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I was rather surprised as to how funny it often was. But, as with many great comedies - "Twelfth Night", "Don Quixote" - there is a profound sadness under the surface. There is a passage near the beginning where Strether looks back on the disappointments of his life, and, in particular, his failure to communicate with or understand his son, who is now dead. This passage affected me so deeply, that I had to read it a few times before progressing with the rest of the novel.
Strether becomes increasingly aware that life has passed him by, and that in the course of it all, he has missed something: but what it is he has missed he can not specify. He urges the young people around him to live, but his instructions on how to do so are necessarily vague. Eventually, he has to to reject the narrow puritanical code which has fettered his life, but remains to the end a quixotic figure, clinging on to his moral integrity even when all around him appear to lose theirs. The closing episodes of this novel are as moving as anything I have read.
I was rather surprised as to how funny it often was. But, as with many great comedies - "Twelfth Night", "Don Quixote" - there is a profound sadness under the surface. There is a passage near the beginning where Strether looks back on the disappointments of his life, and, in particular, his failure to communicate with or understand his son, who is now dead. This passage affected me so deeply, that I had to read it a few times before progressing with the rest of the novel.
Strether becomes increasingly aware that life has passed him by, and that in the course of it all, he has missed something: but what it is he has missed he can not specify. He urges the young people around him to live, but his instructions on how to do so are necessarily vague. Eventually, he has to to reject the narrow puritanical code which has fettered his life, but remains to the end a quixotic figure, clinging on to his moral integrity even when all around him appear to lose theirs. The closing episodes of this novel are as moving as anything I have read.
The prose is the thing -- James was dictating by this time (how on Earth does one dictate a novel?), and it shows. His chewy ruminations and meandering, endlessly parenthetical sentences are hard to digest. I think James went too far in his late style, and "The Ambassadors" might have benefited from a sterner editor. Still, this is an important book, absolutely worth the read.
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