Beware of Italics

The bit from Uncle Benjamin's POV is brilliant. Seeing Valancy now is almost enough to turn him modernist – let him pass her on the street a couple times more and he'll be ready to begin his very own rebellion arc, I bet.

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Barney not wanting his wife painted reminds me of that story about Jane Austen going to an art exhibition to see if any portraits looked like her characters, and explaining that she couldn't find Elizabeth because Mr. Darcy isn't the kind of man who'd allow a portrait of his wife to be shown in a public place like that. Otherwise, Barney doesn't have much in common with Mr. Darcy, but they appear to share this weird conservative view that their wife is meant for their eyes only... It's a shame that Valancy is against the idea too, I think her portrait in an art gallery could turn a whole host of men modernist.

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"She knew he could never love her."

How do you know this?? Also, girl... I'm not saying love and affection are uncomplicated things for any of us, let alone someone who's had the kind of upbringing and early adulthood that Valancy has. But to dread that Barney doesn't even like her, that he's only calling her a lovely nickname and complimenting her looks and the way her soul shines through them and exploring the woods with her and teaching her to identify birds and cook trout and to snowshoe, all out of sheer pity... that'd be true Jesus-level loving thy neighbour in action, admirable in its own right really, but it's just so clearly not the case.

It's kinda lovely, though, that what makes Valancy feel like Barney really likes her is just a vibe. I believe her realisation is all about her own self-confidence and mental well-being: his feelings and behaviour have not changed, but finally, she's in a good enough place mentally to truly feel like there's no doubt he feels something genuine towards her.

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Translation notes:

Valancy "never flinched from the plain word", but the Finnish translation does: instead of plainly talking about how Barney will feel when Valancy dies, the translator has chosen to soften the message by talking about Barney "being left alone soon" instead.

Pretty chapters are these, able to be expanded upon very easily 😈

"They needed no light but the firelight that sometimes leaped up and revealed them—sometimes shrouded them in shadow."

I ❤️ metaphorical imagery

"For Barney was not one of those aggravating people who can never hear you smiling audibly over something you've read without inquiring placidly, 'What is the joke?'"

Unfortunately I am Those Aggravating People. Consequence of growing up with siblings.

"Cousin Stickles with her back that had to be rubbed continually. Cousin Stickles making weird noises gargling her throat in the mornings. Cousin Stickles whining over the price of coal."

Is it Cousin Stickles, perhaps, who represents the ennui of Valancy's previous life more than Mrs. Frederick? We may never know.

I WANNA HEAR MORE ABOUT BARNEY'S COLD!!!

Not to bring it up—but I enjoy the wild cameo of the woman not being compared to Valancy's own beauty. I was sort of expecting it to be. But the Snaiths are now subjects, wanderers taking in the wonders of the landscape, more souls than people. Which is nice.

John Foster is right—you would think all color would be lost in the grand spectacle of a white snowy day, till you detect a hint of purple or brown you mistook for a contour of the whiteness. But color shows itself pretty easily—even where it isn't there.

"The thermometer went miles below zero and stayed there. But, as Barney and Valancy pointed out to each other, there were no mosquitos."

The other day I was about to shower and there was a big ol mosquito trying to bite me. In my bathroom! I'll let in a spider or a fly or a centipede or a cockroach. But a mosquito trying to take MY blood!! In MY BATHROOM!!!

Forgot to mention this in the last chapter but—being able to SKATE from the mainland to an island!!! Hello!!! I'm jealous.

Valancy's lovely late mornings with Barney beside her <3 I wanna write about the Snaiths' inside jokes so bad.

About the clipping of the old newspaper... is that ever explained??? I probably missed something.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

To be painted by Allan Tierney was all the cachet of beauty a woman could desire. […] Allan Tierney’s eyes lighted up.

Hmm-mm.

“I’ve had a caller,” said Barney the next afternoon, when Valancy had returned from another flower quest.

Side-note - it’s nice that they’re not joined at the hip and go out for their separate tramps around the woods.

“Allan Tierney. He wants to paint you, Moonlight.”

“Me!” Valancy dropped her basket and her arbutus. “You’re laughing at me, Barney.”

“I’m not. That’s what Tierney came for. To ask my permission to paint my wife - as the Spirit of Muskoka, or something like that.”

How did Tierney even find out who Valancy was?? I mean, I know it would’ve been easy enough, but still, he must have had to do a bit of digging.

“Beautiful women,” finished Barney. “Q.E.D., Mistress Barney Snaith is a beautiful woman.”

There is so much triumph in this, like he’s finally managed to get a point across that he’s been trying to prove to her for months. (Another one of my headcanons. You’re welcome.)

