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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of gender discrimination, emotional abuse, and death.
In The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion, author Beth Brower examines the precarious nature of female autonomy in a Victorian society governed by rigid financial and social strictures. The novel argues that for a woman like Emma, independence is a constant, draining negotiation against patriarchal entitlement, social pressure, and economic vulnerability. As a femme sole, an unmarried woman with legal control over her property, Emma possesses a rare freedom, yet this status is perpetually threatened. Through her journal entries, she documents her private anxieties and public strategies, revealing that maintaining her independence requires a sharp wit, unconventional alliances, and an unyielding will to claim her space in the world.
The most significant threat to Emma’s autonomy is financial. Brower names Emma’s banker, Mr. Penury, which means “destitution,” to humorously underscore the protagonist’s stark economic reality. He outlines her limited funds, the necessity of her tenant’s continued presence, and the urgent need for her to find employment. Their discussions frame her precarious situation within a larger legal context, touching upon the recently passed Married Woman’s Property Act. While the act offers some protection, Emma’s resolution to not “marry for the sake of a man’s money” emphasizes her commitment to true independence (56), even if it means financial hardship. This commitment forces her to confront the very limited career paths available to women of her class. Her half-serious, half-desperate list of “Possible Avenues of Employment” includes everything from “Personal Secretary” to “Dancer at The Drunken Duck” (98), illustrating the bleakness of her options. The high cost of professional tools, like the typewriter Mary uses, further emphasizes that the path to financial self-sufficiency is both narrow and expensive.
Beyond finances, Emma’s independence is a physical and psychological battle for control over her own home, Lapis Lazuli House. Her cousin, Archibald, embodies a parasitic male entitlement, treating the house as his domain despite Emma’s legal ownership. He is a “general plague on mankind” who “infests” rooms and rails against her presence (ix). Emma’s effort to reclaim her home is a metaphor for her larger fight for selfhood. She wages a war of attrition, securing the drawing room for her own use, leasing the salon to Pierce, and ultimately forcing a scheduling agreement for the dining room after Archibald throws a spoon at her. Each small victory is a hard-won assertion of her right to exist and govern her own space, pushing back against the assumption that her property and life are subject to male whims.
Finally, Emma must navigate the controlling expectations of her family, particularly Aunt Eugenia. For Eugenia, Emma’s independence is a liability that must be managed to protect the family’s social standing and advance her cousin Arabella’s marriage prospects. She dictates Emma’s wardrobe, dismisses her intellectual pursuits, and attempts to police her very state of mind, forbidding her from being “lighthearted” because she deems this quality undesirable on the marriage market. Emma’s compliance is a performance, a strategic choice to placate her aunt while carving out private spaces of freedom. This constant negotiation reveals that for a Victorian woman, even one with property, independence is a relentless and complex struggle. By showing Emma’s battle for autonomy, Brower both highlights the challenges faced by historical women and advocates for contemporary women’s agency.
Brower’s epistolary novel presents Victorian high society as a grand stage where public image is paramount and individuals must constantly perform curated versions of themselves. The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion suggests that this relentless performance is a necessary tool for social navigation and survival, but one that creates a stark, often comical, chasm between a person’s internal reality and their public presentation. Emma’s journal is a backstage pass, revealing the private anxieties, elaborate deceptions, and deep grief that lie hidden beneath the polished veneer of social propriety. From literal costumes to fabricated identities, the characters’ performances underscore the immense pressure to conform to societal expectations, even at the cost of authenticity.
The most overt instance of performance is Emma’s reluctant participation in Jack’s scheme. To infiltrate the dance hall, she must literally don a costume and play a role. Forced to wear a scandalous red velvet dress, heeled boots, and a bird’s nest in her hair, she becomes a “Duck Girl” at a disreputable nightlife venue. This episode, which culminates in a comical stage fall and a mortifying encounter with the Duke of Islington, is a heightened example of the less obvious roles she is compelled to play in her daily life. Whether feigning a sudden illness to escape Charles’s suffocating advances or adopting a primly righteous tone to satisfy her neighbors, Emma continually adjusts her performance to suit her audience and achieve her immediate goals.
