Classics and the Western Canon discussion

Now that we're well into the book, it seems an appropriate time to start talking about some of the themes people see developing. [For those who have finished the book or read far ahead, please try to avoid spoilers and only talk about themes that have developed to the point we're at in the reading.:]

We can use this thread to discuss some of the possible themes we see, and follow them through as they develop further in our reading. (If any of them start to need it, we can open new topics for specific themes.)

Several themes have already been suggested in existing postings. One is the theme of identity. Another is the role of education and how various characters use the educational process in directing their lives. Another is the religion/salvation theme, with Myriel "buying" Valjean's soul and the question recently discussed of whether Hugo is an advocate of salvation by education, by faith, or by works (a controversy which was of major importance in the Reformation -- Laurel is well qualified to talk about this, and others may be also). I'm not sure it's really a theme, but we also have a fairly broad range of parent (or surrogate parent)/child relationships and child development issues to consider.

Use this topic to share your thoughts on these and other themes you see developing to this point in the book, and to add to your understanding of the development of the themes as we proceed in our reading.

I'm not sure it's a theme, but the idea of Destiny and the role of will might be of interest. I read somewhere that VH believed in Destiny, but as a man with the gift of language and the ability to win the hearts and minds of his peers, he had many choices in his own life. Maybe there Destiny is at play whether a character acts or does not act. The opportunity for the individual to act or not act still remains beyond the control of the individual. Any thoughts?

I am a little ahead of schedule with my reading and I don't want to post any spoilers but I was wondering if anyone thought of Ayn Rand when they read this...because VH and AR seem to have opposite belief systems yet their style of writing seems similar to me, especially in one part where someone makes a speech and I won't say any more because the group hasn't gotten there yet.

I posted this in one of the threads, but I think it probably belongs here. The issue of the digressions has come up a couple of times. I tried to make some thematic (and stylistic) sense of what Hugo may be attempting. But I think my speculation may well be open to question.

Some time ago I quoted Adam Gopink from the introduction to the Rose translation on the importance of the long digressions in Les Miserables. In what I dubbed an arresting, if impossible, metaphor, he said: “The gassy bits in Les Miserables aren’t really gassy. They’re as good as the good bits. They’re what give the good bits the gas to get them off the ground.” I’m grateful to Aliasreader for his puncturing of the balloon; and to those who find the digressions elevating. These opposed reactions have led me to spend some time trying to figure out the function of these sections in the novel.

I’d like to float a theory. [Apologies for the pun on “float.”:] First, I need to say something about my view of Hugo’s characters and plot. Captivating as both may be, on their own, they don’t add up to much more than a run-of-the-mill Romance or melodrama. The plot (as others have documented) is improbable. Quite stylized, the characters are not presented as archetypes, but neither are they credible as people one might encounter in real life.

I’ve concluded that Hugo doesn’t really care about his characters. He wants to study humanity, not people. He wants to critique society, not expose psychology. But the fashion of his time won’t allow for a straightforward allegorical tale like, say, Pilgrim’s Progress.

So he has a challenge. A straight political-philosophical treatise will not capture readers’ hearts; and, of course, Hugo is, first, a story teller. But, even at the height of the Romantic Era, merely plotting the travails of Jean Valjean, Cosette, Marius, etc. won’t vitalize social change. (Or could they? One might consider Uncle Tom’s Cabin.)

The more I thought about it, the more I think Gopink may have things exactly backwards. The digressions don't "elevate" the good bits, they “ground” the characters. They place the characters in a broader context: that of France’s revolutionary heritage. The characters make the history come alive. Hugo wants them to inspire a return to that heritage and an abandonment of bourgoise complacency.

A Victorian author we haven’t yet mentioned in this thread is Trollope. I haven’t read much of his work. But it seems to me that he approaches this in a different way. With a smaller canvass and subtler characterizations, he leaves readers to draw their own conclusions about the society the characters inhabit. On the other hand, he also leaves the reader free to ignore the social implications and simply enjoy the story.

Hugo’s agenda is bolder. Whether or not he succeeds is debatable—as the comments have demonstrated. As I said, this is just a hypothesis. Feel free to disprove it!

That's an interesting comment, Zeke, but I think there may be an internal inconsistency in it.

At one point you say "I’ve concluded that Hugo doesn’t really care about his characters. He wants to study humanity, not people. He wants to critique society, not expose psychology."

But at another point you say "of course, Hugo is, first, a story teller."

