First point of order: HAPPY BIRTHDAY GTN! A notification happened, informing me that today is the 1st anniversary of Peachy and me typing life into our blaby (blog-baby,) and it is, if you’ll believe, a complete coincidence that we’d both planned posts for today! Peachy is in the middle of study at the moment, so it is my great pleasure to write today : )
Second thing: I’m reading Tess of the D’urbervilles at the moment- well, strictly speaking, I’m on a break from reading Tess of the D’urbervilles, because that is some emotionally exhausting shit. I’ve had to take a small break with each major plot development, waiting until I’ve calmed down some before I can get back into it. You’ll see why. A warning, for the unread- the following open letter makes details of the plot explicit.
*SPOILERS AHEAD*- though only up to just over halfway. Only after reading The Fault in Our Stars was I willing to accept that maybe I’m prone to over-investing emotionally in characters I like, and having to write nonsensical, rambling, open letters when they upset me, so I can sleep.
Dear Mr. Clare,
You hypocritical sonofabitch. If you were knocked unconscious, hung upside down and painted blue, you would be about as responsible for your direction and hue as Tess is for her “bygones”. She was drugged and raped by a serial offender of that variety, and yet she is the one being treated like a criminal. Her only crime, as far as I can see, was to hope that you, after all your insistent declarations of undying love, would understand that shit happens.
In the course of your wooing her, had your “dearest Tessy” not told you that she’d sworn off marriage? Had she not made it clear that for all your ethical progressiveness, she was still, by your standards (and those of society,) “unworthy”, at the very least, unwilling? She loved you enough to consider your feelings on something that had tainted her life to such a complete degree, and yet you feel like the victim- bitch, please.
Tess actively rejected you for months, but you, in your self-assured, romantic state, believed that any reluctance on her part acted only as a “forebear to acquiescence-” you decided she was playing hard to get. What it looked like from here, Mr Clare, is that you don’t think no means no, but instead means “pester me and overwhelm me emotionally until, against my better judgement, I say yes.” Hey, you could always skip the hard-fought “yes” altogether- IT WORKED FOR ALEC STOKE-D’URBERVILLE (the original perpetrator.)
How is the willing, 48-hour “dalliance” that you admit to such an easy thing for you to excuse, when you despise your wife for a violent crime perpetrated against her? I know this is 19th century England, BUT COME THE FUCK ON, SON.