DLS: Strong Poison
May. 2nd, 2003 02:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
truepennyPrevious DLS posts: Concerning Lord Peter Wimsey, the Hon. Freddy Arbuthnot, Miss Katharine Alexandra Climpson, Whose Body?, Clouds of Witness, Unnatural Death, The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club 1, The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club 2.
Okay. Because I read insanely fast (and because, frankly, there are good chunks of The Five Red Herrings that I just skip), I'm now two books ahead of myself. And I have A LOT to say about Have His Carcase. I feel like maybe I oughtn't to inflict more than one Sayers post a day on you, my gentle readers, so Strong Poison today, The Five Red Herrings tomorrow, and then Have His Carcase, where we may be for quite some time. (I'm anticipating one post devoted solely to Chapter One, just so y'all know.)
So, Strong Poison. This is mostly about Harriet. The things I would want to say about Peter are better left for my argument about Have His Carcase. And everything else I had to say I believe got said in the post on Miss Climpson.
I'm going to start with a list of everything I love about Strong Poison. Most of these I have nothing useful to say about, but I want to mention them as reasons why I love this book.
That may not be everything, but it's enough to get by on.
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loligo pointed out in reference to The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club that one thing that makes Charles Parker less than perfectly sympathetic is his prudish disapproval of Ann Dorland. She further wonders whether perhaps his conviction of Ann's and Harriet's guilt is based on his opinion of their "immoral" lifestyle. Which, in turn, made me think that one thing happening in Strong Poison is the adamant refusal to punish a young woman for being sexually active. Since this is a favored trope of Western literature starting with, oh, let's see, the myth of Io, it seems to me like a very important thematic issue. (Leaving entirely aside the question of autobiography.)
Disapproval of Harriet's "sinful" arrangement with Philip Boyes is certainly part of the fabric of the novel, voiced hatefully by the judge (SP 4) and affirmed as part of the cultural mindset (not, in other words, just the bias of this particular judge) by Freddy Arbuthnot's unthinking parroting of it:
Moreover, Harriet herself shares this appraisal of her situation, shown by the judge's redaction of Eiluned Price's testimony: "Miss Price said that, although Harriet Vane obviously felt her unfortunate position very acutely--cutting herself off from her family friends and refusing to thrust herself into company where her social outlawry might cause embarrassment and so on--yet she was extremely loyal to her lover" (SP 5). The Rev. Boyes tells Peter Harriet had refused to meet him (the Rev. Boyes) for that same reason (SP 53). Harriet, in fact, seems to be operating out of a rather older code of social morality: "I suppose they can't cut you," she says to Peter a propos of his marrying a fallen woman. "You wouldn't have to slink abroad with your impossible wife and live at obscure continental watering-places like people in Victorian novels" (SP 214). The mere fact that she brings it up shows that Harriet takes a very Victorian view of herself.
But the novel does not. The novel is much more interested in questions of "genius" and how women ought to relate to it. This relates back to one of the things I mentioned in connection with Miss Climpson: DLS's staunch belief that women, just as much as men, need and deserve to have real work, beyond that of supporting their husbands. (This is also an issue that will crop up again in Gaudy Night, with the question of what one is to do with people who have both brains and hearts.) It is quite clear, from the parallax views we are given of Philip Boyes, that he was indeed, as Peter calls him, "a pimple and a wart" (SP 218). Nothing is uglier than a person who considers himself entitled, and that was clearly Boyes's besetting sin. And a comparison of the people surrounding Boyes (Ryland "nothing must interfere with the expansion of my friend the genius" Vaughan (SP 72), Mr. Cole, Norman Urquhart himself) and the people surrounding Harriet (Eiluned Price, Sylvia Marriott, Mr. Challoner, Peter, even--looking ahead--the SCR of Shrewsbury College) shows, I think, the relative worth of each. Boyes was, quite literally, surrounded by parasites. Harriet's friends are better summed up by Eiluned Price:
Eiluned is, as Sylvia says, "anti-man" (SP 84), but divorced from its gendered context, hers is a good definition of friendship (and this relates back to my post about Freddy Arbuthnot). Harriet has friends; Philip Boyes only had hangers-on. The narrative judges them as people, not merely as Man and Woman, and by setting them on this equal footing, escapes the trap of the sexual double standard. Philip Boyes isn't punished for being sexually active--his death is purely the result of Norman Urquhart's greed. Although the society within the novel seems to want to punish Harriet for being sexually active, Peter and the narrative refuse to allow that to happen. Harriet is triumphantly acquitted of murder, and as we learn in the next book in which she appears, her career blossoms afterwards. She is independent, strong-minded, defiant, and the book endorses her determination to be her own woman, not Philip Boyes's and not Peter Wimsey's.
Next, The Five Red Herrings.
---
WORKS CITED
Sayers, Dorothy L. Strong Poison. 1930. New York: Perennial Library-Harper & Row, Pubishers, 1987.
Okay. Because I read insanely fast (and because, frankly, there are good chunks of The Five Red Herrings that I just skip), I'm now two books ahead of myself. And I have A LOT to say about Have His Carcase. I feel like maybe I oughtn't to inflict more than one Sayers post a day on you, my gentle readers, so Strong Poison today, The Five Red Herrings tomorrow, and then Have His Carcase, where we may be for quite some time. (I'm anticipating one post devoted solely to Chapter One, just so y'all know.)
So, Strong Poison. This is mostly about Harriet. The things I would want to say about Peter are better left for my argument about Have His Carcase. And everything else I had to say I believe got said in the post on Miss Climpson.
I'm going to start with a list of everything I love about Strong Poison. Most of these I have nothing useful to say about, but I want to mention them as reasons why I love this book.
- Miss Climpson's seances. My love for that pair of scenes knows no bounds.