“...Oh, I’ve seen her - she’s a stunner - but you’d never catch Allan Tierney wanting to paint her. In the horrible but expressive slang phrase, she keeps all her goods in the shop-window.”

I. LOVE. Barney. Ohmygod. It’s stuff like this that makes him real and not some sort of fictionalised perfect dream-mystery-rescuer-hero-husband thing.

“...Tierney said something about the curve of your cheek as you booked back over your shoulder. You know I’ve often told you it was distracting. And he’s quite batty about your eyes. If I wasn’t absolutely sure it was solely professional - he’s really a crabbed old bachelor, you know - I’d be jealous.”

Hmm, you’d be jealous, huh, Barney? And also hey, here’s another headcanon - Tierney is gay. Whatcha think?

“I couldn’t tell him that. I didn’t know what you wanted.”

Good, good.

“...So even if you had wanted to be painted, Moonlight, your tyrannous husband would not have permitted it.”

Bad, bad. But honestly I think that if Valancy had really really wanted to be painted, Barney would’ve let her.

“Tierney was a bit squiffy.”

Oh Barney, you priceless idiot. I think this was/is the first time I’ve ever seen the word ‘squiffy’ in a book.

Valancy never flinched from the plain word. No ‘passing away’ for her.

Personal anecdote time: I’ve spoken to at least two people who simply cannot understand the word ‘death’. Or ‘died’. I was trying to tell one old lady that my dog had died, and I had to repeat ‘no, she’s died’ six times before I gave up and said ‘she’s passed away’ and she heard me first time.

They didn’t talk much, but Valancy had a curious sense of oneness. She knew that she couldn’t have felt that if he hadn’t liked her.

I know that feeling. Sort of.

“You nice little thing,” said Barney suddenly. “Oh, you nice little thing! Sometimes I feel you’re too nice to be real - that I’m just dreaming you.”

I remember reading this for the first time and immediately picturing it and all the what-ifs-fanfic-potentials in my head.

“Why can’t I die now - this very minute - when I am so happy!” thought Valancy.

Okay, yeah, but girl, imagine if you had just pegged it right there and then. That might’ve really ruined Barney’s day.

But now, sitting here beside Barney, with her hand in his, a sudden realisation came to her.

They were DEFINITELY already holding hands before he said that. Which means they maybe walked through the woods hand-in-hand. Which is way too romantic for this early on a Sunday morning.

“I’d rather be miserable in heaven remembering him than happy forgetting him. And I’ll always remember through all eternity - that he really, really liked me.”

Ophelia: You called, My Lord?

Hamlet: No I didn’t. Why are you here when nobody likes you? Go away!

Petruchio: Even I think that’s mean.

Romeo: Go find Juliet and ask her if she would come here and tell her she has the most beautiful eyes, that make the very sun seem dull, and the loveliest hair and a face that puts to shame Aphrodite herself...oh and bring her this sonnet I wrote her...and actually I’ll go find her myself for I can’t bear to be apart from her another moment!

Petruchio: …

Petruchio: … Yeah he’s not coming back. Next!

Coriolanus: Go find my wife and ask her to come here and also ask her if she's seen Aufidius. Actually, have you seen Aufidius...or heard any news of him?

Servant: No I haven't… Is there a name or a description I could use to find your wife?

Coriolanus: Hold on. I know this one.

Petruchio: Wow... We’ll come back to you. Next!

Orlando: I refuse to participate in this farce. It’s demeaning to women.

“Ganymede”: Nonsense! Any real man (which I totally am) wants women to obey him without question!

Orlando: That’s wrong! That’s not being a “real man”; that’s just being a bully. I would never treat Rosalind that way and I hope no one else would either!

“Ganymede”: … You pass the test.

Orlando: What?

"Ganymede": What?

Benedick: HEY BEATRICE!

Beatrice from 3 rooms away: WHAT?

Benedick: CAN YOU COME HERE A SECOND?

Beatrice: WHY?

Benedick: SOME MAN HERE WANTS TO SEE IF YOU’RE OBEDIENT.

Beatrice: WHY ARE YOU PERPETUATING THE OBJECTIFICATION OF WOMEN INSTEAD OF PUNCHING HIM IN THE FACE?

Benedick: YOU MEAN YOU DON’T WANT TO COME HERE AND SHOW OFF YOUR OBEDIENCE? I AM SHOCKED AND HEARTBROKEN!

Beatrice: HA. HA. SO HILARIOUS.

Beatrice: … HE STILL DOESN’T SOUND VERY PUNCHED IN THE FACE. I SUGGEST YOU FIX THAT UNLESS YOU WANT TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH FOREVER!

Benedick: ON IT!