Everything about Ethne
As other reviewers pointed out, The Four Feathers is more a psychological novel than an action novel. The analysis of Harry’s fear of cowardice is refreshingly insightful, and the inner feelings of Durrance was well-written. As others have praised about its strength, I will comment on its weaknesses. The romantic tug-of-war drags in the middle, and the part on how Durrance found out about the feathers (known to the readers from the start) reads like a redundant detective exercise. While Harry’s ordeal at Omdurman is gripping, his first mission was absolutely silly, and the fact that the second feather was taken back for free was a weird let-down – why not just three feathers instead? Did Mason ran out of things for Harry to do? And how did Durrance get disabled? But these are actually minor flaws.
The novel reads quite dated, not so much due to the style or even values – for I believe true virtues like honor and loyalty are timeless – but more the patriarchal undertone which I find intriguing. It was emphasized that Harry did everything consciously for the sake of Ethne: first resigning from service to protect her (from the shame of having a husband who can potentially be proven a coward in future military actions - contrived huh?) and then risking his life to regain her favor (such as retrieving a bunch of letters that have no value whatsoever and giving them to a dumb guy so that he, a stranger to Ethne, can hopefully articulate Harry’s love to her some day; no hurry though). It all sounds very romantic, just unbelievable. In the modern world we admit that no normal man function this way; men do things because they do, not because they overanalyze what subtle effects their present and future actions may have on a woman’s fragile psyche. I suspect as such even in the Victorian era. Yet the novel took pains to explain otherwise. You see, Harry would not have shirked his manly responsibilities if he was not tied to Ethne. He would not have rescued Trench if not for Ethne either, because captivity during service is part of normal manly business. In other words, the novel was trying to be Victorianly politically correct by portraying how men are supposed to operate. Men should shelter women 24/7, not only physically but also mentally. Victorian men must be perfect, and oh yes, was Harry (and Durrance) perfect to the bone.
As a female, I didn’t mind this wishful gentleman’s thinking (hey, they’re trying), but I do chuckle at its silliness and incredibility. I am, however, offended and puzzled by the author’s strange condescending defence of Ethne’s unnecessary, obnoxious displays. She laughed when she heard a man was killed (“out of the world and done with”), and was delighted when another was tortured. The author was quick to rationalize that “she had the Celtic feeling that death was not a very important matter” (although it suddenly became not very “Celtic” when it involved Harry – what on earth did that mean anyway?). The author also pointed out that she hated these men who she had never met because they gave Harry two of the feathers. This is disturbing because having (unjustly) hated people myself, I know that the hate will suddenly dissipate when I heard some misfortune befell on them, and I am far from being a sweet girl. To me, Ethne’s behavior revealed her vindictive nature rather than being just a lapse. And was she even justified for her hate? To this the author carelessly replied, yeah, she lost no time in siding with them at that time, and she was the one and only one who sent Harry into the abyss by adding a fourth feather, but “she did not trouble her head about that” (and neither should you, reader). And with that, Ethne turned round to play a rude tyrant to the guy who gave out the third feather.
Because Harry was away most of the novel, the author put Durrance in his place to spoil Ethne at home. And it was the same deal over again – the perfect man emotionally tiptoeing around the damsel, making sure she felt good about herself. The grand project Ethne embarked on demonstrated how a person can be seemingly selfless yet appallingly self-centered. Having lost Harry, she thought that she can trick Durrance into thinking that she loves him (because I deduced that he can’t live properly without ME!). It is actually a common self-fulfilling delusion of vain, foolish girls, that they have the power to single-handedly save or ruin men. Of course, it was a recipe for disaster. So Ethne wounded Durrance even more with her pity, insulted his intelligence as he painstakingly pretended ignorance to indulge her, disrespected his freedom to choose his life, underestimated his internal strength, and overinflated hers.
But most disturbing is how despite admitting that Ethne’s project is gawd-awful, the author insists that it proved her “honor”, “loyalty”, and “selflessness”. How can honor be based on one big unnecessary lie that bursted on day one? How can she be loyal when her heart is forever betraying? And how is she selfless when she tyrannically forced her warped plan on others? Mrs. Adair, who was kicked into the role of the “bad woman”, was duly punished for trying to tear away Ethne’s charade. The author even hastily tried to dump all responsibilities of the whole sorry affair on Mrs. Adair, when they really belonged to Ethne. It was all about Ethne. All this trouble for a pretentious, clueless, self-centered girl who directed and acted out her “tragedy”. What’s even more maddening is how the author playfully counts every single one of her “slips” along the way. It is like a parent nodding with approval to the stupid actions of a spoilt child for his entertainment. “See? There she tripped again, how clumsy and cute!” Is this the Victorian attitude towards pretty damsels? Surely, the female gender can do much better. They don’t need men telling them it is okay, even cutesy, to be emotionally and logically crippled little princesses presumably because perception and wisdom belong only to the male gender.
Overall, this is still a worthwhile read for the House of Stone alone, but among the good parts there are notes of strange bad taste.
