I’ve just finished the eighth volume of The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion by Beth Brower. And I had a fantastic time…mostly. Allow me to explain.
I saw at the beginning of the year so many social media posts about this series with a note that the audiobooks were the way to enjoy them. So. Very. True. Genevieve Gaunt is a treasure. Her Cousin Archibald voice is my favorite. Also, her Lord West is a fox. I will die on the hill that a man who names his sweet peas and mourns their death is the dishiest of them all. But sweet peas and I go way back (as readers of Smoke, Steel, & Ivy will know).
“What? What?”
Ms. Brower takes a Stars Hollow approach to London England of 1883-1884, except instead of a mother/daughter duo (which let’s be real is a mother/daughter/granddaughter trifecta), she has one heroine, Emma M. Lion, whom she has puts in the center of a love quadrilateral with broody Niall Pierce, mysterious Nigel Hawkes, and the uptight Duke of Islington. Ms. Bower then surrounds this somewhat unwieldy shape with many delightful characters (Lord West, Agnes the cook, Tybalt the cat being my favorite) and elements of fantasy (a ghost known as “the Roman” haunts St. Crispian’s and inexplicably moves items to different locations unless a white feather is on top of them).
It is a delightful series for so many reasons. One being all the allusions to Shakespeare. I’m always up for more Shakespeare in my life. That he is frequently quoted in this series is delightful. I love it!
Equally lovable is the cozy, small town feel and many descriptions of tea and cake. And of course rooting for a particular end game (Young Hawkes all the way–Emma frankly doesn’t deserve Lord West–if there is good fanfiction out there about him I am a goner) while debating the merits of the other men who are smitten with her is fun. But Emma is ending up with Hawkes–he was the first introduced, he’s the most thoughtful, and he’s closest to Emma in age. And age, it turns out, is a big deal in the Emma M. Lion universe. So much so, that it fell out of the running for my gold-star, hall of fame, will shout from the rooftops recommendation.
Emma displays blatant and sexist ageism throughout the series. And that’s fine. It fits with Emma’s character and back story. But I’m pretty sensitive. I turned forty earlier this year, and I’m acutely aware of what society does to women of my age (demands we pass for younger women, and if we can’t, throws us away).
So for Emma to say to her courting gentleman in the 8th Volume in her May 8th entry, “I was only envisioning myself in twenty depressing years with a ring of keys about my waist and sagging jowls,” I feel the sting. This would put Emma at the age of 41, only a year older than me.
It’d be funny, perhaps, if it was a one off, but this isn’t the first time Emma has considered forty-year-old women in this less than flattering light.
In Volume three, Emma reflects on how mature the title of landlady makes her sound: “Forty, round, and red-faced” I was listening to this volume as I was packing lunches for my children, only a few weeks after turning forty myself, and it felt like I’d been slapped in the face. My eyes started to prick. I was forty, round, and actively saving what I could (with two kids and this economy it isn’t much) for an IPL treatment because yes rosacea and sun damage means my face is redder than it used to be.
But Emma is young, I thought. She’s trying to be funny. Maybe the character feels this way about every one who is twice her age.
Nope. No, she doesn’t. Let’s consider her description of the dishy Professor Grant Fletcher who is the love-interest of Emma’s friend Mary Bairrage. I’m going to paraphrase for now until I get my hands on some physical copies of Volume 5 and 6 and can find the direct quote. Essentially Fletcher is ruggedly handsome and dashing and in his forties, a widower, and a wonderful father to three boys. The only thing keeping everyone woman in all of London from going instantly weak at the knees for him is a bad haircut and silly glasses that he frequently removes.
So Professor Fletcher gets to be dishy and handsome while being in his forties, while none of the women in the books that have reached the same age are ever described in desirable terms. The closest we come is the wife of the banker, Mrs. Penury, who is very nice and motherly to Emma but no longer speaks. Yes, by choice, but still her voice is gone, lost, and she’s the most favorably described of the mature women in these books.
What will happen to Emma’s friend, the artist Saffronia March who is currently 38, in another two years when she turns forty? Will no mention of her age be made because women must either disappear or become round and red-faced, with sagging jowls when they reach that milestone? Will the series end prior to this date and Saffronia will be forever 39?
Given the care that Beth Bower has put into this series, I have to assume this is all intentional and will lead to some delicious tension and not just a perpetually bad joke.
I did eye-roll when Hawkes said that their (the Emma-Pierce-Hawkes-Islington) friendship is “alchemy.” Alchemy that three men–all of whom are 8 to 14 years older than Emma–have taken a friendly/flirty interest in her for one reason or another, and have the frequent opportunity to socialize alone with her in Victorian London? That’s not alchemy, dear Hawkes, that’s anachronistic.
Age becomes a topic of conversation with Emma and Pierce during “The Great Consideration of 1884.” Pierce is 35. Emma is 21. But this is more than okay (subtext being that when men age its dishy and hot) because the character Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice was seven years older than Elizabeth. Emma’s comrades at Fortitude: A Preparatory School for Girls decided that this gap plus or minus 8 years was the acceptable age range for a romantic partner.
What the What? What?
Emma, sweetie, when you are 35 that means your dude could be 50. And that would be fine by your standards? But the minute you turn 40 and your dude is 55, what then? And what happens when the shoe is on the other foot? Will there be relationships in this series where we have a “mature” woman dating a much younger man that is depicted in positive ways? Or will it be a scandal?
Emma’s parents died when she was 13. If Emma’s mother was married in her early twenties (which seems likely given Arrabella is only 19 and this is _the_ season for her to find a husband), it is possible she died in her mid thirties. She never became a “mature” woman. And the mature women who entered Emma’s life thereafter could not be trusted. They all let her down in very really, very sad ways. Poor Emma. I see how her prejudice against “mature” women is founded in the trauma of her past. It makes sense.
I still don’t like it. Did I mention that Mary Bairrage conveniently didn’t sign the Darcy pact at Fortitude? Further proof that Professor Fletcher is considerably older than her and that it doesn’t matter because he is one good haircut (which he does get in Vol. 8) away from sweeping Mary off her feet. So end-gaming with Professor Fletcher–who could be more than twenty years older than her–is fine.
And yes, it is fine. Even fictional people are allowed to love who they want and marry who they want (so long as both parties are consenting adults). But women who look like me and are my age aren’t exactly being represented well in this series. They’re dead (like Professor Fletcher’s wife or Emma’s mother). They’re cruel or calculating or both (like Cousin Matilde or Aunt Eugenia). They’re fat. They’re red-faced. They’re the butt of a joke. They have no voice (like Mrs. Penury).
I hope Ms. Brower finds a way to challenge Emma about this sexist ageism, calls her out on it as it were. I hope Emma comes to have relationships with 40-year-old women who are beautiful, desirable, fascinating, and adored. In my heart of darkness, I hope Pierce dumps her to chase after such a woman who then laughs in his face because (to borrow an expression from Paul Newman) she has steak at home.
I’m going to keep casually reading (well…listening) and enjoying Emma M. Lion even though I may cringe. I’ll hug my cat (she’s no Tybalt, but I don’t care). I may, too, cross my fingers that somewhere along the way Emma meets a 40-year-old, or even >40-year-old woman, who is enjoying her happily ever after… and speaks.
What do you think? Did you notice the ageism in the series? Did it bug you? I can fully appreciate that my milestone birthday this year has made me extra sensitive to this issue that maybe isn’t a big deal to most readers.