Ann Radcliffe é a mestre do Gótico, e o Castelo de Udolfo é a ópera maior de sua vida que ressalta tal fato!

A obra é, por excelência, pura maestria, versando-se sobre os temas mais sublimes do romance gótico com a majestade própria de sua autora. É colossal e, ainda que intimidante, carrega o fascínio da originalidade; às suas passagens exuberantes, pitorescas e permeadas por suspense, deve-se tudo que conhece-se na atualidade acerca de tais temas.

É genioso e fundamental para a boa alma na compreensão do que é o goticismo literário. ( )

The Mysteries of Udolpho is probably now the best-known of Ann Radcliffe's novels, and holds an important place as one of the earliest works in what came to be known as the Gothic genre. If, like me, you're interested in the history and development of Gothic literature, I would say this is a must-read. However, I probably wouldn't recommend it to the average reader. I think a lot of the criticism directed at this book is based on something of a cultural disconnect - the literary style of the late 1700s, as well as reader expectations around storytelling and prose, were quite different from what we're accustomed to now. For the modern reader, The Mysteries of Udolpho probably comes across as tediously long, there are grammatical choices that seem odd (so many commas!) and the characters lack the psychological nuance that we usually expect. That said, I think the story itself is compelling. It takes a long time to get going, but the middle part of the book in particular is very tense and atmospheric. I also thought the gender dynamics at play were fascinating - a lot of readers nowadays likely find Emily annoying and weak, but I think that ignores the facts of the time when this book was written and set (it's supposed to take place vaguely in the 1500s). Emily truly has no power in the situations in which she finds herself, and in my opinion that adds to the terror. At one point I found myself thinking "why doesn't she just run away?" and then I remembered that not only are they in the middle of the wilderness, but Emily as a minor noblewoman has no survival skills. She can't hunt food, she can barely light a fire, she's been kept in a state of learned helplessness that renders her particularly vulnerable. That said, she's also consistently shown to be logical and practical, even more so than the male protagonists (Valancourt in particular is an emotional mess most of the time), and resilient in the face of suffering. She does faint a lot, yes, albeit usually in situations where she's just seen a corpse or has witnessed a man being shot or is being kidnapped - situations of high stress in which I think fainting is maybe a forgivable, if dated, response. Furthermore Ann Radcliffe seems very aware of the sexist dynamics at play - Montoni in particular both compliments and berates Emily on the basis of her gender at various points, threatens her with sexual harm, and has a history of violence towards women.
Ultimately, I enjoyed this book (save for the last hundred pages or so, which were unnecessary and largely boring), despite its many imperfections and dated style of writing. I'd recommend it for readers passionate about Gothic literature - it's essential for an understanding of the history of the genre. But if you know you don't like classic literature, lots of description, or the tropes that have come to define Gothic literature (many originated with this book and Radcliffe's other novels), then I'd suggest giving this one a pass. ( )

The Mysteries of Udolpho came within pages of being the third book off one of my reading lists that was left unfinished. Ann Radcliffe's novel relating the ordeals of Emily St. Aubert is an exasperating slog which taxes your patience through the tedious repetition of mundane details intended to elicit sympathy for her melancholy protagonist and multiple ineffective attempts to create mystery by the withholding of crucial facts by an otherwise intrusive narrator.

The first hundred pages of the book see Emily lose both parents in a manner more akin to batteries draining than the effects of disease, as well as losing Valancourt, the man who wins her lifelong affection despite the lack of meaningful interaction between them leading up to her infatuation. Her tearful brooding over these tragedies occupies all her spare time during this period.

After fulfilling her father's dying wish by burning his secret letters, Emily is placed in the care of her aunt, the first of several characters masquerading as wealthy while seeking to enrich themselves through favorable marriages to someone of actual wealth. Forced to travel from her native France to Venice, Emily is stalked by Count Morano, another charlatan who is so besotted with Emily that he forgets he is royalty and she nothing. His repeated proposals are enthusiastically supported by her aunt's villainous husband Montoni, who conceives to force Emily to wed the Count despite her strenuous objections. In the first but not last unbelievable turn of events, Emily unwittingly agrees to wed Morano while believing she is discussing a different topic.

On the morning before her coerced nuptials, Emily is again forced to flee in the company of her aunt and uncle, this time to Udolpho castle, where she and her aunt are held prisoner by Montoni and his despicable henchmen. During her captivity, she sees a sight so horrible she faints but tells no one what it is, including the reader and alternates between brooding over her lost love Valancourt, investigating the mysterious music and singing outside her window, and vacillating whether to sign over her birth right to Montoni in exchange for her freedom.

Unfortunately, you are only halfway through the novel at this point, and have another three hundred pages of—among myriad other nuisances—Emily's constant tears, tiresome references to her father's mysterious letters and the sight at Udolpho that caused Emily to faint, a chateau haunted by mysterious music and singing (yes, again) and a dying, disreputable nun with a secret upon which the whole novel turns.

Most disappointing about The Mysteries of Udolpho is that it is actually an entertaining and ultimately redeeming story ruined by the way Radcliffe goes about supposedly building mystery and suspense through tiresome repetition of known and uninteresting facts (which adds a significant number of unnecessary pages) and summarizing events she should have instead spent time narrating, as well as swooping in like Agatha Christie's Poirot to reveal—in two unsatisfying pages near the very end of the book—the mystery of Emily's father's letters and the horrid sight at Udolpho. If that is typical of the gothic style, this will be my only venture into the genre.

If you keep in mind the era this novel was written in, the level of sophistication of readers of the time and perhaps the lack of entertainment alternatives that would leave readers no choice but to tolerate writing of this nature, you might enjoy this book more than I did. ( )

The Mysteries of Udolpho was published on May 1794. The book introduces to the readers the Gothic genre: terror, castles, supernatural events, and many pictures of landscapes: cliffs in moonlight, or beneath the shade of tree (obscurity), or the Power of Nature.



Description of landscapes:



‘The deep repose of the scene, the rich scents, that floated on the breeze, the grandeur of the wide horizon and of the clear blue arch, soothed and gradually elevated her mind to that sublime complacency, which renders the vexations of this world so insignificant and mean in our eyes, that we wonder they have had power for a moment to disturb us. Emily forgot Madame Cheron and all the circumstances of her conduct, while her thoughts ascended to the contemplation of those numbered worlds, that lie scattered in the depths of aether, thousands of them hid from human eyes, and almost beyond the flight of human fancy.’



Supernatural events:



‘Dark power! with shuddering, meek submitted thoughts. Be mine to read the visions old which thy awakening bards have told, And, lest they meet my blasted view, Hold each strange tale devoutly true.’



Darkness:



‘A fresher air came to her face, as she unclosed the door, which opened upon the east rampart, and the sudden current had nearly extinguished her light, which she now removed to a distance; and again, looking out upon the obscure terrace, she perceived only the faint outline of the walls and of some towers, while, above, heavy clouds, borne along the wind, seemed to mingle with the stars, and wrap the night in thicker darkness.’



Towards light:



‘But soon, even this light faded fast, and the scenery assumed a more tremendous appearance, invested with the obscurity of twilight. Where the torrent had been seen, it was now only heard; where the wild cliffs had displayed every variety of form and attitude, a dark mass of mountains now alone appeared; and the vale, which far, far below had opened its dreadful chasm, the eye could no longer fathom. A melancholy gleam still lingered on the summits of the highest Alps, overlooking the deep repose of evening, and seeming to make the stillness of the hour more awful.’

( )

Traded someone for it at the Alien cafe circa 2001-2.