Vanity Fair
by William Makepeace Thackeray
A very long, long, loooong, but fascinating book. I was bored to tears sometimes, but I couldn't stop reading because I just had to know what else the author had to say.
....Which might not make much sense; how is a book boring if it is keeping the reader engaged?
Here lies a piece of literature that truly relies on skill and wit to keep it afloat. The author's voice interested me far more than the actual storyline. The plot itself was simple: following the lives of two radically different women, Amelia Sedley and Rebecca Sharp, the novel is set within the noble life of Europe as the French Revolution draws to a close, zooming in on the everyday happenings of the two heroines and offering paragraph after paragraph of sharp social criticism and satire, enough to satisfy even the most critical soul.
Yes, it was the Thakeray's cynical wit and humorously sharp tongue, sharper than the tongue of Miss Becky Sharp herself, that encouraged me to reach the last page of this book. Thakeray jumps in and out his own novel, oftentimes being an observing bystander akin to a witty journalist that is uncovering all the nitty gritty secrets of high English society, while at other times he is the master of the play that is being acted out, offering apologies to the audience for the often immoral behaviors of the characters being portrayed in his work. His pen travels the continent of Europe, delving into British nobilities and royalties with a graceful flourish, sinking down into the depths of the gypsy nomads of Italy, and never hesitating to explore the middle class citizens of London and Paris who constantly point fingers to both sides of the spectrum of social hierarchy. He follows the gossiping women of the slums, the malicious whispers permeating the upper-class parties, and of course, the bitter yet brilliant commentaries made by Becky Sharp at pointed, opportune times. The author's thoughts stick out from every line.
He also manages to add a bit of a moral ending to the story, despite the overly realistic opinion he seems to hold throughout the events. Amelia, who is the kind-hearted soul never tainted by the unexpected tragedies that befall her, is eventually rewarded for her patience and endurance by being given back everything she lost, and a whole lot more. Becky, on the other hand, who exhibits the ambition of a human being and the cunning of a feline fox in a chicken pen, scrapes together wealth and status but is eventually abandoned by everyone and left with nothing. Thakeray is clearly saying, "they each got what they deserved, though the world treated them unfairly." The residual feelings I had after the end, in which I felt pretty much no sympathy for poor Becky Sharp, convince me that the cynical Thakeray has a ethical agenda in mind.
Overall, the work was worth a study. There were a wealth of social terms that only a Thakeray's contemporaries could begin to interpret, and which made the reading more tedious than necessary at times, but the thought process of the author was easy to follow and offered many foods for thought: do people really look at wealth and social status when they are searching for friends to make? For potential spouses? If so, do the personal qualities of a person not matter in the face of these materialistic values? How much obligation should be placed on family members who find their relatives have been deprived of their money and their reputation? What is true love, a diligent sacrifice or a useless devotion?
Such questions, and a whole lot more, can be found among the stalls of the vanity fair.
