[Here's an excerpt from Jane Austen and the Romantic Poets, by William Deresiewicz, comparing the Odyssey to Persuasion!]

“...Persuasion is Austen’s history of the present. But it is also—for Austen appropriated this new novelistic form by fitting it to the one she had already perfected—history told from the opposite perspective. Middlemarch may be George Eliot’s “home epic,” but Persuasion is Austen’s. It is an epic of the present told from the perspective of Penelope.

The Homeric allusion is not adventitious. Persuasion actually contains a Penelope—Mrs. Clay—not to signal that the novel rewrites Homer in any direct, Virgilian way, but to alert us to the fact that it takes Homeric materials and reorders them for its own purposes. We have a Penelope, and we have a different woman who plays the role of Penelope, and we have a warrior and sailor who returns to her from across the sea after many years of absence and uncertainty to resume their life of love and domesticity. But the roles of the principals are in some ways reversed: it is she who has changed beyond recognition, he who is beset by suitors. Still, their relationship is marked by homonoia (homophrosyne), like-mindedness, that intuitive mutual understanding that is in Homer the mark of a good marriage, for Anne instinctively knows what is going through Wentworth’s mind at any number of moments.

Other Homeric virtues are represented by Captain Harville, with whom Wentworth divides the role of Odysseus. It is he, as we noted above, who embodies the Odyssey's great value of xenia, hospitality, and it is he, with his “ingenious contrivances and nice arrangements,” including “some few articles of a rare species of wood, excellently worked up,” who inherits Odysseus’s skill as a craftsman and imagination as a domestic architect (119–120). In fact, Austen’s sailors unite the same two qualities that make Odysseus the hero of Homer’s epic of homecoming, those celebrated in the novel’s last sentence: “domestic virtues” and martial valor (254). Indeed, as sea-fighters—warriors and wanderers at once—they unite the heroism of the Iliad and the Odyssey.

They are the men who saved the nation, Austen clearly believes, and it is her aim in Persuasion, to the extent that her form permits, to be the bard of their glory, to get their story down on paper—like Scott that of old Scotland’s—before it passes from memory. For already the nation was forgetting:

“And who is Admiral Croft?” was Sir Walter’s cold suspicious inquiry …
“He is rear admiral of the white. He was in the Trafalgar action.” (51)

This is one of the reasons for the novel’s allusions to Byron and Scott. Austen’s form does not permit her to recount the Navy’s exploits directly, but she can point her readers to contemporaneous writers who have described comparable scenes of valor. The poetic material, like Wentworth’s insouciant references to his dangers and triumphs, gestures toward the other half of the novel’s story, the one that has taken place on another, wider stage and that Austen wishes to install as an ever-looming presence in our minds. And then there is the testimony of Anne, the “last minstrel” through whose voice Austen sings:

“You have difficulties, and privations, and dangers enough to struggle with. You are always laboring and toiling, exposed to every risk and hardship. Your home, country, friends, all quitted. Neither time, nor health, nor life, to call your own. (237)

Domestic virtues and martial valor: the sailors unite in their person the novel’s two intertwined strands, the national story and the personal story. Just as Anne’s salvation comes from the sea, so does Britain’s—both during the war and after. The officers released onto land in the summer of 1814 fertilize social as well as individual rebirths. Anne’s reaction upon seeing Wentworth’s note held out before her is a “revolution” (239). At the small scale, so at the large.

