Customer Reviews

Tess of the D'Urbervilles

5 star:		(194)
4 star:		(50)
3 star:		(21)
2 star:		(17)
1 star:		(28)

 

 

I was looking for another edition of TESS and couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the "average customer rating" was only three stars. So I'm taking a moment to correct the balance.

TESS OF THE D'URBERVILLES must be as close to a perfect novel as anyone has written in English. It is a genuine tragedy with a girl/woman as tragic hero. It is about life on earth in a way that transcends mere sociology. It has the grandeur of Milton but concerns itself with the lives of mortal beings on earth, as much with sex as with dirt, blood, milk, dung, animal and vegetative energies. It concerns itself with only essential things the way the Bible does. It is almost a dark rendering of the Beatitudes.

The story is built with such care and such genius that every incident, every paragraph, reverberates throughout the whole structure. Surely Hardy had an angel on his shoulder when he conceived and composed this work. Yet it was considered so immoral in its time that he had to bowdlerize his own creation in order to get it published, at first. Victorian readers were not prepared for the truth of the lives of ordinary women, or for a great many truths about themselves that Hardy presents.

The use of British history as a hall of mirrors and the jawdropping detail of the landscape of "Wessex" make it the Great English Novel in the way we sometimes refer to MOBY DICK as the Great American Novel, though the works don't otherwise bear comparison. Melville's great white whale is a far punier creation.

Hardy's style is like no one else's. It is not snappy, as Dickens can be. It is not fluid and elegant, like George Eliot's. It can feel labored and awkward and more archaic than either. It has no journalistic flavor, but is painfully pure and deliberate and dense, echoing Homer or the language of the Old Testament rather than anything we think of as "modern." Don't start with TESS but with FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD, another very beautiful book, where Hardy is at his loosest and wittiest. Once you have the key to his style, then pick up a good edition of TESS with notes, e.g. Penguin, so you get the full richness of all the literary allusions. Hardy's lowly shepherds and farmhands move and breathe in a very ancient literary atmosphere. The effect is not pretentious but timeless.

There is wisdom, poetry and majesty here. Tess stumbling through the dark and taking her last rest at Stonehenge will send chills up your spine like no other reading experience. I wonder if anyone can know why there are novels, why we care about them, or what they are capable of, without reading this one.

Recently, my brother and I were discussing the "poverty penalty," the concept that the poor pay more for what they must buy because they have no bargaining power to invite competition, which drives down prices. This is obviously not a new phenomenon, because poor Tess Durbeyfield pays quite a poverty penalty through the course of Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy.

This is the first novel of Hardy's I have read, but I chose it after reading "What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew" by Daniel Pool, a fabulous book about 18th century daily life.

Hardy's title, as quickly becomes evident, is tongue-in-cheek (he is author of my favorite title of a book, Jude the Obscure, which I haven't yet read) is ironic and mocking. Tess, the lovely and somewhat educated daughter of a cottager in Hardy's British district of Wessex, has the last name of Durbeyfield, but in the first pages of the book, her father, the ne'er-do-well, learns that he is descended from Norman aristocracy, the D'Urbervilles, and there aren't many of them left, except his clan, as the local reverend informs him. He instantly thinks himself very grand and takes it as an excuse to go carousing, which causes Tess and one of her many younger siblings to have to make an early morning journey with the horse for the family's means of making money. Sleeping on the journey, Tess wakes to find the horse impaled in a wreck and killed. Feeling guilty, she agrees to be sent as a poor relation to the Stoke-D'Urbervilles to seek assistance of some kind. (They are "new money" and have bought the name "D'Urberville" to build position for themselves, so they are actually no relation.)

There she encounters Alec D'Urberville, who pursues her vigorously, though she repeatedly eschews his attentions. She takes a job for his mother, watching her fowl, but one evening, separated from her friends in the village on the way home from a Saturday night out in the village, Alec stops accepting no for an answer.

