Perfect, if You Hate Jane Austen

Eliza's Daughter by Joan Aiken
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Have you ever watched an athlete and appreciated their game, maybe even liked them, because they are objectively good, while also disliking them for being, in real life, an asshole?

That is this book.

I kind of liked it. Parts, anyway. It's well written. I was rooting for Eliza (the daughter of Eliza). Some interesting things happened. Some surprising things.

And I kind of hated it. As a big Austen fan, coming to this book because I want to see what happens after Sense and Sensibility, imagine my disappointment to see that every single person from the original novel is terrible. Bad. In fact, skip the rest of this review if you don't want minute spoilers.

Colonel Brandon is a huge disappointment. After rescuing Eliza (who is the granddaughter of a woman he loved) he just sticks her in a terrible school where she has a miserable number of years. He never checks up on her and never helps improve her situation. Her mother, it turns out, isn't dead--she just deserted her without a care. Elinor is a dried up old prune who doesn't want anything to do with Eliza. Her husband, Edmund Farrars, is foolish, controlling, unlikeable clergyman who also doesn't want anything to do with Eliza. Mrs. Dashwood is senile and a bit crazy. Margaret is a disillusioned spinster. Sir John Middleton talks in an ugly way about his previous wife (from the Austen novel) without any of the kindness he was supposed to show. Marianne is a bitter, unkind woman who kept Brandon from doing anything good for Eliza as long as he was alive. And Willoughby is worse even than he started in the original story, having absolutely no interest in even knowing his daughter, almost literally pushing her away when she looks him up. All of them, and most of the invented characters (with only a few exceptions), are cruel, shallow, narrow-minded, selfish, horrible people.

Joan Aiken makes Dickens look like an optimist who only wrote about sunshine and puppies.

It's not all horrible. A couple good things happen. A couple characters are kind to Eliza. There's some lovely prose, too. And there's a decently happy ending (though I hate the pointless mystery thrown in at the end).

If you're reading this to enjoy some more hours and pages with some beloved characters, I warn you off. It isn't what you hope. It looks like the author sat down with a spreadsheet to chart out how to subvert every good thing about every single Austen character you recall. Elinor and Edmund looked happy? Now they don't! Marianne was carefree and sweet? Now she's more wicked stepmother than romantic pixie sonnet girl. Col. Brandon was mature and responsible? Now he's a deadbeat. On and on.

HOWEVER: if you were to read this book without any knowledge of Jane Austen, I think you might like it. No one is betrayed that way. Eliza is like Tom Jones, wandering through a strange landscape until things come right at the end. It is that book, that imaginary novel, which overcame my disgust enough to settle on a respectable 3.

I could be wrong about all that.

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Where We All Grow Up a Little

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I've read this a couple times before, and I guess the last time was about 10 years ago. (Longer than I thought.) In addition, I've probably seen the 1995 movie a dozen times at least since then. What surprises and bemuses me, reflecting on that, is to discover how much there is still to enjoy and notice.

And I did enjoy it.

One thing I'm certain of--reading from a nice old hardcover with wider margins, a larger font, and slightly browned paper makes it easier on my eyes, and that, in turn, makes the words dig deeper. Easier on eyes=easier on brain, I mean. I'd only ever read from tiny-print paperbacks before, and not only is that a less optimal experience, I argue it reduces comprehension. (YMMV.) I feel like I entered into the flow of reading much better than when I was younger reading those cheap editions, and the difference made me love the book all over again.

I like how Jane Austen creates imperfect characters that we are meant to censure at least to some degree but still like, and in fact she seems to have a lot of affection for them. (Not everyone. I'm not including her half-brother and his wife, though we don't precisely hate them. And Edward's mom is just a mean old lady. Willoughby, the disappointing rogue, falls in the middle, where we don't like him a lot but still like him more than he deserves.)

Sir John, for example, knows little beyond his narrow scope of interest--dogs, horses, pretty girls, and maybe his tenants--but is affable and generous to a fault. Mrs. Jennings is a gossip and a busybody, but she is genuinely kind and thoughtful. Near the end we see Marianne realizing that herself when she remembers to thank her for helping her when she was sick, sort of including in her thanks all the overlooked kindnesses from the visit to London. (Marianne had been quite rude for a pretty long time, and Mrs. Jennings never seemed to notice.) Mrs. Dashwood, Elinor and Marianne's mother, is wrong about quite a bit, but she has her heart in the right place. Of course, Marianne gets the most criticism, but she's just a kid, really, and grows up a lot in a pretty short time. We definitely still like her and root for her, especially after she reflects on her actions and starts to show a lot more concern for her sister and others. There's comedy in the foibles of these people--more than I sussed out in previous reads--but no malice.

I can't help but wonder how I would fare under Jane Austen's scrutiny. I'm glad to not find out.

The critic John Bailey wrote the introduction to the edition I have (1927), and while he clearly really enjoys Jane Austen in general and this novel in particular, he's critical of a few things. (Hence the title.) He thinks the way Edward is freed of his promise to Miss Steele is a bit clumsy, and I'll admit that part seems a bit unlikely. And the scene where we discover this, when Edward visits at Barton Cottage and they're asking where Mrs. Ferrars is, works better in the 1995 movie. That is actually my favorite scene, and the way it comes out in the books is much less dramatic. In fact, she skips right from Elinor learning the truth (and leaving the house) to them being engaged:

How soon he had walked himself into the proper resolution however, how soon an opportunity of exercising it occurred, in what manner he expressed himself, and how he was received, need not be particularly told. This only need be said: -- that when they all sat down to table at four o'clock, about three hours after his arrival, he had secured his lady, engaged her mothers consent, and was not only in the rapturous profession of the lover, but in the reality of reason and truth, one of the happiest of men.

Seems like a missed opportunity to show us a sweet scene. But I guess I'll allow it.

I'm not a big re-reader of books, but I'm glad to find lately that some are worth the time and TBR postponement. And I highly recommend editions with bigger print!

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