Jane Austen – Page 4 – Ripple Effects

What was Jane Austen really like? Reading Tomalin and Shields

As a biographer, Tomalin’s account of Jane Austen’s life is meticulous and exhaustive. Her analysis is critical and sharp, her writing style bold, precise and cutting. The following excerpts are prime examples.

When speculating about the possible consequence of Mrs. Austen sending her infants away to be raised, Tomalin makes the following inference:

“The most striking aspect of Jane’s adult letters is their defensiveness. They lack tenderness towards herself as much as towards others. You are aware of the inner creature, deeply responsive and alive, but mostly you are faced with the hard shell; and sometimes a claw is put out, and a sharp nip is given to whatever offends. They are the letters of someone who does not open her heart; and in the adult who avoids intimacy you sense the child who was uncertain where to expect love or to look for security, and armoured herself against rejection.”

Or this to say about mother and daughter:

Mrs. Austen had a sharp tongue for neighbours, appreciated by her daughter and passed on to her.”

Or, with the episode of Jane accepting and later recanting Harris Bigg-Wither’s marriage proposal, Tomalin’s view is clear:

We would naturally rather have Mansfield Park and Emma than the Bigg-Wither baby Jane Austen might have given the world, and who would almost certainly have prevented her from writing any further books.”

If you can appreciate such kind of abrasive commentaries, you would certainly find it entertaining to read Tomalin’s than an otherwise ordinary biographical sketch. Ironically, I have a feeling that this is the kind of biographies Jane would have written if she could write without censure.

Putting her incisive analysis to good use, Tomalin explores Jane’s creative process, giving credits to her imaginative ingenuity. The limitation of physical and social mobility render Jane’s world parochial, yet her characters and story lines are diverse and innovative. Her writing are evidences of pure creative concoctions.

…essentially she is inventing, absorbed by the form and possibilities of the novel… The world of her imagination was separate and distinct from the world she inhabited.”

For Jane, it is imagination and not experience that has given her wings to soar outside of her bleak circumstances. A vivid example is the writing of the sprightly Pride and Prejudice. The novel was written during a time of family tragedy with the death of Cassandra’s fiancé Tom Fowle, and amidst Jane’s own disappointment with the evaporation of hope with Tom LeFroy.

All in all, Tomalin’s sharp and cutting writing style works towards Jane’s favour. Her biography is resourceful and entertaining, her analysis incisive, and her conclusion moving. Above all, Jane would have found it amusing and satisfying.

Jane Austen: A Life by Claire Tomalin, published by Penguin Books, 2000, 362 pages, including appendices, notes, bibliography, chart, and index. Additional 16 pages of photos.

*****

Carol Shield’s Jane Austen is a succinct and gentler rendition of Jane’s life. Shields and her daughter, the writer Anne Giardini, were presenters at the JASNA AGM in Richmond, Virginia in 1996. This book came out five years after that. Shields has crafted a highly readable literary gem, adorned by her lucid and flowing writing style.

As a novelist, Shields’ main thrust is to trace Jane’s development as a writer. Exploring her family circumstances as she was growing up, Shields presents to us a gifted youth of exuberant spirit, one who had known the joy of theatrical performances and experienced the exhilarating power of humor. Jane’s ingenuity lies in her parodies. As a young contributor to her older brother James’ weekly magazine The Loiterer , she was already a skillful writer of satires. Shield notes that:

“…it is the satirical form of her youthful writing that astonishes us today. What makes a child of twelve or thirteen a satirist?

… Jane Austen had been nurtured, certainly, in a circle appreciative of burlesque… but she was also a small presence in a large and gifted household. Her desire to claim the attention of her parents and siblings can be assumed. She gave them what they wanted, that which would make them laugh and marvel aloud at her cleverness”

This yearning to entertain, influence and be acknowledged remained the motivation for Jane’s writing throughout her life. Her youthful gigs and satires transformed into full-fledged novels. Just take Northanger Abbey for example. It is a burlesque of the Gothic in a style which she was so familiar with since her girlhood days. And a look at the characters like Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice, or Mrs. Elton in Emma, readers could readily appreciate Jane’s “comic brilliance and… consummate artistry”.

Shields offers in-depth analysis of Austen’s works, exploring not just the writing but the psyche of a brilliant mind. Like Tomalin, she dispels the myth of art imitating life, and credits Jane’s imagination as the key ingredient of her ingenuity:

“Her novels were conceived and composed in isolation. She invented their characters, their scenes and scenery, and their moral framework. The novelistic architecture may have been borrowed from the eighteenth-century novelists, but she made it new, clean, and rational, just as though she’d taken a broom to the old fussiness of plot and action. She did all this alone.”

Considering the physical and social limitations confining Jane, it was her writing that transported her to brave new worlds, and the vehicle was her imagination.

As I finished reading these two biographies, Virginia Woolf’s praise of Jane Austen resonated in my mind:

“Here was a woman about the year 1800 writing without hate, without bitterness, without fear, without protest, without preaching. That was how Shakespeare wrote.”

While we lament that Jane had left only six complete novels upon her untimely death at forty-one, we treasure these legacies of imagination and the inspiration they evoke for generations to come.

Jane Austen, a Penguin Lives series, by Carol Shields, published by Vikings, 2001, 185 pages.

Update: This article has been published in the Jane Austen Centre Magazine, where you can read online informative articles on Jane and the Regency Period.

For more on Jane Austen’s creativity, click here to read the post “Life Imitates Art, or Art Imitates Life”.

