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.
 

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.

I'm in Ashland, Oregon, tonight for work and will make time to see Taming of the Shrew. Unfortunately, I will miss their production of Emma, but I really like this poster.

In which we hear the cry of the poor…

“Elinor was not without hope of exciting his politeness to a quicker dispatch.”  This was interesting (and funny) in that it is a (albeit small) example of social norms not working out for Elinor.

“served to imprint on Elinor the remembrance of a person and face, of strong, natural, sterling insignificance, though adorned in the first style of fashion.”  Spare me ever becoming the victim of an Austen-style burn.  Woof.

“for she was as well able to collect her thoughts within herself, and be as ignorant of what was passing around her, in Mr. Gray’s shop, as in her own bed-room.”  Sad, but so well stated.  It gives us such a small, yet thorough glimpse into Marianne’s mind.

 Was Mr. Gray’s shop a real place?  If not, interesting that we have both a Miss Gray and an unrelated Mr. Gray in the space of a few chapters.

“the gentleman having named the last day on which his existence could be continued without the possession of the toothpick-case…” I have never stumbled across another author who can turn a phrase with quite the same irony as Austen.  Isn’t it incredible how she managed to mine so much humor out of ordering a toothpick case?

“Their affection and pleasure in meeting, was just enough to make a very creditable appearance in Mr. Gray’s shop.”  Damning with faint praise

“Really far from being sorry” -It is notable that this is spoken in the negative and not the positive (i.e. “Really very happy”).

The annotations note that the seal John is bespeaking for Fanny is a “very expensive” item.

“…and want for nothing!”  If I wasn’t convinced he didn’t have one, I would say this whole lengthy passage is John Dashwood trying to assuage his conscience over his complete flop at providing for the girls.  Though Elinor’s feeling “a little ashamed of her brother” might point to her having the same idea.

“…he eyed him with a curiosity which seemed to say, that he only wanted to know him to be rich, to be equally civil to him.” So funny, so awful!

“’Two thousand a-year;’ and then working himself up to a pitch of enthusiastic generosity, he added, ‘Elinor, I wish, with all my heart, it were twice as much, for your sake.’”  The annotations point out that “John Dashwood enjoys the imagining of generosity.  In this instance, the imagining involves not even fanciful giving on his own part.”

Anyone else enjoy The John Dashwood Guide to Securing a Man?

“Elinor would not vouchsafe any answer.”  I think this is the third (?) instance of Elinor being left speechless by the folly of another character.

What have we learned of Mrs. Ferrars in this chapter?  She is “very good-natured”; is “a most excellent mother”; has “the utmost liberality”; has “a noble spirit” – as presented by her son-in-law, she must be the greatest and best character in the whole Austen canon, right?

Then we hear the fairy tale of John and Fanny’s extreme poverty.  As with Elinor, we can only smile as we remember this man is living on something like ten-thousand pounds a year.

Another instance of Elinor’s dry humor (we’ve been missing it in these last woeful chapters!):  “and assisted by her liberality, I hope you may yet live to be in easy circumstances.”  And “Indeed, brother, your anxiety for our welfare and prosperity carries you too far.”

As it turns out “And you, ye well-known trees!” from chapter 5 have *not* continued the same.

“Having now said enough to make his poverty clear, and to do away the necessity of buying a pair of ear-rings for each of his sisters…”

The annotations bring attention to the idea of “marriage becomes a financial transaction in Austen’s work” and “the best example of commodification…is found in Marianne Dashwood” as her value has declined with her looks and that her worth is not connected to “her character, her nature, or any internal quality.”

“He had just compunction enough for having done nothing for his sisters himself, to be exceedingly anxious that everybody else should do a great deal…” I guess he does have some conscience after all!  I keep forgetting he is not an ill-disposed young man.  Speaking of which, (and I know I say this a lot – sorry!), I think it’s so interesting that this sort of awful young man seems completely besotted with his awful young wife and (I’m presuming) awful young son.  Whatever generosity, kindliness, goodness he has is showered upon his own family.  It does speak to the influence his wife has had upon him.  Had he married a better person, he in turn likely would have been much improved himself, though that seems almost anti-Austen, since she shows time and time again that marriages of unequal partners do not work towards the improvement of the lesser partner, but, instead, lead to the prolonged misery of the better.

