The Rag & Bone Shop, by Jeff Rackham.
Cambridge: Zoland Books, 2001.
$25 — 310 pages.

Now that my ladder’s gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start,
In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart.

 W.B. Yeats

Although the subject of this novel is Charles Dickens, one of the most idolized authors in the history of literature, he does not speak for himself. Rather, he is viewed through the eyes of three people whose lives are entwined with his: Wilkie Collins, the Victorian murder mystery writer; Ellen Ternan, the actress who became Dickens’ mistress; and Georgina Hogarth, Dickens’ sister-in-law. Each perceives Dickens subjectively, and like a trio of satellites rotating around some exotic sun, each reflects an aspect which is tinted by their own perceptions (real or imagined).

Of the three narrators, the most devious — and the most interesting  is Wilkie Collins, a jaded rake who is not only dedicated to hedonistic pleasures, but has a fervent desire to share them with his chosen comrade-in-arms, Dickens. In this sense, he is a kind of Victorian Mephistopheles/Iago, a fawning tempter determined to corrupt innocence — possibly because the existence of purity in his world is a kind of accusation. Oddly enough, despite his laudanum addiction, his epic drinking and whoring escapades, and his talent for manipulating the lives of others, Collins understands Dickens with a remarkable clarity. Certainly, he understands the contrast between the “public Dickens,” adored by all of England; and the “private Dickens,” trapped in a loveless marriage (his wife suffers from perpetual flatulence, obesity and whining) and dreaming of an idealized union with a soul-mate — a kind of spiritual Lolita.

The Rag & Bone Shop poses questions that can’t be answered because all of the characters (including Dickens) suffer from self-deception. They are incapable of perceiving any truth except their own. Why does Collins devote all of his energies to corrupting Charles Dickens? Does he sincerely believe that a young mistress and a life of clandestine meetings will make Dickens a happy (fulfilled) man? Or is he prompted by envy of Dickens’ literary success and yearns to bring him low? Certainly, he believes, like Oscar Wilde, that “the only way to rid oneself of temptation is to yield to it.”

Georgina Hogarth emerges as a poignant example of self-deception. A visit to the Dickens’ household by the young Georgina causes her to prolong her visit because her sister seems in dire need of help. The ever-pregnant Catherine, an inept housekeeper, gladly relinquishes her domestic duties to her sister and retreats to her bedroom. As Georgina’s visit stretched from months to years, she begins to perceive herself as Dickens’ “real wife,” and covertly wears a wedding ring. Forsaking opportunities for marriage, she begins to weave fantastic fabrications that convert her relationship with Dickens into a rapturous (but secret) romance.

And finally, the actress Ellen Ternan, who unwittingly finds herself cast in the most challenging role of her life — the virgin child (and mistress) of Charles Dickens. It is a role that Ellen neither sought nor enjoyed, but she is drawn into it by complex forces. The combination of Dickens’ power and wealth, the poverty of her mother and sisters and her own ambition make her a reluctant participant in her own seduction. Dickens expends awesome sums of money, purchasing a series of houses, clothing, jewelry, retainers, servants and sojourns in France — all to make a fantasy real: Ellen Ternan dressed in a pinafore and languishing in the arms of England’s greatest writer.

The Rag & Bone Shop skillfully weaves a multi-colored tapestry of contrasting themes: love and lust; dreams and memories; fantasy and reality. Set in the Victorian era — the same period that gave us Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, this novel has much to say about idealized aspirations and prosaic realities. Also, author Rackham uses the trappings of the theatre to considerable advantage. Dickens, who was himself a dramatist and director, attempts to use his theatrical skills in managing his private life, inadvertently creating unforeseen disasters. Ellen often perceives her purpose in life in terms of the stage where she is a “bit player” — she describes herself as appearing briefly on stage where she prat-falls to loud laughter and exits to be quickly forgotten — not a major talent.

However the “prime mover” in The Rag & Bone Shop remains the sly Wilkie Collins. Like Dickens, Wilkie likes to create intricate plots in which all of his friends and enemies are players to be manipulated by the puppet-master. His purpose is to amuse himself and shock conventional society. At the heart of this novel, is a wonderfully wrought dilemma: the difference between Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins. Dickens falls short of his heart’s desire, inadvertently injuring a host of other folk, all because he steadfastly rejects feminine sexuality. It exists, of course, but not in his idealized world of virginal maidens ... not in the child-like Ellen Ternan. How could that tiny, childish body harbor carnal desire? He was wrong, of course.

In the final analysis, Dickens perceives himself as a man who could please the multitudes but not himself. Collins, however, gets exactly what he wanted: a life that is as sordid and carnal as he thought it could be — total license, excess and the pleasure of watching others travel a destructive path that he has carefully prepared for them. Ironically, Collins is also a victim, doomed by drug addiction and waning talent. He will die friendless, wretched and a victim of his own illusions. Does it matter?

Time has rendered a judgment, of course. Dickens remains one of the acknowledged masters of literature, and even now, as you are reading this review, there are thousands of recent memories of Tiny Tim proclaiming, “God Bless Us, Everyone!” Wilkie is seldom read except by fans of Victorian murder mysteries. Well, perhaps literature is satisfied with this judgment. I can’t help wondering what Dickens would say if he could have read the future? Given a choice, would he have sacrificed his literary reputation for his unattainable dream. If the Tempter had whispered to him, “Charles, you can have your idealized love, and it will be as you thought it would be, but you will be as obscure as Wilkie Collins,” what would Dickens say? I can only respond in terms of the Dickens in this novel. I am confident that he would have said, “To hell with literary reputation. Here, in this life, give me Ellen Ternan.”

I found The Rag & Bone Shop at the recent book fair in Weaverville sponsored by Barnes & Noble. For seven hours, I sat with some 60 writers in the Woodlawn Baptist Church gymnasium, signing books and swilling coffee. That is where I met Jeff Rackham. You might be interested to know that he teaches at UNC-Asheville and has been a Fulbright Scholar. Now that I have read his book, I am surprised that he was sitting there quietly, modestly signing books. He should have had some neon lights and maybe a raised platform. This man can write!

(Gary Carden is a writer, storyteller and lecturer whose book, Mason Jars in the Flood, was recently named Book of the Year by the Appalachian Writers Association. He can be reached at gcarden498@aol.com.)

 

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