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Monthly Archives: December 2007

NORTHANGER ABBEY — Jane Austen week continues!

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Welcome to day two of Jane Austen week! In honor of Jane Austen’s upcoming birthday, we’re spending this whole week talking about her novels.

Today: Northanger Abbey!

I first read this novel in college. The only Austen I’d read before was Pride and Prejudice, and I’d found it wonderfully romantic. So I picked up Northanger Abbey one day. I was expecting an emotional, swoon-worthy, and delightfully short book. (I’ve always liked short books. Does that mean I’m lazy?)

The novel wasn’t quite what I was expecting. In fact, I was initially quite disappointed. I’d wanted a smart heroine (like Lizzy Bennet) and a powerful, yummy hero (such as Darcy).

Instead, I got a staggeringly naive heroine. And, sure, naive heroines (particularly young ones) may transform themselves into impressive women, but it seemed to me that would require strength and intelligence, or at least industriousness. Catherine had no great claim to any of the three. No, her best quality was that she was, you know, nice. Pleasant. Friendly.

Gullible.

Tilney was a bit more attractive to my eighteen-year-old reading self, once I figured out that pretty much everything he said was a joke. But Austen refused to let me get romantic about Tilney, no matter how much I wanted to. Instead, she kept pointing out that one of the reasons he was falling for Catherine was that she quoted his opinions on art back to him:

…though to the larger and more trifling part of the [male] sex, imbecility in females is a great enhancement of their personal charms, there is a portion of them too reasonable and too well informed themselves to desire any thing more in woman than ignorance.

…she soon began to see beauty in every thing admired by him, and her attention was so earnest, that he became perfectly satisfied of her having a great deal of natural taste.

And that wasn’t what I was looking for in a guy, either in literature or real life.

And yet, when The Official Risky Decision was made to blog about Austen’s novels this week, my hand went up with an “oh, can I have Northanger Abbey, please please please?”

It’s definitely one of my three favorite Austens (along with P&P and Persuasion.) And I’m pretty sure I lean toward it more than the average Austen fan.

So…what changed? Why do I love it now, when I was so disappointed at the outset?

I think one of the reasons is that I (extensively) revised my expectations. I no longer pick up the novel to have a wonderful romantic adventure, or admire a heroine or swoon over a hero.

I love the humor. The bright, sparkling, silly fun of the first half of the book is just great comedy. John Thorpe, always boasting… Isabella, so transparent in how she chases men… Mrs. Allen, who wishes she had some acquaintance in Bath… Mr. Tilney, who knows to what use ladies put nine-shillings-a-yard muslin.

And, really, what a lovely existence, in that first half of the book! The worst problems are rain and a bit of boredom, but Mrs. Radcliffe can always cure that. We have country dances and country walks, carriages and cravats, flirtation and quizzes — and no work at all. Ah, yes — that’s the life I want. (Does that mean I’m lazy?)

I confess, I don’t care for the second half of the book nearly as well. Sunshiny, dynamic Bath turns into dark, dreary Northanger Abbey, and most of the comic characters are gone. Tilney lectures Catherine a lot, and the ending is one of Austen’s “I’ll tell you what happened, but I won’t give it to you in a scene” resolutions, like in Mansfield Park, which I always find less than satisfying.

But for me, nothing can equal the first half of the book. I want to be in Bath with the Tilneys and Thorpes and Allens, reading Gothic novels with Catherine and promenading in the Pump Room, with the comic spirit of Sheridan and the Eighteenth Century wits infusing everyone around me.

So…how about you? What do you think of Northanger Abbey?

(And remember, on Tuesday, January 1, we’re going to discuss the BBC TV adaptation of Northanger Abbey — so be sure to stop by!)