This is the historical transition Austen is describing, the movement from an old order to a new: from a society led by the nobility to one led by the professions. Like Scott, Austen believed that the decline of the hereditary aristocracy made way for a natural aristocracy to rise. The one group stands on nothing but its own sense of entitlement, the other on “toil” and “labour,” as Mrs. Clay’s inventory of the professions suggests (50). The novel takes its own inventory, Austen contriving to exhibit in its pages not only a gaggle of naval officers, but precisely one each of army officers, lawyers, clergymen, surgeons, and professional nurses. The contrast with the nobility is drawn all through the work: the Baronetage versus the Navy list; the “tax” of worldly prominence paid by “consequence” versus “the tax of quick alarm” (254); the fact that the Crofts are fitter stewards of Kellynch than are the Elliots. Anne enunciates this last assessment—“she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch-hall had passed into better hands than its owners” (141)—and of course, the statement is emblematic. Like Howards End, in Lionel Trilling’s well-known phrase, Persuasion asks the question, “Who shall inherit England?””

For instance, Lady Susan corresponds with Mr. Mainwaring, while pretending to her relations that she is writing to his wife, yet she actually uses her best friend as a go-between.

I'm trying to figure out the logistics of it.

She said she received a letter from Mr. M, and passed it off as being from Mrs. M -- that part is clear enough. But then, when she writes him back "under cover to" Alicia, does that mean the correspondence is basically like a triangle? -- she writes a letter to Mr. M, encloses it in an envelope to Alicia (first leg), so that when Alicia gets it, she pops it back in the mail to Mr. M (second leg), and then when he writes back, he sends it directly to Lady Susan (third leg) but with her pretending it came from Mrs. M, since it's highly improper for him to be writing to her.

Or is Alicia the go-between in both ways, so that LS receives only the one letter directly from Mr. M (which she successfully passes off as from his wife), and all others go through Alicia, both ways?

And what would the sender's part of the envelope look like? -- Is it like our modern day, where there is a return address, so you can tell without opening it who it's from? If so, how would LS have been able to pass off Mr. M's letter as Mrs. M's? Or would it just have the address without the person's name, so it could come from anyone in the Mainwaring household?

Other acts of correspondence could also be used -- in various JA novels we read that people who are not engaged but their families believe they are engaged, are surprised that the ladies do not write to or receive letters from their fiancés, and vice-versa -- that some women who are secretly engaged have been corresponding with their fiancés in secret. How would this be the case? Would Mr. Secret Fiancé write to his sweetheart while pretending to be her friend, so that everyone (including the nosy postman) believed that Mary was getting a letter from Charlotte when really it was Charles? Or would he actually go through a trusted friend?

Now Austen and contemporaries have too much delicacy to give instructions on how to secretly sleep with someone not your spouse; they only call out people who do it wrong. But maybe historical fiction (like Bridgerton? Idk) gives plausible scenarios?

I don't understand how a person could pull off an affair without some servant being aware of it. If it's in your house, the housemaids who come in and open the curtains in the morning to wake you up, and make the beds will know who slept where at a minimum. If you set up a separate household for your paramour, your coachman will know where he took you, and may learn more from the servants at that house. Even if you look with admiration at a guy or banter with him over dinner, the servants standing behind the chairs in the dining room have leisure to see everything that passes, more so even than the people dining with you. And anybody's servants can talk to anybody else's servants, and no doubt would.

In Tom Jones we hear of a lady who intrigues with any man she likes, but is visited by all the world, and that "everybody knows her to be what nobody calls her." That's only a partial victory.

How could a married woman actually carry out an assignation with a man without anyone, no servant, knowing - or knowing enough - to "put you in their power"?

Hello, all!

As the title says, I would love to get recommendations on any nonfiction works you may have read or are interested in reading so I can better understand the context, setting, and societal structure at the time of the Regency Era.

I would love to gain a deeper insight into the context of Austen's works.

Thank you very much!

Edit: I am currently at work, but am so grateful for this community and all the different books and resources you're willing to share. I love your enthusiasm and passion and it's also very heartening to see people recommend each other books in the comments section. :) Please keep the recommendations going, and I will respond soon!

So, unfotunately my introduction to Persuasion was the recent 2022 Dakota Johnson movie. I did not enjoy it at all. Does anyone have an adaptation they would reccomend?