- The send-up of Bohemian/Bolshevist culture in Peter's foray with Marjorie Phelps. I know it's cruel, and I don't care.
- Harriet. Full stop.
- Peter's scene with Charles about Mary. I don't care about Mary & Charles, but I adore that scene. V. Wodehousian, but nothing can diminish my enthusiasm for the line, "Cough up the difficulty, old thing, and we will have it removed in a plain van" (SP 150). I have never yet succeeded in quoting that in ordinary conversation, but maybe someday I will.
- Miss Murchison and the lock-picks.
That may not be everything, but it's enough to get by on.
loligo pointed out in reference to The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club that one thing that makes Charles Parker less than perfectly sympathetic is his prudish disapproval of Ann Dorland. She further wonders whether perhaps his conviction of Ann's and Harriet's guilt is based on his opinion of their "immoral" lifestyle. Which, in turn, made me think that one thing happening in Strong Poison is the adamant refusal to punish a young woman for being sexually active. Since this is a favored trope of Western literature starting with, oh, let's see, the myth of Io, it seems to me like a very important thematic issue. (Leaving entirely aside the question of autobiography.)Disapproval of Harriet's "sinful" arrangement with Philip Boyes is certainly part of the fabric of the novel, voiced hatefully by the judge (SP 4) and affirmed as part of the cultural mindset (not, in other words, just the bias of this particular judge) by Freddy Arbuthnot's unthinking parroting of it:
"... Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape the old Bailey."
"The young woman doesn't seem to have tried that recipe, does she?" remarked Freddy.
"You ought to be on the jury," retorted Wimsey, with unusual acidity. "I bet that's what they're all saying at this moment."
(SP 17)
Moreover, Harriet herself shares this appraisal of her situation, shown by the judge's redaction of Eiluned Price's testimony: "Miss Price said that, although Harriet Vane obviously felt her unfortunate position very acutely--cutting herself off from her family friends and refusing to thrust herself into company where her social outlawry might cause embarrassment and so on--yet she was extremely loyal to her lover" (SP 5). The Rev. Boyes tells Peter Harriet had refused to meet him (the Rev. Boyes) for that same reason (SP 53). Harriet, in fact, seems to be operating out of a rather older code of social morality: "I suppose they can't cut you," she says to Peter a propos of his marrying a fallen woman. "You wouldn't have to slink abroad with your impossible wife and live at obscure continental watering-places like people in Victorian novels" (SP 214). The mere fact that she brings it up shows that Harriet takes a very Victorian view of herself.
But the novel does not. The novel is much more interested in questions of "genius" and how women ought to relate to it. This relates back to one of the things I mentioned in connection with Miss Climpson: DLS's staunch belief that women, just as much as men, need and deserve to have real work, beyond that of supporting their husbands. (This is also an issue that will crop up again in Gaudy Night, with the question of what one is to do with people who have both brains and hearts.) It is quite clear, from the parallax views we are given of Philip Boyes, that he was indeed, as Peter calls him, "a pimple and a wart" (SP 218). Nothing is uglier than a person who considers himself entitled, and that was clearly Boyes's besetting sin. And a comparison of the people surrounding Boyes (Ryland "nothing must interfere with the expansion of my friend the genius" Vaughan (SP 72), Mr. Cole, Norman Urquhart himself) and the people surrounding Harriet (Eiluned Price, Sylvia Marriott, Mr. Challoner, Peter, even--looking ahead--the SCR of Shrewsbury College) shows, I think, the relative worth of each. Boyes was, quite literally, surrounded by parasites. Harriet's friends are better summed up by Eiluned Price:
"I've known too many borrowers," said Eiluned Price, "and too many that wanted their hands held. All the same, the women are just as bad, or they wouldn't put up with it. Thank Heaven, I've never borrowed and never lent--except to women, and they pay back."
(SP 83)
Eiluned is, as Sylvia says, "anti-man" (SP 84), but divorced from its gendered context, hers is a good definition of friendship (and this relates back to my post about Freddy Arbuthnot). Harriet has friends; Philip Boyes only had hangers-on. The narrative judges them as people, not merely as Man and Woman, and by setting them on this equal footing, escapes the trap of the sexual double standard. Philip Boyes isn't punished for being sexually active--his death is purely the result of Norman Urquhart's greed. Although the society within the novel seems to want to punish Harriet for being sexually active, Peter and the narrative refuse to allow that to happen. Harriet is triumphantly acquitted of murder, and as we learn in the next book in which she appears, her career blossoms afterwards. She is independent, strong-minded, defiant, and the book endorses her determination to be her own woman, not Philip Boyes's and not Peter Wimsey's.
Next, The Five Red Herrings.
---
WORKS CITED
Sayers, Dorothy L. Strong Poison. 1930. New York: Perennial Library-Harper & Row, Pubishers, 1987.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-02 01:37 pm (UTC)Never think it!
Peter's scene with Charles about Mary.
That's one of my favorite Charles and Peter scenes, because it puts their friendship on a new footing; they shift into a different level of intimacy that is not dependent on their work as detectives.
no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 07:58 am (UTC)I really need to head over to alibris or something to see if I can pick up copies of any of DLS's collected essays -- I can't imagine that they're in print any more.
This is exactly what my term paper way back in tenth grade was all about: Sayers and the sacredness of work, as seen in both her detective fiction and her theological writings. I had no idea at the time how unlikely it was that I stumbled upon this topic. I happened to grow up in Grand Rapids, home of Calvin College, one of the few small conservative Christian colleges that are really intellectually rigorous. So, Sayers happened to be my literary crush of the year, I had a term paper to do, I stopped by the college library... and there it was, Sayers scholarship galore. I would imagine that most schools Calvin's size wouldn't have had *any* of those books.