Uncle Silas

Uncle Silas by J. Sheridan Le Fanu
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

At its heart this is the story of young Maud Ruthyn, whose mother is dead and whose father, the wealthy scion of an ancient yet untitled family, seems utterly naïve and quite ill-prepared to raise his daughter properly—in fact he hardly ever speaks to her and keeps her in isolation from the world. When he learns that he has but a short time to live, he recklessly decides to give his estranged, impoverished, and socially-outcast wastrel of a brother, Silas, guardianship over Maud as a demonstration to society at large of his contempt for the allegations made against the man. Some years ago a gambler named Charke had been found at his home with his throat slit—and yet the room in which he was found was locked from the inside. Suicide? Murder? Who knows? (Duh!)

This is definitely a cut above your general penny dreadful, but to my mind it suffers fairly early on from a number of passages that felt poorly conceived and clumsily written. Victor Sage, the editor of the Penguin edition I read, felt these same passages to be laugh-out-loud funny; so what do I know? They involve “Madame” (Maud’s inebriated, pilfering tutor, who is foisted upon her by her own well-meaning father) doing a witchy dance in a cemetery. Personally I find her far more frightening (and realistic) when Maud is recounting the woman’s many mood swings and petty cruelties. Madame’s broken French accent is also problematic, as are the many regional accents that Le Fanu employs throughout. I managed to get most (though not all) of what was being said—indeed, occasionally it reads perfectly fluently—but it wasn’t much fun, and it slows down what would otherwise be a compulsive and riveting tale.

I think the great strength of this novel lies in its characters. There were times when I found myself not liking some of Maud’s more entitled attitudes; others when I felt positively sorry for Silas’s son, Dudley.

What else? It’s long; in common with the majority of novels of the time, it is in fact three books. Virtually all the female characters’ first names begin with the letter M (Maud, Monica, Mary, Milly, Meg, Madame); that said, there is a Sarah who pops up later—but even then her middle name happens to be Mathilda. The five shillings Maud pays out for her fortune to be told is today’s equivalent of £50; the pound for the lucky talisman and the pound that she presses into Tom Brice’s hand to deliver a letter, a cool £200 a piece. If you do choose to read this book, try not to think of Cousin Monica as being the elderly woman she is initially presented as; I almost choked when I discovered that she’s only 49! And as intriguing as the locked-room mystery (and its eventual explanation) may be, you will be left wondering why it was required. Best not to dwell on it; just enjoy it for what it is.

But that’s just my own humble opinion…what do you think? Do let me know!

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