*****

What was Jane Austen really like? Reading Cassandra & Jane

Reading Jill Pitkeathley’s biographical novel Cassandra & Jane has prompted me to find out what Jane Austen was really like. The persona depicted in her book is so different from what I had conjured up while reading Austen’s six novels. Upon finishing Pitkeathley’s fictional account, I could not wait but delve right into Claire Tomalin’s Jane Austen A Life, and Carol Shields’ Jane Austen. So, kicking off my fall reading, I have devoured, back to back, three biographical works on a woman writer who is more popular today than she was in her time two hundred years ago.

Jill Pitkeathley’s Cassandra & Jane is a fictitious rendering of Jane Austen’s life. It is based on historical facts as recorded in biographies; in fact, it reads like a fictional illustration of Tomalin’s work. As a novelist, Pitkeathley takes the liberty to fill in the gaps and offers imagined scenarios of events. That is the fun or ambiguity of reading a historical novel. The intermingling of fact and fiction has spurred me on to explore what actually happened, above all, what kind of a character Jane herself truly was.

I was surprised to find that behind the romantic book cover shrouds a very sombre portrait of Jane Austen. What is most intriguing is the revelation that, unlike the sanguine ending in Austen’s novels, the very author of these works had led a life filled with misfortunes and disappointments. And unlike Austen’s heroines, females who could impact and influence those around them, Jane was often bound by powerlessness and subjugated to consequences of familial and social disparities. For most part of her life until she received the meager profits from her books, she was solely dependent on her father and later her brothers financially that she could not make any travel plans or purchases on her own.

Written from the point of view of Cassandra, who was the sole person privy to the intimate and private side of a beloved sister, the novel depicts a discontented soul, at times critical, at times bitter, and poignantly resigned at the end. Unlike her own novels, which end on a high note with exhilarating conclusion, Jane Austen’s life was far from fulfilling for her in love, in health, and in career. Within the confines of late 18th and early 19th century England, the lively and soaring spirit of Jane Austen was kept distressingly in check. What Pitkeathley has chosen to present to us therefore is a multi-layered persona, deep and intriguing.

“Hers was such a complex nature that it was not possible to explain to those who did not love her that she could be cruel and kind, disparaging and compassionate, bitter and hopeful, almost in the same breath.”

Considering the complex character of her beloved sister, her sharp wit and critical eye, her cutting comments on the people and circumstances around her, Cassandra had a very legitimate reason to burn the intimate correspondences she had with Jane, knowing that Jane would easily be misunderstood and even judged by posterity if they were released to the public. Pitkeathley had taken full advantage of this void to fill in the gaps and offer her own renderings of the events and motives marked by silence, albeit based on historical evidences.

The account of the romantic episode with George Atkins is an example. Regarding the Rev. Atkins, whom Jane met in Lyme, and who received a passing mention in her letters anonymously, Pitkeathley has painted a star-crossed love affair, adding colours to a life that is thought to be devoid of romance.

Considered by some who think her life as uneventful, and indeed, she may not have travelled far from her home in her short 41 years of life, Jane had had her share of life experiences. First off, from infancy, she had the taste of banishment as all Austen newborns were sent off to be raised elsewhere from home, coming back only as they entered childhood. Her childhood days with her siblings were probably the most joyous period of her life, growing up in a literary household, devouring books in her father’s library and participating in theatrical gigs her brothers organized. Her strain relationship with her mother however remained a dark spot most of her life.

Jane’s young adulthood saw disappointment of lost love and opportunities, or the lack thereof. Nevertheless, married life to her may not be that appealing, after witnessing two sister-in-laws die at giving birth to their eleventh child. She had felt the grief of the death of Cassandra’s fiancé days before the wedding. She was dislocated from home beyond her own choosing, moving to Bath and thus triggering a long period of depression. She had led a life of poverty, suffered the loss of her dearly beloved father, endured familial and social disparities first as a female, then as an unmarried female, and later as an unmarried female writer. She had seen her own works rejected, and later even with some of her novels published, had to remain anonymous to avoid social deprecation. And finally, she saw the bankruptcy of her brothers, jeopardizing her mother’s, her sister’s and her own livelihood, and lastly, faced an untimely death at age 41 after a debilitating and painful illness.

What is left that makes life meaningful and fulfilling? How can a spirit confined to so many limitations break through and soar? Pitkeathley has painted a Jane who was resilient and determined. Choosing a life of literary pursuit over a loveless marriage to Harris Bigg-Wither, Jane was ready to take on the social denigration of spinsterhood and the working woman. From her writing, Jane had found release from her entrapment. She had created stories wherein heroines were passionate and free like Marianne Dashwood, intelligent and self-assured like Elizabeth Bennet, adventurous and imaginative like Catherine Morland, persistent and morally upright like Fanny Price, lively and mischievous like Emma Woodhouse, and patient and long-loving like Anne Elliot. From her writing, Jane had opened a way for her own self expression, channelled her indignation of injustices, and found a platform to proclaim her ideals.

At the end, with Cassandra, we lament the short life of Jane Austen, but we cherish a literary talent whose resilience and ideals have inspired readers through the centuries. Considering the numerous film adaptations today and the proliferation of fan fiction, Jane can finally impact and influence, an ideal she could only imagine in her novel writing.

You are invited to vote on the poll question: Which Austen heroine do you think Jane was most like? Find the Poll on the top of the side bar. Just check your answer and click “Vote”.

*****

Cassandra & Jane by Jill Pitkeathley, first published 2004, reprinted 2008 by Harper Collins, N.Y. 270 pages.

Then She Found Me: Book Review

This is one of those frequent examples where a film is so drastically different from the book that they are virtually two very separate entities. But what’s unusual is, I’ve enjoyed them both.

Then She Found Me, published in 1990, is written by award winning New England author Elinor Lipman. Helen Hunt, together with Alice Arlen and Victor Levin, wrote the screenplay and turned it into a movie. I can understand why those who have read the book first before seeing the movie are flabbergasted. The only commonality between the book and the film other than the title may just well be the two main characters, the quiet and rational high school Latin teacher April Epner and her birth mother Bernice Graverman, the ostentatious TV talk show host who wants to claim back the daughter she had given up for adoption more than 30 years ago. There are almost no traces of the original story in the movie.