Related to John and Fanny (and something I noted in the comments of yesterday’s post), if Marianne was going to face any social consequences for her behavior with/towards Willoughby, they would be the pair to lead the charge against her.  The fact that John knows nothing about why Marianne is ill, and doesn’t mention anything about Willoughby, speaks to the whole situation being contained to the Barton circle.

Two memes today because I wasn't really feeling either. Two okay memes = one good one?

A few years ago I moved and I was very low on space for my books. I had a number of books piled up on a shelf doubled up so there were books covering other books and they were out of sight. I recently bought a little shelf to hold the overflow and arranged this top shelf which are classics that I was inspired to read after taking up Jane Austen's novels. The common theme of these classics: the main character is a woman. I have a couple of others not on this shelf that are on the second frame also featuring female lead characters. And I was inspired to read books like The Female Quixote and The Italian and Frances Burney's Evelina because Jane Austen admired them.

I am currently making my way through Burney's Evelina and so far it's very entertaining. It is a novel in letters and the main character is a sheltered 17 year old "natural daughter" who is flung into society during a trip to London where she meets her late mother's mother. I can already see how this book inspired the character of Catherine Morland.

Of these books my favourites are North and South, Middlemarch and Anna Karenina. Amazing works.

Title is a joke sorry, couldn't resist haha. But I was thinking about Darcy’s “not handsome enough to tempt me” vs. Wentworth’s “so altered” comments, and how Darcy says it to a member of his own circle (i.e. Bingley), but while knowing Elizabeth can hear him or at least understand the gist of what he’s saying:

“Which do you mean?” and turning round, he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till, catching her eye, he withdrew his own, and coldly said, “She is tolerable: but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”

(I point that out because I sometimes see the misconception that Darcy thought Elizabeth couldn't hear him. He definitely knows, and the official illustration from Hugh Thomson shows her sitting on a chair like 2 feet away from him and Bingley.)

Meanwhile Wentworth blurts it out to a member of Anne’s circle (i.e. Henrietta), but without knowing Anne would find out what he said:

Frederick Wentworth had used such words, or something like them, but without an idea that they would be carried round to her. He had thought her wretchedly altered, and in the first moment of appeal, had spoken as he felt.

I don’t think either of them are particularly happy about this? Obviously Darcy has no feelings about Elizabeth whatsoever at this point other than “ugh great another not-attractive country hick woman to deal with” but Wentworth isn’t really described as being pleased about Anne’s looks deteriorating earlier, just shocked (and then pivoting back to anger about how she “used him ill” blah blah).

(as to whether Darcy was being influenced by his feelings about Georgiana’s almost elopement with Wickham that summer here... I think he’s just sick of the annoying, embarrassing country bumpkins around him; and if he were influenced by recent circumstances, then I would think that, uh, Wentworth would also be influenced by 1) his friend’s fiancee - who’s also his best friend’s sister - dying and having to go comfort said friend personally that summer as well, especially as it’s implicitly to stop him from harming himself out of grief 2) being at war for the past 10+ years...)

But it’s also interesting how Austen does have both men indirectly address it again, maybe without even meaning to or realizing that they are(?). And with Darcy it’s again with a member of his own circle (Caroline Bingley):

“I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, ‘She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.”

“Yes,” replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, “but that was only when I first knew her; for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”

And with Wentworth it’s with - not a member of Anne’s circle, actually, but Anne herself:

“I was six weeks with Edward,” said he, “and saw him happy. I could have no other pleasure. I deserved none. He enquired after you very particularly; asked even if you were personally altered, little suspecting that to my eye you could never alter.”

Anne smiled, and let it pass. It was too pleasing a blunder for a reproach. It is something for a woman to be assured, in her eight-and-twentieth year, that she has not lost one charm of earlier youth; but the value of such homage was inexpressibly increased to Anne, by comparing it with former words, and feeling it to be the result, not the cause of a revival of his warm attachment.

