- Amazon Business: Make the most of your Amazon Business account with exclusive tools and savings. Login now
- Amazon Business : For business-only pricing, quantity discounts and FREE Shipping. Register a free business account
Other Sellers on Amazon
+ $3.99 shipping
+ Free Shipping
+ $3.99 shipping


Follow the Author
OK
Villette (Modern Library Torchbearers) Paperback – October 9, 2001
Charlotte Bronte
(Author)
Find all the books, read about the author, and more.
See search results for this author
Are you an author?
Learn about Author Central
|
Price
|
New from | Used from |
Audible Audiobook, Unabridged
"Please retry"
|
$0.00
|
Free with your Audible trial |
Mass Market Paperback
"Please retry"
|
$5.05 | $2.37 |
Audio CD, MP3 Audio, Unabridged
"Please retry"
|
$9.99 | — |
Enhance your purchase
-
Print length624 pages
-
LanguageEnglish
-
PublisherModern Library
-
Publication dateOctober 9, 2001
-
Dimensions5.16 x 1.34 x 8.09 inches
-
ISBN-109780375758508
-
ISBN-13978-0375758508
Inspire a love of reading with Amazon Book Box for Kids
Discover delightful children's books with Amazon Book Box, a subscription that delivers new books every 1, 2, or 3 months — new Amazon Book Box Prime customers receive 15% off your first box. Sign up now
Enter your mobile number or email address below and we'll send you a link to download the free Kindle App. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
Download to your computer
|
Kindle Cloud Reader
|
Frequently bought together
Customers who viewed this item also viewed
- Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Wordsworth Classics)Paperback
- The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Penguin Clothbound Classics)Hardcover
- Shirley (Wordsworth Classics)Paperback
- Agnes GreyAnne BrontëHardcover
- The Professor (Illustrated)Charlotte BrontëPaperback
- Shirley (Penguin Classics)Paperback
What other items do customers buy after viewing this item?
Special offers and product promotions
Editorial Reviews
Review
--Virginia Woolf
From the Inside Flap
"Villette! Villette! Have you read it?" exclaimed George Eliot when Charlotte Brontë's final novel appeared in 1853. "It is a still more wonderful book than Jane Eyre. There is something almost preternatural in its power."
Arguably Brontë's most refined and deeply felt work, Villette draws on her profound loneliness following the deaths of her three siblings. Lucy Snowe, the narrator of Villette,flees from an unhappy past in England to begin a new file as a teacher at a French boarding school in the great cosmopolitan capital of Villette. Soon Lucy's struggle for independence is overshadowed by both her freindship with a wordly English doctor and her feelings for an autocratic schoolmaster. Brontë's strikingly modern heroine must decide if there is any man in her society with whom she can live and still be free.
"Villette is an amazing book," observed novelist Susan Fromberg Schaeffer. "Written before psychoanalysis came into being, Villette is nevertheless a psychoanalytic work—a psychosexual study of its heroine, Lucy Snowe. Written before the philosophy of existentialism was formulated, the novel's view of the world can only be described as existential. . . . Today it is read and discussed more intensely than Charlotte Brontë's other novels, and many critics now beleive it to be a true master-piece, a work of genius that more than fulfilled the promise of Jane Eyre." Indeed, Virginia Woolf judged Villette to be Brontë's "finest novel."
From the Back Cover
Arguably Bronte's most refined and deeply felt work, "Villette draws on her profound loneliness following the deaths of her three siblings. Lucy Snowe, the narrator of "Villette, flees from an unhappy past in England to begin a new file as a teacher at a French boarding school in the great cosmopolitan capital of "Villette. Soon Lucy's struggle for independence is overshadowed by both her freindship with a wordly English doctor and her feelings for an autocratic schoolmaster. Bronte's strikingly modern heroine must decide if there is any man in her society with whom she can live and still be free.
""Villette is an amazing book," observed novelist Susan Fromberg Schaeffer. "Written before psychoanalysis came into being, "Villette is nevertheless a psychoanalytic work--a psychosexual study of its heroine, Lucy Snowe. Written before the philosophy of existentialism was formulated, the novel's view of the world can only be described as existential. . . . Today it is read and discussed more intensely than Charlotte Bronte's other novels, and many critics now beleive it to be a true master-piece, a work of genius that more than fulfilled the promise of "Jane Eyre." Indeed, Virginia Woolf judged "Villette to be Bronte's "finest novel."
