In Charles Dickens' Dombey and Son (1848), which I've just re-read, Dombey's treasured son Paul dies when his older sister, Florence, is about six years old. Dombey has never liked his daughter Florence (he seems to blame her for being a girl) and likes her less after he loses Paul. Dombey could transfer his affection from his dead son to a possible "replacement," his living daughter. But he shuns that very legitimate psychological option. Instead, Florence is neglected, ignored, exiled, and eventually even struck by her hard-hearted father. In real life, it's inevitable that Florence would become alienated, bitter, and distorted. In Dickens' fairy-tale world her love for her father endures and she remains cheerful and optimistic. Although she experiences a truly horrible childhood, she suffers no permanent psychological deficit. Eventually, she reconciles with her father, forgives him (sic!) and produces two children (named Paul and Florence, of course). Dombey, now chastened, grandfathers these true replacement children.
It's a big, good novel, and Dickens makes us laugh and cry but sometimes against our will and always in defiance of our knowledge of real--as opposed to idealized--children. Dickens' optimism and his faith in the power of forgiveness are wonderful but utterly otherworldly. Replacements, even quasi-replacements such as Florence, rarely fare so well.
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