The amusing character contrast in the book is a springboard for some creative channelling for Hunt and her screenwriter team, kudos to Lipman’s original conception of the story idea. Despite its digression from the book, the movie still works and entertains. What more, it has preserved the spirit of the book and has brought to the screen the basic issues the book touches on, the major one being the meaning of motherhood, and the inevitable debate over the value of the birth versus the adoptive mother. For my detailed review of the movie, click here.

The She Found Me is my introduction to Elinor Lipman, the acclaimed author of eight books of fiction and short stories. The book is almost script ready, for it is predominantly dialogues, witty, intelligent, and incisive dialogues. Lipman’s sensitivity and subtle humor effectively bring out the nuances of her characters and their relationships, at times sarcastic, at times genuine, at times poignant.

36 year-old April Epner is a high school Latin teacher, quiet, rational, academic, and single. Her long-sleeved cotton jersey and drop-waist Indian cotton jumper persona hides a kind and genuine soul. The only parents she has known all her life are her adoptive Jewish parents Trude and Julius Epner, Holocaust survivors, who have lovingly brought her up and given her a Radcliffe education. After they have passed away and as she stands in the crossroads of her life, the last thing April needs is to be found by a brassy and impulsive talk show host Bernice Graverman, who claims to be her birth mother. Conscientious April has to match wit with evasive Bernice, with the help of her school librarian Dwight, who happens to be much more than just a supplier of encyclopedic information. Without giving out spoilers, let me just say the story unfolds with sprightly twists and turns, effectively driven by Lipman’s first-rate, cutting and entertaining dialogues.

Those who have seen the movie but have not read the book should move right along to savor the source material. In here you’ll find the intended closure to the seemingly unsolvable conflict and ambivalence. I can see this as a good choice for book/movie discussion in reading groups and book clubs.

As I was reading, I thought I saw Jane Austen cameo. What Lipman has created here is something close to what Austen would have written today: a contemporary comedy of manners, a likable heroine reminiscence of Anne Elliot, an anti-Darcy male character, albeit with similar height and social ineptness, and through the characters and their situations, dares to explore some serious social issues that are masked by very funny, sharp and witty lines. The result is a tasty concoction of humor and heart.

And lo and behold, guess whose portrait I see when I open up Elinor Lipman’s website ?

Then She Found Me by Elinor Lipman is published by Washington Square Press, 1990, 307 pages.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

Excellent Blog Award

“I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

— Lizzy Bennet, Pride and Prejudice.

excellentblog1 I’m honored to be named one of the recipients of the Excellent Blog Award given out by Vic, a.k.a. Ms. Place, of Jane Austen’s World. Considering her criteria and a look at my fellow honorees, I feel greatly encouraged indeed. Thank you Vic, it means a lot for a “non-Austen” blog to get a nod from Jane Austen’s World. Actually it is blogs like yours that spur my interest in Austen and the Regency world.

Ripple Effects is not exclusively an “Austen blog”, although Jane Austen is one of my all time favorite writers, and you can certainly find many Austen posts here. But as Lizzy Bennet in Pride and Prejudice said: “I’m not a great reader and I have pleasure in many things”. I enjoy writing about topics relating to my various interests in the arts and entertainment field. I try to maintain a magazine-style format to encompass the diverse subjects. Ms. Place has kindly observed: “I’ll never know what I’ll find when I visit.”

I love books, but I’m a slow reader. So my mind is always trying to catch up with what my heart desires. I love movies, but I seldom go to opening showings to avoid the crowd. So what you read in Ripple Effects are often hindsights and resonances from delayed gratification.

At times, it’s a rough road, this blogging journey. Sometimes I just drive not knowing where I’m heading. But receiving acknowledgement like this is the fuel needed for me to press on, and help me to relax enough to enjoy the scenery along the way.

At first I was planning to write a post like this on my first blogaversary August 29. But at 11 month now I feel I just can’t wait to express a heart-felt thank-you to all my fellow bloggers and the many anonymous visitors from around the world. You’ve unknowingly added fuel to these clattering wheels.

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Beach Reads and Summer Reading 2008

It’s that time of the year when you let it all hang loose and not care about whether what you’re reading is ‘literature’ or not. For some strange reasons, the hot summer months, the taking leave of work and school, the temporal evasion of chores and responsibilities seem to have emboldened us to new adventures, legitimizing ‘escape reading’. But my question is why only in the summer? Do seasons regulate our choices? Should ‘summer reading’ differ from that of the other 10 months in the year? Has the term “Beach Read” been coined merely to jack up book sales?

A look at some current writers’ “summer reading” casts even more doubts on arriving at a clear cut definition of “Beach Reads”. Dan Zak of Washington Post interviewed a sample of them and surveyed their summer reads. Here’s what he found:

Mary Higgins Clark: Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Susan Choi: War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
Janet Evanovich: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Thomas Mallon: Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens
Sue Monk Kidd: The Grimke Sisters From South Carolina: Pioneers for Women’s Rights and Abolition by Gerda Lerner.

… and so on and so forth. Click here to read more of Dan Zak’s article on summer reading.

And here’s Arti’s list. I’m currently reading Lisa Scottoline’s Lady Killer, which should satisfy a ‘traditional’ definition of a ‘beach read’. Other than that, I’m also re-reading Jane Austen’s Persuasion, and still plowing through two of Robert K. Johnston’s books, Reel Spirituality: Theology and Film In Dialogue and Reframing Theology and Film. If a ‘beach read’ is defined as a fast pace, plot-driven page-turner, these definitely don’t qualify.

