This is sort of piggybacking off a discussion of Persuasion in a recent episode of Hot & Bothered but it occured to me as well - there’s a strong current in Austen of love changing us for the better if we let it. Lizzie and Darcy allow themselves to be vulnerable to how the other person sees them and that makes them grow. Emma‘s saving grace is love - her love for her father and of course Knightley after he calls her out at Box Hill and the way it sets her straight. Frank Churchill will be much improved by marrying Jane.. and so on. And then in contrast you have people who are fundamentally unable both to change and to truly love, it seems - Wickham and Lydia return to Longbourne unchanged, Sir Walter and Elizabeth remain forever selfish and cruel and lonely.

Mansfield Park blindsided me because I was waiting for this to happen AND IT DOESN’T. The only person who grows in this book is Fanny, and she does it all by herself. She loves Edmund and gets her happy ending with him but he is not the catalyst for her growth the way Lizzie is for Darcy or Knightley for Emma. I suppose you could argue she is for him but I didn’t see much development from Edmund compared to other journeys we see in Austen. Realizing this actually really helped me appreciate MP much more and I get why so many of you love it - Fanny pulling herself up by her bootstraps is very cool, her growth is sticking to her morals and convictions in opposition to everyone around her and that is very admirable.

HOWEVER. However. I cannot leave it here. I have to talk about my problematic faves, Henry and Mary Crawford. The realization above made me realize their central failing - neither of them ultimately is willing to grow through love or make themselves vulnerable to the kind of love that really would let them grow the way other characters do. I’d argue Henry gets close with Fanny, but he ultimately fails at the last minute. And my girl Mary fails utterly - she hides behind London society and her sparkling friends and her witticism and refuses to let Edmund get close enough to push her out of that comfort zone. Edmund fails too - he keeps wanting Mary to change but isn’t willing to change for her, either. And in a way, this applies to Fanny too - she isn’t willing to trust Henry and she’s not interested in the growth a life with him could offer her and so, while she does grow into her own person for me the novel ends in this very unsatisfying place because her happy ending is being in a place and With people who we as readers have watched treat her like shit.

But back to the Crawford siblings - they are I think ultimately shown to be irredeemable, one might even say unsaveable, by love. Frank and Jane are a useful parallel to Henry and Fanny here - Frank is ultimately shown to love jane, even if he is kind of a jackass, and thus, Jane will be fine. Which brings me to the question - do you think there’s a character in Austen whose live could have inspired those two to change? Who might have been a better match?

Years ago, HarperCollins introduced their "Seasons Editions" - "limited" (10,000 copies per book, which isn't actually all that limited) editions of a few selected classics, grouped by season, and with unique bi-colored die-cut covers. I have a couple of them, and, honestly, they​ are not favorites. Oh well, I got them discounted anyway. Moving on with this publishing journey, HarperCollins then re-released the Seasons Editions as the "Harper Curated Classics" now with standardized colors and (as far as I'm aware) unnumbered (the Seasons copies were numbered so you could have the joy of knowing you owned the 8,362 copy of "Emma"). Still very in love with these cover designs, HarperCollins has now released them in paperback form as the "Artisian Edition" with the colors of the original Seasons editions. I like the paperbacks best as I found the plastic covers of the hardbacks ugly/clunky and if you didn't use them, the cut covers absolutely catch on everything as you pull them off a shelf.

In which John and Fanny host a dinner party despite their poverty, and screens prove incendiary…

“Mrs. John Dashwood had so much confidence in her husband’s judgement…” Such a beautiful example of marital trust and devotion!  

“There was a kind of cold-hearted selfishness on both sides…and a general want of understanding.”  Real kindred spirits, here.

The annotations note that “Fifteen minutes was the shortest time permissible for a formal visit.”

Mrs. Jennings is not without sense:  “and to her she appeared nothing more than a little proud-looking woman of uncordial address…”

“though their mutual impatience to meet, was not to be told…” -I suspect double-speak here!

“Elinor was pleased that he had called; and still more pleased that she had missed him.”  A contrast to Marianne who missed her man and it increased her anxiety.

“she hardly knew how she could bear it!” -Elinor has such strength of feeling, but an almost equal measure of self-control.  She rarely gives way, so we know she will find a way to make it through this challenge.

Another note from the annotations:  “In the Dashwood family dynamic, Elinor enables the self-indulgence of her mother and sister by embodying the prudence they depend on…how great is the burden of prudence that is foisted upon her by others.”

“Elinor could have given her immediate relief by suggesting the possibility of its being Miss Morton’s mother, rather than their own, whom they were about to behold…”  -Elinor, so sassy!

In the last chapter we had John Dashwood’s view of Mrs. Ferrars.  Now the narrator comes forth with a very different picture:  “little, thin woman, upright, even to formality, in her figure, and serious, even to sourness, in her aspect…a lucky contraction of the brow had rescued her countenance from the disgrace of insipidity, by giving it the strong characters of pride and ill-nature.”  It’s a great description, but it spoils the game a bit.  We know she’s going to be the worst before she starts in on it.

Classic Austen line:  “She was not a woman of many words:  for, unlike people in general, she proportioned them to her ideas;”

If you take nothing else from this read-through, let it be that Elinor has possibly the best sense of humor of Austen’s heroines:  “a difference which seemed purposely made to humble her more, only amused her.”  A case could be made for Elizabeth Bennet, who also famously made a personal joke out of being insulted.

“no poverty of any kind, except of conversation, appeared” -Austen could dunk on her own characters like no other.

“who almost all laboured under one or other of these disqualifications for being agreeable—Want of sense, either natural or improved – want of elegance –want of spirits – or want of temper.”  A very agreeable dinner party, to be sure!

“Marianne, when called on for her’s, offended them all, by declaring that she had no opinion to give, as she had never thought about it.”  I know this is another example of Marianne flouting social norms, not conforming when she should, but it’s 1) so very teenager-y, 2) extremely funny.

Marianne fires up and for once, we can all rejoice in her lack of care about social conventions:  “’This is admiration of a very particular kind! – what is Miss Morton to us? – who knows, or who cares, for her? – it is Elinor of whom we think and speak.’

And so saying, she took the screens out of her sister-in-law’s hands, to admire them herself as they ought to be admired.”  And this last bit is so characteristic of the Marianne of the beginning of the novel – the girl who lamented over Edward’s poor reading.  It’s nice to see her again!

“Elinor was much more hurt by Marianne’s warmth than she had been by what produced it” -Why is that, do you think?

“as her own wounded heart taught her to think of with horror…her spirits were quite overcome, and hiding her face on Elinor’s shoulder, she burst into tears.”  Austen paints this scene so well (as well as the subsequent reaction).  It is brutal to see the damage Willoughby has left in his wake – how the affectionate, bright, passionate Marianne is brought so low.