Oh, Shelley. First a story about a lonely, half-dead monster, and now a tale of incestuous romance.I was very intrigued about the novella "Mathilda." I had heard of before, as "that other Shelley book," but somehow the knowledge of what it was about managed to never reach me until a few days ago.For those who also do not know the story, this is about a girl who is indeed named Mathilda. Her mother tragically died in childbirth, inspiring her passionate father to flee in grief to the ends of the earth, leaving his infant daughter with a prickly aunt. This aunt raises Mathilda in Scotland, and while she is never cruel to the girl, she refuses to show her the slightest affection, which Mathilda bears with much suffering. She lives in hope that one day, her father will return to reclaim her. Miraculously, one day a letter appears, saying that he intends to do just that.Mathilda meets her father for the first time, and the two instantly form a connection. They become each others dearest friends, and Mathilda feels loved for the first time in her life.However, after going to live with her father in England, his attitude toward her shifts to one of coldness, and he seems repulsed by her very presence, no matter what Mathilda does. At last, alone in the woods one day, Mathilda confronts him about it tearfully. Her father confesses that he loves her - and not in the way that a father should.Horrified, Mathilda retreats back to the house. As she is planning on leaving, she receives word that her father has left mysteriously. Gathering from the letter he left her that he is in a dark state of mind, she rushes to the place she believes him to have gone, hoping that it is not too late.This was a melodramatic little story, which came as no surprise to me. I did not have any particular love for it, except for some scenes that stood out in my mind. The scene in the forest was striking, of course. I knew what was coming and was just waiting for Mathilda to realize it.The scene where Mathilda is racing to find her father was my favorite scene of the book. There was already such breathless urgency to it, and then of course, a thunderstorm had to begin.What was left of the book following this scene, I wasn't so sure about. It was sad, yes, but I felt that the woeful atmosphere was being pushed at me just a bit too much. I love a good depressing book, but it has to actually BE depressing. If the author is simply trying to convince us to be depressed and it isn't working, that isn't a good sign.Our heroine Mathilda was a girl that you cannot help but feel pity for. She is quite the good girl, and all her wishes and hopes are honest and simplistic, making the reader think "Gosh, how hard would it be to just give the poor girl that little thing?" I liked her, because though she is an unfortunate little thing, she also possesses a strength underneath, shown in her bravery and her compassion concerning the climax with her father. What a sad life she led. She grew up longing for affection that her aunt stonily refused her, and then finds this relationship with her beloved father. However, she was getting her hopes up too soon, because then her father turns away from her more pointedly than her Aunt ever did. All her life, Mathilda longs above all else to be loved. She finds no love with her aunt, but her father does come to love her - in a backwards sort of way.Mathilda's father is described from the beginning as "passionate," and as having strong, romantic emotions. At first I thought in disapproval that this seemed an excuse, or a way of watering things down. However, I was never quite able to hate him. He has evidentially never gotten over the death of his wife. He loved her very much, and now he has before him a beautiful young girl who looks, speaks, walks, and acts like his lover, like a ghost. We see plenty of Mathilda's sad story, but her father's was equally sorrowful. Also, he distances himself from Mathilda in an effort to protect her. When at last he confesses, he feels so guilty that he nearly dies. To me, he seemed to be a good man who tragically fell into wicked desires.As shocking as this book was for its time (though it was not actually published until much later), it does not, as seems to be heavily hinted in the reviews I've found, contain any incestuous sex. Mathilda's father proclaims desire for her, but that is as far as it ever goes. I wanted to say that because some reviews state outright that the two have sex. And this simply isn't correct.An interesting bit of information about the book was that after writing it, Shelley felt it to be darkly prophetic. Upon the death of her husband, she raced in a carriage toward the sea-side, hoping she would find him alive, just like in that scene from her own book.An intriguing story.
I've just finished re-reading Frankenstein and it reminded me how much I love the work of Mary Shelley, hence moving on to this small novella. The first part of this book is definitely stronger than the latter half which is a bit fragmented and not terribly polished in my opinion. The first part is just wonderful though - melodramatic, tragic and with all the obsession of the self which marks the typical Romantics of the period. The story commences on a blasted heath, where damaged soul Mathilda is residing waiting for death. We then learn why this is, the story of her childhood and the unnatural passion which her father has formed for her and the stain of pollution she feels this reflects on her. Her father lost and then found and then lost forever to her, she is utterly heart-broken and resolves to live her life as a hermit. However, there's something very self-conscious about Mathilda's heartbreak - she adopts the whimsical attire of a nun in her loneliness - even though she is not and never has been either religious or a Catholic. There is some wonderful writing in this little book. I LOVED the paragraph which occurred as Mathilda pursued her father: "Oh do not leave me; or I shall forget what I am about - instead of driving on as we ought with the speed of lightning they will attend to me, and we shall be too late. Oh! God help me! Let him be alive! It is all dark; in my abject misery I demand no more: no hope, no good: only passion, and guilt, and horror; but alive! Alive! My sensation choked me - No tears fell yet I sobbed, and breathed short and hard; one only thought possessed me, and I could only utter one word, that half screaming was perpetually on my lips; Alive! Alive!- p 35 Just how much does that remind you of those scenes in those Hammer Horror Frankenstein films where the mad scientist shouts "ALIVE! ALIVE!" as he bestows life on his creature? Well that's what it reminded me of anyway. What also struck me about this book is that every book I've ever read by Mary Shelley is about children in some way and the relationship of parents to their children. (Frankenstein abandons his creature, as does the father of Mathilda, the characters in the Last Man grow up as children of nature - alone and parentless- wild offspring) Considering that Shelley lost her own children very early and also lost her mother and had an interesting relationship with her father, it's not really all that surprising that these obsessions should emerge in her writing in this manner. All of her texts, like her interesting family relationships, seem to be intrinsically connected - much more so than other authors, I feel. As within The Last Man: "We go on, each thought linked to the one which was its parent, each act to a previous act. No joy or sorrow dies barren of progeny, which for ever generated and generating, weaves the chain that makes our life." This is a lovely book - not as polished as Frankenstein but melodramatic and full of interest. Free on kindle - there's not much not to like about that.