The creation of Emma’s fictional chaperone, Agnes Dowd, is a more complex and sustained performance. To satisfy Aunt Eugenia’s intrusive demands for propriety, Emma and Arabella fabricate a woman with a backstory, a severe personality, and even physical traits like warts. Maintaining this elaborate lie requires ongoing effort, including enlisting Saffronia to transcribe letters to avoid suspicion. This complex deception demonstrates that, in a society bound by rigid rules, securing freedom often means performing compliance with the very system one seeks to subvert.
The theme of performance finds its most significant expression in the way characters mask private grief. The journal format contrasts Emma’s witty social maneuvering with her raw, internal sorrow over the death of her first love. After Maxwell’s burial, she must present a composed front to his family while her journal entries reveal her inner devastation. Lady Stuart, too, performs the role of a gracious hostess while grappling with her husband’s cruelty and her own deep loss. Even Mrs. Penury’s radical decision to stop speaking can be seen as the ultimate rejection of social performance—a permanent retreat from the obligation to present a pleasing, talkative self to the world after she felt she had “said all she wanted to say” (5). Through the elaborate performances that the Victorian world demands of her fictional characters, the author encourages readers to question the roles their own society pressures them to adopt.
In a world where biological relationships often involve control, obligation, and antagonism, The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion posits that friendship offers true support and acceptance. Throughout the novel, an unconventional network of friends and allies provides the emotional stability and grace that Emma’s relatives fail to offer. Her deepening bonds with the enigmatic Niall, the formidable Duke of Islington, and the quiet Hawkes form an essential emotional anchor. This alliance, forged in shared experiences and mutual respect, demonstrates that the most sustaining connections are those voluntarily built, offering a sanctuary from the demands of both society and lineage.
The necessity of these friendships is underscored by the deep failure of Emma’s biological family. Her primary relatives are sources of conflict, not comfort. Cousin Archibald is a parasitic and hostile presence in her home, while Aunt Eugenia is a manipulative force who views Emma as a pawn in her social strategizing. Their interactions are defined by power struggles and a lack of genuine affection. This void of familial support makes the emergence of Emma’s alternative network all the more critical. The contrast between the strained, obligatory nature of her family ties and the easy, voluntary camaraderie she shares with her friends highlights where true loyalty and care reside.
Emma’s core friend group is an unlikely quartet that includes herself, Pierce, Islington, and Hawkes. Their bond solidifies in private, informal gatherings that stand apart from the rigid rituals of high society. A dinner at Islington’s home is a key moment, establishing a space of easy wit and shared vulnerability. Crucially, this group provides a sanctuary for Emma after the trauma of Maxwell’s burial. Pierce’s unwavering support is particularly important; he finances the trip, offers silent companionship, and physically protects her from Lord Stuart’s cruelty, telling her, “My friends do not go to war alone” (141). Later, Islington offers his library as a refuge, and Hawkes provides quiet, unassuming comfort. Their unique connection is best described by Hawkes himself, who, during a late-night conversation in a graveyard, labels their dynamic as “Alchemy,” a term that captures the mysterious and powerful transformation of disparate individuals into a cohesive, supportive whole.
This network of belonging extends beyond the central quartet. The Reprobates Ten, a chaotic but loyal group of young men, ceremoniously appoint Emma as their queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine. This farcical ritual is a heartfelt and formal acceptance of her into their eccentric fraternity. Likewise, allies like the silent Mrs. Penury, who offers “sisterly solidarity,” and the artist Saffronia contribute to this web of friendship. These relationships, built on shared sensibilities and genuine affection rather than duty, collectively form a resilient support system, proving to be far more nourishing and reliable than the family into which Emma was born. By contrasting Emma’s strained familial relationships with the uplifting influence of her true allies, Brower champions the importance of friendship.



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By Beth Brower