Old Bestseller Review: The Hundredth Chance, by Ethel M. Dell

Old Bestseller Review: The Hundredth Chance, by Ethel M. Dell

by Rich Horton

Ethel M. Dell (1881-1939) was a writer of romance novels published between 1911 and her death. She was popular enough -- she made up to £30,000 per year -- that she was routinely disparaged in serious books at the time, and even nonserious books like those of P. G. Wodehouse. Her married name was Savage -- curiously appropriate given some of her sexual themes. She is largely forgotten these days, as with many very popular authors of that era who were considered lowbrow. As I am fascinated by popular fiction of the early 20th Century (and for that matter before and after!) I figured I needed to try her. I had bought a book of hers at an antique store some time ago, but it got buried in a box somewhere when we did some remodeling a couple of years ago, so instead I went to Project Gutenberg and downloaded a copy of The Hundredth Chance, from 1917.

I have to say, upon reading The Hundredth Chance, that I kind of get why she was popular. She wasn't a good writer -- but she was better (at the prose level, and even the character level) than many writers of her era. Certainly she was better than her contemporary E. M. Hull, another romance writer, best known for The Sheik. The Hundredth Chance is involving -- it keeps your attention, makes you care about the characters, even though every reader can guess the shape of the plot from the getgo. I note, too, that it was the 10th best-selling novel of 1917, according to Publishers' Weekly. 

That said, there are huge caveats to offer. For one thing, there are lots of unpleasant -- often unnecessarily unpleasant -- aspects to the book. There is plenty of casual racism -- several uses of the N-word, for one thing. There are no POC characters, so no outright offensive characterization, but there are attitudes. And there is violence against women -- one beating for example, and an attempted kidnap and rape using drugs. And -- perhaps most troublingly -- there is marital rape, over some time period. None of this is justifiable, but there it is. (I will add that his novel is rapey enough, but The Sheik is far more, and more offensively, rapey.)

And on the literary side, there are faults as well. I've already hinted at the predictability. There is also a heck of a lot of convenient coincidence, and some dei ex machinae. (A miracle cure, for one thing, and some sheer luck rescuing the heroine at the end. And more.) And while the characters are consistently and recognizably portrayed and differentiated -- they are still pretty two-dimensional. But for all that, the book does keep you reading -- and I enjoyed it.

The main character is Maud, a 25 year old woman who has spent much of her life caring for her 10 years younger brother Bernard, who is crippled. Maud's father, a baronet, is long dead. Her mother is a useless whiner. Maud herself had been close to marrying Lord Saltash, an engaging man who seemed to love her, and who is wealthy and of good birth. But Maud rejected him when she discovered his affair with a married woman. Her mother, rather mad at her for turning down such a good match, is, at the start of the book, ready to marry the vulgar local bar owner, to save the family, as she has run out of money. The bar owner turns out to be an abusive slob, and a bad businessman, and when he thrashes Maud she leaves, with Bernard (called Bunny.) 

She and Bunny have already met Jake Bolton, the groom who runs Lord Saltash's stables. Bunny and Jake have struck up a friendship. And Jake has clearly fallen for Maud, and has gone so far ask her to marry him -- an offer she refused, to some extent on the grounds that Jake is not of her social class. But now, with nowhere to go, Maud agrees to marry Jake, for protection. But she makes it clear that while she and Bunny will live with him, they will not sleep together. He makes one condition -- if they ever are living together alone -- that is, if Bunny is ever cured and can live on his own -- they must live "as man and wife". Maud agrees.

Jake and Bunny continue to be friends, and Jake is very good for him. And Jake is friends with an American doctor who just may be able to cure Bunny. At least, there is a chance in a hundred, and Jake is always ready to bet on  the "hundredth chance". But  Lord Saltash has returned. And he begins to attempt to seduce Maud. He urges her to divorce Jake, and come away with him. Maud is too moral to accept, but she still seems to warm to him, despite clear evidence of his immorality, in manners aside from his previous betrayal of her.

Things keep developing -- the American doctor comes, and is able to cure Bunny. This is great for Bunny, but Maud is torn in a way -- she has given over much of her identity to being his caretaker, and Jake has already taken some of that, with his male friendship. And now Jake -- already angry over Maud's apparent dallying with Saltash -- claims his right to live with her as "man and wife". Which leads to carefully offstage incidents of marital rape. Maud grows more and more miserable -- and a form of salvation arises when her wealthy uncle, who had cut his feckless sister (Maud's mother) off, agrees to have Maud and Bunny visit.

There's a lot more going on, and I've already said too much I think. There are horse races involving Jake's favorite horse, and some bad dealing from Lord Saltash, who is always ready to arrange to throw a race for money. There is a religious awakening of sorts in Maud. There is a scene where she is a convinced that Jake (who doesn't drink) is drunk -- due to Lord Saltash's lies. There is a fire, and heroism by both Jake and Maud. It seems that Maud might be pregnant, then she isn't -- and I'm honestly not quite sure if we are subtly shown that she lost the baby or if she really wasn't pregnant. And Saltash makes his final play for Maud -- and goes too far.

The thing is -- a lot of this is absurd. Hyson Concepcion, who mentioned reading Ethel M. Dell with (sometimes horrified, I imagine) enjoyment, upon someone telling her that it's meretricious trash, responded, "Of course it's meretricious trash. That's why I read it." I feel the same way -- there are certain writers who are just trashy enough (and slyly skilled enough) that they are simply fun to read in the right mood. Dell was one of those, it seems. I rolled my eyes at much of this book, but I kept reading, and I enjoyed it (with huge reservations, but hey!) 

I will note that I ordered a couple of used Ethel M. Dell books, and when they came I realized they were abridged, as part of something called the Barbara Cartland Library. Which reminds me that, if you want meretricious trash that ISN'T worth reading, Barbara Cartland's your woman. This is, I note, based on decades old memories of trying a Cartland novel or two after I ran out of Georgette Heyer, and realizing they were dreadful and boring. Anyway, I don't like to read abridged books, so I went to Project Gutenberg as noted above.