The History of Sir Richard Calmady is something that I got for free in the Reclaim Her Name collection a few years ago. The idea of this collection was to cast the spotlight onto slightly more obscure pieces of historic literature written by women which originally had to be published under a man’s name. This would be their first publication under their actual name, and while some people see this decision as mildly problematic, I appreciated it for introducing me to lots of new pieces of writing that I would otherwise have missed. The History of Sir Richard Calmady is something I would probably never have heard of without Reclaim Her Name, so I am glad to have discovered it.
Let me warn you though: this novel is long. Over a thousand pages. Published in 1901, it tells the story of the life of its eponymous character – but it goes into such detail setting the scene, that he hasn’t even been born until you’re about a hundred pages in. Considering the era, I’m sure a lot of people can imagine what it’s like, but I think it is a novel that is very much worth sticking to.
While I’ve read quite a lot of novels about affluent people living in large mansions in the countryside and getting into all sorts of dramas, this one stood out for one major reason: its main character lives with a disability. A birth defect leaves him with stunted little legs and stops him from being able to walk properly. I can’t think of any other novels from this time (especially none that I’ve read) which feature a character like that, and it’s very refreshing.
There’s not much overall plot, to be honest, it just follows the very realistic trajectory of Richard Calmady’s life – but I love that. The whole novel felt very believable (and I guess you need something very long for this level of realism) and my absolute favourite thing about it was the depth and the nuance of the relationships between the different characters. Katherine Calmady, Richard’s mother, is probably my favourite character of the bunch – not only is her complex relationship with her often bitter and resentful son very compelling, but I found her friendship with a family friend named Julius to be especially intriguing too. From processing pain and grief of her own, to finding comfort from the company of others, and doing what she can to support those in her life, she felt like a very three-dimensional character and I’d say she is one of my favourite female fictional characters of the era. In some ways, she even feels like more of a main character than Richard.
Aside from that, Richard has major relationships with two other women in his life Helen de Vallorbes and Honoria St. Quentin. Although Helen is very much positioned as being bad for him (and is), I found her to be a fascinating character who feels so different from other female characters at the time. She’s very forward romantically and is someone who essentially does whatever she wants – this doesn’t make her a good person at all, but in the era she’s coming from, it makes her seem very cool. Honoria is written in a much more traditional way, but she still manages to be very interesting just because of the depth that the author gives everyone.
There are a few problematic moments throughout (mostly connected to them being rich white people during an era which was pretty awful to everyone else), but luckily, they were few and far between. All things considered, I am very glad I read this book – the author is very talented indeed and it tells the kind of story you don’t often come across. Just be warned, if you decide to read it, you’re in for a big commitment.
Rating: 8.1/10
