy. “Indeed, I tremble to name her,” answered Mrs Waters. “By all this preparation I am to guess that she was a relation of mine,” cried he. “Indeed she was a near one.” At which words Allworthy started, and she continued—“You had a sister, sir.” “A sister!” repeated he, looking aghast.—“As there is truth in heaven,” cries she, “your sister was the mother of that child you found between your sheets.” “Can it be possible?” cries he, “Good heavens!” “Have patience, sir,” said Mrs Waters…all suspicions were afterwards laid asleep by the artful conduct of your sister, in pretending ill-will to the boy, and that any regard she shewed him was out of meer complacence to you.”

The hits keep coming. The reason she showed up wasn’t to drop that bomb on everyone, but this—she’s been approached by someone thinking she was Mrs. Fitzgerald. As such, she might be interested in someone coming along to give financial aid for the prosecution of Tom. Who was this less-than-scrupulous man?

Mr. Dowling, of course. Things are not looking good for him.

This section really goes with Fielding’s promise to not give us a whole lot of fancy writing or anything with flair anymore—just the events. That’s all we got. Nothing clever, just a lot of exposition. And a lot of things to chew on. I really miss the flavor of the previous 17 books, but if he’d kept that up, Fielding would’ve taken at least 7 or 8 chapters to give us as much exposition as he did in these four.