Let's start from the very beginning

As I was rereading my posts, I realized that while I certainly found new ways into this novel (I am particularly interested in continuing to explore the idea that each of Maisie’s parents desires to ‘map’ her body, which I never would’ve considered had we not read Moretti), I also in the end circled back to an idea I was struck by in the very first blurb about the book I posted:

“If we do take Maisie’s social and legal situation seriously, we may see that her final choice to go off with Mrs. Wix is severely constrained and that if that choice is based primarily on moral considerations, it is tragic.” Smit, David. “The Wishful Fantasy of ‘What Maisie Knew.’” American Literary Realism, 1870-1910 29.3 (Spring, 1997): 1-14.

In my last post Averyl and I discussed Greenblatt’s idea of subversion and I focused on the role of divorce in What Maisie Knew, and, without consciously realizing it, I came to a conclusion similar to David Smit’s in the above blurb (to quote myself): “James wraps up the narrative in the only more-or-less culturally acceptable way: he has Maisie leave with Mrs. Wix, the only woman who can somewhat adequately perform the role of motherhood. Without her, Maisie would be left to either fend for herself, which doesn’t gel with our conception of innocence and childhood, or she would be forced to choose between her real parents and her pseudo-parents…in an uncomfortably adult capacity that she’s not equipped to handle.” In a nutshell, I found myself agreeing with Smit that this is a somewhat tragic narrative. Smit argues that James becomes invested in Maisie’s psyche, but that as readers we cannot fully ignore the social and legal constraints within which the novel operates (which perhaps circles back to Colebrook and context). When viewed through the light of Maisie struggling to find a niche for herself in a society ill-equipped to handle divorce, the ending is anything but satisfactory. Instead, within the cultural possibilities for a constrained version of pseudo-happiness, James sticks the two agency-less females together to create a new life – but we are still left wondering, what does Maisie know and is she happy? It feels sticky because it seems unlikely that Mrs. Wix is the parent Maisie would choose for herself if given any other choice (in the recent adaptation, in fact, Mrs. Wix is entirely cut out of the script and we are appeased by a somewhat happier ending in which Maisie does choose the ending she wants by finding her voice). But of course, does it really matter if Maisie is happy? Does James want us to focus on that? I think so, but it could be argued either way.

So why this particular retrospective? I am surprised first that I in the end circled back to an idea I had at the beginning of the term and second that I am concerned with the novel’s ending. When I first wrote about this text at NYU and as I wrote this term, I found that I am generally more interested in how James ruthlessly ‘cuts’ (to go back to the Smyth) and rearranges the heteronormative, late 19^th-century family and how this might apply to his oeuvre in general. It was great to have to delve into Maisie specifically without considering his other novels, and to realize that James’s endings are as significant as the nitty-gritty, crazy details that make up his arguably subversive plots. Perhaps it seems obvious that the ending of a novel should be considered and can be a focal point for analysis. I, however, am a person who likes to shy away from trying to draw conclusions from how an author might wrap up his or her novel as I feel it becomes particularly easy to revert to analyzing the ending’s significance in terms of how it makes the reader ‘feel,’ which I am not sure is super useful. Here, though, I think it is interesting to not necessarily focus on whether it's a tragic ending/tragic novel, but rather how analyzing the social and legal constraints of the novel's context might cause us to rethink the novel, though I am still exploring in what way(s).

Finally, thank you to everyone for your comments this term! It was great to write about this novel and receive comments from scholars unfamiliar with the book and therefore with fresh perspectives, as I think I need to set this novel aside for a little while and even then might not ever be able to approach it as if reading it for the first time. Sally, I hope you enjoy reading it! 

(and, per usual, sorry for the odd white highlighting...blogger's formatting still eludes me)