Tom Jones: why you should read this tale of “bastardism, fornication, and adultery”

1/ I can see why Coleridge thinks Tom Jones has one of the most perfect plots in literature, alongside Oedipus Tyrannus by Sophocles and The Alchemist by Ben Jonson. Exciting plot, cleverly constructed, brilliantly told. 

As I wrote in an earlier blog post, the novel is sharply divided into three parts: 

• Fielding introduces the story of Tom Jones as a foundling on Mr Allworthy’s estate in Somersetshire and the conflict between him and Mr Allworthy’s nephew, Master Blifil; Jones and Sophia Western grow up together as neighbours and fall in love (in the background: Jones shags some trollop)
• Tom Jones is turned out of doors and soon accompanied by Partridge; Sophia, forced to marry Master Blifil, runs away from home; this part is about all the adventures and encounters on the way to London (in the background: Jones shags another trollop) 
• The characters are now all in London (in the background: Jones shags yet another trollop)

(I know, there’s a lot of shagging). 

Whereas Joseph Andrews feels episodic and nothing quite holds it together, Tom Jones has two things that hold our interest for the entire book: the mystery of Jones’s parentage and the love story between him and Sophia. And even if you generally care more about characters or writing style or metaphors, I think anyone would still be in awe of how well Fielding constructs the plot. 

I saw some blogger remark (but not in a derogatory way) that, like Dickens, Fielding stays on the surface and doesn’t dig deep into the characters’ minds but, like Dickens, creates many vivid and memorable characters—an endless examination of every character’s thoughts and motivations would have robbed the novel of its vitality. I would go further. It actually serves the plot that Fielding, for example, doesn’t enter Master Blifil’s mind—he withholds information from the reader and surprises us later. 

2/ Fielding is one of the writers with the pleasantest and most lovable authorial personae, though he’s more visible on the page than Cervantes or Chekhov. 

“Mrs Waters had, in truth, not only a good opinion of our heroe, but a very great affection for him. To speak out boldly at once, she was in love, according to the present universally-received sense of that phrase, by which love is applied indiscriminately to the desirable objects of all our passions, appetites, and senses, and is understood to be that preference which we give to one kind of food rather than to another.

But though the love to these several objects may possibly be one and the same in all cases, its operations however must be allowed to be different; for, how much soever we may be in love with an excellent surloin of beef, or bottle of Burgundy; with a damask rose, or Cremona fiddle; yet do we never smile, nor ogle, nor dress, nor flatter, nor endeavour by any other arts or tricks to gain the affection of the said beef, &c. Sigh indeed we sometimes may; but it is generally in the absence, not in the presence, of the beloved object.” (B.9, ch.5) 

How could anyone not like him? 

“We would bestow some pains here in minutely describing all the mad pranks which Jones played on this occasion, could we be well assured that the reader would take the same pains in perusing them; but as we are apprehensive that, after all the labour which we should employ in painting this scene, the said reader would be very apt to skip it entirely over, we have saved ourselves that trouble.” (B.12, ch.3) 

He is witty and good-humoured and tolerant—his moral compass is firmly established, he has no naïveté or delusion about human nature, and we can see his abhorrence for tyranny, hypocrisy, and cruelty—but he never comes across as harsh or judgemental as we sometimes notice in George Eliot or Tolstoy. I also like that Tom Jones is divided into 18 books and each one begins with the author talking about the very novel we’re reading and his techniques. Meta?  

If you like Jane Austen, you would also like Fielding, because he also deals with appearance vs reality, hypocrisy, prudence, self-perception, and growth. 

If you like Dickens, you would also like Fielding, for his energy and vitality, and Fielding also deals with poverty, hardship, and charity. 

Fielding creates Mr Allworthy to be the moral centre of the novel, and wisely keeps him in the background for most of it. Throughout the book, Fielding often argues for mercy, forgiveness, and generosity, but he is not naïve—I like that towards the end, Mr Allworthy gives this speech when Jones is soft on people who have wronged him:  

““… Such mistaken mercy is not only weakness, but borders on injustice, and is very pernicious to society, as it encourages vice. The dishonesty of this fellow I might, perhaps, have pardoned, but never his ingratitude. And give me leave to say, when we suffer any temptation to atone for dishonesty itself, we are as candid and merciful as we ought to be; […] but when dishonesty is attended with any blacker crime, such as cruelty, murder, ingratitude, or the like, compassion and forgiveness then become faults…”” (B.18, ch.11) 

3/ The best female characters in the book, as written in my previous blog post, are Mrs Western (Sophia’s aunt) and Lady Bellaston (a manipulative but enthralling woman who fancies Tom Jones and would fit right in Dangerous Liaisons). 

Sophia Western as a character is hard to do right—how do you write a character who is pure and basically perfect? People complain about Fanny Price from Mansfield Park. People complain about Esther Summerson from Bleak House. Do they criticise the depiction of Sophia? Not sure. I do like Sophia (though I also like Fanny and Esther): she is not quick-witted and assertive like Elizabeth Bennet, but she knows her mind and has the strength of Fanny Price—I especially like that she’s firm with Jones and doesn’t accept him easily after what he has done—she’s no doormat.  

4/ I struggled a bit with the second third of the book, though I’m not sure if it’s because it’s in the mould of Joseph Andrews and I didn’t particularly care for the character of Partridge, or because I was visiting Edinburgh and then fell ill and half of my skull was in pain. 

Could very well be the latter. 

But the first and the last part I thoroughly, utterly enjoyed. 

What a wonderful novel. I think Tom Jones may now be my favourite 18th century novel, beating Hong lou meng and Dangerous Liaisons. 

The headline of this blog post comes from some contemporary detractor of the novel.