The Jane Austen Book Club (26 page)

Read The Jane Austen Book Club Online

Authors: Karen Joy Fowler

Reader's Guide

Jane Austen is weirdly capable of keeping everybody busy. The moralists, the Eros-and-Agape people, the Marxists, the Freudians, the Jungians, the semioticians, the deconstructors—all find an adventure playground in six samey novels about middle-class provincials. And for every generation of critics, and readers, her fiction effortlessly renews itself.

 

—
MARTIN AMIS
, “
JANE
'
S WORLD
,”
The New Yorker

The Novels

Emma
was written between January 1814 and March 1815, published in 1815. The title character, Emma Woodhouse, is queen of her little community. She is lovely and wealthy. She has no mother; her fussy, fragile father imposes no curbs on either her behavior or her self-satisfaction. Everyone else in the village is deferentially lower in social standing. Only Mr. Knightley, an old family friend, ever suggests she needs improvement.

Emma has a taste for matchmaking. When she meets pretty Harriet Smith, “the natural daughter of somebody,” Emma takes her up as both a friend and a cause. Under Emma's direction, Harriet refuses a proposal from a local farmer, Robert Martin, so that Emma can engineer one from Mr. Elton, the vicar. Unluckily, Mr. Elton misunderstands the intrigues and believes Emma is
interested in him for herself. He cannot be lowered to consider Harriet Smith.

Things are further shaken by the return to the village by Jane Fairfax, niece to the garrulous Miss Bates; and by a visit from Frank Churchill, stepson of Emma's ex-governess. He and Jane are secretly engaged, but as no one knows this, it has no impact on the matchmaking frenzy.

The couples are eventually sorted out, if not according to Emma's plan, at least to her satisfaction. Uninterested in marriage at the book's beginning, she happily engages herself to Mr. Knightley before its end.

 

Sense and Sensibility
was written in the late 1790s, but much revised before publication in 1811. It is primarily the story of two sisters, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood. The death of their father has left them, with their mother and younger sister, financially pressed. Both women fall in love, each in her own characteristic way—Marianne is extravagant and public with her emotions, Elinor restrained and decorous.

The object of Elinor's interest is Edward Ferrars, brother to Fanny Dashwood, her odious, stingy sister-in-law. Elinor learns that Edward has been for some time secretly, unhappily, and inextricably engaged to a young woman named Lucy Steele. She learns this from Lucy, who, aware of Elinor's interest though pretending not to be, chooses Elinor as her special confidante.

Marianne hopes to marry John Willoughby, the book's only sexy man. He deserts her for a financially advantageous match. The surprise and disappointment of this sends Marianne into a dangerous decline.

When Lucy Steele jilts Edward for his brother Robert, Edward is finally free to marry Elinor. Edward seems quite dull,
but is at least her own choice. Marianne marries Colonel Brandon, the dull man Elinor and her mother have picked out for her.

 

Mansfield Park
was written between 1811 and 1813, and published in 1814. It marks Austen's return to novel writing after an interruption of more than a decade.

Ten-year-old Fanny Price is taken from her impoverished home to the estate of her wealthy aunt and uncle Bertram. There she is tormented by her aunt Norris, disliked by her cousins Tom, Maria, and Julia, and befriended only by her cousin Edmund. Her position is less than a daughter, more like a servant. Years pass. Fanny grows up shrinking and sickly (though very pretty).

While Uncle Bertram is away on business, Henry and Mary Crawford come to stay at the nearby parsonage. The Crawfords, brother and sister, are lively and charming. Both Maria and Julia are taken with Henry. Edmund is equally smitten with Mary.

Amateur theatricals are planned, then canceled by Uncle Bertram's return. But the rehearsals have already encouraged several damaging flirtations. Maria, humiliated by Henry's lack of real interest, marries Mr. Rushworth, a wealthy buffoon.

Henry then falls in love with shy Fanny. She refuses the advantageous match and, as punishment, is sent back to her parents. Henry pursues her for a time, then has an affair with Maria that results in her disgrace. Edmund's eyes are opened by Mary's casual response to this.

Tom, the eldest Bertram cousin, nearly dies of vice and dissipation; Fanny is fetched back to Mansfield Park to help nurse him. At the end of the book Edmund and Fanny marry. They seem well suited to each other, though not, as Kingsley Amis has pointed out, the sort of people you would like to have over for dinner.

 

Northanger Abbey
was written in the late 1790s, but published only posthumously. It is the story of a deliberately ordinary heroine named Catherine Morland. The book is divided into two parts. In the first, Catherine travels with family friends, the Allens, to Bath. There she meets two brother-sister pairs—John and Isabella Thorpe, and Henry and Eleanor Tilney. Her own brother, James, joins them and becomes engaged to Isabella. Catherine is attracted to Henry, a clergyman with witty and unorthodox manners.