Cara
Cara King, author of My Lady Gamester, the story of a heroine who is so industrious that she makes me want to take a nap…then again, you all know how lazy I am…

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Sense and Sensibility – Celebrating Jane Austen

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This week, in anticipation of Jane Austen’s birthday, we are each discussing one of her books. I chose Sense and Sensibility. At the end of the week, courtesy of Amanda, we’ll be giving away a copy of Jane Austen’s World to one lucky commenter. (Bertie’s rules apply)

Jane was born Dec 16, 1775, and Sense and Sensibility was her first published book. She wrote the first draft, called Elinor and Marianne, when she was nineteen years old but the book we read today was first published in 1811.

from Wikipedia: Although the plot favors the value of sense over that of sensibility, the greatest emphasis is placed on the moral complexity of human affairs and on the need for enlarged and subtle thought and feeling in response to it.

It has been a few years since I’ve read any Jane Austen (being the worst-read of all the Riskies), so I came to Sense and Sensibility with fresh eyes. I discovered a few things:

1. Sense and Sensibility is primarily a love story. A Romance. No matter the other themes of the book, romance is central. From the beginning we root for Elinor and Marianne to find love and have a happily ever after.

2. How masterfully Austen parallels Elinor’s love story with Marianne’s. They both fall in love with men they cannot have. They both have knowledge of the women the men must marry. What Marianne suffers openly and dramatically, Elinor conceals.

3. How deftly Austen can convey character-and with such wit and wisdom! It seems to take her a mere brush stroke. For example, of John Dashwood, Elinor and Marianne’s half-brother, comes this: “He had just compuction enough for having done nothing for his sisters himself, to be exceedingly anious that everybody else should do a great deal...” I’m in awe of her skill.


4. The Marianne of the book is much less appealing than how she was portrayed by Kate Winslet in the Sense and Sensibility movie. Marianne is convinced that acting upon her own feelings at all times is the way to go; therefore, she is often rude and thoughtless and ill-mannered, even if her heart is in the right place toward her sister. Marianne is selfish in this way, to feel her emotions may be expressed at the expense of others.

5. It occurs to me that, in the end, Marianne learns to be unselfish, to think of others rather than herself. In the end, she understands that Willoughby needed something she was unable to give him, so she could forgive him. I think she might have learned some of this unselfishness from Col. Brandon, who seems always to think of her needs over his own. And, of course, from her sister, who is unselfishness personified.

6. Compared to most romance novels today, Austen’s writing is denser, wordier, and its revelations seem to be slipped in when you least expect them. There is a lot of what we would call “Telling,” but her prose still shines. You have to read it at a savoring pace, which was perfectly fine with me!

7. In Sense and Sensibility, Austen’s subplot takes center stage and the main romance is almost in the background. I see this book as Elinor’s story (although I’m sure that others could argue differently) and Elinor’s love story is a quiet one compared to the drama of Marianne’s love story. I can see 19th century readers turning the page to see what happens to Marianne, but in the end, it is Elinor’s happy ending that resonates. At least for me.

8. Emma Thompson did a wonderful job of condensing the book into a movie. The book is, of course, richer and more detailed, especially of the minor characters, but Emma caught the spirit of the book.

Those are my random thoughts about Sense and Sensibility. What do you all think? What do you like about this story? What don’t you like about it, if anything?


Come back every day this week for more discussion on Austen’s books. If you want to know what we’ll be up to in the future, sign up for our newsletter at http://www.blogger.com/riskies@yahoo.comand put “newsletter” in the subject field. And don’t forget! The Vanishing Viscountess is available now on eharlequin and will be in stores Jan 1.

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Bertie the Beau’s Holiday Guide

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Greetings!

It is I, everyone’s favourite Regency time-traveler, Bertram St. James.

(I am also known by a certain name which some of my intimates insist on using for me, Bertie the Beau. Of course, I have never encouraged this habit. After all, I am modesty personified!)

(Or…do I mean humility? I can never remember which is which. Though, come to think of it, what have I to be humble about? So perhaps I do mean modesty.)

Ahem.

Today, I am going to talk about what holiday gifts are certain to please any true gentleman of your acquaintance, and which would be destined only to be passed off immediately to the servants.

