Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Persuasion by Jane Austen

Title: Persuasion
Author: Jane Austen
Publisher: Penguin Classics (2003)
Originally published in 1817

My love of Austen is no big secret and Persuasion is even the one I thought of first when I made a short Keeper List (though I have them all obviously and in multiple formats, too:). However, I've never read this title with quite so critical an eye or with a mental comparison to the movie running through my mind. For this new experience I can thank Michael for agreeing to queue up what will be the third romance in our joint post series. For anyone new to the series, this is where we choose a book/movie pairing and I say a few words on the book and Michael says a few words on the movie.

Anne Elliot is the middle daughter of a spendthrift and self-important English baron. Eight years before the events of the novel she gave in to family pressure (including pressure from family friend and surrogate mother Lady Russell) and broke her engagement to Captain Wentworth. At the time of the engagement, Wentworth was a mere Mr and not in possession of any significant assets. All this made him far below what the Elliots considered eligible for a daughter of the family.

Sir Walter Elliot's poor budgetary skills have forced the family to remove from their ancestral seat and take a home in Bath. Their new tenants are none other than Wentworth's sister and husband (the world of Austen is always a small one). Anne remains in the neighborhood with her younger sister's family or Lady Russell for several months. When Wentworth comes to visit his sister they are often in company together. It's awkward and, for Anne, often painful because she still loves him. When he begins to court one of the neighbors' daughters, Anne tries to resign herself to fully letting him go.

What first drew me to Austen back in my high school days was her biting wit. I read very, very few romances back then (in fact, Austen is the only romance writer I can remember reading) and it wasn't for the romance that I kept going back to Austen: it was the zingers. Austen's books are like onions (or parfaits, everybody likes parfaits): you can read them for the romance, you can read them for the accurate portrayal of life in Regency England, or you can read them for the awesome satire. She must have been wonderfully observant because you just couldn't make up the ridiculous things some of the characters do or say. And the little asides that make, with very English restraint, an observation perfectly clear are just delightful.

Lady Elliot had been an excellent woman, sensible and amiable; whose judgement and conduct, if they might be pardoned the youthful infatuation which made her Lady Elliot, had never required indulgence afterwards.

If it wasn't already obvious, how gently Austen tips the reader to Sir Walter's uselessness as a person. Austen also had such an eye for the realities of a genteel life. She was the daughter of a Reverend so not rich but still amongst a set of people who often had no occupation whatsoever. Doubly so since a woman's sphere was quite small and completely in the hands of a guardian or husband. She teases out how an idle life can lead to a ridiculous nature. Anne's younger sister is married with children but not at all comfortable with a life with too little to do which manifests in pettish illnesses and obnoxious behavior.

She could soon sit upright on the sofa, and began to hope she might be able to leave it by dinner-time. Then, forgetting to think of it, she was at the other end of the room, beautifying a nosegay; then, she ate her cold meat and then...

Austen must certainly have had a healthy appreciation for the ridiculous and Austen readers often do as well.

Anne always contemplated them as some of the happiest creatures of her acquaintance; but still, saved as we all are, by some comfortable feeling of superiority from wishing for the possibility of exchange, she would not have given up her own more elegant and cultivated mind for all their enjoyments...

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...

But in the midst of these little asides, petty family dramas, and painfully close views of the limited options available to women at the time, there is always a very satisfying romance to thread it all together.

Alas! with all her reasoning, she found, that to retentive feelings eight years may be little more than nothing.

The perspective is a little scatter shot but always more from Anne's perspective than from Wentworth's. It's clear early on that Anne has never lost her love for Wentworth and, as the story progresses, it's also obvious that Wentworth still cares for Anne. But, in case you're curious, ditching your fiance because your family tells you to is not exactly received well by the ditchee. Wentworth is hurt and looking for excuses to keep distant from Anne. The Musgrove daughters offer plenty of opportunity for distraction.

What I admire in Anne is that she regrets the loss of a companion she held (and holds) so dear but she never regrets her decision. For all the ridiculousness of her family (and, truly, she's the only sane one of the bunch) her loyalty to her family is quite high. In light of this, she is convinced that a happy marriage would not have been hers were she to have married against her family's wishes at such a young age. Whether you agree or not with her sentiments, it's easy to understand why she made her decision. It's also easy to understand how, at the ripe old age of 28, she's gained some independence from the over-bearing influences of her youth. Her decisions now will be much more guided by her own desires (Wentworth having made his fortune doesn't hurt when it comes to family acceptance either).

The novel is rather somber in tone, both in the dispositions of the heroine and hero but also in their courtship. Fairly or unfairly, second chances rarely appear as romantic as first love and they both have legitimate challenges in living down what happened 8 years ago. Still, Austen won't leave you long without a laugh.

By this time the report of the accident had spread among the workmen and boatmen about the Cobb, and many were collected near them, to be useful if wanted, at any rate, to enjoy the sight of a dead young lady, nay, two dead young ladies, for it proved twice as fine as the first report.
(no one actually dies in the book:)

Obviously, I loves me some Austen! This is getting crazy long and I still have so many notes in the ol' Kindle. How about I leave with one last thing. Even in this, Austen's last novel, her style retains some of the hallmarks of stories read aloud for the family. She doesn't stealthily weave in back story or current events: she simply spells them out - as is expedient - at the beginning of the story when setting a scene.

Yet so miserably had he [Elliot heir] conducted himself, that though she was at this present time (summer of 1814) wearing black ribbons for his wife, she could not admit him to be worth thinking of again.

And that's a little bit how you feel during the story. You get a close view of someone's home life. You see the small disappointments and revel in the triumphs... You wonder how you can read one more paragraph about the stupid father or the tedious sister... But, then, you can't choose your relatives and when the sphere of your existence is limited the only stage you have is the one you were born into.

rating: 5 of 5 stars

Click here for an index of the joint post series

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

What the f$#k, People?

Teleflora* makes a commercial equating women to prostitutes** (and NBC willingly broadcasts it) but it's M.I.A. making an immature and crude gesture (which a lot of people probably missed) during the Super Bowl halftime show that gets all the news?

What the fuck, People?

* I refuse to link to their site or the offending commercial. I don't want the interbots to give them any positive feedback.

** Come to think of it, using the word prostitute here is probably an insult to prostitutes. At least they are self-employed.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Linky Love

Need a laugh? Click here.

(hat tip: Sum of Me)