General Tilney, father to Henry and Eleanor, invites Catherine to visit them at home; this visit makes up the second half of the book. The General is at once solicitous and overbearing. Under the spell of the gothic novel she has been reading, Catherine imagines he has murdered his wife. Henry discovers this and sets her humiliatingly straight.

Catherine receives a letter from James telling her that Isabella has ended their engagement. General Tilney, upon returning from London, has Catherine thrown out, to make her own way home. It is eventually understood that Catherine and James had been mistaken for people of great wealth, but the situation has been clarified.

Henry is so outraged by his father's behavior that he follows immediately after Catherine and proposes marriage. They cannot proceed without his father's permission, but this is finally given in the happy madness of Eleanor's marriage to a viscount.

 

Pride and Prejudice
was originally entitled
First Impressions
. It was written between 1796 and 1797, and heavily revised before its publication in 1813. It is the most famous of the novels. Austen herself characterized it as “rather too light and bright, and sparkling,” suggesting it needed some “solemn specious nonsense” for contrast. In an inversion of the classic Cinderella fairy tale,
when the hero, Fitzwilliam Darcy, first sees the heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, at a ball, he refuses to dance with her.

Elizabeth is one of five Bennet daughters, second in age only to the beautiful Jane. The Bennet estate is entailed on a male cousin, and although the girls are comfortable enough as long as their father lives, their long-term financial survival depends on their marrying.

The story revolves around Elizabeth's continued dislike of Darcy and Darcy's growing attraction to Elizabeth. When she meets the rake Wickham, he dislikes Darcy intensely; she is quickly won over by their shared distaste.

A subplot involves her father's heir, the Reverend Collins, who attempts to amend his financial impact on the family by asking Elizabeth to marry him. Elizabeth rejects him—he is pompous and stupid—so he proposes to Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth's best friend, who accepts.

Darcy proposes to Elizabeth, but rudely. Elizabeth rudely rejects him. Wickham elopes with Lydia, the youngest Bennet sister, and Darcy is instrumental in finding the couple and buying Lydia a marriage. This, along with his steadfast love and improved manners, convinces Elizabeth that he is the man for her after all. Jane marries Darcy's friend Mr. Bingley on the same day Elizabeth and Darcy are married. Both sisters end up very rich.

 

Persuasion
was, like
Northanger Abbey
, published posthumously. It begins in the summer of 1814; peace has broken out; the navy is home. A vain and profligate widower, Sir Walter Elliot, is forced as an economy to let the family estate to an Admiral Croft, and move with his eldest daughter, Elizabeth, to Bath. A younger daughter, Anne Elliot, visits her delightfully whiny married sister, Mary, before joining them.

Many years before, Anne was engaged to Admiral Croft's
brother-in-law, now Captain Frederick Wentworth. Her family's disapproval and the advice of an old friend, Lady Russell, caused her to cancel the match, but she is still in love with him.

Wentworth comes to call on his sister and begins a series of visits to see the Musgroves, the family into which Mary Elliot has married. This keeps him often in Anne's path. She must watch as Wentworth appears to wife-hunt among the Musgrove daughters, favoring Louisa. On a trip to Lyme, Louisa suffers a bad fall, from which she is slow to recover.

Anne joins her family in Bath, though they seem neither to miss her nor to want her. A cousin, the heir to her father's title, has been attentive to her oldest sister. When Anne arrives, he turns his attentions to her.

He is revealed by Anne's old school chum Mrs. Smith to be a villain. Louisa's engagement is announced, not to Wentworth, but rather to Benwick, a bereaved navyman who saw her often in Lyme. Wentworth follows Anne to Bath, and after several more misunderstandings, they marry at last.

The Response

IN WHICH
J
ANE
A
USTEN
'
S FAMILY AND FRIENDS COMMENT ON
Mansfield Park
,
OPINIONS COLLECTED AND RECORDED BY AUSTEN HERSELF
1

My Mother—not liked it so well as P. & P.—Thought Fanny insipid.—Enjoyed M
rs
Norris.—

Cassandra [sister]—thought it quite as clever, tho' not so brilliant as P. & P.—Fond of Fanny.—Delighted much in M
r
Rushworth's stupidity.—

My Eldest Brother [James]—a warm admirer of it in general.—Delighted with the Portsmouth Scene.

M
r
& M
rs
Cooke [godmother]—very much pleased with it—particularly with the Manner in which the Clergy are treated.—M
r
Cooke called it ‘the most sensible Novel he had ever read.'—M
rs
Cooke wished for a good Matronly Character.—

M
rs
Augusta Bramstone [elderly sister of Wither Bramstone]—owned that she thought S & S.—and P. & P. downright nonsense, but expected to like M P. better, & having finished the 1
st
vol.—flattered herself she had got through the worst.

