In this section, we summarize our responses to blog posts which foreground writing,both its material condition and its affordances for constructing narratives of the self.
Letters 9-11 introduced a very specific back-and-forth between Clarissa and Anna about the ways they would write each other when they write about Clarissa’s feelings for Lovelace. Keri, responding to Letter 9, found the “author-reader relationship quite interesting and the ways in which Clarissa works through her own thoughts and feelings about Lovelace through her writing.” This letter, Keri suggested also contains “a lot of moments where the writing seems more for Clarissa herself than to Miss Howe. Several places contain punctuation such as dashes or several exclamation marks, which, in context, suggest the immediacy of the letter-writing that mimics the style of personal diary or journal more than a letter to a friend. . . . Some thing as seemingly insignificant as the punctuation here shows that Clarissa is, in fact, working through her own emotions and feelings about these gentlemen while writing to Anna. In addition, the back-and-forth nature of Clarissa’s request demonstrates the immediacy with which Clarissa writes, and there are moments within this letter and in others where Clarissa goes for quite a while without directing the content to the reader at all.”
In Letter 10, we noted again how writers attempt to shape reader response. As Meghan noted, Anna here imagines a “kind of hypothetical dialogue between Anna and Clarissa. Though they aren’t talking to each other in the same room, Anna and Clarissa can still take into account the other person’s hypothetical reaction and can then plan their writerly moves accordingly.” Keri agreed, noting that “there are several moments in these letters where the writer, after introducing a specific topic, then tells the reader how to respond to it. It seems that these characters, like Richardson, constantly try to exercise control over the content of their writing. I don’t really know what to think about this notion of depriving reader agency yet, but I do think that it is interesting.” Anna also suggests to Clarissa that she may feel a certain “throb” or “glow” when she thinks of Lovelace, an idea Clarissa very firmly denies in Letter 11 Nevertheless the terms persist through several letters.
Volume II includes Clarissa’s “Ode” (Letter 54). Keri noted that the Ode might be Richardson showing “generic versatility,” but more, that it is an instance of Clarissa using writing both as an escape and as a way of thinking through the situation she’s been forced into. It “helps her write her way into a new identity capable of handling difficult situations while maintaining her sanity and a relatively strong sense of self.”Jessica wondered about error in Letters 59 and 60, specifically “what do we make of this silence on the distracting punctuation and spelling in Solmes’s letter?” In “a culture steeped in letter writing,” she continues, Richardson’s use of error in the letter to characterize Solmes raises questions about connections between writing and character. Rachel wondered if Clarissa’s silence wasn’t due to a sense of delicacy – would it be bad manners to point such a thing out? And so Clarissa’s lack of response becomes a way for Richardson to use the letter to characterize her, as well; Debra pointed out the contrast Richardson draws here between Solmes as “buffon” and Clarissa as mannered.
In Volume III we noticed Clarissa and Lovelace both describing their letter writing practices as “scribbling.” In Letter 105, Debra first points out the ability of Lovelace’s phrase, a “pair of scribbling lovers” to work as a “wonderful epigraph for the novel,” as it describes the two main characters and the importance they both place on writing so well. Not only are they both constantly writing letters, Rachel also noticed that Lovelace and Clarissa have similar rhetorical purposes for their writing as well in that they use it “for expression and correspondence, yes, but also for justification of their actions or reactions and for pleading their cases with a close friend and various family members.”
Clarissa also refers to her letter writing as “scribbling” in Letter 135 when she writes to Anna that she “would willingly, therefore, write to [Anna], if [she] might; the rather as it would be the more inspiriting to have some end in view in what [she writes]; some friend to please; besides merely seeking to gratify [her] passion for scribbling.” Several of us commented on Clarissa’s rhetorical purpose in this “scribbling” she does to Anna. Debra commented that though she must “write on,” it sounds like it helps Clarissa to know she has a friend who is reading what she writes. Anna, her audience, gives her writing a sense of purpose and the feeling of connection to someone she is missing now that she is only with Lovelace. Keri commented that this represents the fact that Anna is Clarissa’s “lifeline,” as she is Clarissa’s “window into the world outside her relationship with Lovelace.” Meghan added that Clarissa’s letters to Anna are the only means for her to still exercise some kind of control over her actions—actions increasingly determined by Lovelace.