I’ve just finished The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, which is one dynamite read, a wild ride any time of the year. It deserves a whole new post. But to categorize it as a ‘beach read’ would seem to have down-graded its quality and impact.

A few titles I plan on getting hold of this summer:

Then She Found Me by Elinor Lipman. After watching the film, I’m really interested to find out how a writer instills spirituality into the narrative of everyday living.
Away by Amy Bloom. I’ve wanted to know more about her through her reading. So far I’ve only read one thing from her: Introduction to Jane Austen’s novel Persuasion.
The Savior by Eugene Drucker, founding member of the renowned Emerson String Quartet. In this debut novel, he dispels the myth of the saving power of music, using a Holocaust death camp as the backdrop. Should be one poignant read.

What’s your summer reading list like? Typical ‘beach read’ or evidence shattering its existence?

Summer Reading 2009 Click Here.

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Mansfield Park: Jane Austen the Contrarian

Mansfield Park is probably the most controversial and least favored of all six Austen novels. Drawing the issue of slavery into the limelight, post-colonialist critic Edward Said had certainly stirred up some ripples in alleging Austen’s acceptance of British imperialism with her mention of Sir Thomas Bertram’s Antigua plantation. [1] Susan Fraiman has aptly presented her rebuttal to Said’s argument, noting in particular Austen’s brilliant irony and metaphor upon deeper reading. [2] So here, I would just like to concentrate on Austen’s characterization, which I believe is more in line with her central purpose in Mansfield Park. That brings me to the other major controversy.

What makes a heroine?

Published after Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park presents a very different heroine from that of Austen’s previous success. Fanny Price is often measured against Elizabeth Bennet, consequently being looked upon as inferior. On the outset, Fanny is indeed everything Lizzy is not. First of all, she is physically fragile, easily succumbs to exhaustion and fainting spells, very unlike Lizzy who can take on extensive walks in the outdoors, happily treading through miles of muddy paths. No rosy cheeks from such exercise for Fanny. She may have grown into a fair lady at eighteen, but she does not have Lizzy’s athletic prowess, or her pair of fine eyes, the trademark of her exuberance.

Further, Fanny Price is painfully shy, an introvert. Readers may find her insipid, lacking glamour, but they may be more impatient with her passive, yielding personality. Why does Jane Austen present to us such a heroine, especially after the very lively and charismatic Lizzy Bennet? Well, I, for one, am glad to see Austen has demonstrated her wisdom by depicting an anti-stereotyped heroine. With Fanny Price, Austen has shattered the image of the typical heroine: a captivating beauty, quick witted and forthright, even audacious at times, endowed with energy and charisma. Why is reticence, or introvert nature being frowned upon? When did we start thinking of long-suffering and perseverance as negative traits? Why is humility not getting its rightful esteem? And, why are the quiet, observant and thinking female not as attractive as those who are more expressive, or who possess only outward beauty?

What Fanny lacks in physical vigor, she more than compensates with her inner strength. And it is in the nobility of character that Austen has chosen to depict her heroine. Underneath Fanny’s fragile appearance is a quiet and principled perseverance. Seeing the impropriety of staging a play which entails the remodelling of Sir Thomas’ very private library in his absence, Fanny stands firm in not participating, despite the pressures and insults from her older cousins, the persuasion from the Crawfords, the scornful criticisms from Mrs. Norris, and even the eventual yielding of Edmund himself.

In her ingenious manner with biting irony, Austen pits Fanny Price against her formidable foe, Mary Crawford. At first sight, “Mary Crawford was remarkably pretty.” Not long after that, Austen adds:

She had none of Fanny’s delicacy of taste, of mind, of feeling; she saw nature, inanimate nature, with little observation; her attention was all for men and women, her talents for the light and lively.

When it comes to moral uprightness, Mary Crawford is no match. Thanks to the way she defends her brother Henry who has snatched Maria away from her husband, even Edmund can now see clearly. Henry Crawford is a carnal schemer, and Mary Crawford is equally manipulative and egotistic. Unfortunately, it takes a scandal and trepidations for others to learn what Fanny has seen clearly from the very beginning.

In a way, Fanny Price is more lucid than Elizabeth Bennet in not succumbing to the lure of vanity with Henry Crawford’s superfluous praise and wooing. If only Elizabeth had conquered that soft spot regarding Wickham earlier on….but of course, there wouldn’t be any story then. And if it is admirably bold for Lizzy to resist Lady Catherine de Bourgh, someone who is of no relation to her, Fanny is all the more courageous in her refusing to marry Henry Crawford by standing up against the very guardian to whom she owes her upbringing and her present living, the patriarch Sir Thomas Bertram. It takes extraordinary fortitude to go against everyone in Mansfield Park, and follow her own heart, while the privilege to explain herself is infeasible.

Compared to other Austen heroines, Fanny Price is equally, if not more, worthy. Fanny has the passion of Marianne, while possessing the rationale of Elinor. That is why her secret love for Edmund can endure unfavorable conditions. Her lucid sense of judgement restrains her to reveal it to Edmund, who, with his emotional frailty, would be exasperated knowing his own beloved cousin is a rival rather than a friend of Mary Crawford. Her perseverance can easily match and surpass that of Anne Elliot. And, she may be uneducated and naive like Catherine Morland to start with, and is equally moldable and respectful when taught, she has way surpassed her mentor in insights and maturity as the story progresses.

By presenting a heroine who may not be a typical favorite, Austen seems to be writing contrary to conventional norms. (But is it just modern audience who have differed in their expectations, resulting in recent film adaptations altering the very spirit and essence of Austen’s characters to appeal to them?) Has Austen created a character so different from her other heroines? Comparing Mansfield Park with all her other novels, I do not feel she is particularly off her usual standpoint. As with her other heroines, Austen is more concerned with character, virtues, and morals, the inner qualities of the person rather than the outer appearance. Mansfield Park is the best manifestation of her stance. Ultimately, what shine through for our Austenian heroine are:

…the sweetness of her temper, the purity of her mind, and the excellence of her principles.