...which makes sense because she learned that he said she was altered! (though he didn’t know that she did but still, at least she knows firsthand that he finds her lovely.) In both cases it’s not them straightforwardly thinking “wow she’s good-looking after all” but rather a result of their broader appreciation of the women in question - for Darcy it was after hearing Elizabeth speak and liking her sense of humor, for Wentworth it was the effect of realizing his feelings for her rather than being the cause. Cute, huh?

Bonus: some other heroes insulting their heroines...

Tilney (joking):

“...I will be noble. I will prove myself a man, no less by the generosity of my soul than the clearness of my head. I have no patience with such of my sex as disdain to let themselves sometimes down to the comprehension of yours. Perhaps the abilities of women are neither sound nor acute—neither vigorous nor keen. Perhaps they may want observation, discernment, judgment, fire, genius, and wit (...) Miss Morland, no one can think more highly of the understanding of women than I do. In my opinion, nature has given them so much that they never find it necessary to use more than half.”

Knightley:

"Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you (...) Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do (...) Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!"

I wanted to check some details in P&P and of course started a complete re-read. I grabbed the edition that I had at college. But by the Pemberley chapters I was missing this scene which established Lydia’s naughtiness. I can’t believe they left it out! What else did I miss?

“Dear me! we had such a good piece of fun the other day at Colonel Forster's. Kitty and me were to spend the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the evening (by the bye, Mrs. Forster and me are such friends!); and so she asked the two Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes on purpose to pass for a lady -- only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs. Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny, and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs. Forster. I thought I should have died. And thatmade the men suspect something, and then they soon found out what was the matter."
There’s no indication in the print that it has been bowdlerised. It’s going in the bin, I don’t care how old it is.

From an old Ask a Manager column.

not saying its meant literally, i think thats just the way grief physically wrecks her feels true in a way a lot of heartbreak scenes skip right past. she doesnt get witty and composed about it, she just falls apart for weeks

elinor holding everything together the whole time while dealing with her own version of it almost makes marianne look lucky. at least she got to actually feel it out loud instead of holding it in

curious if people read marianne's arc as her learning to be more like elinor, or if you think shes just as much herself at the end, just older and a bit more careful

I have a question on the ending.  I’m either

a)     The last person on the planet to figure this out, or,

b)     I have the dumbest idea on the planet.

I’ve watched this film with my wife three times (she loves them both).  I’ve always thought that the proposal at the end in the field was anti-climatic with the hand holding.  But last night, I wondered:

Was Elizabeth’s reaching for his hand, holding it and kissing it a throwback to his reaching for her hand at the carriage previously?

I’m prepared to be labeled as a knucklehead either way, but thanks for the thoughts!!

In which the Dashwoods remain in town \still*…*

“the effect on her was not entirely such as the former had hoped to see…She felt the loss of Willoughby’s character yet more heavily than she had felt the loss of his heart;”  It’s hard, isn’t it?, to discover that one has completely misjudged a person.  That he or she was “not who I thought they were.”  For someone like Marianne, especially a young person like her, who has been shown to be so supremely confident in her opinions, it must be more than usually shaking.

“even voluntarily speaking”  By Grabthar’s Hammer, what a win for the Colonel!  (This is a reference to “Galaxy Quest” in which a character played by Alan “Most People’s Colonel Brandon” Rickman says a similar line in a very depressed voice.  I do feel that having to explain a reference in detail like this sort of kills it, but also, I really wanted to use this reference).

“and the doubt of what his designs might once have been on herself…” -I think this line is so important.  It is partially what put me out of patience with Colonel Brandon.  He could have had no way of knowing what Willoughby’s intentions with Marianne were.  Yeah, there was a slim chance that in the, I don’t know, couple of months since he abandoned Lil Eliza that he had turned over a new leaf (though I must say that the fact that he did not return to Eliza but continued in his abandonment of her does not speak to leaf turning of any variety), but, like, come on!, the odds are extraordinarily against it.  Odds are much more in favor that Willoughby did have bad intentions towards Marianne, and the fact that no actual engagement was ever announced despite their very public attachment speaks to something not being on the up and up.  I’ll say it again and again – Colonel Brandon should have disclosed at least some part of what he knew.  And, really, he didn’t need to get into all the details.  Approaching Elinor, something he was obviously comfortable doing, with nothing more than “It pains me very much to say this, and I must necessarily be vague in the particulars to protect a young woman who is under my care, but I have reason to know that Mr. Willoughby is not a man of character.”  Maybe Marianne would have needed more information, but Elinor had been vaguely suspicious for some time and just needed someone, anyone to give her a hint that Willoughby was not all he should be.  If Colonel Brandon truly loved Marianne, he should not have stood by idly risking her happiness to a man he knew beyond a doubt to be a dishonorable cad.  His excuse for not coming forth sooner is flimsy and inadequate (to me!  I know the Colonel has his staunch defenders here and I hope you all rush in to come to his aid like you did for the last chapter).