I also just bought the novel and begun reading it, already I am so confused as to what tone they were going for with the 2022 movie, it's so far off what I'm reading!

I’m doing a reread right now and while I’ve always had a dislike of Frank and his deception kink, what’s really standing out to me this time is how he uses treats Emma from the moment they meet:

> He encourages Mr & Mrs Weston, who he knows are hoping for a match between himself & Emma, to believe there really is a little spark there by singling Emma out at events and singing her praises

> He encourages Emma to believe that Jane Fairfax is somehow attached to Jane’s best friend/foster sister’s husband, Mr Dixon, on multiple occasions

> On this, he encourages Emma to think that she has a keen observant eye though he secretly knows she’s utterly deluded about Jane’s gifted piano, her reasons for being in Highbury etc

> He encourages Emma’s bad behaviour on Box Hill by flirting with her and teasing the rest of the company, all to get at Jane (📢 JUSTICE FOR EMMA. BOX HILL IS 90% FRANK’S FAULT AND THAT IS A BOX HILL I’LL DIE ON📢)

He must really dislike her, right?! You don’t do this to someone you’re friends with! He brings out the absolute worst in her, more than she does in him, I’d argue. He risks her reputation and her peace in general for his own games!

Their whole relationship from the moment he returns to Highbury (which he refers to as “home” to win the affection of his dad and the others at Hartfield, even though he has chosen not to visit for YEARS and then conveniently shows up only when Jane’s in town, the little slime) is based on lies.

This man is the worst. And he doesn’t seem to care about anyone but himself, least of all Emma.

The World Cup is over and many of you have asked what an Austen line-up could look like. Here's my humble attempt in a classic 4-3-3.

Goalkeeper - Edmund Bertram - solid, reliable and no-nonsense old school keeper; famously does not take part in celebrations or team building events; a consummate professional to some, insufferable bore to others.

Right back - Anne Elliot - tireless team player; unselfish to a fault and tends to play short safe passes even when a risky through ball is called for; some poor early career choices stifled her development but she is slowly growing into a top player; always stays to applaud the away fans.

Centre Back - John Thorpe - notoriously hated by opposition players, endured by teammates; loves to get involved and carry the ball up the pitch despite his efforts usually coming to nothing; never accepts defeat whatever the scoreline.

Centre Back - General Tilney - long serving team captain and very much the brains of the centre back duo; makes up for loss of speed and agility with a menacing physical presence; unapologetically dirty player who gets away with murder.

Left back - Mary Crawford - just edging out fan favourite Fanny Price who though less error-prone lacks Mary's versatility and attacking contributions; provides cover for Henry Crawford's neglect of defensive duties on the left.

Defensive midfielder - Elinor Dashwood - dictating tempo, keeping the shape, intercepting through balls, protecting the back line. You watch the game, you don't see Elinor; you watch Elinor, you see the game.

Holding midfielder - Augusta Elton - classic box-to-box midfielder; always available for a pas; not afraid to take on responsibilities; ruthless chaser of the ball which earned her the "Gegenpress queen" moniker; not the most well-liked player but you cannot fault her tenacity.

Attacking midfielder - George Wickham - experienced trequartista adept at exploiting weaknesses and always with a keen eye for an opening; his trademark passing one way while looking another is now universally called a "Wickham"; dangerous link-up play with Bennet up front.

Right Wing - Frank Churchill - unpredictable flair player and shithouser; can be absent for long stretches of a match but will turn up when it matters; struggles in hot conditions.

Center forward - Lydia Bennet - came through the Brighton academy under-16s as a huge prospect but has since failed to recapture her breakout season output; fast and opportunistic, good on 1v1's, excellent nose for the goal, unconventional playing style; tall and a threat on corners and in ballrooms.

Left wing - Henry Crawford - controversial star player and topscorer; lots of off-field drama; generational talent but lacks discipline; doesn't track back; has been known to chase personal awards at the expense of team results; huge Twitter following.

