#gothlit

The topic of women proposing gets explored in another Stoker novel, The Man or The Gates Of Life (1905)

The main character is a young woman, Stephen Norman. She's very outspoken about women's right to make choices, including proposing to men. Her foil is her Auntie, who is a conventional woman. Here, Stephen claims to her Auntie that if a woman isn't married to the man she wants, it's her own fault.

"Her fault? My dear, what if no man asks her?" This seemed to her own mind a poser. "Still her own fault! Why doesn’t she ask him?" Her aunt’s lorgnon was dropped in horrified amazement. Stephen went on impassively. "Certainly! Why shouldn’t she? Marriage is a union. As it is in the eye of the law a civil contract, either party to it should be at liberty to originate the matter. If a woman is not free to think of a man in all ways, how is she to judge of the suitability of their union? And if she is free in theory, why not free to undertake if necessary the initiative in a matter so momentous to herself?" The old lady actually groaned and wrung her hands; she was horrified at such sentiments. They were daring enough to think; but to put them in words! . . . "Oh, my dear, my dear!" she moaned, "be careful what you say. Some one might hear you who would not understand, as I do, that you are talking theory." Stephen’s habit of thought stood to her here. She saw that her aunt was distressed, and as she did not wish to pain her unduly, was willing to divert the immediate channel of her fear. She took the hand which lay in her lap and held it firmly whilst she smiled in the loving old eyes. "Of course, Auntie dear, it is theory. But still it is a theory which I hold very strongly!"

Stephen asks her Auntie why she never married (she didn't love any of her suitors, so she refused them) and if she was ever in love with a man:

"And why did you refuse them?" The tone was wheedling, and the elder woman loved to hear it. Wheedling is the courtship, by the young of the old. "Because, my dear, I didn’t love them." "But tell me, Auntie, was there never any one that you did love?" "Ah! my dear, that is a different matter. That is the real tragedy of a woman’s life." In flooding reminiscent thought she forgot her remonstrating; her voice became full of natural pathos: "To love; and be helpless! To wait, and wait, and wait; with your heart all aflame! To hope, and hope; till time seems to have passed away, and all the world to stand still on your hopeless misery! To know that a word might open up Heaven; and yet to have to remain mute! To keep back the glances that could enlighten; to modulate the tones that might betray! To see all you hoped for passing away . . . to another! . . . " Stephen bent over and kissed her, then standing up said: "I understand! Isn’t it wrong, Auntie, that there should be such tragedies? Should not that glance be given? Why should that tone be checked? Why should one be mute when a single word might, would, avert the tragedy? Is it not possible, Auntie, that there is something wrong in our social system when such things can happen; and can happen so often? "Some day women must learn their own strength, as well as they have learned their own weakness. They are taught this latter from their cradles up; but no one ever seems to teach them wherein their power lies. They have to learn this for themselves."

Stephen may have too progressive ideas, but she's still very gentle with her Auntie even while she's disagreeing, because she sees her Auntie is too scared that Stephen might get in trouble for her ideas:

"Why should good women’s lives be wrecked for a convention? Why in the blind following of some society fetish should life lose its charm, its possibilities? Why should love eat its heart out, in vain? The time will come when women will not be afraid to speak to men, as they should speak, as free and equal. Surely if a woman is to be the equal and lifelong companion of a man, the closest to him—nay, the only one really close to him: the mother of his children—she should be free at the very outset to show her inclination to him just as he would to her. Don’t be frightened, Auntie dear; your eyes are paining me! . . . There! perhaps I said too much. But after all it is only theory. Take for your comfort, Auntie dear, that I am free an heart-whole. You need not fear for me; I can see what your dear eyes tell me."

My Dear Henry by Kalynn Bayron

This is a retelling of The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde that also intersects with Black, queer identity in 1880s London. The book follows young Gabriel Utterson enrolling into medical school and falling in love with Henry Jekyll. Their romance is cut short due to several factors mainly due to racism and bigotry, and its from there Henry becomes a stranger and almost disappears.

What's really remarkable about this book is how it largely keeps the same structure as the original novella. You, the reader, have been spoiled that Jekyll and Hyde are the same person but the actual story is written as a mystery. Having Utterson and Jekyll be Black and lovers offers a thoughtful and provocative interpretation of why someone would create a potion to transform into someone else. Every crime Hyde commits is retextualized as a Black boy struggling to survive.

The only aspect I didn't care for was de-aging the characters. It felt weird for Jekyll and Utterson to be teenagers who just recently met instead of having a relationship that spands decades. I would have loved the story much more if the author kept their canon ages.

Here’s some GothLit photo edits using royalty free images.

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