A review on Samuel Richardson's 'Pamela'

Pamela, Samuel Richardson - How far can we excuse old literature for its problematic or outdated material?

After hours of dedication, I finally finished Samuel Richardson’s Pamela for my ‘Fashion in Literature’ class. Although I enjoyed the book, I would also describe the journey as fairly gruelling due to its 500+ page length. The prose was readable but wordy, which made the experience somewhat tedious. Like with any book, after the achievement that was finishing Pamela, I looked up reviews online. Surprisingly, I was met with a bombardment of absolute detestation for the novel. There were countless YouTube videos with titles akin to, The worst book I have ever read, regarding Pamela. I clicked on the videos and listened, sometimes nodding in firm agreement and sometimes shaking my head vehemently. Although often acclaimed for being the first Modern English novel, this book has always been a source of great controversy. After its publication, the public was split into Pamelites and Anti-Pamelites, the most famous of the latter being Henry Fielding, who wrote Shamela as a satirical mockery of the original material. But what makes it so intrinsically polemic? Of course, it is riddled with misogyny, but also, aren’t most old novels? Then sprang to mind the question of the hour - can the problematic nature of old literature be excused simply for being… old?

Pamela

If you have not read Pamela, here is a brief synopsis: Pamela is a 15-year-old servant, and one day, her mistress dies. Her son (Mr. B) takes ownership of the house and, in turn, becomes Pamela’s boss. He spends the first half of the novel trying to rape her and even kidnaps her. Pamela desperately tries to run away from her master, but (almost spontaneously) decides to marry him. They live happily ever after, and Pamela becomes a rich lady. Now, you might think, how can you not hate this novel? They reward the villain, and Pamela gives in to his perverse abuse. And you’re right. The messaging is extremely offensive, and the villain is never punished for his crimes. To any audience, it is undoubtedly uncomfortable.

To understand the novel, you must first be aware of the alternate title - Virtue Rewarded. In knowing this, Richardson’s purpose in writing the novel becomes explicit. Pamela defies Mr. B’s predatory pursuit of her, choosing to maintain her innocence, and consequently, her virtue is rewarded by love and wealth. The problems surrounding Pamela are not only considering its plot, but also the context in which Richardson wrote it. It is an extremely misogynistic book, and the moral messaging it conveys suggests a woman’s greatest asset is her virginity. Pamela is the embodiment of the ‘Madonna-Whore complex’ before it existed. Women are either dirty sluts or innocent angels. The sluts will be punished, and the angels will be rewarded with marrying their abusers (according to Richardson). Something that I naively realised only by the end of the novel is that Pamela is not really a character. I spent so long rolling my eyes at her only personality trait being ‘virtuous’ that I entirely missed the point. (An archaic, sexist point, but nevertheless, a point.) She might be the main protagonist, but Richardson’s intentions were not to write a developed, interesting character that people could love or hate. Instead, Pamela is a representation of the perfect woman in 18th-century England; she is the pinnacle of virtue. This is absolutely confirmed by one of the book’s final lines. In reference to Pamela’s upstanding character traits, the narrator explains them as, ‘so many signal instances of the excellency of her mind, which may make her character worthy of the imitation of her sex.’ Richardson’s purpose in writing Pamela was to use her character as a mould of the perfect woman for women in England to emulate. Pamela is not a person; she is an idea. More academically put, she is the manic pixie dream girl of the 1800s (Eli, 2025).

To be clear, I do think disliking Pamela is valid. Everyone has different reading takes, and it’s difficult to be a 21st-century feminist and proudly declare, I really liked a book about a girl who marries her abuser. My point is to question why people hate this book. And if their answer is, it’s misogynistic, is it not naive to expect a book written by a male author in the 18th century to be anything but misogynistic? (I politely ask, why would you pick up the book in the first place? This one might be on you.) As modern readers, we can use the material to critique 18th-century expectations of femininity as restrictive and outdated. Reading is not a passive experience; it is a critical one, and books are not written for the purpose of universal agreement. Should we hate every book that doesn’t align with the values of a progressive, liberal society? There is a distinction between hating Pamela for its misogyny (which is too prominent to summarise in a few sentences) and criticising its traditionalist and sexist implications. This review is not really a review at all; it is an investigation, a debate. Is the antiquity of a book a valid excuse for its archaic or offensive views? From my writing so far, you might think this to be my perspective, but it is not so simple.