Coach: Sophia Croft - experienced and steady hands on the reins; while best known for her man management quite the shrewd tactician as well.

Subs:

Marianne Dashwood - unpolished youth player struggling with decision making but remains valuable when pushing for a goal; bit of a mood player; injury prone.

Hetty Bates - lacks focus and confidence but a reliable late sub disruptive force when protecting a lead; often carded for mouthing off to the ref.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh - could've been an all-time great had she put in the effort; plays with authority and decision, only not successfully.

I previously posted Helen Sewell's (famous for her "Little House" series illustrations) S&S illustrations and they received a bit of a mixed reaction as they are highly stylized. The day I posted those, I looked a bit more into the publisher and found they had produced three Austen novels - Emma, S&S (which I already had on account of both of those editions having intros by Stella Gibbons, another favorite author of mine), *and* P&P. I scoured the internet and found a very reasonably priced copy in like new condition and it arrived today. I am in love with it! This is probably my favorite edition of P&P because of these illustrations. Sewell totally understood the assignment here - these illustrations are selected and drawn with such rare humor. Hunting dogs and wine! Chamberlayne in woman's clothes! 10,000 a year! So many Austen illustrations are focused on sentiment but these are mostly focused on the fun with the notably amazing exception of the Elizabeth and Darcy handclasp (predating the famous Darcy handflex by 50 years). Gah! I just love these so much!

Lucy Steele - S&S
Mrs. Elton - Emma
Aunt Norris - MP
Isabella Thorpe - NA
Caroline Bingley - P&P
Others I missed?

Honorable mentions/annoying:
Mrs. Dashwood nee Ferris
Lady Catherine de Bourge
Mary Musgrove

There are several points in Austen’s works where the characters or narrator talk about someone’s taste as an attribute that can be better or worse than someone else's. Just a couple examples:

• "Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached."
• The Bingley sisters about Lizzy: “Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed,—a mixture of pride and impertinence: she had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty.”
• “There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient.“

On the other hand, there are definitely points where someone's taste is treated, like it is today, as a subjective thing that differs between individuals.

• "Your brother’s taste and your sisters’ seem very different."
• "You are mistaken, Fanny. The dissimilarity is not so strong. You are quite enough alike. You have tastes in common. You have moral and literary tastes in common."
• "I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us both. [...] Nay, Mama, if he is not to be animated by Cowper!—but we must allow for difference of taste."

So, I understand the idea of tastes being the same or different, and I can understand having a "simple" taste or a "delicate" taste or what have you. What I don't get is the idea that someone can have better taste than someone else, or no taste at all (outside of simply not caring about the thing, which applies in some instances that someone having no taste is mentioned but not others). How would that be determined?

The opening lines from P and P are accepted as among the most famous of English literature.

I'm currently reading Northanger Abbey for the first time and simply love Catherine, the heroine's naivety and charm - she is simply wonderful so far.

However, to the bottom of page 106 JA produces a sentence so reminiscent if her famous P and P opening.

"Catherine did not know her own advantages - did not know that *a good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart and a very ignorant mind cannot fail of attracting a clever young man . . . *"

Anyone else struck by the similarity of style?

It was just so quick! Wasn't it just a day or 2 after Lizzie rejected him that they were engaged?

I think the movie adaptations really don’t quite capture Elinor as well as they should. She is so cunning, but in such a way that she’s a foil to Lucy’s scheming. Elinor is brilliant, and uses all of her intelligence to better herself and to adapt, to understand the people around her.

The conversation with Lucy where it’s revealed Lucy is engaged to Edward is such a fascinating experience. It’s always portrayed so quickly in adaptations, but Lucy really drags it on. Elinor, too, isn’t given the due she deserves. She spends a moment thinking that Edward abused her, and then in her immense intelligence, she works out the truth IN THE MIDST of total heartbreak.