We also discussed, in Letter 106 how much Lovelace enjoys the aspect of performance in the letters he sends to Belford. In this letter, Lovelace complains of the presence of “counfounded girls” in the church he attends, making a place where he should be able to attend with “good conscience” more of a place where “Satan [spreads] his snares for [Lovelace].” Debra saw this as a good example of Lovelace’s display of wit, and Lovelace’s letters to Belford are the perfect opportunity for him to show off this skill. Stephen questioned that if this is Lovelace’s way of performing for Belford in a display of wit, whether Lovelace ever really tells Belford his true feelings in his writing. If Lovelace uses his writing as a way to perform, how do we ever know when he is being truthful?
In Volume IV, Clarissa writes in Letter 161: “for what are words but the body and dress of thought?” This question stimulated discussion about the truthfulness of writing and how well it aligns with one’s thoughts. In her comment, Megan focuses on Clarissa’s attempt to understand Lovelace’s writing and the truth (or lack thereof) of his words: “[Clarissa] is trying to figure out how Lovelace’s words from his letters and his appearance now line up and form the truth of his self.” Debra then connects this point to Marta Kvande (2013), noting the connections between “body, self, words, and writing.”
Similarly, in Letter 174, we see the link between body/self/letter when Clarissa notes, “These griefs, therefore, do what I can, will sometimes burst into tears; and these mingling with my ink, will blot my paper.” To this letter, Megan notes, “I think what we are seeing in this letter is Clarissa, once again, exposing her true self in her writing. This is a very melancholic letter where she really cannot see what will happen next and dreads finding out for herself. YET – she continues to find some relief in writing these letters to Anna.” To this point, Debra adds by emphasizing Clarissa’s physical body and her chastity, writing “Clarissa’s hypervigilence about protecting the chastity (even sanctity) of her body coupled with her unwillingness to eat and her later physical decline, suggests that, in a very significant way, Clarissa’s identity is written on her body as well as in her letters. And these places where the tears blot the letters seem very significant sites of Clarissa’s identity.” In short, Clarissa’s writing here combines with her self-discovery and identity formation in ways that only writing in manuscript form allows and similarly shows the vulnerability of the writer that results from the manuscript culture. Thus, as she writes, she alters her identity, agency, and self in notable ways. (See also “The Self”)
Writing in Volume IV also deeply affects the relationship between Clarissa and Lovelace, as we see in Letter 202 when he gains possession of Clarissa’s unsent letter to Anna. In this letter (and others), Lovelace gains more power and control over Clarissa by accessing her writing. As Kendra notes in response to this letter, “The letters allow him to know what she is thinking and give him time to think of a way to respond or act accordingly to change her opinion of him and to win her over. It also shows that Clarissa has lost what little agency she had (her own thoughts) and that Lovelace is close to having all of her.” In response to Kendra’s note about Clarissa’s lost of agency, Debra adds, “[Clarissa] is a kind of tabula rasa to [Lovelace]; the letters offer him some sense of who she is.” As Debra suggests here, Clarissa herself has become a blank slate on which Lovelace can write or construct his own narrative and identity.In Volume V, Clarissa’s writing and identity is filtered through Lovelace, and as readers we see more of Lovelace’s writing and his identity, or lack thereof. As Debra notes in response to Letter 222, “That he can stop being a rake and start being a decent person suggests that the rake language and identity is a kind of social mask or performance” and one will eventually stop being a rake or jerk until they are forced to grow up and be an adult. As a writer, Lovelace’s talents really shone, Letter 214 was written like a scene for a play, and in Letter 234, as Debra points out, he performs to Belford his power over Clarissa by asking “Yet what can be expected of an angel under twenty?” Meghan also points out Lovelace’s power in his writing by noting that he wants “her to be just cautious enough so she doesn’t fall for the traps set for her by other people, not so cautious that she doesn’t fall for [his].” In Letter 231, Lovelace discovers Clarissa’s location after she has escaped him and he writes of what punishments she should receive and poignantly points out that Clarissa “never was in a state of independency; nor is it fit a woman should, of any age, or in any state of life.” Jessica notes in response to Letter 231, that Lovelace continually denies Clarissa human pain and suffering, that Lovelace “wants her completely ‘ruined’ in the sense that she stops thinking of escape and is completely dependent on him.”Volume V also highlights two important moments in Clarissa’s writing, when she questions her feelings for Lovelace and escapes from him after seeing him for who he really is. In Letter 212, Clarissa finds Lovelace is ill and she questions her feelings for him as well as making a point to say that she is “afraid to look back upon what [she] has written.” Keri comments on Clarissa not wanting to reread her letter after she has written it and that “Clarissa clearly recognizes her confusion about Lovelace, and I think that very confusion is what deters her from rereading the letter.” In Letter 230, Clarissa escapes and tells Anna that “the villain reveals himself!” Meghan theorizes that Clarissa may be describing Lovelace as a “devil incarnate” “because it gives her the strength she needs to leave him.” Steve points out that in this letter “Richardson is deepening the dichotomies between Clarissa and Lovelace.” Love is not a redeemable villain and Clarissa is the mistreated and threatened heroine.