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
When I was a girl I went to Bretton about twice a year, and well I liked the visit. The house and its inmates specially suited me. The large peaceful rooms, the well-arranged furniture, the clear wide windows, the balcony outside, looking down on a fine antique street, where Sundays and holidays seemed always to abide—so quiet was its atmosphere, so clean its pavement—these things pleased me well.
One child in a household of grown people is usually made very much of, and in a quiet way I was a good deal taken notice of by Mrs. Bretton, who had been left a widow, with one son, before I knew her; her husband, a physician, having died while she was yet a young and handsome woman.
She was not young, as I remember her, but she was still handsome, tall, well-made, and though dark for an English-woman, yet wearing always the clearness of health in her brunette cheek, and its vivacity in a pair of fine, cheerful black eyes. People esteemed it a grievous pity that she had not conferred her complexion on her son, whose eyes were blue—though, even in boyhood, very piercing—and the colour of his long hair such as friends did not venture to specify, except as the sun shone on it, when they called it golden. He inherited the lines of his mother's features, however; also her good teeth, her stature (or the promise of her stature, for he was not yet full-grown), and, what was better, her health without flaw, and her spirits of that tone and equality which are better than a fortune to the possessor.
In the autumn of the year——I was staying at Bretton, my godmother having come in person to claim me of the kinsfolk with whom was at that time fixed my permanent residence. I believe she then plainly saw events coming, whose very shadow I scarce guessed; yet of which the faint suspicion sufficed to impart unsettled sadness, and made me glad to change scene and society.
Time always flowed smoothly for me at my godmother's side; not with tumultuous swiftness, but blandly, like the gliding of a full river through a plain. My visits to her resembled the sojourn of Christian and Hopeful beside a certain pleasant stream, with "green trees on each bank, and meadows beautified with lilies all the year round." The charm of variety there was not, nor the excitement of incident; but I liked peace so well, and sought stimulus so little, that when the latter came I almost felt it a disturbance, and wished rather it had still held aloof.
One day a letter was received of which the contents evidently caused Mrs. Bretton surprise and some concern. I thought at first it was from home, and trembled, expecting I know not what disastrous communication: to me, however, no reference was made, and the cloud seemed to pass.
The next day, on my return from a long walk, I found, as I entered my bedroom, an unexpected change. In addition to my own French bed in its shady recess, appeared in a corner a small crib, draped with white; and in addition to my mahogany chest of drawers, I saw a tiny rosewood chest. I stood still, gazed, and considered.
"Of what are these things the signs and tokens?" I asked. The answer was obvious. "A second guest is coming; Mrs. Bretton expects other visitors."
On descending to dinner, explanations ensued. A little girl, I was told, would shortly be my companion: the daughter of a friend and distant relation of the late Dr. Bretton's. This little girl, it was added, had recently lost her mother; though, indeed, Mrs. Bretton ere long subjoined, the loss was not so great as might at first appear. Mrs. Home (Home it seems was the name) had been a very pretty, but a giddy, careless woman, who had neglected her child, and disappointed and disheartened her husband. So far from congenial had the union proved, that separation at last ensued—separation by mutual consent, not after any legal process. Soon after this event, the lady having over-exerted herself at a ball, caught cold, took a fever, and died after a very brief illness. Her husband, naturally a man of very sensitive feelings, and shocked inexpressibly by too sudden communication of the news, could hardly, it seems, now be persuaded but that some over-severity on his part—some deficiency in patience and indulgence—had contributed to hasten her end. He had brooded over this idea till his spirits were seriously affected; the medical men insisted on travelling being tried as a remedy, and meanwhile Mrs. Bretton had offered to take charge of his little girl. "And I hope," added my godmother in conclusion, "the child will not be like her mamma; as silly and frivolous a little flirt as ever sensible man was weak enough to marry. For," said she, "Mr. Home is a sensible man in his way, though not very practical: he is fond of science, and lives half his life in a laboratory trying experiments—a thing his butterfly wife could neither comprehend nor endure; and indeed," confessed my godmother, "I should not have liked it myself."