At the end, the steadfast and long-suffering Fanny Price triumphs. And for critics who assert that Austen had silently condoned slavery, the ending of Mansfield Park should silent them all, for it is the socially and economically disenfranchised and marginalized that is exalted and vindicated. In my view, Edmund does not deserve her. However, it is Fanny’s heart and long unrequited love that Austen attempts to satisfy. And I totally concur with that, for our heroine deserves it. And no, Fanny does not become mistress of Mansfield Park, which is also ideal: It is not affluence and materialism that win after all, but spiritual values and nobility of character that overcome, and they are their own rewards. The Parsonage is a most fitting place for both Edmund and Fanny to begin their life together.

Notes:

1. Said, Edward W. Culture and Imperialism. (Alfred A. Knopf, 1993). His chapter on Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park can be read in Dorothy Hale’s The Novel: An Anthology of Criticism and Theory 1900-2000. (Blackwell, 2005) pp. 691-715. You can read part of it online on Google Books by clicking here.

2. Fairman, Susan. Jane Austen and Edward Said: Gender, Culture, and Imperialism. Critical Inquiry, 21 (4), pp. 805-821.

To read my other JA posts, book reviews, movie and TV adaptations, and other related books, just click on ‘Jane Austen’ under categories on my sidebar.

Update: You can read this article as well as other interesting and informative articles on Jane and the Regency Period in the Jane Austen Centre Online Magazine by clicking here.

A Room With A View (2007 TV)

It will probably take another Merchant Ivory production to best an earlier version. The 1985 movie A Room With A View has ingrained in my memory certain images of sight and sound that are difficult to replace, like Lucy opening the window and the camera slowly zooms in the beautiful view of Florence, highlighting the Il Duomo. Or the ending shot of the silhouettes of Lucy and George sitting by the same window… To me, A Room With A View is Kiri Te Kanawa singing Puccini’s aria “O mio babbino caro” (O My Beloved Father), achingly depicting the agony of unrequited love. Further, it is also the humor that underlies the whole story as Forster has intended, as evidenced by the chapter (or scene) titles.

Nevertheless, I came to watch this newest BBC production with an open mind. I was eager to see how a 21st Century, Andrew Davis rendition would present this E. M. Forster love story. Every new adaptation of an old classic should offer us a new vision. With such endeavors Andrew Davis has proven to be relatively successful in the past with his Austen and Dickens adaptations. Here, I anticipate another window opening out to a fresh and different view.

For this adaptation, Davis writes the screenplay as Lucy’s flashback. And, letting his imagination roam, he has Lucy coming back to the same Florentine room in The Bertolini, by herself, as a young widow. So with this in mind, the overall sepia tone throughout fits well with the context, a memory re-lived, through the eyes of a lonely young woman who has lost her husband in the war. The colorless overtone might well depict the sombre mood of a very different Lucy.

But there’s the rub. With this new “twist”, Davis has put himself in a difficult position in that, the present might be sombre and sad, but the past is most vibrant and radiant. He’s got in his hands the difficult task of reconciling the two. What mood should he establish? The sombre loss of the present or the fantastic journey of self-discovery and the ecstasy of a young heart heeding true love of the past? umm…alright, let’s just go on with the show…

I have appreciated the fine cinematography and camerawork. The attraction of the Florentine art and architecture as well as Rome’s grandeur are caught with a sense of depth, not just picturesque shots, ironically, thanks to the lack of color. They are frames from Lucy’s point of view, a well-protected, English young woman’s first encounter with greatness and history outside of her familiar, parochial life.

As for the actors, I have mixed feelings. In the 1985 movie, Helena Bonham-Carter’s fresh persona of Lucy Honeychurch is sensitively matched by Julian Sand’s poised portrayal of George Emerson, an ideal image of young love. Somehow, I don’t feel the chemistry here between Elaine Cassidy (When Did You Last See Your Father, 2007) and Rafe Spall. The film is supported by some excellent acting though by veterans like Sophie Thompson (Emma, 1996) as Charlotte Bartlett, Mark Williams (Sense and Sensibility 2008 TV) as Mr. Beebe, Sinead Cusack as Miss Lavish, and Timothy Spall (Enchanted, 2007) as the elder Emerson. Tim and Rafe Spall dispaly an authentic father son relationship on screen, naturally.

Timothy and Rafe Spall

A weak link I feel is Laurence Fox as Cecil Vyse. No, I’m not trying to compare him with Daniel Day Lewis’s performance, which is inimitable. But I truly feel it’s a miscast here. Fox as a chap who is no good for anything but books, one who is so physically inapt to avoid a game of tennis? Not very convincing. What we have in this TV version is more like an eerie and chain-smoking Wickham or Willoughby. Speaking of which, the smoke screen connecting to his almost every appearance may well be intentional, visually depicting how marred and distorted Cecil is in his view of himself and of others, particularly, Lucy.

Indeed, as the title well conveys, it is the metaphor of seeing that is the key notion throughout the TV adaptation. In order to impress into our mind, the director has us see lots of scenes by the window. But of course, it’s not so much of looking out but looking in that is crucial here. The whole story is built on Lucy’s seeing clearly what is in her heart, and that the one who has drawn her out of her own self-deception is the one who can offer her ultimate bliss, and that is George Emerson. It is not just about Cecil turning down a tennis match, but it is the last straw, the pivotal turning point where Lucy realizes how egotistic Cecil is. Lucy to him is but an object of art and music, but not as a woman, definitely not as a lover. Forster describes it most strikingly, “The scales fell from Lucy’s eyes.” A Biblical allusion no less than an epiphany.