Later she falls in mutual love with a gentleman (the son of a minister) who has rejected the pulpit himself in favor of learning the trade of dairy farming so that he may run his own farm some day. Angel Clare does fall in love with Tess, but at the same time, he doesn't seem to really know her, or want to... he thinks of her as a pure country maid, and has no idea about her past. When she tries to tell him, he shushes her, thinking he knows all about her. When she finally confides in him after the marriage, the results are disastrous and Tess is once again dealing with harsh reality.

I won't recount the rest of the story, but it's clear that the bourgeois (Alec) and the gentry (Angel) have a great deal to do with the pain and hardship of Tess's life; they inflict the poverty penalty on her. The idea of the fluidity of the aristocracy in the 18th century -- Tess is descended from them, but has no rights thereof, Alec has taken the name due to his money, and Angel has rejected the career of his familial role in favor of farming whilst entertaining a very aristocratic (and inaccurate) view of the "peasantry" -- is prominent in the novel, with Tess's inability to care for herself and fulfill her perceived familial goals without resorting to asking for help from those who don't have her bloodline at all. The town of Kingsbere, where Tess's ancestors are said to be buried, figures somewhat in the novel, and one cannot help but think that this symbolizes their use to her as being just as dead as they are.

There are some motifs of paganism in the book... Tess meets Angel for the first time at a May dance, a pagan rite, and she has another climactic plot moment at Stonehenge toward the end of the book. Angel himself seems to reject his father's Christian teachings, and the beliefs of Tess and her society are often deemed superstitious or quaint and encompassing of pagan belief systems. Tess often wishes to be free of her life of burdens, and who can blame her? She didn't cause the horse's death that plunged her into this chain of events, and yet she is punished and punished and punished.

Hardy's writing is beautiful and engaging. The book, though long, seems to quickly move from event to event, and the author's descriptions are enlightening and complete. I really liked this book and look forward to reading more by Hardy.

Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles is one of the best stories I've ever read. Its characters, especially Tess herself, are so alive and memorable that they stay in your mind long after you've finished the book. That being said, though, it's also not a novel for the casual reader. This book is so thought-provoking and, ultimately, heartbraking that it can't be easily forgotten, and will more than likely leave you with an overwhelming sadness for a long time afterward. I read a lot, and material with very different subject matters, so I'm not being melodramatic when I say that this book left me extremely choked up, and almost on the verge of tears. For a guy in his mid-20's who never gets emotional, I think that's saying quite a lot. It certainly left me with a lot of respect for the author. The reader comes to care so much about Tess, and agonize over the way her life turns out, that it becomes almost unbearable at times. For a fictional tale to have that effect on a person is quite incredible. Difficult or not, anyone who is interested in reading a brilliant and moving story that deserves to be called a classic should read Tess of the D'Urbervilles.

When Thomas Hardy first had "Tess of the D'Ubervilles" published in 1891, the controversy that surrounded it ensured for him financial security and status as one of the most popular authors of the time. The novel's scandal was concerned with the plot itself, in which an innocent young maid is seduced by an aristocratic cad, and pays for such an indiscretion with everything she holds dear in her life. In Hardy's journal (as recounted in Margaret Higonnet's introduction in this edition) he records that one of the Duchess of Abercorn's dinner parties ended in an argument between those who believed that Tess deserved her fate, and those that sympathized with her plight. However, by today's standards (in which premarital sex barely registers an eye-blink) one can't help but wonder if such a novel is relevant anymore.

I'm going to argue, that yes, of course it is - if not simply to illustrate how lucky we are to no longer live in a world where a woman can be utterly destroyed through the hypocrisy of the society she lives in. However, there's considerably more to it than that, particularly as the remnants of this ideology remain to this day; and since one of the central themes of the novel is the negative effect of past traditions on the present, this bears keeping in mind.