As other reviewers pointed out, The Four Feathers is more a psychological novel than an action novel. The analysis of Harry’s fear of cowardice is refreshingly insightful, and the inner feelings of Durrance was well-written. As others have praised about its strength, I will comment on its weaknesses. The romantic tug-of-war drags in the middle, and the part on how Durrance found out about the feathers (known to the readers from the start) reads like a redundant detective exercise. While Harry’s ordeal at Omdurman is gripping, his first mission was absolutely silly, and the fact that the second feather was taken back for free was a weird let-down – why not just three feathers instead? Did Mason ran out of things for Harry to do? And how did Durrance get disabled? But these are actually minor flaws.
The novel reads quite dated, not so much due to the style or even values – for I believe true virtues like honor and loyalty are timeless – but more the patriarchal undertone which I find intriguing. It was emphasized that Harry did everything consciously for the sake of Ethne: first resigning from service to protect her (from the shame of having a husband who can potentially be proven a coward in future military actions - contrived huh?) and then risking his life to regain her favor (such as retrieving a bunch of letters that have no value whatsoever and giving them to a dumb guy so that he, a stranger to Ethne, can hopefully articulate Harry’s love to her some day; no hurry though). It all sounds very romantic, just unbelievable. In the modern world we admit that no normal man function this way; men do things because they do, not because they overanalyze what subtle effects their present and future actions may have on a woman’s fragile psyche. I suspect as such even in the Victorian era. Yet the novel took pains to explain otherwise. You see, Harry would not have shirked his manly responsibilities if he was not tied to Ethne. He would not have rescued Trench if not for Ethne either, because captivity during service is part of normal manly business. In other words, the novel was trying to be Victorianly politically correct by portraying how men are supposed to operate. Men should shelter women 24/7, not only physically but also mentally. Victorian men must be perfect, and oh yes, was Harry (and Durrance) perfect to the bone.
As a female, I didn’t mind this wishful gentleman’s thinking (hey, they’re trying), but I do chuckle at its silliness and incredibility. I am, however, offended and puzzled by the author’s strange condescending defence of Ethne’s unnecessary, obnoxious displays. She laughed when she heard a man was killed (“out of the world and done with”), and was delighted when another was tortured. The author was quick to rationalize that “she had the Celtic feeling that death was not a very important matter” (although it suddenly became not very “Celtic” when it involved Harry – what on earth did that mean anyway?). The author also pointed out that she hated these men who she had never met because they gave Harry two of the feathers. This is disturbing because having (unjustly) hated people myself, I know that the hate will suddenly dissipate when I heard some misfortune befell on them, and I am far from being a sweet girl. To me, Ethne’s behavior revealed her vindictive nature rather than being just a lapse. And was she even justified for her hate? To this the author carelessly replied, yeah, she lost no time in siding with them at that time, and she was the one and only one who sent Harry into the abyss by adding a fourth feather, but “she did not trouble her head about that” (and neither should you, reader). And with that, Ethne turned round to play a rude tyrant to the guy who gave out the third feather.
Because Harry was away most of the novel, the author put Durrance in his place to spoil Ethne at home. And it was the same deal over again – the perfect man emotionally tiptoeing around the damsel, making sure she felt good about herself. The grand project Ethne embarked on demonstrated how a person can be seemingly selfless yet appallingly self-centered. Having lost Harry, she thought that she can trick Durrance into thinking that she loves him (because I deduced that he can’t live properly without ME!). It is actually a common self-fulfilling delusion of vain, foolish girls, that they have the power to single-handedly save or ruin men. Of course, it was a recipe for disaster. So Ethne wounded Durrance even more with her pity, insulted his intelligence as he painstakingly pretended ignorance to indulge her, disrespected his freedom to choose his life, underestimated his internal strength, and overinflated hers.
But most disturbing is how despite admitting that Ethne’s project is gawd-awful, the author insists that it proved her “honor”, “loyalty”, and “selflessness”. How can honor be based on one big unnecessary lie that bursted on day one? How can she be loyal when her heart is forever betraying? And how is she selfless when she tyrannically forced her warped plan on others? Mrs. Adair, who was kicked into the role of the “bad woman”, was duly punished for trying to tear away Ethne’s charade. The author even hastily tried to dump all responsibilities of the whole sorry affair on Mrs. Adair, when they really belonged to Ethne. It was all about Ethne. All this trouble for a pretentious, clueless, self-centered girl who directed and acted out her “tragedy”. What’s even more maddening is how the author playfully counts every single one of her “slips” along the way. It is like a parent nodding with approval to the stupid actions of a spoilt child for his entertainment. “See? There she tripped again, how clumsy and cute!” Is this the Victorian attitude towards pretty damsels? Surely, the female gender can do much better. They don’t need men telling them it is okay, even cutesy, to be emotionally and logically crippled little princesses presumably because perception and wisdom belong only to the male gender.
Overall, this is still a worthwhile read for the House of Stone alone, but among the good parts there are notes of strange bad taste.
