The "Unmentionable" Side of Victorian Living

Usually it isn't useful to directly compare two very different pieces of fiction. Such a comparison, however, can sometimes be helpful for non-fiction. After having recently read Ruth Goodman's How to Be a Victorian, I was curious to see how Therese Oneill's Unmentionable: The Victorian Lady's Guide to Sex, Marriage, and Manners would compare. Obviously Goodman's book covered more ground, but I was interested to see how the two writers approached the same topics.

Now, both the title and physical copy (with its cover photo and bright pink spine) of Oneill's book let readers know right away what style and tone she's going for: sensational. If, then, either the title or look of the book turn you off, you easily know that this isn't the book for you. She chooses to focus not on providing an overview of Victorian living but on the scattered, scandalous details that might make for entertaining or shocking reading. She tries to shock her readers.

Primarily, then, this book goes in the humor category more than the history category. In the beginning of the book, Oneill herself admits that she's going to jump around from topic to topic instead of following a straight path (like Goodman, for instance, did). And boy does she jump around. She says that she'll be focusing on the upper class but then she keeps on bringing up situations that would not apply to upper class women at all--but only readers who already know this will always pick up on this fact. That became a bit annoying: she focused on the social side of the upper class while also acting like those women needed to do all of the hard work that women of lower classes did (when in reality they didn't and the lower class women didn't have the same social standards to have to adhere to). Not that this book directly gives false information; it just sometimes implies false images. This, of course, leads up to the final chapter, in which Oneill admits that she has been exaggerating. ??? Then what's the point? Disrespecting dead women so we can all have a good laugh at them?

That's just how humor is, though. Either it's your style or it isn't. As you can tell, this book wasn't really my style (as I knew going in that it probably wouldn't be). But I did want to hear what she had to say. 

The thing is, this book makes for easy reading. While Goodman's book was slow reading because it was so dense and so full of information, this book is 400 pages of not-densely-packed-words with plenty of headings and pictures that take up space on the pages. And because of Oneill's humorous style, the pacing moves quickly. She mixes facts in with her commentary so that this book is a quick read. And it does have some good factual information mixed in. Of course, with a book like this, whether or not it's all new to you or it's mostly things you've heard before is just going to depend on your own previous reading experiences. I don't think I came across much that I hadn't heard before, except in certain of the details (she does go into further detail than some places do). When giving sources, she tends to favor showing quotes from people of the time because those sound more shocking to modern ears than simply explaining how something was done. So while you'll certainly learn something from reading this book, there are other books out there that will give you the same types of information without the humorous-at-the-expense-of-the-Victorians style, if that's what you'd prefer.

Mostly I objected to the concept of trying to put down an era and also say that our is so much better. She's the first person I've heard say that corsets (not tightened or barely tightened, of course) were less comfortable than modern bras (I've never heard anyone else say that modern bras are comfortable). And in the end she praises modern ibuprofen, tampons, and shampoo--okay, maybe we don't put arsenic in face cream anymore but we put plenty of other harmful ingredients in things like tampons and shampoo and makeup (and food) and even ibuprofen isn't exactly the type of thing you want to be using regularly. We fill the ocean with plastic straws and bags and sprinkle wood pulp on our pasta and use cookware and dinnerware with lead in it (think twice about those great dollar store prices) and put parabens and Red 40 on our lips and drink high fructose corn syrup (and Red 40, too) and eat chocolate and wear clothing resulting from slave-like conditions (if not actually slavery). And plenty of us don't even have the excuse of ignorance. Why are we or our lives so much better than the Victorians? (Obviously there are plenty of ways in which we have things "better," but my point is that every era has its positives and negatives.)