In this case of course, by following her heart, Lucy is making the moral choice of defying the long tradition of the English class system, smashing the inequalities underneath the civility, and unmasking the snobbishness she has been raised to aspire to. In her new voice, as Cecil has noticed, Lucy has announced a new-found insight. As an admirer of Jane Austen along with his fellow Bloomsbury writer Virginia Woolf, Forster might have written lines that Elizabeth Bennet could have uttered, lines like:

I won’t be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult. Can’t I be trusted to face the truth but I must get it second-hand through you?

Or,

If a girl breaks off her engagement, every one says: ‘Oh, she had someone else in her mind;’ … It’s disgusting, brutal! As if a girl can’t break it off for the sake of freedom.

Unfortunately, these lines find no place in the film.

Forster is not afraid to let us see a very muddled Lucy, being confronted by her own feelings and passions that are contrary to her up-bringing, loving someone from a lower social status. The open view of Italy has offered her a wider spectrum to what she is accustomed to seeing. Here lies the muddled complexity of characterization…For often in life, we are walking confusion, unsure of our feelings, insecure about our actions, isn’t such muddledness the very commonality of our being human?

But thanks to her humility, Lucy comes to realize what is in her heart, and who she wants to be. In her recanting of her engagement to Cecil, she admits to be less educated, not as well-versed in the arts and music as Cecil. Maybe because of that, she is more flexible to explore and to associate with those allegedly seen as socially lower than herself. Here lies the paradox, It takes the uneducated eye to find understanding. Cecil is an intellectual, expert in things but not people, his highly educated mind has done nothing for him but left him in a room with no view.

Zadie Smith in her brilliant 2003 Orange Word Lecture entitled “Love, Actually”, discussed the writing of E. M. Forster and Jane Austen. Regarding Lucy’s gaining insight, Smith observed incisively:

It is not by knowing more that Lucy comes to understand, but by knowing considerably less.

As for Davis’ new “twist” at the end … I think that has altered the whole story from a light-hearted piece of social satire and endearing love story to a sombre drama with an awkward ending. And for the last scene, Lucy going on a picnic with the cab-driver, and their final gesture… I think Davis has gone too far with his gratuitous imagination. If that is the new vision he is offering us, I’d rather stick with the old view.

~ ~ Ripples

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Photo Source of window with a view: StudentsVille

Sense and Sensibility (2008 TV): Part 2

Even though the last kiss in the movie goes to Elinor and Edward, I feel this second part of Sense and Sensibility belongs to Marianne and Colonel Brandon. Indeed, David Morrissey’s Colonel Brandon has been the leading man and Charity Wakefield’s Marianne shines. Their lines even bring back some epic images of a past Austen adaptation. Just dwell on them again:

Marianne: My feelings for him has changed so much…I love him.

Elinor: Then I am happy for you.

Words of endearment reminiscent of Davis’ adaptation of Pride and Prejudice (1995)…flashback to Lizzy’s response to Darcy’s second proposal, and as she explains to her unbelieving father of her accepting it, and of course, Mr. Bennet’s loving consent upon hearing her declaration of love for Darcy. As for the imaginary scene of the fencing duel? Isn’t that just reminds us of Darcy’s own struggle? Further … isn’t it true that such an improvised addition could work just as well with Darcy and Wickham too?

I think we have seen enough Davis adaptations to not be surprised by his interpretive visions…not authentically out of Austen’s book, but effective just the same … and we forgive him yet again.

Indeed, not only the fencing duel, which is nicely shot, mesmerizing and dream-like, but all the scenes we see in this new version that are Davis’ own imagination are all quite effective, thanks also to the excellent camerawork and cinematography. Scenes such as Brandon’s gentle touch of Marianne’s hand as she lay ill in her bed, the invitation to his own library and leaving Marianne to the privacy of her own enjoyment of the pianoforte, to the taming of the falcon, all vividly depict Brandon’s patient and quiet yearning for her. And Marianne, even though by nature a free-spirited creature like the falcon, would eventually fly back and rest on the arm of the one who beckons her with his steadfast love. Davis’ imaginary scenes are most effective in portraying Marianne’s turnaround.

There are some very moving moments for Elinor too. Desperately seeking solitude in her silent suffering, Elinor finds shelter in a cave by the seaside. The camera’s point of view from inside the cave looking out, framing her silhouette against a tumultuous ocean, a stunning vision. Or, when she sits on a bench, again alone, facing the wide open sea, waiting, doubting, or just plain accepting… Our hearts pour out to her, and yet, it is Elinor’s perseverance that has won us over, not sentimentality. Now that is authentic Austen.

At the end, as Edward enters the Dashwood cottage to propose to Elinor, the slightly shaky camerawork is most effective in depicting the agitated anticipation of both lovers, for Edward, the nervous uncertainty of his reception, and for Elinor, the restless suspense and later unpredictable euphoria….kudos to the screenwriter, director, and cinematographer.

The Welsh filmmaker Peter Greenaway once made a controversial remark criticising film versions of literary work as mere “illustrated books”. Regarding Jane Austen’s work, he said:

“Cinema is predicated on the 19th century novel. We’re still illustrating Jane Austen novels–there are 41 films of Jane Austen novels in the world. What a waste of time.”

(Click here for the Wales news article containing the above quote.)

To which I respond: The visual can powerfully bring out the essence of the literary. A good film adaptation is more than illustration of printed words, but an inspiring visual narrative. At best, it can offer an interpretive vision and a new perspective to a timeless piece of writing.

The present adaptation is a vivid example.

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Click here to go back to Sense and Sensibility Part 1.

Don’t forget to vote in the Poll on the sidebar, Which Austen heroine do you think Jane was most like?