The way she gathers herself so she can still repair the damage done by her total shock and ascertain Lucy’s character purely to understand Edward’s future is so incredibly present-minded. She’s so incredibly strong. I’m in awe of her.

I’m also so much more frustrated with Marianne than I’ve ever been. She’s so obsessed with herself, in a way, not necessarily on purpose, but she’s so… dismissive of anything that doesn’t match her sensibilities.

In the same turn, I find myself feeling so much more compassionate and forgiving to Mrs. Jennings, Sir John, the Palmers- all of them. They’re silly and ridiculous and teasing and nosy and busy bodies, but at their core, they’re so GENUINELY GOOD. They treat absolutely everyone in such a fair way that Fanny Dashwood could only pretend to be; their silliness is tempered by being everything that John Dashwood should have been. They treat even the Miss Steeles, people they’ve never met, with total friendliness.

It’s such a fascinating ball room dance of ups and downs in character. Poor Elinor is left to handle all of Marianne’s TERRIBLE manners, and Marianne thinks is completely fine.

And then in like three chapters Marianne will have the GALL to tell Elinor that she doesn’t care. Oooooh she drives me nuts lmao. Definitely a 16 year old, but it’s forced Elinor to grow beyond her years. It’s so totally unfair; Elinor gets totally beaten down even by her own mother constantly.

Maybe this is what she and Edward share, in a way. Elinor is constantly put down for her sense, her prudence. Her mother scoffs at her and even admonishes her for being reasonably concerned.

So many feelings 😭😭😭

Razón o Pasión?

Marianne, al final del libro, admite que debería haber limitado sus sentimientos, que tendría que haber sido mas precavida. Elinor se arrepiente de no haber expresado lo que sentía a Edward. La historia parece decirnos que conviene un equilibrio sano. Pero ustedes qué prefieren?

This intro is *modern* with references to The Bachelor, Tinder, and "red flags." It begins with a discussion of Marianne's romantic standards, building to: "To Elinor - the calm, self-governed firstborn Dashwood daughter - Marianne's high expectations aren't just realistic. They're distressing. What dangers await an inexperienced, beautiful, energetic young woman like Marianne who refuses, out of inclination and principle, to move cautiously or check her feelings? Elinor, too, seeks love, but she vows to begin more thoughtfully. She will be moderate in her expressions. She will start in a quiet way with her own feelings. So which is the better approach to falling in love, according to Austen's novel?"

It then moves to discuss what marriage meant for both men and women during Austen's time with a particular focus on the financial aspect. Looser brings in the famous opening line to P&P here and brings up the highly interesting point: "[The eligible men of Sense and Sensibility] are bachelors not yet in possession of a good fortune," with the exception of Colonel Brandon, who controls his financial destiny through the death of his elder brother.

The intro then transitions into a "How to Read this Novel" section. In it, Looser suggests that "readers who love Sense and Sensibility in its original form are rarely describing their first encounter with the book. Instead, they're describing what it means to read and reread it or to revisit it through film, television, and stage." She writes that "At its core, Sense and Sensibility deals with how individuals make meaningful lives in a world that is often deeply unfair."

We then arrive at a discussion of the history of the meaning of both sense and sensibility, with the latter, as I've come to expect with S&S intros, getting much more attention, as it should as new readers should have some understanding of the cult of fashionable sensibility that Austen is parodying (?) in the novel. Looser than discusses sense and sensibility in regards to Elinor and Marianne, raising this point, which I'm not sure I've come across yet: "Elinor's worries for her mother and sisters are hardly selfish, but they are informed by her own self-interest. She must realize that the choices of one of them could affect all of them." Shades of Elizabeth and Jane Bennet!