And the thing is, why does the mere fact that you're talking about chamber pots, periods, and attitudes towards sex need to be scandalous? Ruth Goodman covered the same topics in her book and maintained the same matter-of-fact style throughout. She calmly described, for instance, her experience trying out the delicate process of making condoms out of animal intestines; Oneill, on the other hand, expects you to be shocked just because she's talking about subjects that novels don't cover (I for one don't think that fiction needs to show characters in the restroom or taking care of periods, unless perhaps the plot has to do with health and so this is a detail the story needs to show). What's shocking about being alive, or about realizing that people in the past were alive, too? 

Sigh. I've ranted too long, haven't I? I guess you can always read this book as a conversation starter. It's the type of book that you can neither recommend nor not recommend (unless you already know someone's tastes): you just have to decide for yourself if it sounds like your style. 

Living as a Victorian

How to Be a Victorian: A Dawn-to-Dusk Guide to Victorian Life by Ruth Goodman is not a short coffee table book with tidbits about Victorian social etiquette and the language of the fan and things of that sort. Rather, this is a dense four hundred pages that cover as many aspects of daily Victorian life for the three social classes as is possible.

It's organized according to the day: the first chapter is "Getting Up," the second is "Getting Dressed," the ninth is "The Midday Meal," etc. And as each chapter moves into a specific part of a person's day, the focus moves to a particular subject. Clothing, medicine, sanitation, work, leisure activities and games, and on. If, like I have, you've read your share of Victorian novels, then some of the language of it, if you will, will be familiar. For instance, I was just talking about Louisa May Alcott--and Goodman's explanation of how tennis became popular reminded me of the scene in Jo's Boys when Bess and Josie go to play tennis. Or when learning that many women were willing to justify wearing foundation because they thought of it as more of a skincare product than makeup, I thought of a question in An Old-Fashioned Girl that's lingered in my mind--"'Does Trix paint?'" ("Painting" of course in this context meaning "wear makeup.)

So in many ways, reading this book is reliving old stories--or putting new life into fiction. It is also, as I mentioned, as detailed as anyone might want. (Yes, there is always more information to find, but this is as thorough a collection of information as you can probably find put together into a single book.) You don't just learn the what's; you also learn the why's. For instance, in learning what people were most likely to eat for breakfast, you learn the differences in what types of food were available in the northern or southern parts of England. (Here I will point out the one drawback of this book for me personally. Though plenty of the information is applicable to the time period in general, the focus is on British history. I was referencing Alcott, but really I should be thinking of Bronte and Dickens instead. Still all very wonderful to learn--I just wish I had a volume like this for American history, as well, though I wonder if that one might not be even more varied given the huge territory that is the U.S.)

What is perhaps the best thing about this book is that it covers the specific area of history that most interests me. I don't just mean the nineteenth century: I mean the concept of the daily lives of regular people. There was a time when I thought I wanted to major in history in college. Then I took A.P. U.S. History, and decided that I didn't overly love learning about all the wars and politics; what I liked was the historical, not history. That is, the culture that is covered by literature. (I've since realized the flaw in my reasoning. It is necessary to learn the basics of history first and then narrow in on your preferred focus. Even Goodman references politics and a bit of war in her book on daily life--because it's applicable and each element affects the others.) Anyway, this book reminded me of that interest in history that I once had. (It's all because of my early focus on Little House on the Prairie, which truly was a narrative describing daily life.) With this book, she reminded me that history isn't just studying the battle tactics of this or that war. I mean, there is some dark material in here, as well, but mainly I much more enjoy learning about how people spent their regular lives than how nations fell to the ground as they fought.

For anyone interested in the nineteenth century, Goodman's book is a must, a thorough guide that is both entertaining and informative. She draws from studies by other historians, firsthand (written, of course) accounts, and her own experiences in historical reenactment. She doesn't present the Victorians as an oddity or a peculiar species, and she doesn't talk about their methods as bizarre or inferior. Instead, she gives the reasons why things were done as they were and explains attitudes toward such methods. It's all straightforward and real. Whether you're also into reenactment or museum work, of you study either history or literature, or you're simply interested, I would definitely recommend getting this book.