The Life and Death of Harriett Frean – May Sinclair (1922) 184 pages
I am very fond of Victorian novels. Those huge, sprawling tales of domestic realism suit me very well in the right mood. However, the heroines do have a tendency towards pious self-sacrificing virgins, whose superhuman goodness is rewarded in the end by a rich husband and/or massive legacy. So even while they profess a dedication to heavenly rewards, they can do so from the comfort of being hugely loaded in the earthly realm, alongside a hottie in a big white shirt (which admittedly does sound pretty appealing).
It is this premise that May Sinclair takes issue with in The Life and Death of Harriett Frean.
Early in the novel there is an example of how the child Harriett behaves in the way expected of little Victorian girls, and as a result does not get her needs met. The only reward is a sense of self-satisfaction:
“Being naughty was just that. Doing ugly things. Being good was being beautiful like Mamma. She wanted to be like her mother. Sitting up there and being good felt delicious.”
Sinclair shows how this conditioning is reinforced through insidious guilt-trips:
“Understand, Hatty, nothing is forbidden. We don’t forbid, because we trust you to do what we wish. To behave beautifully…”
And so Harriett grows up idolising her parents and never questioning whether this mode of behaviour is more about convenience for others than actually what is right.
Harriett’s biggest sacrifice is refusing to enter a relationship with the man engaged to her friend. It is this she consistently returns to, through a life that never truly sees or allows for others. Sinclair shows the vanity and self-centredness wrapped up in supposed self-effacement:
“When she thought of Robin and how she had given him up, she felt a thrill of pleasure in her beautiful behaviour, and a thrill of pride in remembering that he had loved her more than Priscilla.”
The Life and Death of Harriet Frean explores how this type of behaviour – inauthentic, fundamentally dishonest – can lead to unhappiness in big and small ways, from never having cutlets served how you prefer to destitution for some. But Harriett never really learns, sticking stubbornly to her frame of reference even as life repeatedly demonstrates the inadequacy of doing so and the damage that can be done.
For me the novella remained just the right side of didactic, but I think had it been longer it may have drifted into preachiness. As it was, it remained an interesting counterpoint to all those fictional Victorian heroines who may not have found things quite so clear-cut in real life.
madame bibi lophile recommends 
I love this book, though it is so sad. You’re so right about it being a reaction to a certain sort of Victorian heroine. Some of Sinclair’s novels too fall a bit too didactic for me, but this is my favourite of the ones I’ve read.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s useful to know Simon – this is the first of hers I’ve read and I’d be interested to read more, but I’ll bear in mind what you say.
LikeLike
This sounds a wee bit subversive even if it is didactic.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes definitely! At the time it was written I’m sure some of those Victorian ideals persisted.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I read this many years ago and had forgotten all about it, I think I should refresh my memory!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope you enjoy it if you revisit it Jane!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Interesting response, Madame B! I haven’t had the courage to read this yet as my Middle Child did and she told me how devastatingly tragic she found it. She may not have been so sensitive to the didactic elements thought and it’s interesting how close these sound to undermining the book!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is very sad Kaggsy but I didn’t find it too overwhelming – Harriett remains quite content in many ways! I thought it stayed just the right side of didactic but it was a fine balance.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m another who read this a few years ago, so I just revisited my post on it. I enjoyed it a lot: it shows rather than tells us how sad Hattie’s self-effacement is, how it blights her life – and those of others around her. I didn’t find it didactic; on the contrary, I think its message – about being authentic, among other things – is quite subtly done. As May S was a suffragist, I’m sure she’d want us to disapprove of Hattie’s choices.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh yes, I think safe to say Harriett isn’t remotely based on the author. She definitely doesn’t seem to endorse Harriett’s choices at all.
LikeLike
Ah, the good old days, when women knew their place! Not a big fan of didactic books but this one sounds as if it stayed just on the right side of the borderline.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It definitely did FF. She had a point to make but it never got in the way of the character or story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I really enjoyed this novella it is very sad though. It paints a devastating portrait of Victorian life for women like Harriet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It really does – I think what saves it from being totally depressing is that Harriett remains content right to the end.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This does sound n interesting thread to have as a premise and the fact that it didn’t turn didactic makes it more appealing. I’ve never actually read Sinclair except an introduction she wrote to a copy of Villette (in which she seems to take a different line from other commentators on Charlotte Bronte’s relationship with M Heger (the Proffessor)).
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s interesting! I’ll have to see if I can find that, I’d like to know her thoughts on it. Thanks for letting me know!
LikeLiked by 1 person