A last look at the depressing biography of Jean Rhys

The previous articles in the series inspired by Carole Angier's biography Jean Rhys: Life and Work have covered most of the book's content of particular interest to me and relevance to this blog.

The mining for inspiration has been resulting in diminishing returns. While there is still more material in the book that attracts my attention and inspires commentary, it is mostly more of the same: it enhances topics already covered and supports points already made; it provides further descriptions of Jean Rhys's attributes and deficiencies; it gives yet more depressing and exasperating examples of her infantile personality, lack of life skills, bad behaviour and failure to learn from experience. 

However, there is still a little more to say in the form of a few miscellaneous thoughts and connections before leaving the biography behind at last and moving on to other things.

More elements in common with other writers
The article about Jean Rhys and Antonia White lists many elements that these two novelists had in common; several other articles, including the one about feeling different, mention some more familiar names. 

In addition to all that, Jean Rhys resembles Ouida and several others in her lack of financial sense, common sense and sense of humour. Ouida lost many letters and cherished mementos during her frequent moves from hotel to hotel and villa to villa; it was much the same for Jean Rhys.

Reading about her appalling treatment of her unfortunate and long-suffering husbands and the terrible effect that this had on them reminded me of other writers whose husbands were much the worse for the relationship:  Alison Uttley, Mary Webb, Daphne du Maurier and L. M. Montgomery are some who come immediately to mind. 

Context and the total picture: Part IV

The first article in this series describes what can happen when people go from looking at their painful experiences in isolation to putting them into the context of other, often well-known, people's lives. 

Some people react negatively and some positively when they learn that somebody famous suffered in a similar way.

Napoleon Bonaparte's living on crumbs of hope is a good example: while negative, glass half empty, people may feel worse when they realise that not even an emperor is safe from being reduced to this, positive people may feel better when they realise that this great man also experienced a lack of options for the future.

This article has something further to say about the positive reactions that some people have when they first discover that that they are in good company. 

People who feel better may have previously felt alone in their suffering; they may feel gratified when they learn that they have something in common with a famous person. 

They may have had erroneous assumptions, that fame and fortune, power and position and certain personal attributes offer protection from many unpleasant experiences for example, and evolve mentally when shown to be wrong.

Two cases from personal experience
A positive example from my own experience involved someone who was being targetted with unkind and belittling remarks by some hostile people he worked with. 

I told him about Princess Margaret, whose husband Lord Snowdon belittled her in public and left spiteful little notes in various places such as her desk and glove drawer. One of them started, “Twenty four reasons why I hate you”! 

He is reported to have worn a brown paper bag over his head when they attended a private dinner party in London. When the Princess eventually asked him why he was doing it he replied, “Because I can't stand the ****ing sight of you!”

An even closer look at Rachel Ferguson and The Brontës Went to Woolworths

The previous article in the series inspired by The Brontës Went to Woolworths contains material that suggests that Rachel Ferguson was well aware of the smaller problems experienced by people who live in fantasy worlds and have imaginary relationships; this article contains material to support the case that she also knew about some of the greater dangers. 

While the family game is mostly just fun and mutually beneficial for the Carne family and the Toddingtons when they eventually get together in the real world, it isn't all good: Rachel Ferguson describes some rather alarming undercurrents and sinister side effects.  

White magic with a dark side
After first reading about the unexpectedly positive and successful outcome of the Carne family's fantasies, it occurred to me that the book was another example of what I think of as white magic in writing, similar in that respect to Stella Gibbons's novel My American.

It is very common for example for people who have fantasies about someone to feel great disappointment and disillusionment for one reason or another when they first meet them, but the opposite happens in The Brontës Went to Woolworths. This gave me the idea that Rachel Ferguson wrote her book partly to counteract some beliefs about the negative effects of living in the imagination. 

While a closer look at the story did reveal some difficulties, Rachel Ferguson describes how Deirdre dealt with them successfully. While on balance the messages in the book still seemed to be positive, a further, deeper, reading uncovered some elements that tell a different story. While no inner worlds may come crashing down, some of the characters suffer in other ways. There is a dark side to the game the Carnes play.