Quality-wise, it is one of the most ambiguous books I have ever read. You know that it is always easier to follow the plot lines of Wilkie Colliens than any of his contemporaries because Dickens is verbose, Bronte is coldly reserved with the hidden passion inside, and Gaskell is somewhat academic. These contemporaries have distinct styles, and Collins's is the most engaging. On the other hand, he is also somewhat simplistic and rustic. And if his two most-famous oeuvres, The Woman in White and The Moonstone, contain a certain level of literary sophistication, this one is blatantly and conspicuously sensational. The novel deserves three stars only because it represents an original idea in literature (a mystery novel), at least two of its characters are very tangible and bigger-than-life, and finally, it kept me guessing till the very end. Valeria, a main heroine, is way too independent for the historical setting of the novel, but her independence succumbs to the overpowering feeling of love. This creates a certain inconsistency for a modern reader, but a woman who was ready to sacrifice her ambitions, desires, and prior commitments was nothing extraordinary in the 19th century. Conversely, her husband, a total pushover, eventually acquires features of a demanding and needy husband, and Valeria is more than happy to indulge him. Miserrimus Dexter is a true gem in the literary realm of the nineteenth century discourse. He was intentionally created as a bigger-than-life character, but his magnitude is quite inundating - he is a cripple, born without the lower extremities, he is independent, hedonistic, creative, resourceful, and emotionally unstable. Structure-wise, the novel is the account of the past events, told by Valeria Woodville, but Collins relies on other techniques he has been using in his novels - there are chapters representing the epistolary genre as well as the trial excerpts that solidify the verity of the situation for a potential reader. On the personal note, I experienced certain technical and anachronistic issues with the book. Because the novel was written at the cusp of the industrial revolution, a reader comes across the technical reality of the Victorian life, namely trains, chemical analysis of a certain letter, wheelchairs, and telegraph. Victorian literature in terms of physical times covers several decades, and it takes a while to incorporate those changes into the image of the world, created by Victorian writers. Most of them lived through the period of drastic changes, and some of their novels do not allude to technical innovations while others, later novels, reflect the ever-changing life they witnessed and portrayed. So every time, the telegraph or any other technical innovation was casually mentioned, my mind went through a certain check, 'Aha! This one was already invented/ discovered/ implemented/ used!'. Oh, well, the pleasures of reading books that take place during the industrial revolution. I am sure our reading descendants will be significantly confused about our time with its turbulent, influential, and reality-shaping inventions.
The Law and the Lady is what I would probably call a typical Wilkie Collins novel. Though this book probably wouldn't do so well as modern literature, you have to keep reminding yourself that it was written in 1875, and for the time period it was probably considered rather flashy. The story opens with Valeria, a bride-to-be who is warned by family and friends not to marry her betrothed. Of course she does anyway, only to discover just a few days' later that he was once tried for the murder of his first wife (aah, no wonder he married her under an assumed name!). However, he was given the "Scotch verdict," meaning there wasn't enough evidence to find him either guilty or innocent. So of course Valeria makes it her mission to find the evidence that will clear his name. This apparently makes Valeria the first female detective in a full-length novel, or at least Wilkie Collins is credited with beginning the tradition of female detectives.The story has basically three parts. In the first part Valeria (and the reader, unless you read ahead of time what the book is about) finds out that her husband not only lied about his name, but was previously married, and on top of it all was accused of poisoning her. During the second part Valeria reads the notes from the trial, and in the third she sets out to prove his innocence. You certainly have to just let go of the snarky comments about how women shouldn't trouble their pretty little heads about matters such as this (remember, this book was written in 1875). But perhaps one of the biggest obstacles to overcome is the portrayal of one of the primary characters, Misserimus Dexter, who was born disfigured and allows us to witness his descent into madness. The handling of this character certainly isn't very PC by today's standards, but remember, this book was written in 1875. However, even allowing for that, I found his character a little too over-the-top and thus tiring. Having said all of that, I still liked the book. But if you are new to Wilkie Collins, start with The Woman in White, which I personally think is superior to this novel.