M
rs
Bramstone [wife of Wither Bramstone]—much pleased with it; particularly with the character of Fanny, as being so very natural. Thought Lady Bertram like herself.—Preferred it to either of the others—but imagined
that
might be her want of Taste—as she does not understand Wit.—

 

IN WHICH
J
ANE
A
USTEN
'
S FAMILY AND FRIENDS COMMENT ON
Emma
2

My Mother—thought it more entertaining than M. P.—but not so interesting as P. & P.—No characters in it equal to Ly Catherine & M
r
Collins.—

Cassandra—better than P. & P.—but not so well as M. P.—

M
r
& M
rs
J. A. [James Austen]—did not like it so well as either of the 3 others. Language different from the others; not so easily read.—

Capt
n
. Austen [Francis William]—liked it extremely, observing that though there might be more Wit in P & P—& an higher
Morality in M P—yet altogether, on account of it's [
sic
] peculiar air of Nature throughout, he preferred it to either.

M
r
Sherer [vicar]—did not think it equal to either M P—(which he liked the best of all) or P & P.—Displeased with my pictures of Clergymen.—

Miss Isabella Herries—did not like it—objected to my exposing the sex in the character of the Heroine—convinced that I had meant M
rs
& Miss Bates for some acquaintance of theirs—People whom I never heard of before.—

M
r
Cockerelle—liked it so little, that Fanny w
d
not send me his opinion.—

M
r
Fowle [friend since childhood]—read only the first & last Chapters, because he had heard it was not interesting.—

M
r
Jeffery [editor of the
Edinburgh Review
] was kept up by it three nights.

 

IN WHICH CRITICS
,
WRITERS
,
AND LITERARY FIGURES COMMENT ON
A
USTEN
,
HER NOVELS
,
HER ADMIRERS
,
AND HER DETRACTORS THROUGH TWO CENTURIES

1812—Unsigned review of
Sense and Sensibility
3

We will, however, detain our female friends no longer than to assure them, that they may peruse these volumes not only with satisfaction but with real benefits, for they may learn from them, if they please, many sober and salutary maxims for the
conduct of life, exemplified in a very pleasing and entertaining narrative.

1814—Mary Russell Mitford, review of
Pride and Prejudice
4

It is impossible not to feel in every line of
Pride and Prejudice
, in every word of “Elizabeth,” the entire want of taste which could produce so pert, so worldly a heroine as the beloved of such a man as Darcy. Wickham is equally bad. Oh! they were just fit for each other, and I cannot forgive that delightful Darcy for parting them. Darcy should have married Jane.

1815—Sir Walter Scott, review of
Emma
5

Upon the whole, the turn of this author's novels bears the same relation to that sentimental and romantic cast, that cornfields and cottages and meadows bear to the highly adorned grounds of a show mansion, or the rugged sublimities of a mountain landscape. It is neither so captivating as the one, nor so grand as the other, but it affords to those who frequent it a pleasure nearly allied with the experience of their own social habits; and what is of some importance, the youthful wanderer may return from his promenade to the ordinary business of life, without any chance of having his head turned by the recollection of the scene through which he has been wandering.

1826—Sir Walter Scott eleven years later, after Austen's death, his enthusiasm having grown
6

Also read again and for the third time at least Miss Austen's very finely written novel of
Pride and Prejudice.
That young lady had a talent for describing the involvement and feelings and characters of ordinary life which is to me the most
wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain I can do myself like any now going, but the exquisite touch which renders ordinary commonplace things and characters interesting from the truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me. What a pity such a gifted creature died so early!

1826—Chief Justice John Marshall, letter to Joseph Story
7

I was a little mortified to find you had not admitted the name of Miss Austen into your list of favorites. . . . Her flights are not lofty, she does not soar on an eagle's wings, but she is pleasing, interesting, equable, yet amusing. I count on your making some apology for this omission.

1830—Thomas Henry Lister
8

Miss Austen has never been so popular as she deserved to be. Intent on fidelity of delineation, and averse to the commonplace tricks of her art, she has not, in this age of literary quackery, received her reward. Ordinary readers have been apt to judge of her as Partridge, in Fielding's novel, judged of Garrick's acting. He could not see the merit of a man who merely behaved on the stage as any body might be expected to behave under similar circumstances in real life. He infinitely preferred the “robustious periwig-pated fellow,” who flourished his arms like a wind-mill, and ranted with the voice of three. It was even so with many of the readers of Miss Austen. She was too natural for them.

