Last night, in a sort of literary desperation, I began Jane Austen's Persuasion. I have been a long-time defender of my position in the "I don't get why people think Austen's so great" club. With the exception of Pride and Prejudice, I don't think I've ever finished an Austen novel. Why? Boredom.
Before last night, it had been years since I'd cracked the spine of any of the Jane Austen novels my father insisted on buying me (despite, or maybe because of, his knowledge of my membership in the aforementioned club), and really all I remembered about her prose is that it tends to include long detailings of family trees, painstakingly accounting for the nobility or lack thereof of the bloodline (hence, the boredom). I remembered this to be pompous and outdated. When I would express to my dad that these were the primarily impressions that Austen's work had made on me, he would respond with statements like, "oh no, that's not the case at all." Convincing, right?
I guess he believed that, if anything, I would give Jane another shot on my own terms, that I would one day meander over to my bookshelf and pick up a copy of Persuasion, his favorite Austen work, and see for myself the error of my ways. And, in this case, I guess he was right. Although, in the early insomniac hours of last night, it was not the paperback copy he gave me years ago that I found myself venturing upon but the free electronic edition that lives in my kindle, right next to the book I had just finished. So, really, it was a desire to keep reading and to not get out of bed that has finally brought me back to Austen.
And let's not forget to thank perspective for it's amazing what a little of it can do. Whereas I had, possibly as a result of not understanding what I was reading, found Austen to be pompous and outdated, I now see her writing to be intentionally crafted and humorous. What brought this new perspective? Well, mostly Brett Easton Ellis. A few months ago I read American Psycho and was surprised to find, on the back of the borrowed edition, a comparison of Ellis to, among a few other writers, Jane Austen. And as I read Ellis' work, flashes of Austen did come back to me but in a new light. Maybe those incessant detailings of family lineage were more similar to Patrick Bateman's obsessive categorizations of his cosmetic creams and physical regime than I ever would have thought; maybe this seemingly useless and overwrought information is not there for our knowledge but to reveal a character. And as Ellis detailed the psychosis of self-obsession and the inability to think outside of one's own class system and concerns, I found myself recalling Austen's similar portrayal of the aristocracy of her day.
But I am still left with a nagging question: why do so many people seem to enjoy Austen so much? She actually seems pretty trendy right now among the Nicholas Sparks' devotees. I'm inclined, in a slightly disrespectful manner, to believe that these light-readers are not getting much of Austen's subtle innuendos about the downfalls of class and societal expectations (marriage included) if they are looking for romanticism alone. So what do they make of the pages of nobility explication? Do they think it's to be taken as gravely as it is presented? In other words, is the biting sarcasm lost on them? Do they just skip such sections all together?
In closing for tonight, I'm sure I'm not saying anything new about Austen; however, aside from extremely terse conversations about her with my father, I hadn't given her much genuine consideration until recently. So if all I've said is old hat and taken for granted about her, forgive my repetition. I'd love to hear your thoughts on her; what has either drawn you to or away from her? And what other authors have you reconsidered and revisited only to find that your original assumptions were less than apt?
Until next time,
Leena
No comments:
Post a Comment