If you are on a tight budget, these gloves are a thrifty yet delightful gift. They are lined with cashmere, of course, because no real gentleman has skin that can withstand anything rougher. And how delightful — they only cost $200! So you can buy several pairs to “stuff” (as modern folks so vulgarly put it) the silk stockings of your favorite gentleman.

(I confess, I have not yet quite grasped the need to ruin a good pair of stockings every year by filling them with presents, but as you see, I am trying to adapt myself to the customs of the year 2007.)

Here is what not to get for a gentleman, or, indeed, anyone with any claim to elegance.

Is this not the ugliest thing you have ever seen?

What grace? What beauty? What possible redeeming feature does this “watch” have?

Of course, all “wrist-watches” are inherently repellant, when it comes to aesthetic considerations. I have no idea why they were created.

If you must give a gentleman a watch, it should look like this. Graceful, pleasing, and made of precious metals.

Of course, no watch can have true elegance.

After all, why in the world would one need to know the time?

Very well, one might if one had agree to meet one’s fellows at one’s club at a certain time. But one could always rely on one’s man to send one off in time for that.

(Unless one’s man is a hedgehog, but that’s another matter entirely.)

Think about it. Whenever you see a man with a watch, you immediately know that he is some kind of clerk, rushing off to do things with papers and money and other tedious and decidedly middle-class inventions.

This is by far the best thing to give to any gentleman.

A gigantic-screened TeleVision Device.

Heavenly.

And, yes, it is rather distasteful to look at. But only when it is not turned on!

This, by the way, is what a certain Beau of your acquaintance would prefer to be given this year.

And if I receive multiple copies of this “item” — then all the better! I can watch several of my favourite “shows” at once.

Here is another example of what not to give a gentleman of elegance — the most recent “cinema” version of Miss Austen’s novel.

(Do I hear some shocked murmuring out there? Very well, I admit that there are rumours floating about here and there that Keira Knightley and I are secretly pledged to each other.

But let me assure you — those stories were all put about by my eternally embarrassing aunt, and have no relation to earthly reality. For, as much as I respect Mlle. Knightley’s dramatic talents, and envy her cheekbones, I must confess there have been no promises made between us. And if I have even met the young lady, I refuse to either confirm or deny.)

No, my prejudices against this Movie are all because of the disgraceful coiffures displayed therein.

Of which this is but one example. (Private note to K.K.: what were you thinking? The next time we see each other, I shall insist you buy yourself a comb.)

There you have it! Your shopping made simple. Yes on cashmere gloves and enormous TeleVision Screens, perhaps on gold pocket watches, and an emphatic no to wristwatches and Mlle Knightley’s tangled mane.

Yours in elegance,

Bertram St. James, Exquisite

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Guess who’s coming to dinner

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This is very belatedly in a response to a question someone asked when I or Jane Lockwood was guest blogging (and before I forget, you can enter Pam Rosenthal’s contest to win a copy of Jane’s book Forbidden Shores–the dirty one with the bodiceripper cover). The question was, who would I invite to dinner if I could have anyone from any time?

Great question, and it opens up all sorts of possibilities. As far as real people go, I’d like to invite Brummell, Byron, and Jane Austen, and watch her have fun with them both, possibly aided and abetted by Harriet Wilson. I think I’d serve shish kebabs… definitely something on skewers, to be followed by raspberries.

If you open it up to fictional characters, you could have a lot of fun mixing and matching characters–the Miss Dashwoods meet Toad of Toad Hall, for instance. The Bennett sisters enjoy rat pie and chips with the Watch of Ank-Morporkh, while one of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler’s sausages has a profound effect (but not the usual one) on Proust. Sir Walter Elliot and Mr. Micawber dine (on food bought on credit, cooked and served by servants who haven’t been paid in months) and discuss matters of economy.

What do you think? Who would you invite to your literary (or otherwise) feast, and what sort of food and drink would you serve? Which characters would you like to mix and match for a dinner party?

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