1848—Charlotte Brontë, letter to G. H. Lewes
9

What a strange lecture comes next in your letter! You say I must familiarise my mind with the fact that “Miss Austen is not a poetess, has no ‘sentiment' ” (you scornfully enclose the word in inverted commas), “no eloquence, none of the
ravishing enthusiasm of poetry”; and then you add, I
must
“learn to acknowledge her as
one of the greatest artists, one of the greatest painters of human character,
and one of the writers with the nicest sense of means to an end that ever lived.”

The last point only will I ever acknowledge.

Can there be a great artist without poetry?

1870—Unsigned review of James Edward Austen-Leigh's
A Memoir of Jane Austen
10

Miss Austen has always been
par excellence
the favourite author of literary men. The peculiar merits of her style are recognised by all, but, with the general mass of readers, they have never secured what can fairly be called popularity. . . . It has always been known that Miss Austen's private life was unruffled by any of the incidents or passions which favour trade of the biographer. . . . It fits in with our idea of the authoress, to find that she was a proficient in the microscopic needlework of sixty years since, that she was never in love, that she “took to the garb of middle age earlier than her years or her looks required.” . . .

The critics of the day were . . . in the dark. . . . She was not conscious herself of founding a new school of fiction, which would inspire new canons of criticism.

1870—Margaret Oliphant
11

Miss Austen's books did not secure her any sudden fame. They stole into notice so gradually and slowly, that even at her death they had not reached any great height of success. . . . We are told that at her death all they had produced of money was but seven hundred pounds, and but a moderate modicum of praise. We cannot say we are in the least surprised by this fact; it is, we think, much more surprising that they should at
length have climbed into the high place they now hold. To the general public, which loves to sympathise with the people it meets in fiction, to cry with them, and rejoice with them, and take a real interest in all their concerns, it is scarcely to be expected that books so calm and cold and keen, and making so little claim upon their sympathy, would ever be popular. . . . They are rather of the class which attracts the connoisseur, which charms the critical and literary mind.

1870—Anthony Trollope
12

Emma, the heroine, is treated almost mercilessly. In every passage of the book she is in fault for some folly, some vanity, some ignorance,—or indeed for some meanness. . . . Nowadays we dare not make our heroines so little.

1894—Alice Meynell
13

She is a mistress of derision rather than of wit or humour. . . . Her irony is now and then exquisitely bitter. . . . The lack of tenderness and of spirit is manifest in Miss Austen's indifference to children. They hardly appear in her stories except to illustrate the folly of their mothers. They are not her subjects as children; they are her subjects as spoilt children, and as children through whom a mother may receive flattery from her designing acquaintance, and may inflict annoyance on her sensible friends. . . . In this coldness or dislike Miss Austen resembles Charlotte Brontë.

1895—Willa Cather
14

I have not much faith in women in fiction. They have a sort of sex consciousness that is abominable. They are so limited to one string and they lie so about that. They are so few, the ones who really did anything worth while; there were the great
Georges, George Eliot and George Sand, and they were anything but women, and there was Miss Brontë who kept her sentimentality under control and there was Jane Austen who certainly had more common sense than any of them and was in some respects the greatest of them all. . . . When a woman writes a story of adventure, a stout sea tale, a manly battle yarn, anything without wine, women and love, then I will begin to hope for something great from them, not before.

1898—Unsigned article in
The Academy
15

It is sometimes my fortune at a week-end to . . . have discovered a cosy old inn on the Norfolk coast where there are no golf-links, some flight shooting, an abundance of rabbits to pop at, a plain, good dinner to be had, and a comfortable oak room in which to spend the evening. For the sake of convenience I will call my friends . . . Brown and Robinson. . . .

Brown is a flourishing journalist, and therefore, entirely destitute alike of definite opinion and principle. . . . It is his business to keep a finger on the public pulse and allot space accordingly.

Robinson is an ardent young student, busily employed in devouring literature wholesale. . . . It was he that started the talk about Jane Austen. . . .

“I like Di [Vernon],” said the student, “but [Sir Walter] Scott did not take her through her paces as well as Lizzie [Elizabeth Bennet] is taken. She is not shown in as many different moods and tempers. She is too perfect. It was the way of Scott. All his heroines . . . are spotless. Elizabeth has a thousand faults . . . is often blind, pert, audacious, imprudent; and yet how splendidly she comes out of it all! Alive to the very tips of her fingers . . .”

“It does my heart good to see that youth is still capable of
enthusiasm,” said the journalist, “but my dear chap, after another twenty years, when I hope to see you a portly husband and father who has ceased to think much of heroines either in fact or fiction, your ideals will be completely changed. You will like much better to read about Mrs. Norris saving three-quarters of a yard of baize out of the stage-curtain, and Fanny Price will be more interesting to you than Elizabeth.”

“Not a bit of it,” stoutly rejoined the student. “Mrs. Norris is quite interesting to me now. . . .”

1898—Mark Twain
16

Every time I read “Pride and Prejudice” I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shin-bone.

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