From the publisher:
“Mary Barton, the daughter of disillusioned trade unionist, rejects her working-class lover Jem Wilson in the hope of marrying Henry Carson, the mill owner’s son, and making a better life for herself and her father. But when Henry is shot down in the street and Jem becomes the main suspect, Mary finds herself painfully torn between the two men. Through Mary’s dilemma, and the moving portrayal of her father, the embittered and courageous activist John Barton, Mary Barton (1848) powerfully dramatizes the class divides of the ‘hungry forties’ as personal tragedy. In its social and political setting, it looks towards Elizabeth Gaskell’s great novels of the industrial revolution, in particular North and South.”

My thoughts:
This novel was a bit of a mixed bag for me. I started reading it at a time when I was looking for something fairly light-hearted. The murder element didn’t deter me because from the description it didn’t appear that we would get too attached to Mr. Carson before his untimely demise. I was, however, quite surprised to find nearly the first third of the book to be depressing and distressing as characters we’ve come to care about dropped off like flies, and all for the simple want of food, shelter, and adequate medical care (which alas, is still with us today). After the dismal beginning, however, the story followed along the lines I had initially been expecting and I ended up enjoying it quite a bit.

As a social commentary, I imagine it would have come across like gangbusters at the time, with an empathetic understanding of working class life and how intimate with utter poverty it really is. You wouldn’t find this in Jane Austen or, I think (I haven’t read ‘em all) George Eliot. And though Dickens often covers the same territory, his mechanism is satire rather than strict realism.

And then just for pleasure, we get a bit of a sensation novel in the last half, though it’s not as sensational as, say, a Wilkie Collins or R. D. Blackmore—Gaskell’s penchant for realism comes into play there too. A good novel for fans of nineteenth century literature (especially if you’re looking for something shorter than the typical Collins or Dickens).

Book 36, Antoinette de Mirecourt (1864) – Rosanna Leprohon
From the back cover:
“Originally published in English in 1864, yet acknowledged by French-Canada as a classic of its literature, Antoinette de Mirecourt occupies a singular position in the literature of Canada. This unique product of Quebec’s bilingualism and biculturalism tells an intriguing story of love and French-English social conflict in the years following the Conquest of 1760. Major and minor characters come alive against vividly drawn scenes of Montreal and its vicinity during that period. Sharp, witty dialogue and lyric descriptions of the city and its seasons are woven into a novel that possesses a depth and texture rare in the early literature of Canada.”

Other useful links:
the Wikipedia entry for Rosanna Leprohon

My thoughts:
I’d been looking forward to reading this for a long while. Until I started my CanLit Challenge, I’d never even heard of Rosanna Leprohon, though she was one of the most popular Canadian novelists of the nineteenth century and is still much admired in translation in Quebec. In fact, she is very well known for being one of the first Canadians to advocate a homegrown literature:

Although the literary treasures of ‘the old world’ are ever open to us, and our American neighbors should continue to inundate the country with reading-matter, intended to meet all wants and suit all tastes and sympathies, at prices which enable every one to partake of this never-failing and ever-varying feast; yet Canadians should not be discouraged from endeavoring to form and foster a literature of their own.

I was very keen to find out how she compared to other female novelists of the time with which I am much more familiar, such as Elizabeth Gaskell and George Eliot. I was also interested to see how much of a relationship I might see between Leprohon and those Canadian female contemporaries who were writing non-fiction, especially Susanna Moodie.

Funnily enough, when I read it, it seemed like Leprohon was rather a throwback to the century previous, the tone reminding me more of Emily Montague or Vicar of Wakefield than anything post-Austen. But perhaps that was some intentional anachronism since the story itself took place in the eighteenth century. Like a typical eighteenth century novel, this one was full of melodrama and secrets (though in this case the reader is in on it) and featured a pathetic, virtuous heroine in Antoinette. The other characters are also well-drawn (though it’s a little hard sometimes to figure out exactly why the villain is so cruel—other than mere sociopathy). I particularly enjoyed the distinctly Canadian touches (French/English tensions, wintery sleigh rides, and nice descriptions of the weather & seasons).

I’m very much looking forward to reading more from Ms. Leprohon.