THE WARDEN by Anthony Trollope: A quietly perfect novel
I’ve been reading Salinger recently, and after two books of his flatulent Zen Buddhism gibberish, I was dying for something more solid.
I’d always heard of Trollope but dismissed him as someone who seemed turgid and boring. However, I read that Nathaniel Hawthorne preferred Trollope’s books to his own, saying they were “written on the strength of beef and through inspiration of ale.” Sold.
I was told to read BARCHESTER TOWERS, but to start with THE WARDEN, its short lead-in. My God, I’m glad I did.
I was struck immediately by the book’s simplicity and confidence — Trollope does not show off, he has no curlicues or gewgaws in his prose or characters. Instead, everything works quietly together, to build a portrait of the moral crisis of a good man, and its resolution. No more, no less.
The word I kept coming back to was equipoise: perfectly balanced movement. I suppose another word for that is grace.
I can’t wait to read more.