I'm not sure that works. I think somebody who is first of all a story teller must care about his characters as characters. That seems to me an essential element of true storytelling.

I think the essence of what you're saying may be true -- that he is first of all a didactic revolutionary, and that the story telling is his vehicle, which makes him second, and not first, a story teller. Which explains why his storytelling is not particularly inspiring in and of itself and why he feels so free to use totally outrageous coincidences that would make any genuine storyteller blanch.

Dianna #3: Ayn Rand when they read this...because VH and AR seem to have opposite belief systems yet their style of writing seems similar to me,
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I think VH writing is far superior to Rand. Her characters are one dimensional. She hits the reader over the head with the point. Technically I found her sentences pedestrian and choppy.

Can you tell I don't like Rand ? :) I think my views are probably colored by the fact that I do not subscribe to her view at all.

I do think her books make for great discussions. I would love to read Atlas Shrugged with this group.

Funny you should mention Rand, Dianna. There is a new book out on her and the author was on NPR.

You can listen at this link to the interview of the author.

http://www.wnyc.org/shows/lopate/epis...

Anne C. Heller, discusses Ayn Rand, author of The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and passionate advocate of laissez-faire capitalism and individual rights. Heller’s book Ayn Rand and the World She Made is a portrait of Ayn Rand’s life, from her childhood in Russia to her years as a Hollywood screenwriter to the publication of her bestselling novels, and a look into the legacy she’s left.

@Everyman: You make me think how to sharpen my point. I guess I don't agree that a great story teller has to care about his characters as characters. I think the plot matters a lot to Hugo as a story teller, but I would still maintain that he doesn't much care about the people. How can he? For the most part, they are only recognizable as "types," aren't they? By contrast, an author like Shakespeare has strong feelings (if not "love") for all of his characters--even the most villainous. That is why it is possible for us to be seduced by Richard III or feel such agony at Othello's folly.

Alias Reader, I don't like Rand either lol I read Atlas Shrugged some time back and absolutely hated it. "Her characters are one dimensional. She hits the reader over the head with the point." I agree with you totally there but was trying to say that in a sense VH does the same thing. I guess I wouldn't mind reading Atlas Shrugged with this group; who knows I may even like it if I read it again. I thought Les Miserables was one of my favorites last time I read it...

Zeke wrote: "@Everyman: You make me think how to sharpen my point. I guess I don't agree that a great story teller has to care about his characters as characters. I think the plot matters a lot to Hugo as a sto..."

We may have to disagree on that. I think a writer can write without caring that much about his characters, but I think part of what distinguishes a storyteller from a writer is the love of both story and plot.

But really, that's just definitional semantics. I think we're both agreed that Hugo is more concerned with the political/human message he is making than with the lives of the characters he is using to tell that message.

Although that said, I still think it's a pretty good story.

Everyman wrote: "That's an interesting comment, Zeke, but I think there may be an internal inconsistency in it.

At one point you say "I’ve concluded that Hugo doesn’t really care about his characters. He wants t..."

Going by this definition of a genuine storyteller as someone who avoids outrageous coincidences, is Dickens a genuine storyteller? A Tale of Two Cities is full of outrageous coincidences (and also less than three dimensional characters). Great Expectations is largely free of those.

There are some coincidences in War and Peace as well, but they are not outrageous and are handled so well that they are not jarring.

I think most of these great 19th century novels (at least those that I've managed to read) are didactic in nature, and often religiously as well.

Sandybanks wrote: "Everyman wrote: "That's an interesting comment, Zeke, but I think there may be an internal inconsistency in it.

At one point you say "I’ve concluded that Hugo doesn’t really care about his chara..."


I don't know how much Hugo cares about his characters, but he has certainly made me care for them. And as for coincidences, yes, they are a great trademark of nineteenth century (and earlier) literature. In the nineteenth century, what many moderns call coincidences were called Providence. At some earlier times they were called Destiny or Fate.

Laurele's comment about "providence," makes me wonder whether, perhaps we should sharpen discussion of "coincidence" to consider the use of the technique of deus ex machina? I don't really know too much about it in general terms; I do know that I generally don't like it when an author resorts to using it.

Zeke wrote: "Laurele's comment about "providence," makes me wonder whether, perhaps we should sharpen discussion of "coincidence" to consider the use of the technique of deus ex machina? I don't really know too much about it in general terms; I do know that I generally don't like it when an author resorts to using it."

