Book Review: Shirley was Charlotte Bronte's third written, second published, novel, after the success of Jane Eyre. Here Bronte set out to do something different from the story of Jane and Rochester and in that she succeeded. The result is a Victorian novel with themes of social change (shades of Elizabeth Gaskell). Shirley has all of Charlotte Bronte's talent (it's evocatively, beautifully written), but not her genius. Not much sets this apart from some other novels of the time. There is the proto-feminist (verging on androgyny -- at the time "Shirley" was a male name) character of Shirley (of course, it doesn't hurt for ground breakers to be wealthy), willing to challenge the world and confront conventionality. But she is not such a captivating character as to be irresistible. Her more timid, less extroverted friend Caroline was at least equally beguiling. Except for the quality of the moody sentences and occasional moments of brilliance, this didn't have to be written by a Bronte, unlike the family's four works of genius that are indelibly stamped with the Bronte brand. Instead, plot lines and characters come and go for no apparent reason (Shirley herself doesn't appear until page 190), seemingly essential elements are introduced but then forgotten, plot-changing characters magically appear and others vanish when their purpose is completed. Bronte can always write, but the story here wanders in search of a purpose. Not until page 167 does it seem a Charlotte Bronte novel. When romance takes the lion's share of the story, too often it only consists of cloying protestations of the worshipful admiration of angels wooing saints. The grubby human element is lost in white robes, harps, and sanctified romance that I'm sure was rare even then. English reserve only goes so far, or the race would've died out long ago. Her consistent English xenophobia (against the Irish, Belgians, French, &c.) raises its head, but is less disturbing than in other books. Bronte does keep, up a much appreciated drumbeat of girls and women seeking better perception, roles and rights in life. There's also periodic moments when the real Bronte peeks out, there's governess named Agnes Grey, there's clear eyed statements: "We were born in the same year; consequently, he is still a boy, while I am a woman." But then romantic setbacks also have a habit of sending women to their sickbed and near-death experiences. Bronte also experiments with the third person in Shirley, a narrator who pops in for the occasional visit and comment, but I'm unsure whether the third person well-suits such a passionate writer. While still worth reading for Bronte completists, this was my least favorite of her novels. [3½★]
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