Modern Criticism of Tess of the d'Urbervilles

Summary

In his article, Irving Howe argues that Tess of the d’Urbervilles “stands at the center of [Thomas] Hardy’s achievement, if not his greatest then certainly his most characteristic” (406). Hardy had a knack, he says, for understanding the “emotional life” (406) of women, and nowhere does it show better than in this novel. He stakes the whole of Tess of the d’Urbervilles on this understanding, for no other character or element comes close to mattering nearly as much as Tess herself. Irving says that the novel wants us to move beyond judging the main character, and “move into a kindlier climate shared by Christian charity and pagan acceptance” (408). As for the plot, Irving reminds us that, if looked at bare bones, it is a rather simple one made of bits of ordinary melodrama—betrayal; secrets; a series of horrible events—that serve as  the means for Tess’s soul testing in four major episodes or acts (408-409). The article goes on to summarize the four acts to show how the design and artistic detail truly makes the character of Tess stand out (419). All this builds to his main point, the “heart of the book”: the “figure of Tess herself….a woman made real through the art of craft”, not Tess-as-symbol or Tess-as-theme. Those are overreaches. She is instead that rare achievement of “goodness made interesting” (421).

Analysis

“Tess is one of the great images of human possibility, conceived in the chaste, and chastening, spirit of the New Testament. Very few proclaimed believers have written with so complete a Christian sentiment as the agnostic Thomas Hardy” (409) —an interesting idea, one that surprised me. But it is true. Hardy quite plainly wants readers to sympathize with Tess, to judge her not by what happened but for who she is. This is in fact the goal: the heart of both Christian love and secular acceptance, as noted above. Those two values are one and the same anyway, if honestly considered. So perhaps in writing such a dark and hopeless novel, Hardy hoped, in his own dark way, we would open ourselves to compassion.

Contemporary Critical Reception of Tess of the d'Urbervilles

Summary

When Tom Hardy’s “grim Christmas gift” (381), Tess of the d’Urbervilles, came out in 1891, many of the contemporary reviewers hailed it as a literary triumph—and hated it as a story. Not all, of course: The Pall Mall Gazette (381) praises the novel as a “concentrated tragedy” that gives a “most moving presentment of a ‘pure woman’,” and The Athenaeum (382), despite some quibbles over the author’s lack of impartiality, predicts Hardy’s work is “destined…to rank high among the achievements of Victorian novelists.” Others disagree. Their howls of displeasure center chiefly on Tess’s artistic honesty, or lack thereof. “[T]here is not,” writes The Saturday Review, “one single touch of nature either in John Durbeyfield or in any other character. All are stagey….Tess herself comes nearest to possibility…but even she is suggestive of the carefully-studied simplicity of the theatre” (383). The Review complains that if how a story is told matters more than what it is about, then “Mr. Hardy” has failed, telling “an unpleasant story in a very unpleasant way” (384). The Spectator agrees. “On the whole, we deny that Mr. Hardy has made out the case for Tess.… we cannot at all admire Mr. Hardy’s motive for writing this very powerful novel” (384). Perhaps Robert Louis Stevenson captures their feelings best when he cries, “Not alive, not true…not even honest!” (387).

Analysis

The Saturday Review writes: “it matters much less what a story is about than how that story is told” (384). This reminds me of an argument I have read many times by John Gardner, famous artistic novelist and creative writing teacher. “Nothing, let me pause to argue, could be farther from the truth than the notion that theme is all” (40). He explains:

The good young writer…knows what he knows and will not budge—chiefly knows that the first quality of good storytelling is storytelling. A profound theme is of trifling importance if the characters knocked around by it are uninteresting, and brilliant technique is a nuisance if it pointlessly prevents us from seeing characters and what they do. (44)

I believe The Saturday Review levels, in essence, this charge against Hardy and Tess of the D’Urbervilles. His theme is deep, his technique masterful, but his characters act so unbelievably that he failed on that most vital all points, good storytelling. Do I agree? I don’t know; but the argument does speak to the uneasiness I had while reading Tess. In moments Hardy would call fate, I found self-defeat. The author made his characters choose the worst of available choices at the worst moments—every time. No human being would do this. Hardy—again, every time—would trip up his characters not with a fateful event, but with the worst possible chain of fateful events. Perhaps the universe is random and therefore uncaring, but it is not so concentrated in malice. The book is one giant, oozing application of Murphy’s Law. To paraphrase Joseph Heller’s Catch-22, the god that Hardy doesn't believe in is unbelievably cruel.

And so I stick with Gardner:

In the final analysis, what counts is not the philosophy of the writer (that will reveal itself in any case) but the fortunes of the characters, how their principles of generosity or stubborn honesty or stinginess or cowardice help them or hurt them in specific situations. What counts is the characters' story. (43)

Works Cited

Gardner, John. On Becoming a Novelist. New York, NY: Harper & Row, 1985. Print.

Hardy, Thomas. Tess of the D'Urbervilles: An Authoritative Text: Backgrounds and Sources, Criticism. Ed. Scott Elledge. New York: Norton, 1991. Print.