Those who aren't familiar with the stagecraft of Greek tragedy may not recognize the origin of deus ex machina.

You have probably seen photos, if not the real things, of the semi-circular amphitheaters of Greek tragedy. Along the back of what we would call the stage and they called the orchestra (literally "dancing space") ran a building, the skene, in which actors could change their costumes and masks (there were only one to three speaking actors in Greek plays; the same actors would thus play several roles). Either mounted behind or on top of the skene was a long pole mounted on a vertical. On one end of the pole was a place for an actor to sit or stand. At the time when a god was to take control of the situation, the actor playing the god would get into this machine and be lifted out over the stage to pronounce from on high. This was the god in the machine. (In some cases the device was used to lift a character up out of the stage by divine powers -- this happens in Medea, for example.)

The term has come to mean an unnatural contrivance by which divine forces exert their influence on an event or action. But the origin of the phrase may be of interest to some who haven't been familiar with it in the past.

@Everyman: Thanks for the background. I, for one, never knew that was the origin of the phrase.

Also, in context of the ongoing discussion, I liked your use of the description, "unnatural contrivance." I think that gets to the heart of the matter; each reader will have their own point at which the contrivance exceeds their credulity or acceptance given the overall tone of the fiction. (For example, I will accept things in a satirical novel that I won't accept in a naturalistic character study.)

Dianna, and others, just wanted to let you know the author I mentioned in my last post, who wrote a book on Ayn Rand, will be appearing on CSPAN 2 Book TV this Sunday morning.

If you happen to not get CSPAN 2, you can watch the program online. BookTV.org

Sunday 9am (ET)
Approx. 1 hr. 14 min.
Anne Heller, "Ayn Rand and the World She Made" and Jennifer Burns, "Goddess of the Market: Ayn Rand and the American Right"
Jennifer Burns; Anne Heller

Zeke wrote: "Laurele's comment about "providence," makes me wonder whether, perhaps we should sharpen discussion of "coincidence" to consider the use of the technique of deus ex machina? I don't really know too..."

I think that is usually some very dramatic thing coming in at the end and making all well. What I am talking about is the quiet, day by day grace of God to work all things together for good to his followers. Its something that would be hard for many people in this century to understand, but it undergirded much of life and belief in the nineteenth century.

That's actually quite helpful to me Laurele, and I think it fits within the continuum I presented. If I understand your point correctly, a 19th century reader --especially a believer-- would find many of the "coincidences" falling within their understanding of the (possibly-super)natural world.

It also leaves open to judgment the point at which they excede credulity and become, in E-man's words, "unnatural contrivance."

Zeke wrote: "That's actually quite helpful to me Laurele, and I think it fits within the continuum I presented. If I understand your point correctly, a 19th century reader --especially a believer-- would find m..."

Yes, Zeke, and yes. Good point.

Zeke wrote: "That's actually quite helpful to me Laurele, and I think it fits within the continuum I presented. If I understand your point correctly, a 19th century reader --especially a believer-- would find m..."

But not all 19th century writers rely on these unnatural contrivances to make their stories work. As I have noted before, Tolstoy makes much less use of it than Dickens and Hugo. Eliot (in the two of her novels that I have read) hardly had any of them in her stories. And from an earlier era, Austen's stories are constructed along domestic incidents that are logically plausible. The characters in their books meet because they belong to the same set in society (or live in the same community), no one has selective amnesia, and no earthquake or other natural disaster conveniently dispatches certain characters. I know that some of these writers are realists rather than of the romantic school like Hugo, but I wonder if even the 19th century public or critic (who believed in divine providence) also took into account the prevalence of these unnatural coincidences in judging an author's work.

Personally, I would make an allowance for these, especially for romantic 19th century novels, but too much of them ruins the story for me. Hugo is still holding my interest with his characters, so I consider him not past that threshold yet. : )

Everyman wrote: "Zeke wrote: "Laurele's comment about "providence," makes me wonder whether, perhaps we should sharpen discussion of "coincidence" to consider the use of the technique of deus ex machina? I don't re..."

That's fascinating. I've seen several Greek amphitheatres, but didn't know that.

If I remember my Lit studies, the school of thought in the 19th century was that a novel had two purposes, one was to teach (be didactic in nature) and the other was to delight (entertain). There are many other 19th century works that fit this mode of thinking too besides Les Mis.

Sandybanks wrote: Eliot (in the two of her novels that I have read) hardly had any of them in her stories.

