I first read The Woman in White in 2006 – it was the first Wilkie Collins book I ever read and the one that turned me into a huge fan of his work. I just wish I had discovered him sooner!

So what is it about? I won't go into the plot in too much detail, as I don't want to spoil the fun for those of you who haven't read it yet. The story begins with drawing master Walter Hartright's meeting on a lonely London road with a mysterious woman dressed all in white who has escaped from an Asylum. The next day Walter takes up a teaching position at Limmeridge House in Cumberland where he finds that one of his students, Laura Fairlie, bears a striking resemblance to the woman in white…

The novel follows an epistolary style, meaning it is narrated by several different characters in turn. I love the way Collins gives each of his narrators a unique 'voice' - he really makes the characters come alive. Another thing I love about Wilkie Collins' writing is his sense of humour…some of the scenes involving Laura's hypochondriac uncle Mr Fairlie are hilarious!

Marian Halcombe, Laura Fairlie's sister, is one of my favourite female characters in literature. Contrary to the usual portrayal of 19th century women, she is a brave, intelligent, courageous person who on several occasions puts herself in danger in order to protect her sister Laura. Another great character is Count Fosco. One of the most unusual and memorable villains I've ever encountered in any book, he's an old, fat, opera-loving Italian completely devoted to his pet canaries and white mice.

The Woman in White is an example of the genre known as sensation fiction - including elements such as forgery, identity theft and insanity. Although it was written in the 19th century it's as exciting and gripping as a modern day thriller - even when reading the book for the second time and knowing what was going to happen! It's a long book but there's enough tension and suspense to keep the reader interested right through to the end. There are some classics that are a struggle to read but you persevere with them simply because they're classics and you feel as if you should. The Woman in White does not fall into that category - yes, it's a classic but it's also one of the most readable and enjoyable books I've ever read. ( )

Pressed upon me by my sister, recommended to me by my father, and doubly praised by my mother, The Woman in White, a classic of 19th century fiction, was deemed by T.S. Eliot to be "the first, the longest, and the best of modern English detective novels." It's a fairly fat book (648 pages, small type). At first it took some work to get into the slower-paced rhythms of this book. But I stuck with it. And even though the happenings seemed to be few and far between, this book consistently held my interest. Somewhere around the halfway point I found myself looking forward to picking up the book for further reading. Then, about two-thirds of the way in, events kicked into high gear and the suspense was sustained through to the finish. The plot behind The Woman in White concerns the fates of two sisters, a true love, a despicable husband, a conniving, corpulent Count and various other personages. Much of the fun in reading this book is trying to guess at the connections and motives of the various characters and wondering where certain events are leading. Mysteries encountered earlier in the story are explained later and the result is a satisfying, if somewhat long-winded read. Published in 1860, The Woman in White was a sensation in its day and the author was as well known as his friend Charles Dickens. Collins himself was an interesting character who "braved Victorian morals by living with one mistress and maintaining another in a separate establishment." He died in 1889. I was in the mood for a classic work and The Woman in White was an agreeable choice. The events in this story bring to mind the kind of evil, gloomy atmosphere that is reminiscent of the writings and drawings of Edward Gorey and his fanciful depictions of Victorian characters committing dastardly deeds by dark of night. ( )

Walter Hartright is a drawing teacher whose friend suggests a position for him out in Cumberland, teaching two young ladies. On the road home one night, he suddenly encounters a young woman who is dressed all in white. She asks him the way to London, and he points it out to her. After she leaves, he discovers that she was escaping from an insane asylum. Soon afterward, he meets his pupils, Miss Halcombe and Miss Fairlie. But the mystery surrounding the "woman in white" are numerous. Who was she? Is she really insane? Why was she so afraid that Walter might know a certain man of property?

This story is complicated and impossible to summarize fully without giving away numerous spoilers. As the footnotes doing so were one of the disappointments for me reading, I've tried to avoid doing so here. The format of the book is interesting: several people's accounts tell the events in a semi-chronological order. I enjoyed it at times, but was often frustrated with how very long the narrator (particularly when it was Hartright) took to tell me something very simple. Identity is a major theme in the novel: Who is the woman in white? Who is Sir Percival or Count Fosco? And once someone's identity is stolen, how can it be restored? I liked Marian Halcombe, but Hartright struck me as very like young David Copperfield and less aware of his own melodramatic tendencies. Laura Fairlie was very childlike and never seemed very real to me. The Moonstone was more to my taste. ( )

I'd heard good things about this book for years and now I've read it I know exactly why it's never been out of print; it's a superb, ground-breaking work. Like any novel written 150 years ago, it takes some getting used to; the writing style, the characterizations, the plot points themselves, but once you acclimate, this novel is truly a thriller worth reading. And it is a taut work despite its length. There is always something going on and the little hints and contradictions between accounts from each narrator keep you engaged.

