by Andy Palmer
TALES FROM THE VALE
Tales From The Vale with Andy Palmer
Why is Hardy so popular?
Image: Hardy’s statue in Dorchester. His underlying obsession with brutal realism and tragedy stems from his own deeply unhappy life, specifically his doomed marriage to Emma Gifford. Initially they were happy together, but Emma was a higher social class to the poorer Hardy, which caused a rift in their relationship as Emma began to ‘look down on him’, including his novels, allegedly saying they were only fit for servants to read. Some years ago The Guardian created a fun infographic to find which of Hardy’s novels is the bleakest - the winner was Jude the Obscure, with Tess a close second!
A lot of locals revere the writer Thomas Hardy. I hate to be a party pooper but he’s just that little bit miserable and misogynistic for me. And his take on human nature is dubious, even by the standards of a 19th century male novelist with a drooping moustache and an unhappy marriage. I got a collection of his short stories from a Stur charity shop The Emporium (for books, CDs and DVDs the price is £1 for four; they’re £1.99 each in some Sherborne charity shops.) As a catalogue of misery Hardy’s tales are hard to beat. The first tale is called ‘The Withered Hand,’ so you can see the laugh out loud jollity contained. And take the full-length novel, Tess of the d’Urbervilles. The story? Tess has, you’ve guessed it, a bad time; seduced by an upper class bounder, cad and ocean-going rotter, Alec, with whom she bears a daughter which, naturally, she names Sorrow (later lamented in a 1960s song written by The Merseybeats, not David Bowie as I used to think). Sorrow dies (why am I not surprised). Tess falls in love with her wimp of a beau, Angel Clare, who knows nothing about her previous life and child. Marriage is discussed (alarm bells, a danger of happiness. Don’t worry, Thom’s
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got it all planned.) So, Tess writes a confessional letter, asking the wimp for forgiveness, hoping he won’t mind her ‘shame’ and slips it under his bedroom door. The author being Hardy, the note goes under the rug. Angel doesn’t see it, which suggests lax housekeeping in the Angel household. What does that housemaid do all day? Thinking he read the letter and is pardoned (obviously she doesn’t ever say, ‘did you get my... erm, note, Ange?) they get married. Angel tells Tess of an affair he had (good one, Angel, wait ‘till you’re married). Tess forgives him, and mentions her indiscretion. Being a man (who’s had an affair) Angel is horrified and despite previous reassurances of undying devotion, hands her some money (all heart) and sails for Brazil as a sort of ‘sod you’ gesture – why he couldn’t move to Wiltshire or Devon, Yeovil, even, is a mystery. Actually, maybe Yeovil isn’t on.
Result? A further life of misery for poor Tess (she’s gone back to the rapist Alec, would she really do that, Thom?) which is not helpfully ended by her swinging at the gibbet for murdering him, after a search party finds her asleep at Stonehenge (laughably, really, it’s the first place they’d look.) Thanks, Thom. Another riveting, uplifting read.
The village hall committee. We’ve had some great events at our village hall that the whole community thoroughly enjoyed. The village quiz - £10 a ticket, including a super large portion of fish & chips – is always a sell-out. It’s surprising the talent that’s available in every village and hamlet in Dorset. One couple, with a background in hospitality, who recently moved into the village, offered to provide, at cost, a range of excellent curries for an evening (included in the £10 ticket). We didn’t have enough plates for the Always free - subscribe here