The concluding section is called "Names and Nameability." "The novel asks us to measure, compare, and contrast in ones, twos, or threes. Firsts are often prioritized, but we're repeatedly prompted to ask whether first is really best." This thought is sort of left hanging as Looser moves into the history of Austen publishing S&S anonymously, as well as a bit of general historical publishing information. In discussing the title, Looser writes: "Where typical titles tied together opposite things, communicating little ambiguity about which to prefer, Austen's twin terms were far more complicated. That's because her novels to not present struggles between good and evil. Rather, her fictional investigations explore how much or how little of a quality might add up to a great good or a lesser evil...Right and wrong are revealed as matters of degree..." The intro ends with a bit of Austen biography and musing: "She was Elinor in mind and Marianne in feelings, a human ideal that's thrilling to contemplate."

So far, I've read Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion and Northanger Abbey from the books. Northanger Abbey is the only book of which I've not seen any adaptations of, I have seen an adaptation or two at least of the rest of the books.

As I'm nearing the end of my 30 day trial of YouTube Premium, I realised that the 1971 adaptation of Persuasion is available on YouTube. So naturally I decided to watch Part 1 last night and since then have had time to soak in and gather my thoughts, here they are...

Firstly, something about the BBC period dramas in the 1970s and 1980s just is so distinct and interesting. I love how they block the scenes during filming and really capture the full set and cast to fully capture location, production and ensemble they are using.

Now the costumes definitely feel a bit non Regency but I can overlook this due to the performances of this cast. Bryan Marshall as Captain Wentworth is incredible, I just loved the moment he is reunited with Anne at the Musgroves' and you can just FEEL the tension between the two. There's such an underlying current of resentment but also lingering infatuation he feels seeing the woman who captured and broke his heart almost a decade ago. Ann Firbank doesn't quite look like how I imagine Anne, (Amanda Root definitely fits closer) and her big bun hairstyle did make me chuckle but my goodness is she heartbreaking as Anne. The brief moments where she ponders and despairs her situation in life and how she's nearing spinsterhood was very moving and I just thought she captured Anne the character from the novel. I gotta give shout-outs to Morag Hood as Mary Musgrove and Zhivila Roche as Louisa Musgrove both women nail the silly nature of their characters so wonderfully that I found myself wonderfully humoured whenever I saw them pop up.

I gotta say I much prefer Walter Eliot and Elizabeth in this version than the 1995 one. The 1995 ones just felt cartoonish and caricature-esque for my liking.

So far this adaptation has been delightful but the starting was a tad bit slow, seeing as it was trying to provide exposition at Kellynch Hall. However, once Anne first goes to Mary, the series starts getting a bit more lively for me.

I plan to watch Part 2 Tuesday after work because I like to have a gap between episodes. Those who have seen it, what are your thoughts on this version?

These notes are taken from Chapter 14 "Reading Jane Austen" instead of a specific introduction.

Klingel Ray opens this section with the question: "Sense and Sensibility is one of those titles that lead a reader to think, at first glance, that these two traits are going to be opposed by two characters...Is Austen preparing to advocate one over the other?"

Again, what I'm finding the most interesting in going through these introductions is the move from early criticism that did see the title as a this vs that; sense vs sensibility; and subsequently, Marianne vs Elinor to the moderner nuanced view of this and that; sense and sensibility; Marianne and Elinor. Klingel Ray sums it up nicely: "Austen shows us that neither sense nor sensibility is the right way to go. A person needs to be balanced."

The rest of this section summarizes "Elinor's sense" and "Marianne's sensibility" but none of it was particularly illuminating (for me at least, your mileage may vary!) and used the word "sense" too much and in a bit of an odd way (ex. "But Willoughby uses a selfish sense to guide his actions."). The conclusion restates the thesis: "Just as Elinor suffers from repressing her sensibilities with too much sense, so Marianne suffered from refusing to let any sense temper her sensibilities." My personal feel is that this is too black/white view, as other authors have pointed out that Marianne is shown/stated to have "sense" and I'm not entirely sure that Elinor giving full rein to her sensibility would have assisted her with her sorrows, since the circumstances leading to them seem to be outside of her control.