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Sense and Sensibility (2008 TV): Part 1

What can I say after watching just half of a movie? But First Impressions last, and the notion has multi-layered meaning.

First off, I can’t help but compare this Andrew Davis version with the 1995 Emma Thompson’s screenplay. And secondly, I’m eager to watch Part 2 next week to see how some of my feelings from Part 1 hold out, of course, to also quench my Austenian thirst. PBS sure has underestimated the patience of Janeites who, I think, would not mind spending three hours to watch the whole movie in one sitting.

The two adaptations play out exactly as the story does. Emma Thompson’s screenplay is an almost literal and reserved view of the novel, while Andrew Davis’ is an imaginative and free-spirited rendition. The two versions are very much a parallel image of Elinor versus Marianne, sense contrasted with sensibility, or should I say, sense and sensuality? The perfect scenario, of course, is a balance of the two. And last night, while appreciating the fresh angle Davis has led me to look at the novel, I also long for a more literal, more authentic representation.

Davis has taken the liberty to create scenes intended to appeal to (what he thinks is the expectation of) modern day viewers, a much more erotic and sensual rendition than the Austen novel. Not authentic, but I admit, some of those scenes are quite effective. Not that I think Jane Austen needs that kind of help though.

I have particularly enjoyed the set design and cinematography. The sumptuous Norland Park, the elegant costume, and the picturesque natural scenery, the almost Gothic billowing seaside of the Dashwood new home. Barton cottage by the cliff? Again, not authentic, but quite effective. The howling winds and crashing waves are sharp contrast to the once quiet and comfortable life of Norland Park. They also signify the turmoils in the hearts of the characters, betraying their calm composure. There is a beautiful shot when Elinor runs up the windy mountain, the camera follows her wind-swept hair and fluttering dress. As she stops at the edge of the cliff, looking down onto the rising waves, she opens the book Edward has given her as a parting gift, slowly caressing the words he left in there. That is one moving scene.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the camera work. Like an omniscient narrator, it captures not only the macro views, but by its silent pan and close-up shots, reveal the inner emotions and deeper characterization. The blurry shots of the wind-charm hanging outside the cottage, strung up sea shells Margaret has collected by the craggy shore, slowly dancing in the quiet breeze, a metaphor for the passing of time, or the changing of scenes…very effective indeed.

This adaptation features a younger cast. Hattie Morahan as Elinor, Charity Wakefield as Marianne, as well as Dan Stevens and Dominic Cooper as Edward Ferris and Willoughby are much more compatible in age to the story’s requirement than the 1995 movie. However, I feel the contrast between the sisters are more proficiently acted by Thompson and Winslet….so far in this Part I anyway. The younger cast brings in a fresh perspective, but I miss the maturity and talent in the previous version. I like Lucy Boynton’s Margaret (Miss Potter, 2006), a very clever performance and lucky girl…she has some of the best lines in the movie. Another favorite character of mine in just watching this first part is Janet McTeer as Mrs. Dashwood, her performance almost overshadows her daughters.

David Morrissey’s Colonel Brandon is portrayed as a more lofty and noble character than an emotionally tormented soul, a role Alan Rickman has mastered. In the present version, Brandon meeting with Willoughby is an obvious reminiscence of a previous Andrew Davis adaptation, yes, the first, chance encounter of Darcy and Wickham in Meryton. The cold and awkward expression on their faces are brought back here. Morrissey’s tall and stately stature sharply contrasts with the much shorter, scoundrel-looking Willoughby, obviously contrasting not just a difference in physical appearance but in character. However, this is not what Austen intended. The Willoughby she has described has all the social charm, height and good looks so to bring young girls under his grasp. A deceitful character masked by a handsome appearance. Again, not authentic here, but as to effects, it depends on how much an Austen purist you are. Nonetheless, I feel the Darcy and Wickham allusion is apparent.

Overall, I have enjoyed this first part of the new Sense and Sensibility. The cinematography and camera work has done a great service to enhance a very elegant adaptation. I anticipate eagerly to see how my First Impressions will play out in the concluding part coming up next week.

…if only I can just watch it now.

Update: Click here to go directly to my review of Part 2 and Conclusion of Sense and Sensibility (2008).

And… Don’t forget to cast your vote on the sidebar, Which Austen Heroine Was Jane Most Like?

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Emma: Miss Woodhouse Regrets

UPDATE: To read my posts on the new BBC production of Emma (2009, TV), Episode 1 CLICK HERE.… Episode 2 CLICK HERE... Episode 3 Conclusion CLICK HERE.

Andrew Davis created another proficient and loyal adaptation of Austen’s work, a year after his success with Pride and Prejudice(1995). Emma (1996 TV) shown on PBS last night is effectively written for the screen, bringing out all the crucial scenes in congruent sequences. Great acting from all, except I must say, Mark Strong’s Mr. Knightly seems to be a bit too severe and lacks the forbearing and benevolent nature he possesses in the book. Maybe because of that, Kate Beckinsale is a more subdued Emma, less spriteful as Gwyneth Paltrow’s portrayal. I have enjoyed Olivia Williams as Jane Fairfax and Samantha Morton as Harriet Smith, who is more appropriately cast than Toni Collette in the 1996 movie.

“I am going to take a heroine whom no-one but myself will much like.” –Jane Austen on Emma

Is Emma such a despicable character that Jane Austen thought no one but herself would much like?

At first, I thought so. Emma is manipulative, imposing and snobbish. In her pride, she has toyed with Harriet’s emotions, misdirected her path, and dominated her decisions. In her blindness, she has misjudged intentions and at times, behaved disdainfully. If Lady Catherine were around, her words targeted at Elizabeth Bennet would be most appropriate here: “Obstinate, headstrong girl!”. Lizzy would also decry: “Insufferable!”