In answer to a question of mine, she further informed me that her late husband used to say, Mr. Home had derived this scientific turn from a maternal uncle, a French savant: for he came, it seems, of mixed French and Scottish origin, and had connections now living in France, of whom more than one wrote de before his name, and called himself noble.
That same evening at nine o'clock, a servant was despatched to meet the coach by which our little visitor was expected. Mrs. Bretton and I sat alone in the drawing-room waiting her coming; John Graham Bretton being absent on a visit to one of his schoolfellows who lived in the country. My godmother read the evening paper while she waited; I sewed. It was a wet night; the rain lashed the panes, and the wind sounded angry and restless.
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Bretton from time to time. "What weather for her journey! I wish she were safe here."
A little before ten the door-bell announced Warren's return. No sooner was the door opened than I ran down into the hall; there lay a trunk and some bandboxes, beside them stood a person like a nurse girl, and at the foot of the staircase was Warren with a shawled bundle in his arms.
"Is that the child?" I asked.
"Yes, miss."
I would have opened the shawl, and tried to get a peep at the face, but it was hastily turned from me to Warren's shoulder.
"Put me down, please," said a small voice when Warren opened the drawing-room door, "and take off this shawl," continued the speaker, extracting with its minute hand the pin, and with a sort of fastidious haste doffing the clumsy wrapping. The creature which now appeared made a deft attempt to fold the shawl; but the drapery was much too heavy and large to be sustained or wielded by those hands and arms. "Give it to Harriet, please," was then the direction, "and she can put it away." This said, it turned and fixed its eyes on Mrs. Bretton.
Don't have a Kindle? Get your Kindle here, or download a FREE Kindle Reading App.
Product details
- ASIN : 037575850X
- Publisher : Modern Library; New edition (October 9, 2001)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 624 pages
- ISBN-10 : 9780375758508
- ISBN-13 : 978-0375758508
- Item Weight : 1.2 pounds
- Dimensions : 5.16 x 1.34 x 8.09 inches
-
Best Sellers Rank:
#2,250,442 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,496 in Victorian Literary Criticism (Books)
- #7,716 in Classic American Literature
- #49,736 in Classic Literature & Fiction
- Customer Reviews:
Customer reviews
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
"Villette" is an amazing piece of literature, at times it reads like magical and enchanting poetry, and at other times it reads exactly like a diary, uncensored, but like all great literature it reads with a haunting honesty that borders on the sublime.
Lucy Snowe, like Ms. Bronte's Jane Eyre, is a character whose appeal and inquisitiveness sets the stage for an analytic and intrusive insight into a society where an ambitious and smart woman's place in the workforce is still an unacceptable and alien concept, unless the woman's ambition is limited to being a servant, a governess, or a teacher.
"Villette" is the last of Charlotte Bronte's novels and it goes places and poses questions about religion, morals, corruption,and ambition that are still being heatedly debated one hundred and seventy years later.
This is a very long novel and it is the type of book that should be read carefully and patiently, and more than once. It has so much to offer and it simply overflows with brilliance and reawakens many of our dreams and desires that we might have long ago forgotten but we should never have buried.
I read later that Bronte patterned the book's characters on people well known to her, though I still wonder if the author's personality mirrored Lucie Snowe's as well.
However, large portions of the book are in French with no English translation given. This really bogged me down as a reader because I never learned French and had to rely on the Google Translate app (it uses your smartphone camera to translate text in real time, so useful) and my limited knowledge of French and Italian words/grammar to understand what was going on. I really don't understand why they didn't include the English translations for the French conversations in footnotes. Even endnotes would have been helpful. I was quite disappointed at that. If I had known about the lack of English translations, I wouldn't have bought this edition. I'm not going to return the book since I did like it, but I wanted to warn you.
Unless you like extremely dense prose and not a lot of plot, don't bother. And, by the way, get a different version with footnotes. Half the dialogue is in French and I do not speak the language!
