A chronicle of gentler times

There is still a great pleasure to be had in reading a work of classic literature where the modes of communication are slow — so slow that a letter sent to a person two continents away will only elicit a response a year or so later. Preferably an in-person response timed to perfection in order to resolve a terrible crisis in the life of a beloved sister.

Reading Cranford, Elizabeth Gaskell’s enduring classic of rural Victorian England that was published in book form in 1851, is to revel in exactly the kind of slow-paced, gentle storytelling that seems a perfect escape in times like ours. Cranford was, like most of the works of Gaskell’s contemporaries, first published in serial form in weekly magazines (in this case, Charles Dickens’ Household Words).

Gaskell’s book is set in the small town that gives the book its title and revolves around the lives of a particular set of women, with the two elderly single Jenkyns sisters — Deborah and Matty — at the centre. Deborah is older and resolute in her ways and strict about adhering to social norms. Matty, a few years younger, is the more gentle of the two and in thrall to her older sibling. The book is narrated by Mary Smith, a young woman whose family is acquainted with the Jenkyns sisters. She visits them often and stays with Deborah and Matty and gets involved in the social life of Cranford, documenting the various mishaps that women in the circle suffer, the gossip exchanged between the residents, the little rivalries and snobberies that are a result of the sudden elevation of tradespeople to the genteel middle classes at the dawn of the industrial age.

As one of the great chroniclers of the social issues of Victorian England, Gaskell is at her best when depicting these intricate class conflicts that affect even a seemingly placid town like Cranford. At one point in the book, one of the Jenkyns’ friends, Miss Pole describes their group thus: “I imagine we are none of us what may be called rich, though we all possess a genteel competency, sufficient for tastes that are elegant and refined, and would not, if they could, be vulgarly ostentatious.”

When those elegant and refined tastes butt up against the news of a widowed noblewoman who is going to marry the town doctor (in those years very much the level of a tradesman), “None of the ladies in Cranford chose to sanction the marriage by congratulating either of the parties.” However, there is not a mean bone in any of the women in Cranford. These are but people struggling to come to terms with a world that is slowly changing around them. There is no great drama that follows this marriage — one or two snobs may continue to pass comments but for the most part Cranford accepts them for who they are.

Even the great crisis that I mentioned at the beginning doesn’t last terribly long. Though it is a shock to the character to descend from being a rector’s daughter to selling tea discreetly out of her living room in order to make ends meet, it is a passing cloud and there is a moving finale to ensure that even those who seem lonely are not truly alone when the society around them is so supportive. Gaskell’s works may seem dated on the surface, but they are important records of the way lives were once lived. Stories like Cranford give literary heft to lives that even in the times she was writing in were not considered important enough to be examined — making them as worthy of a reader’s attention as any great epic.

The author is a writer and communications professional. When she’s not reading, writing or watching cat videos, she can be found on Instagram @saudha_k where she posts about reading, writing, and cats.

That One Book is a fortnightly column that does exactly what it says — it takes up one great classic and tells you why it is (still) great.