I have incredibly fond memories of reading Edith Nesbit’s books as a child. Five Children and It, The Enchanted Castle, and, of course, The Railway Children (which Simon reviewed not that long ago) were all favourites. But I had never read any of her adult books so when I saw that Girlebooks had The Incomplete Amorist available, I thought I would give it a try.
Published in 1906 (the same year as The Railway Children), The Incomplete Amorist is not at all what I, as a fan of Nesbit’s children’s books, had been expecting. The tale of a stupidly complicated love quadrangle between four equally dull (though in very different ways) lovers, it is disappointingly melodramatic and not in the fun way of, say, The Shuttle, which at least has a wonderful heroine to redeem the more outrageously dramatic twists.
Though most of the story takes place in Paris, it begins in England when the eighteen year old Betty, bored out of her mind by the monotony of her country life, meets Eustace Vernon, a thirty-something painter and world-class flirt. At this point, the book seemed promising. Nesbit writes the most wonderful description of Betty’s calculating and egotistical mother, who some years earlier had
…died resentfully, thanking God that she had always done her duty, and quite unable to imagine how the world would go on without her. She felt almost sure that in cutting short her career of usefulness her Creator was guilty of an error in judgement which He would sooner or later find reason to regret.
And even Betty’s efforts at self-improvement made her seem quite sympathetic, as she tried to fill her days with something other than the parish duties that are expected from her as the vicar’s (step)daughter:
At eighteen one does so pathetically try to feed the burgeoning life with the husks of polite accomplishment. She insisted on withholding from the clutches of the parish the time to practise Beethoven and Sullivan for an hour daily. Daily, for half an hour, she read an improving book. Just now it was The French Revolution, and Betty thought it would last until she was sixty. She tried to read French and German – Télémaque and Maria Stewart. She fully intended to become all that a cultured young woman should be. But self-improvement is a dull game when there is no one to applaud your score.
But no, Betty is revealed as very, very dull and so is almost everyone she comes across. When her secret (though, at least on her part, relatively innocent) meetings with Vernon are discovered, her father is horrified. Thanks to the intervention of her worldly and quite wonderful aunt (the only interesting character in the whole book), Betty soon finds herself in Paris, studying art. At first she is there under the chaperonage of an eminently respectable woman but before too long Betty finds herself on her own and it just so happens that is when Vernon re-enters her life.
It has only been a few months since they parted in England but, true to form, Vernon has filled that time with more love affairs. In Paris he is already renewing his acquaintance with an old lover, Lady St. Craye, but Betty – more confident and more focused now that she has experienced independence and her art is improving – catches his interest. She also catches the interest of his much more respectable and forthright acquaintance, Robert Temple, though Temple also wonders if he might not be in love with Lady St. Craye. They are all entirely useless, though Lady St Craye and Vernon gain the additional honour of being entirely unsympathetic. Betty and Temple are stupid enough to deserve some of our pity; Lady St Craye and Vernon are far too calculating and their view of love as a game of tactics is repellent (as is Nesbit’s inclination to let us know all of their very repetitive thoughts).
I think I could have forgiven the book its painfully dull characters and predictable final pairings if it had had a sense of humour. Sadly, aside from a few arch remarks in the first part, this is a book that takes itself altogether too seriously. What fun someone like Elizabeth von Arnim could have had with this concept! There is a happy ending and there are some rather sweet scenes towards the end – particularly the sentimental reconciliation between Betty and her loving but distant stepfather – but The Incomplete Amorist in no way lives up to the excellence of Nesbit’s children’s books.
Thank you for taking a book off my list! I downloaded this one, without knowing anything about it, just because of the title, but it sounds like a miss. Sometimes, it’s nice to winnow them out. 🙂
Unless you’re a big E. Nesbit fan and eager to read everything she’s written, I think it is definitely safe to give this a miss.
I also downloaded it, since I was curious too to try one of her adult novels. I will now delete it – thank you!
You’re welcome!
I always find it so disappointing when books don’t live up to my expectations!
I didn’t know much about this beforehand so didn’t have any wild expectations for it but it is always a little sad to read a dull book.
Oh dear, same here! Thanks for the review and the heads-up…of sorts.
You’re welcome, Risa.
How very disappointing! By a coincidence I’ve just started reading ‘The Enchanted Castle’ and it is just wonderful. Perhaps some of her other adult novels are better?
The Enchanted Castle is wonderful, isn’t it? I am so glad you’re enjoing it. And yes, I really hope at least some of her other adult books are better than this.
It’s too bad the book was a disappointment, but I just wanted to say thanks for the link to Girlebooks! I downloaded about ten (free!) titles yesterday and they seem nicely formatted. (And the one I’ve started — The Girl From Limberlost — is a delight so far.) Great site!
Girlebooks is amazing, Jordan! I am glad to have been able to introduce you to them. I particularly appreciate how many Elizabeth von Arnim titles they have available.
I just read The Incomplete Amorist, and you’re right: the aunt is by far the best thing about this book. Vernon is a great portrait of a certain unappealing type of sleazy guy, though. I couldn’t help wondering whether he might have been based in part on E. Nesbit’s philandering husband.