He Fell in Love With His Wife by Edward Payson Roe

I saw the review of this book from Carrie’s Blog. I agree of most she mentioned in her review and here I just want to add some of my own point of view and impression.

Yes the story is quite amusing up to the point that Holcroft smoked Mrs. Mumpson out of his house. Mrs. Mumpson is such a pain to a person like Holcroft who enjoy quiet and simple life. But somehow I found it pretty funny to see Holcroft suffering from the “respectful talk” and her never-give-up marriage plan (I laughed every time I saw Mrs. Mumpson said “I am respectable woman, respectfully connected”). To compared, Alida, the good woman, is less interesting and I think most of readers reckon the same.

In the world of literacy, a character that has contradicted or queer personality is usually more attractive and interesting than a perfect model with high moral standard. It is because the former presents “us”, the humanity that everybody has. No one is perfect, we both have our own adorable or disgusting manners/personality and we are driven by all sorts of desire that is too ugly to be honestly shown to other people. This is real, this is humanity and this makes a person unique.

In this story, Mrs. Mumpson is a star person. She is useless and selfish, causing so much hatred and headache of Holcroft but she is interesting to readers. When the story approaching to the end, I even feel a bit sorry for her when Jane run away from her. I wonder if she ever have any tender feeling to her “offspring” and if she would feel sad when knowing she is losing her daughter?

Well, it is a delightful read and the other queer reason I enjoy this book is that it doesn’t crowd any modern elements in the story–just plainly farming, cattle, housework and nature.

Here are some of the quote from the book that I like:

In occasional groups of pines there is signed and moaning almost human in suggestiveness of trouble.

This event, however, was like a coral reef to a sailor, with no land in view beyond it.

The bight breeze which fanned her cheek and bent the growing rye in an adjacent field was perfumed beyond the skill of art.



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