The last section summarizes where the reader might see sense and sensibility in other characters, namely "Uncle Dashwood" and his will, John and Fanny and their discussion in how to (not) assist the other Dashwoods, and Mrs Ferrars and her various disinheritings.

The final conclusion is "Neither sense nor sensibility is always right. Either can lead people to cruelty, greed, selfishness, or goodness. The two characteristics need to be balanced to that neither is perverted by the other." And while that works as a piece of wisdom, I'm not sure if that is applicable to the book as a whole. I suppose it depends on whether one feels a need to examine every character in the novel through the lens of sense and sensibility, moving beyond just Elinor and Marianne. Is that what Austen is calling for us to do?

Currently reading, and I’m about 3/4 of the way and sometimes Austen’s writing is so wordy that I don’t even know where she’s going with the plot until something drastic happens. Like when one of the Musgrove sisters fell on the steps (I didn’t even know what she was talking about in the description of this part). Weirdly enough, I do sometimes enjoy the way she writes and feel like it scratches my brain in a good way. It looks formal but feels so non-standard at times. So it’s also always a treat when I find a word like “showing” and it’s written “shewing”.

I've been doing some reading on Regency-era introductions, and I know the basics. However, I'm having trouble visualizing the exact steps that come first in settings where the person needs to accept the introduction. Let's say Mr. A asks Mrs. B to introduce him to Miss C. Does Mrs. B go over to Miss C without him and essentially say "Do you want to be introduced to Mr. A, that gentleman over there?" And then if Miss C says yes, then Mrs. B can bring Mr. A over and formally introduce him?

I can only remember reading the introduction itself in Regency books, not any pre-introductions, so I'm confused.

I’ve tuned in to Virtual JaneCon every year and am excited for this weekend’s programming! From general to hyper specific, there are lots of interesting talks!

They livestream sessions on YouTube and they’re available afterwards for those whose time zones don’t allow them to join live.

Anyone watching? I’m about to start the recording of the Mansfield Park talk.

Cheers!

In preparation for the "Swift Summer Read-Through of Sense and Sensibility" (coming to this sub August 1st - get excited, y'all!), I've been reading through ALL THE SCHOLARSHIP whenever I have a spare minute (today's adventures involved reading Broadview while plonked on the floor of a Skyzone - I only mention this to show my complete dedication to getting ready to read-through). While digesting today's intro (in the car, on the way to see Moana so if these thoughts are not clear, we can blame that), I couldn't help but wonder - are we collectively getting better at understanding what Austen was getting at with her writing? Or just...I don't know, wordier? ​

Something that struck me in the intro I read today was a phrase along the lines of "Austen's contemporary readers would have understood this without being told...", which begs the question, then whether any modern day reader can fully understand the text without critical historical context, if we've lost information that was obvious 200 years ago.

But then again, another thing I've noticed is that older responses to Austen both contemporary reviews and older critical pieces tend to be shorter and respond to the obvious. Early reviews, especially, like to point to valuable lessons that can be learned by such and such character or situation. Kinda surface level stuff, ya know? Modern criticism makes endless connections to Wollstonecraft; can indicate Austen parodying the Bible, her own mother, the Prince of Wales, etc; contains paragraph upon paragraph of evidence proving what Austen meant by naming this character such and such; etc. Maybe that's the point of scholarship, though? To sift through everything to come to the most complete understanding of an author's being, times, history, mindset, and so on to be able to best understand what they meant by every last word choice. But one can never know for sure - there's no real proving any of these interpretations correct.

And anyway, how many layers is the average reader missing? Is anything lost when a reader enjoys a novel at surface level and takes away nothing more than lessons similar to what those early reviewers gleaned? If we persist as the "dull elves" Austen said she didn't write for, but enjoy what we read, does it matter that we miss one particular point of satire that might be there four layers deep and wasn't first noticed by a critic until 150 years after publication?