A review by michaelacabus
The Man of Property by John Galsworthy
5.0
"Justice, there is no justice for men, for they are forever in the dark"
In some novels, the author's admiration for their creations is obvious; in varying degrees, a novelist will let you in on who is their favorite, sometimes annoyingly so (as much as I liked the Harry Potter books, the refrain of "Harry, Ron and Hermonie" that constantly began chapters became, dare I say, tiresome).
Here the reader doesn't get the sense that Galsworthy really admires any of his subjects, expect perhaps for Old Jolyon and Young Jolyon. It was at times reminiscent of Trollope's The way we live now; like that wonderful novel, it constructed a story that questioned ideas of principle at the basis of the upper class. Here, Galsworthy equates it all with property; indeed, a redemptive moment in the novel, when a character comes to a realization about his behavior and and a scope broader than himself, it is couched as behavior that it unpractical (and, hence, in the Forsyte parlance, useless).
Here we see the notion of property as principle taken to its extreme, and it is disquieting. For all the television shows on now that rely on some shock, and persistent violence, it is the quiet novels that come to a fore that, in my mind, are the most awakening and powerful. J.M. Coetze's novel Disgrace does the same, in almost the same manner: ideas of property and possession that seem sound but taken to their extreme are seen as the source of so much grief. We have that here, and its hard to see the character in the same way, hard to forgive him, even if he has that unpractical redemptive realization.
Must we always live forever in the dark, thus having any true sense of justice allude us? This seems to be the question of the novel and it hinges on our susceptibility to rigid ways of living, to purely self-interested pursuit.
I'd intended to read the others in this series, with books 2 and 3 ready for me in audio book during my commute. The Forsyte's, so far, though, have proved to be like a side of your family (or in-laws) you are eager to hear about and perhaps gossip about, and visit briefly, but also feel a bit relieved when you board the airplane to go home. "The more I see of people", young Jolyon quips, "the more I am convinced that they are never good or bad – merely comic, or pathetic." Dickens believed in the good souls as lights of the world, in the midsts of the comic, or pathetic; and as much as I may agree with Young Jolyon's sentiments, if pressed for an absolute answer, I feel better under the illusion that the world is a bit more Dickensian, sometimes against all evidence to the contrary.
A+
In some novels, the author's admiration for their creations is obvious; in varying degrees, a novelist will let you in on who is their favorite, sometimes annoyingly so (as much as I liked the Harry Potter books, the refrain of "Harry, Ron and Hermonie" that constantly began chapters became, dare I say, tiresome).
Here the reader doesn't get the sense that Galsworthy really admires any of his subjects, expect perhaps for Old Jolyon and Young Jolyon. It was at times reminiscent of Trollope's The way we live now; like that wonderful novel, it constructed a story that questioned ideas of principle at the basis of the upper class. Here, Galsworthy equates it all with property; indeed, a redemptive moment in the novel, when a character comes to a realization about his behavior and and a scope broader than himself, it is couched as behavior that it unpractical (and, hence, in the Forsyte parlance, useless).
Here we see the notion of property as principle taken to its extreme, and it is disquieting. For all the television shows on now that rely on some shock, and persistent violence, it is the quiet novels that come to a fore that, in my mind, are the most awakening and powerful. J.M. Coetze's novel Disgrace does the same, in almost the same manner: ideas of property and possession that seem sound but taken to their extreme are seen as the source of so much grief. We have that here, and its hard to see the character in the same way, hard to forgive him, even if he has that unpractical redemptive realization.
Must we always live forever in the dark, thus having any true sense of justice allude us? This seems to be the question of the novel and it hinges on our susceptibility to rigid ways of living, to purely self-interested pursuit.
I'd intended to read the others in this series, with books 2 and 3 ready for me in audio book during my commute. The Forsyte's, so far, though, have proved to be like a side of your family (or in-laws) you are eager to hear about and perhaps gossip about, and visit briefly, but also feel a bit relieved when you board the airplane to go home. "The more I see of people", young Jolyon quips, "the more I am convinced that they are never good or bad – merely comic, or pathetic." Dickens believed in the good souls as lights of the world, in the midsts of the comic, or pathetic; and as much as I may agree with Young Jolyon's sentiments, if pressed for an absolute answer, I feel better under the illusion that the world is a bit more Dickensian, sometimes against all evidence to the contrary.
A+