Think of Silas Marner.

Laurele wrote: "Sandybanks wrote: Eliot (in the two of her novels that I have read) hardly had any of them in her stories.

Think of Silas Marner."

Haven't read that one.

In another thread, Sandybanks wrote: It [the Bastille elephant:] really existed and it was HUGE. The interior must have been really cavernous, enough for whole troops of gamins to sleep in!

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This might be the time and place to share one of my favorite quotes. It is by Anatole France from a novel written in 1894. I share it here because, to me, it perfectly expresses one of the themes of the book.

"Another reason for pride, that of being a citizen! For the poor citizenship consists of supporting and sustaining the power and idleness of the rich. They must work for those goals before the majestic equality of the laws, which forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets and to steal bread."

Alias Reader, I wish I had cable television but right now I can't afford it. I used to watch c-span book tv whenever it caught my interest. I would like to see that one about Ayn Rand for sure.

Alias Reader, I wish I had cable television but right now I can't afford it.
------------------------

You can view the show on your computer.
Go to their web page.

BookTV.org.

A theme? Some questions about the narrator have come to mind. As I was being guided through the labyrinth of Paris streets behind Marius by a master storyteller, a shot rang out and hit the shaving bowl marking a barber shop. Marius was oblivious, but the storyteller momentarily abandon the route and a historian took over long enough to note that the bullet hole was evident as late as 1848. So much for skulking down the dark streets with Marius. So here's the question...Is the narrator a storyteller whose historical interludes offer credibility or have another purpose? Or might the narrator be a historian who uses a storyline to convince the reader of his bias on historical events? Is there a reason so much history is embedded in what I was thinking of as a novel?

Susan wrote: "A theme? Some questions about the narrator have come to mind. As I was being guided through the labyrinth of Paris streets behind Marius by a master storyteller, a shot rang out and hit the shavin..."

An interesting set of questions, Susan.

"Or might the narrator be a historian who uses a storyline to convince the reader of his bias on historical events? "

I think this is an apt description of Tolstoy in War & Peace, and also of Hugo in Les Mis, to a lesser degree. Much of the 'history' that Hugo related in Les Mis is a part of a polemics, most of it related to the politics of his times. He was not interested in being an unbiased historian.

Sandybanks wrote: He(VH)was not interested in being an unbiased historian." Would historians dispute the "facts" of VH's description of Waterloo, for example? Did his writing shape the outcome of events significantly or did he happen to be on the "right side" of history? He did have some political role when he returned from exile didn't he?

Susan wrote: "Sandybanks wrote: He(VH)was not interested in being an unbiased historian." Would historians dispute the "facts" of VH's description of Waterloo, for example? Did his writing shape the outcome of..."

I hope somebody is well enough versed in French history to be able to answer this. I would also be interested in knowing how his history was viewed by "real" historians. (Not, of course, that they agree anyhow!)

Susan wrote: "Sandybanks wrote: He(VH)was not interested in being an unbiased historian." Would historians dispute the "facts" of VH's description of Waterloo, for example? Did his writing shape the outcome of..."

Yes. He was elected to the parliament of the Third Republic.

Link to the Wikipedia article :

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_H...

I don't know much about French history at this period, but I think it is safe to say that Hugo was for the Republic and against the Royalists (both in the form of Napoleon III and the Bourbons). I think this influence his handling of history of Les Mis, although I have no idea whether he actually 'interpreted' history to suit his political theories. Tolstoy did this in War & Peace.

I've been reading a lot of Tennyson again recently, and I just found this tribute to Victor Hugo:

Victor in Poesy, Victor in Romance,
Cloud-weaver of phantasmal hopes and fears,
French of the French, and Lord of human tears;
Child-lover; Bard whose fame-lit laurels glance
Darkening the wreaths of all that would advance,
Beyond our strait, their claim to be thy peers;
Weird Titan by thy winter weight of years
As yet unbroken, Stormy voice of France!

TENNYSON.
(In a later version, Tennyson changed "poesy" to "drama" in the first line.)

Laurele wrote: "I've been reading a lot of Tennyson again recently, and I just found this tribute to Victor Hugo:"

Neat.

(Of course you like it partly because he talks of fame-lit laurels!)

