
Dorothy M. Richardson's The Trap follows Miriam Henderson as she takes rooms above a stonemason's shop in Flaxman's Court, a secluded byway near St. Pancras Church, sharing the quarters with Miss Holland, a former vicarage-bred slum worker. On her first visit Miriam is met by the landlord, Sheffield, whose voice and manner revive old, half-forgotten antagonisms; his mother, upstairs in the same house, adds to the oppressive atmosphere with her bitter, circling talk. Despite this, Miriam delights in the high, light-filled rooms, especially the painted ceiling in the small back bedroom, and feels she has at last found a home of her own. Miss Holland arrives and furnishes her side of the shared room with camp-bed, wicker washstand, and a new "Casement cloth" curtain to divide their spaces. The two women settle in together, exchanging talk about propriety, "official women," church workers, and the dowdy gentility of Miss Holland's speech and habits. Their first night is spent battling fleas, laughing over rattling windows (which Miriam loves and Miss Holland dislikes and wedges shut), and trading stories, including Miriam's memory of the drunken Irish journalist O'Laughlin from her old lodgings. Neighbors and visitors populate the court: Perrance, a self-styled restorer of classical "statoos" who works next door and presents Miriam with an alabaster finger from his shop window as a token of homage; his wife, a Devonshire countrywoman worn down by London and by their unhappy marriage; and Sayce, a poet who lives across the way and is glimpsed reciting to a companion by candlelight during a thunderstorm. Miriam also encounters the young unmarried couple on the first floor, and reflects on marriage, tragedy, and womanly endurance. Miriam and Miss Holland visit a ladies' club, where they observe fellow members including the tall, striking Wheeler mother and daughter—Estella, a fifteen-year-old cellist from San Antonio come to London in hopes of studying with a Polish cellist—and three sisters whose talk recalls the Bannerman girls of Miriam's youth. Miss Holland asks Miriam to have her Russian acquaintance Michael write on Estella's behalf to the cellist; when Miriam forgets to do so promptly, Miss Holland's anger flares into tears and a bitter reproach that Miriam would have acted at once "had it been made to a man." Miriam breaks off relations coolly, refusing scenes or reconciliation, though she later regrets the rupture even as she treasures her sense of independence. Interwoven are visits from the Brooms (Mrs. Philps and her daughters Grace and Florrie), who tour Miriam's rooms and are shown Sayce's window as evidence of the household's distinction; a dinner party at the club bringing together Michael, Dr. Densley, and Dora and George Taylor, ending in comic embarrassment when Dora's frank talk of parthenogenesis silences the room; and a Lycurgan Society meeting and dance, where Miriam moves among socialist acquaintances—Hayle-Vernon, Englehart, Wilkins—weighing the claims of intellectual fellowship against Densley's conventional, sociable world and her doubts about marrying him. Domestic scenes continue: Mrs. Cameron, the cheerfully devout neighbor, brings primroses and unsettling reminders that Miriam's youth is passing; Eve, the maid at Wimpole Street, brings quiet, wordless comfort. Miriam records interior meditations on egoism, happiness, religion, and the passage of time, recalling her sister Harriett's family—Gerald, Harriett, and their child Elspeth—departing for exile in Canada, and turning over her ambivalent feelings about Miss Holland's plans to leave London for California, and about Miss Holland's old friend Miss Trevelyan, whose visit stirs Miriam's jealousy and sense of exclusion. The narrative closes on a night when Miriam, roused from sleep by the sounds of the court, listens to a violent quarrel breaking out between Perrance and his wife—shouted threats, crashing furniture, a shriek, and finally the crash of a lamp thrown into the garden. Perrance's voice turns suddenly frightened and contrite, and Mrs. Perrance is heard sobbing in exhausted, fearless despair as Miriam stands at her window, moved to intervene yet held back, acutely conscious of her own safety and detachment from the raw suffering just beyond her walls.
By Dorothy M. Richardson · First published 1925 · Genre: Modernist Fiction, Psychological Fiction, Literary Fiction · 9 chapters · 43,822 words
A short by-street paved from side to side. Narrow house-fronts and the endmost houses, hiding the passage that curved round into the further street, high enough to keep out of sight the neighbouring cubes of model dwellings and to leave, as principal feature in the upper air, the spire of St. Pancras Church. An old little street. A scrap of old London standing apart, between the Bloomsbury squares and the maze of streets towards the City. The light gleaming from its rain-washed flagstones gave it a provincial air and a freshness unknown to the main streets, between whose buildings lay modern roadways dulled by mud or harsh with grimy dust.
The Trap is listed on Textopian as a novel by Dorothy M. Richardson, dated 1925 CE.
This source record anchors work identity, reading entry points, and catalog context for checking claims about the work.
modernism · stream-of-consciousness · psychological · feminine-consciousness · early-twentieth-century · social-experiment · London-setting · domestic-life · intimacy · personal-growth · introspection · literary-fiction