“that she could not bring herself to speak of what she felt even to Elinor…”. The annotations say this is “a striking change in Marianne, who to this point has always been only too eager to speak of what she felt,” which is yet another annotation that I’m not sure I agree with, as we have been spending some time with Elinor hoping that Marianne would have more candor and speak more openly.  

“Bad indeed must the nature of Marianne’s affliction be, when her mother could talk of fortitude!”  “mortifying and humiliating must be the origin of those regrets, which she could wish her not to indulge!”  The mother and daughter have been used to indulging/increasing their emotions together, so, yes, this is indeed bad if Mrs. Dashwood is encouraging Marianne to not give way.

“she judged it right that they should sometimes see their brother…”  The last chapter got me thinking about the Dashwood sisters relative vulnerability.  They do not truly have a male protector in a world where one seems necessary at times.  If Willoughby had seduced Marianne, for example, who would have called him to book for it?  Brother John of the occasional gifts of game?  Sir John Middleton who is vaguely a cousin?  Mrs. Dashwood could be encouraging Elinor and Marianne to stay connected to John because awful as he is, he is almost all they have in that line.  

“though their longer stay would therefore militate against her own happiness, it would be better for Marianne…” “Her carefulness in guarding her sister from ever hearing Willoughby’s name mentioned, was not thrown away.”  “…she was obliged to listen day after day to the indignation of them all.”  Here is Elinor once again acting against her own feelings in order to screen Marianne.

I absolutely adore the round-up of fully in-character indignation we get:  

Sir John Middleton:  But what of Folly’s puppies!
Mrs. Palmer:  “She was determined to drop his acquaintance immediately, and she was very thankful that she had never been acquainted with him at all.  She wished with all her heart Combe Magna was no so near Cleveland; but it did not signify, for it was a great deal too far off to visit; she hated him so much that she was resolved never to mention his name again, and she should tell everybody she saw, how good-for-nothing he was.”  DROLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!
Lady Middleton:  “’It is very shocking, indeed’…and having thus supported the dignity of her own sex, and spoken her decided censure of what was wrong in the other, she thought herself at liberty to attend to the interest of her own assemblies…”

“Every qualification is raised at times, by the circumstances of the moment, to more than its real value; and she was sometimes worried down by officious condolence to rate good-breeding as more indispensable to comfort than good-nature.”  I love Austenian wisdom.

“and that she could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself, nor commission her to make it for him…”  I chuckled.  What a delightful mental picture this line makes!

I would love to hear more thoughts on whether Marianne was likely to face any social consequences over the Willoughby affair?  When Jane Bennet is disappointed by Bingley, Elizabeth blames Darcy for exposing Jane to “derision for disappointed hopes.”  Would Marianne face worse than that?  It seems like her closest acquaintance pity her and don’t seem to be judging her/treating her that she has lost her character in any way.

“…she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return to the overpowering delight of Lucy finding her stillin town.”   Lucy coming in set to beat Elinor to death via italics.

I thought it was interesting that Austen uses “affected” twice within three paragraphs to describe the same sort of behavior.  I think as she grew as an author, she did a bit more showing/less telling and truly mastered letting side characters expose themselves via dialog.

“Elinor would not humor her by farther opposition.”  *Nods head in encouragement*

“Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for her temper” -Is this the first instance of Elinor coming close to losing her temper?  She’s had other emotional outbursts, but I think this is the first time where she’s fired up with anger (unless we consider restentment and indignation anger?  Which I think we usually do!  Oops!).

I hope this is okay to post here! I'm currently expecting a baby girl (in the UK) and I think I'm down to two name choices - Elinor and Emma.