The broader discussion

Firstly, what is old? ‘Old literature’ is a very broad term used to casually reference a myriad of different texts, from Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales to George Orwell’s 1984. However, these books were written more than 500 years apart. So if The Canterbury Tales are old… what is 1984? Modern? Futuristic (in more senses than one)? We often judge what is ‘old’ and ‘new’ by a measure of time. Ie, ‘she is 98, she is sooo old.’ Makes sense, right? But time is too much of a social construct to be the only way to classify old literature. We are biased with our perception of time - the earth has been around for 4 billion years, and humans not even a fraction of that - so how can we use this limited understanding of time to accurately define what constitutes an old book? It’s worth considering the writing style of a book and how it affects our perception of its age. Books written in Old English can be classified as ancient because the language is so foreign to its modern equivalent. But even Shakespeare’s plays were written in Modern English and are often dismissed by students for being too ‘old’. That is precisely why modern interpretations are so popular in classrooms today. Therefore, the main way in which I will define books as ‘old’ is by the social and political values they reflect. An understanding of the social context of any book is integral to its reading experience and distinguishing it as belonging to a period different from your own. For example, despite Austen’s relevance to the modern world, I might describe her books as ‘old’ because of their antiquated marriage plots. Only with a better understanding of what an ‘old’ book is can we start to answer any moral dilemmas they might propose.

One common, controversial issue old literature presents is the politically outdated perspective of the writer. Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice is infamous for the antisemitism central to the plot. The key antagonist of the play is Shylock, vilified through his cruel stereotype as the greedy Jew. Antisemitism was rife throughout Europe in the 17th century; therefore, we might gather the reaction towards Shylock would have been less than sympathetic. Despite modern readings often recognising Shakespeare’s attempts to humanise Shylock beyond that of his stereotype, his ending is what defines his role as the play’s villain. By having his money and assets stolen from him and being forced to convert to Christianity, Shakespeare allows the audience to revel in the downfall of a Jew who is rewarded with a righteous and punishing ending. However, today the play is read with far more empathy extended to Shylock - many readers see him as a victim of religious persecution, rather than a selfish, tyrannical villain. Despite its antisemitism, contemporary readings of the play encourage religious tolerance and criticism of the racist treatment of Shylock. Literature is not a passive experience, but an active one in which we should engage with a text critically and thoroughly. We should respond with questions, criticisms, and analyses, rather than mindlessly absorbing the words. That is precisely why ‘old’ literature is essential to read - it might differ substantially to our current understanding of the world, but it encourages critical thinking about unjust historical experiences.

Conclusion

In reading Richardson’s Pamela, it is understandable why many people resent its archaic, misogynistic themes. It isn’t synonymous with the values of the modern reader and is a degrading projection of women, especially the assertion that our value lies in virginity and innocence. However, if you can only enjoy a book by agreeing with its socio-political message, you might want to reconsider before picking up a book from the 18th century. To what extent can we criticise old literature for having old-fashioned perspectives? Did you really expect Pamela to be a modern, feminist portrayal of women’s authority over their sexuality? Most likely, no. The age of a book doesn’t eradicate its problematic subject matter; however, we have to reconsider our expectations and our purpose for reading. Literature will not always be agreeable; however, it will still provide you with value, perhaps in the form of criticism and a better understanding of history instead. Issues of racism, sexism, and outdated politics should not be ignored in older books; nevertheless, we must critically reflect on them instead of dismissing the content as ‘bad’ or ‘unreadable’. Reading old literature is a productive experience if used to learn about the past and consider social progress. Pamela might be an inherently misogynistic piece of art, but modern feminist readings of it contribute to the advance of women’s sexual liberation. To be critical readers, hate has no place in our vocabulary. To hate a book is to be ignorant of what we can learn, and ignorance does not have a place in the purpose of reading.

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Bibliography

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(Eli, 2025. Reflections in Istanbul. Ahelele Ahelas. Istanbul: Arnavutköy)