The theme I am seeing as I come to the end of the book is that nothing is really what it seems because we see through the eyes of humans and not God. We perceive everything in the context of our society and experience. I'm anxious to post more but I will wait until everyone gets to the end of the book. My book is borrowed from the library and I am already almost 2 months late bringing it back but it's only .05 cents a day so I am looking at about $3.00, which is less than if I had bought the book.

Dianna wrote: "The theme I am seeing as I come to the end of the book is that nothing is really what it seems because we see through the eyes of humans and not God. We perceive everything in the context of our s..."

That's a good insight, Dianna. Are you enjoying the book more now?

Well, I finished it and I give it three stars. I still think it is way too melodramatic and contrived but knowing that is they type of writing which was common in that period I will cut it some slack. Now I guess I will get back to War and Peace and see if my tastes have really just changed over the years.

I have to put in another plug for the idea that most literature is contrived and based on far fetched coincidence, but as contemporary readers, we somehow believe that contemporary writers aren't being "didactic." The attempt in modern literature is often to "teach" that events have only proximate causes and that there is overarching order or meaning to events. As Laurele has pointed out, that was not the way many people in the 19th century viewed events or history. Seeming coincidences were always the result of conforming to some overall pattern, although that might not be evident to the characters. It is no longer the fashion for writers to make their purpose in providing coincidences evident. But all stories are based on coincidence aren't they? I just reviewed a novel called "Baggage Claims" in which the plot was motivated by a luggage mix up. Judy Picoult (okay, snigger if you must) bases nearly all her fantastically popular plots on unlikely coincidences. "High" literature has over the past 50 years emphasized the basic disorder of the universe and the randomness of events. I think that is didactic, i.e. attempting to convince readers of the factual truth of a certain view of reality. Whether one agrees with that view of the world or not, it seems to me that it's evident in the shape of the plots.

Andrea wrote: "I have to put in another plug for the idea that most literature is contrived and based on far fetched coincidence, but as contemporary readers, we somehow believe that contemporary writers aren't b..."

Nice post, Andrea.

Everyman wrote: "Andrea wrote: "I have to put in another plug for the idea that most literature is contrived and based on far fetched coincidence, but as contemporary readers, we somehow believe that contemporary w..." Nice post, Andrea.

Yes; excellent.

Andrea wrote: "I have to put in another plug for the idea that most literature is contrived and based on far fetched coincidence, but as contemporary readers, we somehow believe that contemporary writers aren't b..."

Interesting post, Andrea.

I will allow a certain amount of coincidences, especially if the work is from the 19th century or earlier, or if it belongs to the non-realist school, but too many of them (a subjective criteria, I know) spoils the story for me. And contemporary works that rely on them are just not my cup of tea. Too many deus ex machina = the writer is lazy.

I suppose that whether we accept such coincidences in fiction depends on our worldview. The 19th century (and earlier) public had a different worldview than 20th/21st century's , and this is reflected in the fiction that they produced. It's not through a didactic attempt on the part of the modern writers that realism reigns in modern fiction, but because people's worldview have changed in favor of it.

A nice, spirited post Andrea. For me, the test is less the level of coincidence or contrivance in the plot; it is whether the resulting development seems credible and reflects some level of relevant truth.

Yes, I agree with both Zeke and Sandybanks that coincidence has to be artfully contrived. I would also concede that our modern standards of what constitutes believable contrivance are different from that of the 19th century (okay, that's not really a concession, just a reiteration). But, I think the word "realism" itself implies a judgment about the writer's worldview. Modern readers swallow Toni Morrison, Garcia Marquez and Salman Rushdie (and well they should) because we are willing to grant that within the worlds these authors create, these things can happen. Dorothy Sayers, who was both a writer and a theologian, argued that the a writer cannot produce successful fiction if he/she violates the "spirit" of the work, which she saw as having almost an autonomous life. She said that a successful writer couldn't "force" things on the plot or the characters. I think maybe this "forcing" is what we mean by contrivance. I freely admit that what seems necessary and acceptable in Hugo is thoroughly irritating in other, less skillful writers. I think I've written myself in a circle, but am enjoying this discussion immensely.

@Andrea: Good point about Rushdie, Marquez, et al. It reminds me that the very term used to describe their style is apt to this discussion but also oxymoronic: magical realism.

Yes. Coincidences in fiction, especially those that purport to depict our world in a realistic manner, should be artfully contrived. The best of writers can do this almost magically, like a sleight of hand. I also prefer that there is only a limited number of them and that the resolution of the main plot do not rely on a series of improbable coincidences. But that is only my preference. Reading is a matter of taste, after all. There are 19th century writers whose stories do not rely on improbable coincidences, such as Austen and Tolstoy, and I regard their work as the epitome of great writing.