I admit that it was hard sometimes to keep my 21st century sensibilities to myself. Honestly, I couldn't see what was so attractive about Laura that kept Marian and Walter her devoted slaves. I guess being a limpid, fainting female so compliant as to have no personality of her own was the epitome of female attractions back then. Maybe both Walter and Marian just needed someone to mother, protect and control to feel like they had any value in life. The lengths they went to keep Laura completely sheltered from any whiff of reality was absurd to me and a few times I wanted to smack all three of them. But only a few times. Overall, Collins did a good job of reaching through the decades and making me feel sympathy for Laura and her plight. Then again, she was so insensible to most of it that there wasn't a lot to feel sorry for. I mean, doesn't a person have to feel the pain of her situation before anyone else can feel bad about it? Of all the players involved, we never hear from her directly so can't get a good grip on what this whole experience did to her. She was so thoroughly insulated that it probably wasn't much, like a bird that has its cage changed from one to another doesn't comprehend what's been done. I felt slightly insulted by this treatment on Laura's behalf. Hell, at least she didn't whine, I guess that's something.

As far as characters went, this novel is loaded with outstanding examples. First of all the villains; Count Fosco and Sir Glyde were deliciously wicked and underhanded. Fosco is the orchestrator of all their shenanigans and must leash his friend's more overt and violent impulses. I never did understand what bound the two together in the first place, maybe just a mutual interest in decadent living and swindling folks to acquire it. Glyde's initial scam in claiming an inheritance that didn't belong to him might have been planned by Fosco himself since he seems to have gained his titles the same way, but we don't really know. Glyde is vicious, but not in the same way Fosco is vicious. Fosco maintains an air of moral superiority that is downright nauseating. And his slave wife is the same way. I wished a worse end on both of them than they received, but perhaps Collins felt he needed to pull his punch to keep his readers from having an attack of the vapors. Glyde's end, though horrifying in the extreme, lacks personalization and therefore is somewhat unsatisfying as well.

Another character I quite loved was Uncle Fairlie. What a righteous old queen he was. His fussing, flightiness and willful obstinacy was a wonder to behold. Yeah, he was annoying, but provided a much needed uplift to the grinding dread and tension of the novel. It was also great to see how easily manipulated he was by everyone who came in contact with him. I did feel sorry for his valet, though. Leaving the estate to the kid in the end was a bit of a stretch given the fact that he was so uncaring about inheritance in the past. I mean, he knew that Laura's marriage settlement was a screwed up thing, but didn't care, so why should he care about some brat he'd never seen? I can't picture him bothering. It is out of character.

And Marian is a mystery to me as well. Sure, Walter is smitten by a pretty, empty-headed girl as men have been for all of time and can't help slaving away over Laura, but what of Marian? Despite her outward appearance of self-assurance, she must really feel she has no chance of marriage. Or maybe the state doesn't appeal to her independent demeanor. I never got a handle on why she's content to be unofficial nanny and governess for the rest of her life. Surely if Count Fosco could find her fascinating other men could as well. Marian is a mystery to me that endures even more than Anne Catherick herself.

Anne is another helpless female who engenders unchecked devotion and sacrifice by a relative stranger; a popular motif in 19th century literature. Basically cast out by her mother, Anne is repeatedly told that she's weak-minded and stupid and thus becomes those things. She's manipulated and controlled by everyone around her. When she accidentally appears to have purpose, the asylum is the best way to get rid of her inconvenient presence. Mom and Glyde can sigh with relief. I had more sympathy for Anne than for Laura because Anne seems to have known how ill-treated and manipulated she was and at least tried to get out from under. I'm glad they let her stay in her burial plot next to the only person she felt had any love for her.

The plot is stunning, revealed tactically and really pulled me along through the story. A conspiracy so foul and amoral that it was staggering even in this day of heinous crime TV. To deliberately go through life making one's way by cheating, lying and stealing is pretty startling when presented so baldly. And it seems that neither Glyde nor Fosco had any real obstacles along their nefarious way. The way the scheme is revealed, first by its fact then by its repercussions is a neat device. Having each player tell his or her own piece was effective as well since not all of them knew everything everyone else knew. I liked, for example, the heated indignation of the family lawyer (I forget his name) in the face of Laura's unjust marriage settlement; he only knew the events surrounding this, but it was fascinating all the same and made the heroes seem less friendless. I also liked the housekeeper's testimony; her warped view of Fosco was wonderful and showed exactly what a crafty actor he was and how much the veneer of titles and position affected the opinions of the lower classes. Everyone seemed to be more trusting than they are now and so it's no wonder that people were taken in and conspiracies like these actually worked…at least in fiction. ( )

I thoroughly enjoyed this classic. Good characters, gothic feel, good mystery, and some comic relief as well. What's not to like. ( )