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Brideshead Revisited (revisited)
Mon, Feb. 24th, 2020 10:31 pmIn The Secret History the eccentric Greek professor said "Better to know one book intimately than a thousand superficially," and ever since reading that I took it to heart. It's difficult for me to articulate the effect this book had on my life. It was so formative, I can hardly believe I only read it in 2018. I have learnt so much about myself — about the world, about writing! — through the lens of this book. This 300-page tragedy from the 40s helped me come to terms with being trans.
As a piece of gay representation, it's flawed: the protagonist Charles Ryder makes a 180 halfway through the book and decides that he was not in love with the enigmatic but tragically alcoholic Sebastian Flyte, but was actually interested in his sister the whole time. Sebastian was merely the forerunner. And other gay characters (most notably the aesthete Anthony Blanche) are treated with even less respect by Waugh. It pales in comparison to other pieces of its time, most notably Maurice by E.M. Forster, a bildungsroman specifically about a gay man coming to terms with his sexuality in the post-Wilde 1910s. Sebastian and Charles certainly have chemistry and to a modern reader, the nature of their relationship is clear, but all the details are omitted.
Personally, I've always loved the mystique of those early Arcadian days Charles and Sebastian shared, through it I can project all the tenderness I want on them; through it we catch a glimpse of the love countless other men knew — Waugh included. To me, Charles and Sebastian will always be the archetypal lovers, rivals to Romeo and Juliet.
I have even learnt some new things in this specific readthrough:
1) After seeking out other works by Waugh (namely Decline and Fall, and The Loved One), I learnt much to my surprise that the most romantic and sentimental writer I knew was also an adept comedic writer. His comedic sensibilities were far more bleak than I anticipated, and far more absurd but I genuinely enjoyed both books. So I had a newfound appreciation for the comedic moments in Brideshead, namely in the characters of Bridey Flyte and Charles' father. And
2) I definitely need some space from the adaptations before I sink my teeth back into Brideshead Revisited again. I know some people consider the 1981 serial an authority on the subject, but I prefer to take the book for what it is, I felt like I was just reliving Jeremy Irons' performance at times.
In annotating this book for the first time, I make an absolute mess of my meek paperback copy but I will no doubt treasure it until the day I die. And then I will be buried with it.
As a piece of gay representation, it's flawed: the protagonist Charles Ryder makes a 180 halfway through the book and decides that he was not in love with the enigmatic but tragically alcoholic Sebastian Flyte, but was actually interested in his sister the whole time. Sebastian was merely the forerunner. And other gay characters (most notably the aesthete Anthony Blanche) are treated with even less respect by Waugh. It pales in comparison to other pieces of its time, most notably Maurice by E.M. Forster, a bildungsroman specifically about a gay man coming to terms with his sexuality in the post-Wilde 1910s. Sebastian and Charles certainly have chemistry and to a modern reader, the nature of their relationship is clear, but all the details are omitted.
Personally, I've always loved the mystique of those early Arcadian days Charles and Sebastian shared, through it I can project all the tenderness I want on them; through it we catch a glimpse of the love countless other men knew — Waugh included. To me, Charles and Sebastian will always be the archetypal lovers, rivals to Romeo and Juliet.
I have even learnt some new things in this specific readthrough:
1) After seeking out other works by Waugh (namely Decline and Fall, and The Loved One), I learnt much to my surprise that the most romantic and sentimental writer I knew was also an adept comedic writer. His comedic sensibilities were far more bleak than I anticipated, and far more absurd but I genuinely enjoyed both books. So I had a newfound appreciation for the comedic moments in Brideshead, namely in the characters of Bridey Flyte and Charles' father. And
2) I definitely need some space from the adaptations before I sink my teeth back into Brideshead Revisited again. I know some people consider the 1981 serial an authority on the subject, but I prefer to take the book for what it is, I felt like I was just reliving Jeremy Irons' performance at times.
In annotating this book for the first time, I make an absolute mess of my meek paperback copy but I will no doubt treasure it until the day I die. And then I will be buried with it.
