Cranford is a little town in the north of England where lives a perfect society of women. These women, spinsters and widows, are described in the first sentence of the book as Amazons. Indeed, men are quasi inexistent in this society, all as minor characters, and the women are proud of their independence. Social rank is essential, and many discussions revolve around who it is acceptable to invite home or visit. A true small Victorian society. The story, however, does not seem to have a plot. Nothing really happens, merely incidents. As much as the theme of feminism is intriguing and brought up, the story drags along through minor preoccupations. A challenging and boring spring read.
“Their dress is very independent of fashion; as they observe, “What does it signify how we dress here at Cranford, where everybody knows us?” And if they go from home, their reason is equally cogent, “What does it signify how we dress here, where nobody knows us?” The materials of their clothes are, in general, good and plain, and most of them are nearly as scrupulous as Miss Tyler, of cleanly memory; but I will answer for it, the last gigot, the last tight and scanty petticoat in wear in England, was seen in Cranford—and seen without a smile.”