Out of all the Thomas Hardy books I’ve read so far, the Return of the Native has been the most frustrating read. There are a few reasons for this — the sentences that keep going after they’re done, the dialects within the dialogue of the locals of Egdon Heath, the inconsistencies of the imageries and most of all, its characters.
I can get over the first two challenges. These are typical in Hardy books and if you can get through them alright, then it becomes a rewarding read. I do have an issue with the latter two and they are both related.
In the book, Hardy pulls out metaphors out of nowhere from different sources, be they Christian, pagan or recent historical events. At first I thought this was a clever way to reflect the internal conflicts of the characters — they are pulled from two opposite forces — the animalistic ‘do-whatever-I-feel-like’ side and ‘listen-to-thy-neighbour-cos-they-know-best’ side. On the one hand, Hardy employs Christian narrative within his stories, on the other pagan imageries.
These two sides collect and pull you side to side, at least for the first half of the book. It is difficult to follow the story, even with the annotation because you’d need to context switch from the book’s narrative to the metaphor’s description and back to the book again. It is disruptive and it takes a few reads at times to appreciate what Hardy is trying to do, if you manage to.
But the frustrations of his language is more tolerable than the characters. I’ve read Hardy because I love his themes. He has always written about the underdogs, those who are outcasts from society, the battle of man (or woman) against public opinion and the consequences of this conflict. He has always routed for the underdogs, whether they succeed or fail. But I cannot find characters of this mold in the book.
Clym Yeobright promised to be this character, but he is pathetic — returning home to his native countryside to educate farmers. Obviously he had not done his research properly and even before he achieved his ambitions, nature struck him down by taking away his power of sight. What is worse, even his attempt to become a manual labourer ended in tragedy in the novel’s turning point.
The rest of the characters are also as aggravating — Clym’s mother, Eustacia, Wildeve. Each one were responsible for their own demise due to a fault of their characters — Mrs Yeobright from her stubbornness, Eustacia from her flighty and ambitious nature, Wildeve from his ambivalent passions. Yet, all these characters are fascinating reads and taken for each, they stand for good lessons on the flaw of one’s nature.
It is only in the reddleman, Diggory Venn, who became the story’s provider that we can sympathise. Being an outcast, he could move freely and without the sway of relations and public opinions. He had the power to change the narrative of the story, either for the good or the bad. The reddleman to me is a reflection of our times — the colour of his skin from his labour makes him outside of normal society, regardless of the fact that he is doing well in his own profession and he is providing his labours to the community. He can never mix with the punters in the bar. It is only when he removed the ochre from his skin and became a “man” again that he can conform by marrying his original love.
Despite the flaws of the book, The Return of the Native is still a solid read. It reads like a Greek tragedy. All Thomas Hardy books that I’ve read so far have been. Like all good fiction, it is a lesson in itself. Like all good lessons, it forces one to reflect on his nature and perhaps to change it for the better.