Top reviews from other countries

There is no introductory text or note about the author - you are launched into the main text immediately after the flysheet without these normal courtesies. The print itself was small enough to make me worry I wouldn't be able to read it with ease (I'm not yet 40). But the worst offence is the plethora of typos to be found on every page. There is nothing more frustrating when reading a text (which you know to be a joy in the right hands) than to be constantly jarred by commas in the wrong place, missing spaces, and unclosed or unopened speech. And that's just the first two pages.
It's little wonder I couldn't find a publisher logo on the cover, spine, or flysheet of this book - if I had churned something out of this standard, I'd be ashamed to put my name to it, too. Do yourself a favour and buy a copy from a proper publisher who has at least had someone proofread the text. I will be returning my copy.

Reviewed in the United Kingdom on March 1, 2021
There is no introductory text or note about the author - you are launched into the main text immediately after the flysheet without these normal courtesies. The print itself was small enough to make me worry I wouldn't be able to read it with ease (I'm not yet 40). But the worst offence is the plethora of typos to be found on every page. There is nothing more frustrating when reading a text (which you know to be a joy in the right hands) than to be constantly jarred by commas in the wrong place, missing spaces, and unclosed or unopened speech. And that's just the first two pages.
It's little wonder I couldn't find a publisher logo on the cover, spine, or flysheet of this book - if I had churned something out of this standard, I'd be ashamed to put my name to it, too. Do yourself a favour and buy a copy from a proper publisher who has at least had someone proofread the text. I will be returning my copy.


Lucy Snowe is a well named, for she hides her extraordinary passions beneath a cool exterior. Her nature is contrary, elusive and contradictory, puzzling even to those closest to her: even we, her readers, are but qualified confidantes, often left in the dark by her reticence. Whilst doing what she must to make her way in the world, Lucy somehow remains uncompromising, aloof and self-sufficient, earning respect even from those she most confounds. She is perhaps the most intriguing female character I've ever read about.
Just as in "Jane Eyre", Charlotte leans shamelessly on coincidence to work her plot, but a little cunning telegraphy sweetens the pill, providing this reader with a satisfying oh-I-see! moment. Just as in "Jane Eyre", different kinds of potential suitors for our narrator are juxtaposed and contrasted; and different styles of womanhood are presented, demonstrating what Lucy is not. But the arc of this book is less obvious than in "Jane Eyre": we are very far along before we even understand what kind of story this is (and the saucy intrusion of classic gothic elements keeps us guessing).
Speaking of technique, Charlotte's prose is superbly controlled, whether lofty and fanciful or sharp and deft, as here:
"...it was not my godmother's habit to make a bustle, and she preferred all sentimental demonstrations in bas-relief."
It's also frequently a novel of high humour, through Lucy's dry observations. Here we catch her in catty mood:
"[I was] paired with Ginevra Fanshawe, bearing on my arm the dear pressure of that angel's not unsubstantial limb - (she continued in excellent case, and I can assure the reader it was no trifling business to bear the burden of her loveliness; many a time in the course of that warm day I wished to goodness there had been less of the charming commodity)..."
I could have done without swathes of dialogue conducted in French, but I suppose Charlotte was not to know that half-educated barbarians like me might paw at her books a century later!
"Villette" is an impressive achievement, beautifully constructed, relentless in its focus, concerned with the affections and interior lives of complex and atypical people, and with much to say about both religious disagreement and transcending those disagreements. It insists on its own careful, measured pace, even as it treads through the most surprising situations and revelations, and sure enough it arrives punctually at its intended, yet long unsuspected, destination. Excellent stuff.
(Incidentally, the Gutenberg/Kindle freebie edition has lots of typos, mainly wayward punctuation; but I would be fascinated to observe "Madame Beck's fist classe"!)

Lucy, a young woman doomed to a grim and dismal life of poverty in England, risks it all by seeking her fortune in France even without knowledge of the language. Her hard work and integrity is rewarded in the end. With little hope of finding love in her situation, her struggles lead her to the most loyal of friendships. It is a timeless heart-warming story with the deepest and most detailed character study. A pleasure to read. THE ISLAND GIRL


Time and patience are required to enjoy this novel thoroughly. Published 6 years after Jane Eyre, there is an immediacy in Bronte’s style that invites the reader to unwrap several mysteries that are housed inside one another. This culminates in an open-ending which I liked as it fitted this story well.