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We hear from Clarissa very little in Volume VII and most discussions of her writing (such as in letter 333) stem from the way she finds herself too tired or too ill to write. She finds it difficult to participate in a practice she loves so much, and this shows the way her body is deteriorating. Lovelace’s writing, though, led to some interesting discussions. We see two very different sides of Lovelace and of his writing in this volume. One of the early letters (letter 323) shows his continued mastery of language and power as a rhetor, but his later letters were more troubling, particularly letter 335. In letter 323, Lovelace crafts one of his dramatic (play-like) letters. In this one, he is put on trial by his family members, and as Rachel writes, “he is a master manipulator here, engaging in the drama and pulling out all his rhetorical moves as needed.” Tony also notes “his determination to speak over people (interrupting, making his voice louder, not permitting any interruption to his own speech” and authorial decision to “present the scene as a comedy.” We see Lovelace in full command of both his speaking and writing voice in this scene. However, it is not long until Lovelace is in a place of confusion, and his writing in letter 335 seems to reflect this. Jessica wondered if this letter was reflective of “what [James Grantham] Turner and [Terry] Eagleton have said about Lovelace’s writing practices and the positions he occupies as being ‘feminine.’” Tony points to the way the letter deftly handles metaphor and argues, “writing remains [Lovelace’s] most important area of libertine creativity–and that he can manage it so well demonstrates, I think, that his suffering is one more mask to parade.” Unlike the first letter, this one presents a much more unstable Lovelace who is pleading with Belford for news and threatening him if he fails to deliver.
In Volume VIII, Clarissa’s body grows weaker and she gradually loses the ability to write by hand. Her letters taper off, which led us to think more about the physicality of writing. Several of us noted how the act of writing – whether and how much it happens – corresponds with other forces near the end of Clarissa’s life. In response to Letter 405, Megan commented that we see Clarissa’s “writerly self break down as her body does.” Because writing is central to Clarissa’s identity, we recognize that she stops because she is physically unable to write. Tony adds to this sentiment by suggesting the power of “theological/eschatalogical realities” on Clarissa’s ability to write. We recognize how central the act of writing is to Clarissa’s identity, but by Volume VIII she has weakened. Writing is replaced by other means for narrating the end of her life.
Although there was not really much about writing (that wasn’t moreso about narrative) in Volume 9, there was an important mention in Letter 486, about Clarissa’s writing according to Belford: “there never was a woman so young, who wrote so much, and with such celerity. Her thoughts keeping pace, as I have seen, with her pen, she hardly ever stopped or hesitated; and very seldom blotted out, or altered. It was a natural talent she was mistress of…” We have seen this throughout the novel, and Debra suggested that it may have stemmed from “her own sense that her writing is a record of (rather than a construction of) her thoughts and ‘self.’” She also further noted that this lack of distance between the self and writing was similar to Lovelace’s relationship with the act of writing, too: “Neither of them seems to have any sense of distance between thinking and writing.”
Therefore, it was no surprise that, when we read Clarissa’s will in Letter 507, we saw the document of her will as an expression or representation of Clarissa’s agency (as Kendra noted we had often discussed before), her will as saying all the things that she needed to say in death (even if she couldn’t say them in life). Meghan noted that Clarissa included a clause of rebuke for Lovelace if he demanded to see her body, seeming to use her will as a form of communicating her disdain and shame at his actions, and Keri suggested that her will was yet another place where Clarissa attempted to “write” her story, to have control over it: “Clarissa’s offering of the letters to Anna helps her to fulfill one of her wishes that she mentioned so early in the novel — that Anna know her ‘whole mind.’ Now that Anna possesses her own copy of all the letters written between Anna and Clarissa and between Clarissa and the other parties mentioned above, Anna can have a fuller, more complete understanding of Clarissa’s mind and her story as a whole