Tess Durbeyfield is a simple country lass, easily manipulated and with a limited education, but with a keen intelligence and insight into human nature. However, when her foolish father is casually told by the village minister that he is the offshoot of a once-noble family, Tess is thrown into her parent's ambition mechanizations. Made to leave her home and younger siblings, Tess begins work tending chickens at a relative's house whilst attempting to ward off the unwelcome attentions of her devious cousin Alec D'Uberville. However, her resolve slips one night when she is alone with Alec, lost and (as the text suggests) intoxicated, and he takes full advantage of her vulnerability.

Having borne his child and lost it soon after (all without Alec's knowledge) Tess seeks employment elsewhere, and finds a sense of peace and security as a milkmaid in a neighboring village. That is, until she meets the parson's son Angel Clare, a very different kind of man from Alec D'Uberville. Falling in love, (along with every other girl on the farm!) Tess finds herself in a new moral crisis. Should she reveal her secret to Angel? Would he accept her if he knew? Her family (not to mention her common sense) warn her to keep her mouth shut, but can any relationship last if it is based on a lie? Shouldn't she have faith in Angel's testimonies of love to her?

However, you've probably already guessed that the story doesn't have a happy ending, and this is a tragedy in the old grand tradition. When young Tess is seduced by a man her fate is sealed. She is a fallen woman, carrying the shame of her indiscretions throughout the rest of her life. However, the novel is remarkable because of Hardy's ability to find light amongst all the grimness. In the depths of Tess's drudgery and despair, we feel her moments of tranquility and appreciation of the beauty that surround her. Likewise, in moments of joy and peace, there is the underlying dread of the secret threatening to rare its ugly head. The emotions stirred in reading this novel are relentless - not to put anyone off from reading this novel, but I was in a constant state of agitation and discomfort in reading; that's how vivid the circumstances of the novel were. I mean that as a good thing of course; books these days are like movies - you sit, you watch, you more often than not feel nothing. But I was truly moved by "Tess of the D'Ubervilles" and her story; and I can't remember the last time I became so invested in a character and her happiness. Despite the pain it brought me in reading it, "Tess of the D'Ubervilles" was worth every agonizing word.

In many ways this is a feminist novel, and although I would hate to put too modern a spin on it, it is very easy to see that Thomas Hardy's sympathies lie with Tess, writing in a letter: "I lost my heart to her as I went on with her history." It is impossible not to feel a swell of indignation when Alec D'Uberville makes Tess swear not to tempt him anymore (as if his lust for her attractiveness is somehow *her* fault!) and a sense of bitter frustration at Angel Clare's inability to accept Tess's indiscretion, particularly when he himself is guilty of the same crime. When his lofty image of Tess as his pure `child-bride' is taken from him, you can't help but feel he's doing it just as much out of injured pride than any sense of propriety.

But this propriety is all-powerful in the novel; a heavy weight upon Tess that destroys her life. Hardy brings forth the idea that this is indeed a fallen world, but that it is so because of mankind's own structures of tradition and circumstance, rather than any divine ordination or original sin. To be free of some of them is a great release, though there are plenty that remain in this and other cultures around the world. The story is one of endurance; enduring the condemnation of others, the physical trials of manual labour, the suffering of a broken heart, the terror of encroaching death. We cannot control any of these aspects of our lives - all we can do is endure them, as Tess did.

I'm many years out of college and thought I should start reading some more of the classics. Previous favorites of mine have been The Sound and the Fury, Jane Eyre, and Pride and Prejudice. I saw Tess of the D'Urbervilles on my sister's bookshelf and for about a year I considered reading it. Finally, I picked it up and began. Wow! I read it in about three days. I never expected I would feel so much by reading this book. I cried when she baptized Sorrow herself. Her concerns that he be buried in the churchyard and her efforts to ensure he was were touching. I wanted to help Tess Durbeyfield. I thought she was a very complex character--she was sweet and unworldly but she wasn't actually stupid. And she was strong in many ways--for example, her family relied on Tess for so many things--eventually even their support. In fact, I hated her family for not working harder and making their own sacrifices. All the burden was on poor Tess. I also wanted to shake some sense into Angel. He really did wrong by Tess--although he eventually realizes this, it comes too late. The only thing I really did not care for was the sudden inclusion of a minor character (who we met earlier)into the end of the book and the implication that she would play an important role in the future of a major character. I barely knew this minor character and NOBODY could compare to Tess of the D'Urbervilles. If you are reading this to find a good book, ignore the negative reviews by high-school students and buy this book NOW. It's unforgettable.