Do You like book The Law And The Lady (2003)?
So the pivot in this story is a legless old-money maniac who thunders up and down his crumbling mansion pretending to be Napoleon, cooks truffles in port wine in a doll's kitchen that also houses the skin of a tanned aristocrat, and sometimes hops about on his hands in a game he calls "Dexter's Leapfrog." He's at the center of a strange sort of murder mystery involving marriage under an assumed name, arsenic, thwarted love, and many, many other wonderful things. IMHO, cocaine was very very good for Wilkie Collins...(got a chapter on this one in my forthcoming book, Making a Man: Gentlemanly Appetites in the Nineteenth-Century English Novel...)
—Gwen Hyman
This was quite the book although not quite at the same level as his The Woman in White.I do enjoy a nice dark, brooding-like beginning where you know something is just not right but it is initially difficult to pinpoint what exactly that 'something' is all about. Valeria is a bride-to-be who marries Eustace Woodville despite warnings from her family and friends. There are some odd exchanges at the beginning of this marriage between the two. It made me wonder what drove her to marry Eustace despite the million red flags all over the place. Of course we (and Valeria) find that he has skeletons in his closet. There is some deep secret that if uncovered will ruin the future of these two lovebirds. And we learn shocking point number two: Eustace Woodville may not really be Eustace Woodville. I know, this is all a lot to take in...Well Valeria must get to the bottom of this mystery and she dedicates the next several (several, several) chapters to searching for 'the truth'.Overall it was an okay ride but once you know the dark secret, there isn't that much more to find out. Valeria is a pretty fiesty and cool detective which is amazing for the time period this novel is set in. She is also financially independent which allows her to use her resources for finding out the truth.My favorite parts were in the development of some really out of the ordinary characters by Collins: Miserrimus Dexter and his cousin, Ariel (a she)who really steal the show in many ways. Miserrius is wheel chair bound but it doesn't stop him from some pretty lively interactions throughout. His cousin Ariel is overly devoted to him and it is a very odd relationship. Lots to like, ponder over and think about with those two.Good but not great.
—MichelleCH
Proof once again that there’s more to the Victorian novel than Charles Dickens.Wilkie Collins’ masterpieces are generally considered to be ‘The Moonstone’ and ‘The Woman in White’. ‘The Law and the Lady’ tends to be overlooked, as is often the case for resolutely genre-specific books, even if, here, the genre itself (detective fiction) was in its infancy and would in many ways grow around these superb foundations. It’s a form of cultural snobbery really, which is a shame because I actually can’t recommend this one highly enough.The central focus of the story is a brilliantly conceived and executed murder mystery which makes superb use of the incongruous and unfair potential Scottish verdict of “not proven” (as opposed to “guilty” or “not guilty”). We follow a newly-married young woman as discovers her new husband had been put on trial for poisoning his first wife, but that his prosecutors were unable to prove his guilt and so he was forced to continue to bear the shame of everyone’s on-going suspicions. Touchingly, she is convinced of his innocence and sets about proving it, which leads to a series of frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious sections where she has to work with mercurial, eccentric or downright stubborn people in order to re-examine the evidence.That the lead character, for a book written in the Victorian era, should be a woman, is remarkable in itself. Collins leaves the reader in no doubt about how difficult such a woman may find her campaign to be, and we sympathise with here entirely even if we can’t shake off the suspicion that at least some of her certainties may be a little misplaced. His writing for his heroine is just one of the many ways in which the novel feels curiously modern in tone and outlook – but then, given Collins’ rather unorthodox relations with the opposite sex, he’s better placed than most of his contemporaries to take this approach! Human nature doesn’t change, it seems. And to be brutally honest, I don’t think society’s attitudes have moved on far enough for us to assume that someone in a similar position would find their task any easier in this day and age.I’m careful not to hand out five-star reviews too often – the book needs to be something really special to earn that – but I can’t not make an exception in this case. If anyone is actually reading these reviews of mine, I urge you to give this one a go.
—James Barnard