Do You like book Mathilda (2006)?
Mary Shelley is exceedingly famous as the author of Frankenstein, but this work isn't known at all and wasn't even published until 1959. With good reason. (view spoiler)[The story is that Mathilda's father leaves England after the death of his wife and doesn't return until she is 16 whereupon he falls in love with her. He confesses it to her and then kills himself (no juicy incest sex scenes here, this isn't a Virginia Andrews book). Mathilda is consumed with unhappiness and making financial arrangements for a secure future, fakes her own suicide and moves to a secluded cottage on the Yorkshire moors with only a servant for company. She decides to really kill herself and asks her only friend, a poet, to join her in drinking the poisoned drinks she has prepared. Eloquently, he persuades her to live. She gets consumption and dies anyway, happy that it is a natural death and doesn't spoil her chances of being reunited with her father in the hereafter. (hide spoiler)]
—Petra X
Though I started "The Last Man" several years ago, this is the first Shelley writing that I've finished since completing both editions of "Frankenstein."I'm working my way now through her complete works since reading Miranda Seymour's biography on this most extraordinary of authors."Mathilda" is not an easy read, despite its relatively brief length. It is heavy on first-person narration and detail, really heavy on emotion and sentiment almost to the point of melodrama (except for descriptions of chronic depression that only one who dealt with the illness could have written so well), and where there is dialogue it appears more in the form of one lengthy monologue giving way to another. The story is relatively simple: Mathilda grows up without a father who, when he re-enters her life, falls desperately in love with her. After confessing this to her, he eventually commits suicide and Mathilda is likewise driven to despair in horror and shame. She then becomes involved with a poet named Woodville who has recently been widowed, and yet that relationship does not bode well for her either.It was written after Mary's children Clara and William died in Italy about one year apart, and can be read as a self-expression of the long-term grief she experienced around that time.Despite how depressing it sounds, it is actually a rather hopeful story embodied in Woodville's monologue concerning his refusal to commit suicide with Mathilda or to allow her to do so on her own. Mathilda speaks first, then Woodville and the reader is left to decide: Is life worth living? If so, what do we live it for?
—Andrew
Oh Mary. First Frankenstein’s monster and now incestuous love. Mathilda is the name—and story—of a girl who was abandoned by her “passionate” father when he lost his wife. She was left in the care of an iffy aunt who loves Mathilda but expects her to be prim and proper without showering upon her the required amount of attention. Mathilda’s father returns about when she’s about 16 and takes her home with him. And that’s where things take a turn for the worst.Most of us who know about this story know what happens next. For those of us who don’t, here it is: Mathilda’s father lusts after her, confesses this desire to her, leaves her a letter and commits suicide.I’d like to say that I hate the man completely, but that wouldn’t be true. Though the book follows Mathilda’s struggle, her depression and the utter need to stop living that she feels, it also circumvents the truth around her mother’s death and the downfall of her father’s emotional life. There are two parts to this, is what I think.On one hand, she’s his daughter, sure, but only by name. Because society says so. He’s not seen her grow—physically or mentally. He returns after 16 years of soul-searching and being told that “This here is your daughter.” And so he believes it. The point being, he knows she is his daughter but his psyche is unable to reconcile the fact that a young, attractive girl in her teen ages, who he’s never met before, is actually his daughter.On the flip side, she is his daughter. Regardless of whether or not he’s seen her before, she is his own flesh and blood. Lusting for her is both immoral and a sin. So no matter what his state of mind is, this is something he’s just NOT allowed to do.Following her father’s death, Mathilda falls into a deep depression—alienated from society—and often pondering the meaning of her life. She makes a poet friend with suicidal tendencies of his own but even though I thought it helped her a little, sometimes Mathilda was almost stubborn in her wishing for death. No matter what he said or did, she refused to see the bright side of the situation. It was a bit melodramatic, to be honest.Mary Shelley’s father was also her publisher, and from what I heard he flat out refused to publish this controversial book. It was finally published in 1819—almost 150 years after it was written.And with good reason.
—Rhea Dsouza
