Scan barcode
A review by lynneelue
Aurora Floyd by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
3.0
I read this over 13 weeks according to the original 3 chapter installments to try to get a feel for how the Victorian era readers experienced this sensationalist novel. Doing this really let me recognize and appreciate the cliffhangers at the end of each third chapter. I don't normally pick up on mystery clues, so I was strung along guessing the whole way. Upon reflection, I was a little disappointed with how simplistic the plot was. There weren't that many twists of additional storylines, and the bad guys were pretty predictably bad. However, reading in on the characters' domestic life, and appreciating the author's careful, intentional writing was quite lovely.
Through the creation of Aurora, a free-spirited supposedly "femme fatale" woman (we are repeatedly reminded of her raven black hair and eyes...), and the loving, trusting relationship she has with Mellish, the author hintingly challenges behavioral expectations for Victorian women and their subordinate role in a marriage. With phrases like “[Mellish] trusted to his instinct, and recognized a true woman when he met her” (400), this message seems loud and clear, at least to my modern reader ears. I spent quite a bit of time thinking about Aurora: is this rich white woman a sympathetic character? and decided that yes, her past experiences are painful. You never forget the past even if it's been resolved, that "no future joys can quite wear out. The murder has been done, and the hands are red" (392). Something that I loved was the novel's embrace of characters accepting each other despite their mistakes, and trying to become better for it. Both heroes ponder and move towards atonement. So, after all this female strength buildup, I was frustrated by the final third of the novel--in which Aurora essentially is entirely removed, voiceless, and waits on the sidelines for the murder case to be resolved. I don't know why that happened.
I noticed previous reviews have indicated annoyance over the narrator's interruptions, but I seriously liked it. It draws an eagle eye perspective to the characters' inductive conclusions, opines about the story in relation to larger broader, abstract concepts like time, and gives readers insight on culture and the author's mind. I also liked the author's intentional inclusion of supernatural language, which brought in remnants of the influence of the Gothic genre on sensationalism; her use felt symbolic and hyperbolic (red imagery, Aurora's secret casting a "shade" upon her) rather than physical (expecting the supernatural to appear). So often the author played with foils and contrasts between characters, which showed multi-dimensionality in the characters' personalities.
Through the creation of Aurora, a free-spirited supposedly "femme fatale" woman (we are repeatedly reminded of her raven black hair and eyes...), and the loving, trusting relationship she has with Mellish, the author hintingly challenges behavioral expectations for Victorian women and their subordinate role in a marriage. With phrases like “[Mellish] trusted to his instinct, and recognized a true woman when he met her” (400), this message seems loud and clear, at least to my modern reader ears. I spent quite a bit of time thinking about Aurora: is this rich white woman a sympathetic character? and decided that yes, her past experiences are painful. You never forget the past even if it's been resolved, that "no future joys can quite wear out. The murder has been done, and the hands are red" (392). Something that I loved was the novel's embrace of characters accepting each other despite their mistakes, and trying to become better for it. Both heroes ponder and move towards atonement. So, after all this female strength buildup, I was frustrated by the final third of the novel--in which Aurora essentially is entirely removed, voiceless, and waits on the sidelines for the murder case to be resolved. I don't know why that happened.
I noticed previous reviews have indicated annoyance over the narrator's interruptions, but I seriously liked it. It draws an eagle eye perspective to the characters' inductive conclusions, opines about the story in relation to larger broader, abstract concepts like time, and gives readers insight on culture and the author's mind. I also liked the author's intentional inclusion of supernatural language, which brought in remnants of the influence of the Gothic genre on sensationalism; her use felt symbolic and hyperbolic (red imagery, Aurora's secret casting a "shade" upon her) rather than physical (expecting the supernatural to appear). So often the author played with foils and contrasts between characters, which showed multi-dimensionality in the characters' personalities.