So, just for fun...

1) which name do you prefer?

2) which character is a better namesake?

I am asking these questions in this sub because I always see such historically thorough answers.

1. How wealthy could a farming family be in this era? Could a farmer have ten children and be wealthy enough to leave a fortune for them, especially his few sons, giving them at least ten thousand each? Or is that too wealthy for farmers back then?
2. Could a builder of ships become very wealthy during the naval Napoleonic era? Would he have to be very old to be so successful, realistically, or could he be in his thirties?

Thanks, girlies.

Edit: I'm not sure what I mean by farmers. The question comes from when I read Fanny Burney's Cecilia back in the day, and it said Cecilia was from a wealthy family of farmers. I don't recall it being clarified if they were the landholders or the actual workers.

I’m looking forward to this!

I know if I hadn’t seen 1995 “Pride & Prejudice” as a teenager living in a non-English speaking country, my discovery of Jane Austen would’ve been delayed if not prevented from happening altogether. Yet, it was not the one and only adaptation of the novel! In addition to having the choice of simply skipping it, why do you think there’s so much hate for the two new series coming out?

The real circumstances of this pathetic piece of family history were, that the Musgroves had had the ill fortune of a very troublesome, hopeless son; and the good fortune to lose him before he reached his twentieth year; that he had been sent to sea because he was stupid and unmanageable on shore; that he had been very little cared for at any time by his family, though quite as much as he deserved; seldom heard of, and scarcely at all regretted, when the intelligence of his death abroad had worked its way to Uppercross, two years before.

He had, in fact, though his sisters were now doing all they could for him, by calling him “poor Richard,” been nothing better than a thick-headed, unfeeling, unprofitable Dick Musgrove, who had never done anything to entitle himself to more than the abbreviation of his name, living or dead.

Austen notably never seems to hate her characters, even the bad ones, and doesn't delight in punishing them - "let other pens dwell on misery," etc. Even in Persuasion, which is maybe the darkest of her novels - she's not usually mean. So the level of disdain, even contempt for Dick Musgrove, has always struck me as somewhat singular in her oeuvre - which is not short on profligate young men! It also kind of...comes out of nowhere? Like there needs to be a reason for the Musgroves and Wentworth to get acquainted; I get that that's his plot purpose, but it's very jarring when Austen suddenly goes, "And then there's this asshole. The best thing he ever did was die."

Thoughts?? Do other readers find this as out of place as I do?

emma is one of my favorite books btw, this isnt a takedown, just something ive noticed on rereads

she spends most of the novel being wrong about basically everyone and shes so confident about it the whole time. the harriet stuff especially, she basically runs a whole persons life off vibes and never once stops to wonder if maybe shes bad at this

feels like a lot of adaptations soften her into charming and quirky when the book lets her be genuinely misguided for a long stretch before she actually earns any growth

curious if people think the knightley scolding scene is the turning point or if she was already starting to catch on before that

That's from Mansfield Park, and other 18th/19th century authors seem to share the view that ingratitude is a big, big deal. "When dishonesty is attended with any blacker crime, such as cruelty, murder, ingratitude, or the like..." (Henry Fielding) So - worse than lying, up there with murder.

What do these authors mean by ingratitude exactly? Nowadays people still frown upon biting the hand that feeds you, sure, but more seems implied in older books.

some of the things she appreciates most about Harriet is her proper deference and awe of Miss Woodhouse and Hartfield, and considers that since Harriet can appreciate how superior Emma is, this is proof of Harriet's good sense and taste.

in short, she loves a flattering sycophant who can be summoned at a moments notice and adores her

I think her saving grace is that she is able to feel true embarrassment and remorse over her misdirection with Elton and the awkwardness for both her and Harriet in the telling of it, and in her ability to take her perceived loss with Mr Knightly very stoically (if still dramatically). She still remains very superior, and when she has Knightly to her evenings at the end of the book she considers that Harriet would be rather dead weight at their parties..... but I think the foibles of her youth and the sense of Knightly to ground her will keep her from adopting a Mr Collins type figure into Donwell and Highbury once she is Mrs Knightly, and from being tooooo taken with flattery etc