My 1 star rating is due to the fact that Oxford University Press gives away the plot twists and even the shocker ending in the second paragraph of their Introduction. Most of the fun of reading any novel is trying to find out what will happen next. Oxford spoils this by giving it away at the start (what were they thinking?!!!). If you pick up this edition, just skip the Intro, or read it AFTER the book. Otherwise, Hardy's novel is a great story with insight into noble character. Hardy gets 5 stars, Oxford U Press gets 1.

When I saw the depressing amount of 1-, 2-, and 3-star reviews for this novel, I had to wonder what had gotten into the general populace. Then I read the actual reviews, and realized something. They are reading this for pleasure, yes - but why in the world to people turn to a classic novel for a fast-paced, action-packed story? (Yes, I quote.)

Tess's is a dark tale, a depressing tale, a tale with no perky moments to speak of (seeing as how we all know it'll get that much worse should anything good happen). The language is poetic and ethereal, with descriptions of incredible beauty that I would give anything to have written and an overtone of intense tragedy and ill-fated cruelty. The characters are all conflicted and in turmoil, oppressed by the moral standards of the day, and Tess is likeable, as opposed to Emily Bronte's Catherine Earnshaw, say. I would like to mention that I chose this book to write a ten-page analytical paper on, know it cover-to-cover, and know that it is SO much more meaningfull when one stops to take in the paragraphs that scream, "Pay attention to ME!!!" I would also mention that I am not a college professor. I read this as a high-school freshman, which goes to show that this isn't just a book for the elite.

And in relation to all the readers who feel that Hardy is a bad author? I always believe that people who act as though they can write a classic far better than the author really ought to try their hand at writing a story that will survive the ages as well as Tess. Hardy writes in lyrical prose, in similar style to his poetry, and though I completely understand wanting to read "mind candy", I don't understand expecting books accepted as real literature to do the trick. Maybe try a trashy novel first, and read Tess to cleanse the palate.

This is, ultimately, my favorite novel of all time. Naturally, I have many more to read, but of all those I have tried, I have never read another that so seamlessly combined luminous tragedy, heartwrending romance, and cruel fate in a novel as beautiful as it is painful.

A question that often appears in agony aunt columns relates to the age old dilemma of telling, or not telling, your spouse about an affair with another. Hardy comes down firmly on the side of keeping it quiet. Tess, with excellent intentions, but misguidedly, spills the beans and comes to a sticky end. As her mother says, she is a 'little fool', though a very disingenuous one, to be sure. But there is much more to this book than that.

I first read this book about 40 years ago and have revisited it a few times. It is an immensely powerful, brilliantly written, witty, devastating critique of Victorian morality, religion, and sexual hypocrisy that even today is immensely moving.

If Hardy has a weakness, it is in the plotting of his novels, and you have to admit that perhaps there are one too many coincidences, but this is a small quibble.

This is one of the greatest of all novels. To me it is right up there with Anna Karenina, so I have to give it five stars.

In a certain light, Thomas Hardy's "Tess of the D'Urbervilles" might be seen as a Cinderella story horribly disfigured by a tragic twist. When we first meet the heroine, Tess Durbeyfield, as a poor, hardworking farm girl who has to take care of her five younger siblings and fulfill the responsibilities abandoned by her inebriated father, she seems like a girl destined for greater things: a brilliant career in a more stimulating occupation, a blissful marriage to a wonderful man. But Hardy likes to illustrate fate's capacity for cruelty, and Tess is merely an innocent woman who is seemingly punished for her innocence.