Marquez, Rushdie et al are not realists and thus are not bound by these rules. I find it interesting that while I love Marquez, I dislike Rushdie, although they both work in the same style. And I love the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries!

Sandybanks wrote: "YThere are 19th century writers whose stories do not rely on improbable coincidences, such as Austen and Tolstoy"

I agree with your overall point. But I do have to say that Austen does s often rely on coincidences. Not as much as other authors, but for example, when Elizabeth Bennett goes on the trip with her uncle and they just happen to visit Darcy's home at a time when he just happens to have come back unexpectedly. I rolled my eyes at that one.

But I do agree that too many improbable and inartfully presented coincidences bother me, though as Laurel pointed out, that was more accepted in literature at the time. And, society was much smaller then so you were indeed likely to run into acquaintances at the least likely places (e.g. the meetings in I think Syria in Trollope's The Bartrams.)

Everyman wrote: "Sandybanks wrote: "YThere are 19th century writers whose stories do not rely on improbable coincidences, such as Austen and Tolstoy"

I agree with your overall point. But I do have to say that Aus..."

Yes. That is a pretty big coincidence! But not wholly improbable --- if you regularly visit people's homes as a tourist, you're bound to accidentally run into the occupant. It happened to me once. : ) But I'll forgive Austen this one since (I think) it's the only one that she uses in the book. It's not like A Tale of Two Cities where the resolution of the plot relies on a series of improbable coincidences.

I think Everyman makes a good point about society's of the time. Populations, even of larger cities were smaller, and people of specific classes gathered, strolled etc. in certain areas on a regular basis. In my husband's hometown of over 150,000, people still know where to find so and so at certain times and before cell phones, when every communication had to be through word of mouth (up to about 2001) it was even more true. I really think before we had easy electronic means of contacting only those we personally knew, people may have been more observant of who was around them, thus leading to coincidences that we miss today. I don't wish to push this too far, just speculating.

Sandybanks wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Sandybanks wrote: "YThere are 19th century writers whose stories do not rely on improbable coincidences, such as Austen and Tolstoy"

I agree with your overall point. But I do hav..."

There are some big coincidences in Persuasion, too, such as the Crofts just happening to take Kellynch Hall, Anne just happening to meet her cousin, Mr. William Elliot, at Lyme Regis, etc. If you were ever a follower of Ripley's "Believe it or Not," you won't be too surprised by coincidences. They do happen to happen.

Those coincidences in P & P and Persuasion don't bother me so much since they are quite plausible in a small community shared by people that socialize together or know each other through their acquaintances. It is a SERIES of extremely improbable coincidences that bother me. Here's an example from A Tale of Two Cities :

SPOILERS FOR ATOTC


Book I : Darnay happens to be in the same mail coach going to Dover with Mr. Lorry.

Book II : Darnay and Carton happens to look alike, so alike that they could be mistaken for each other by people who actually know them.

Book III :

- Darnay happens to be the son of Marquis Evremonde, who put Dr. Manette into jail.

- Mrs. Defarge happens to be the sister of the woman and her brother who were wronged by the Evremonde brothers.

- Cruncher happens to open Roger Cly's false grave and thus knows that Barsad is lying --- from all the probably hundreds of graves that he opens throughout his career, he happens to open that ONE and REMEMBER it well enough years later just for the trial !?

- Barsad happens to be Miss Pross' brother (not revealed until almost the end of Book III).

- Miss Pross and Cruncher happen to meet Barsad in a Parisian shop (at a crucial moment in the plot) while going grocery shopping.

What are the odds of all of those coincidences happening in real life? I'd concede that one or two of them happening are plausible, especially considering the nature of smaller communities of that time, but not a whole series of them.

Dickens manages the characters' tangled relationship in a much more plausible manner in Great Expectation; they meet each other because they're all clients of
the lawyer Jaggers, whose clients comes from all levels of society.

I'm sorry if it's a bit off tangent. I'm just trying to explain about why certain sorts of coincidences bothers me and others don't. : )

Sandybanks wrote: "Those coincidences in P & P and Persuasion don't bother me so much since they are quite plausible in a small community shared by people that socialize together or know each other through their acqu..."

Both Dickens and Hugo use the word "Providence" quite often, and I believe that explains for them the coincidences.