But, why did Jane Austen still like her?

In her ingenious style, Austen has led us in a most gratifying way, to see our heroine regret. Emma is not a perfect human being. Far from it. She probably has more ingrained flaws than most of the other characters in the story. However, that is the way our beloved author likes to sculpt her heroines: making them earn their respect by their mending their ways. And she knows how gratified her readers must feel to see Emma enlightened and humbled. By showing a regretful and corrected Emma, Jane Austen has aligned our views with hers, helping us to appreciate our heroine as a respectable character who is not afraid to own up to her blunders. Emma’s tears of regret have melted our hearts away.

Moreover, and most importantly I think, Austen has inconspicuously led us to see Emma from the eyes of Mr. Knightly towards the end of the story. Mr. Knightly has been Emma’s moral compass and benevolent mentor. While he can see her errors clearly, and does not hesitate to correct and admonish, he is also ready to forgive. He has chosen to love her from a distance while she is still an immature and self-deluded girl, albeit an imaginative one.

At the end, we are rewarded to see Emma gaining self-understanding:

“I seem to have been doomed to blindness.”

Hearing Knightly’s declaration of love, the undeserved euphoria is unspeakable. But of course, Mr. Knightly sees it otherwise:

“I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.”

His kindness and love for Emma compel him to still give her credit in her most self-deprecating state. In his eyes, she is ‘faultless in spite of all her faults’.

So, from Mr. Knightly’s point of view, we’ve come to appreciate a very human Emma, humbled by experience, regretful of her ways, and in the end, ever so ready to change. After all, it’s about time that a blissful match is made for herself.

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Update: You can read this article as well as other interesting and informative articles on Jane Austen and the Regency Period in the Jane Austen Centre Online Magazine.

In Praise of Austen: Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own

A Room of One’s Own is based on a series of lecture Woolf delivered at the two women’s colleges in Cambridge University on the topic of “Women and Fiction”. It was published in 1929.

Woolf lamented the disparities women in a patriarchal society had to face throughout history. The stream of consciousness flowed into torrents of incisive social observations and satirical commentaries.

She noted that women had long been deprived of equitable opportunities in education and employment. Men were rich, women were poor; men got to roam the country and travel the world, women had to be satisfied with the domestic. Men were great writers, poets, playwrights, women had to concede to find fulfillment in “making puddings and knitting stockings”. Men had rooms to work, to rest, to create…women, the average, middle class women, seldom had a room of their own.

…to have a room of her own, let alone a quiet room or a sound-proof room, was out of the question, unless her parents were exceptionally rich or very noble, even up to the beginning of the nineteenth century.

And sadly, Woolf had to utter this statement:

Yet genius of a sort must have existed among women as it must have existed among the working classes.

Isn’t it true, Jane spent her most prolific years writing in a very public room in Chawton House. In the midst of family activities, at a small and spartan desk, she revised Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, wrote Mansfield Park, Emma, and Persuasion, and began Sanditon:

And isn’t it true that only in movies do we see the idyllic desk against a clear window, with soft light diffusing in, gently illuminating a lady dressed in elegant regency gown, writing on expansive papers and stationary, contemplating in solitude:

Room or no room, recognized or not, something happened towards the end of the eighteenth century that, according to Virginia Woolf, deserved much more mention in history than the Crusades or the Wars of the Roses: The middle-class woman began to write.

Woolf pointed out that not only did Jane Austen lack a room of her own, having had to write her novels in the very public sitting-room, she had to hide her manuscripts or cover them with a piece of blotting-paper, as observed by her nephew James Edward Austen Leigh in his Memoir of Jane Austen.

Ironically, there lay the genius of Austen, and the few woman writers around her time such as Bronte and George Eliot. Woolf wrote:

…and we must accept the fact that all those good novels, Villette, Emma, Wuthering Heights, Middlemarch, were written by women without more experience of life than could enter the house of a respectable clergyman; written too in the common sitting-room of that respectable house and by women so poor that they could not afford to buy more than a few quires of paper at a time upon which to write.

Little did they know, it was in such a room that they were trained in the prerequisites of novel writing:

…all the literary training that a woman had in the early nineteenth century was training in the observation of character, in the analysis of emotion. Her sensibility had been educated for centuries by the influences of the common sitting-room. People’s feelings were impressed on her; personal relations were always before her eyes. Therefore, when the middle-class woman took to writing, she naturally wrote novels…

Not only that, they wrote good novels. With reference to Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf concluded:

Here was a woman about the year 1800 writing without hate, without bitterness, without fear, without protest, without preaching. That was how Shakespeare wrote.

High praise indeed.

The Jane Austen Centre Online Magazine

I’m excited to see my three posts on PBS’s Pride and Prejudice (1995 TV, Parts 1 to 3) have been selected for publication in the March issue of The Jane Austen Centre Online Magazine.

The posts have been combined into a single article. Magazine editor Laura Boyle has given it a new name “Pride and Prejudice Revisited”. If you go to the Magazine’s home page, it can be found under the category of Jane Austen’s Work: Jane Austen’s Books and Characters . You can also click here to go directly to my article.

While you’re there, browse through the many interesting and informative articles on topics relating to Jane and the Regency world, including fashion, recipes, histories, Jane’s work, media reviews, biographies, hands-on crafts and projects, and a short story mystery featuring Northanger Abbey characters entitled ‘There Must Be Murder’.

I visited the Jane Austen Centre in Bath last December. It’s located a few doors from Jane’s second residence in that Georgian City at 40 Gay Street. The Centre houses a permanent exhibition, a gift shop, tea rooms, and sponsors walking tours and an annual Jane Austen Festival.

For pictures of my Bath visit, here are my posts Jane Austen’s Bath and Bath in December.