The name Durbeyfield is a vulgarization of d'Urberville, a family with a rich history descended from Norman knights and wealthy landowners, but various misfortunes have reduced the lineage to the commoners who presently inhabit the impoverished Durbeyfield household. (We learn later in the novel that the Durbeyfields are not the only local family to have suffered this appellative fall from grace.) Although the d'Urberville nobility is defunct, in the near past an enterprising businessman named Stoke sought to increase the prestige of his own family by appropriating a distinguished name from the county annals, and d'Urberville is the one he chose. Thus when Tess, to aid her family's finances after an unfortunate accident deprives them of their income, takes a job tending the fowl at the nearby d'Urberville estate, she mistakenly believes she is working for her relations.

This ostensibly minor detail is really the basis of the irony which drives the novel. Had Mr. Stoke been honest and not assumed the name of the Durbeyfields' ancestors, Tess would not have been likely to meet the lecherous, skulking Alec d'Urberville, who rapes her after she rebuffs his attempted seduction and impregnates her with a baby that dies in infancy. Of course Hardy, evading the risk of censorship, is decorous enough to suggest in the subtlest manner possible that the rape happened rather than describe it explicitly, but Alec's immoral behavior is clearly implied.

Mortified, heartbroken, Tess then goes to work as a milkmaid at a dairy farm where she and a young man named Angel Clare, the heartthrob of several of the farm girls, fall in love. Angel has defied his father, a vicar, by spurning a career in the clergy for agriculture and marriage with a middle class girl for Tess. He scoffs at his parents' snobbery, but after marrying Tess, he reveals a disturbing hypocrisy when she confesses to him the vicious treatment she had received from Alec and its consequences. Angel's reaction is far from the gentle sympathy one would expect from the magnanimous personality he projects; he is disgusted that she has been robbed of her purity and draws a strange parallel between her violation and the fall of her family's ancestral prestige. He rejects her, they separate, and once again she is mortified, heartbroken, and looking for a job.

Tess is destined to rencounter both Angel and Alec before the end of the novel, and the changes to their characters not only advance the plot in unexpected ways but further emphasize Hardy's utilization of irony. The starkly contrasted images of the novel's penultimate scene at Stonehenge and the last scene, which takes place outside a prison where a black flag flies announcing an execution, raise the question of whether even Hardy knew when he started exactly how this somber story would end.

The novel contains several recurring Hardy elements. Like most of his major work, it takes place in the southwestern part of England he calls Wessex, this time in the fertile Blackmoor Vale, and his evocation of the scenery sets the stage beautifully. Tess's co-workers at the dairy farm are a realistically cheerful lot and provide the continuum of humanity that such a story needs as a reprieve for its tragic mood. An interesting touch which shows that Hardy is not above recycling his own motifs is the similarity between the death of the Durbeyfield horse (a definite foreshadowing for Tess) and the tumbling sheep in "Far from the Madding Crowd," in that both incidents cause their respective protagonists to take distant jobs with fateful results. The incentive to read Hardy lies in his ability to put language at the service of one of the greatest functions of literature: to express the deepest desires and emotions of mankind.

I see "Tess" as the story of how a beauty is wronged by evil and by arrogance.

But oh, what a story. Hardy's novels read like poetry. Tess is so lovely, innocent and good, Alec so relentlessly hideous, and Angel so pathetically self-righteous, that I find the gradual destruction of Tess (with whom I empathize) at the hands of these two men, to be difficult to experience again, line by line!

What a masterpiece of the human condition, and I'm told, of the female experience. Hardy's bitterly honest portrayal of the worst and best of human behavior is as powerful as any I've found in literature.

When I need a Hardy fix and I don't want to be depressed, I turn to "Far From the Madding Crowd."