The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen by Ada Bright and Cass Grafton

My deeper relationship with Austen began when I was in college. We were reading Persuasion in a Romantic Literature class (the first and only time I encountered Austen on a syllabus), and I began to imagine Anne Elliot walking beside me across campus or sitting in a lecture hall, and what she might have to say about our modern world. This was long before I knew anything of fan fiction, other than that it existed. These memories came back to me with sharp clarity when I read this scene:

They continued in silence for some distance, though both of them cast a meaningful stare at No 4 Sydney Place as they passed, but as they reached the Beckford Road and began the ascent, Rose turned to Jane again. 

"Does the noise bother you? The road? This is a main route to Warminster and beyond and has such heavy traffic." 

Jane smiled. "Much is altered." She looked around and gestured with her arm. "Naught but open fields bordered the Gardens." Her expression sobered. "My disinclination for our removal to Bath was much compensated for by our pleasing situation in Sydney Place. One does not feel - did not - feel so confined be the city on its outer edges." 

"Then shall we walk along the canal?" Rose pointed to the gap through which the towpath could be seen, winding its way towards Bathampton. It was a route she had often trod in the summer months when still living at home. 

"As you wish." 

They fell into step again, continuing to walk side by side at first for the width of the path permitted it. 

"I did not answer your question." Jane glanced at her, and Rose frowned. "Noise emanating from these modern conveyances does not trouble me, for it is merely different. The constant rumble of wheels over cobbles, the clatter of hooves is not so much lower in volume than your modern conveyances. 'Tis why I prefer the country; the disturbance of silence has a more natural source: birdsong, flowing water over stones, the bray of a lamb... these things I miss more than any other." 

Rose glances around. It was peaceful by modern-day standards on the towpath, with a few ducks swimming in the canal and very few people about, but just then a light aircraft came overhead, it's engine chugging away, and she glanced at Jane as they walked. 

"And what do you make of our 'modern conveyances'? You must have seen the trains passing through Sydney Gardens, too, if you've been here a while, and noticed the planes flying overhead?" 

Jane looked up as the small plane sailed out of view. "If I may fly through time, why should man not have discovered how to fly though the air?"

A few months later, I myself was wandering over the streets and paths so meticulously detailed in The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen by Ada Bright and Cass Grafton (visit them at TabbyCow.com), at the 2016 Jane Austen Festival in Bath. I sighed just now as I wrote those words. They are a vivid reminder of how much blogging I have neglected. I never got passed the National Portrait Gallery (got a bit bogged down there, I know, but it was so awesome!), and failed to share anything of my fabulous stay in Bath here. Nor did I ever write this book review. I am a big believer in better late than never. Good thing, too.

Anyway, when I was in Bath last fall, this book was like a mental guidebook: its scenes reenacting themselves before my mind's eye. It was my first time in Bath, and when I got lost a few times, this ability was quite useful! If you have long yearned to make the pilgrimage to the Festival, as I did, than this book is honestly the next best thing. It takes place during the festival. The main character, Rose, walks in the promenade. How eerie was it for me, following in her footsteps, and knowing that one of the authors, Cass Grafton, was somewhere in the crowd! I have had the pleasure of getting to know Ms. Grafton over the past two years, as she lives not far from me in Switzerland. Her presence was just another layer adding to my glee in being where I was, when I was. The only thing missing was the fair weather Rose and her friend Morgan enjoyed during their promenade (fortunately, like Captain Wentworth, I had "equipped myself for Bath" and purchased an umbrella).

The story is one of time travel, friendship, and not taking anything for granted. Thematically, it reminds me in many ways of my own Being Mrs. Bennet, the second draft of which I was completing when reading this novel, though on the surface they are wildly different stories. Rose Wallace has always lived in Bath or its environs. Her future is there, even if a few demons from her past still haunt the ancient city. Her encounter with a time traveling Jane Austen, in whose adventure she becomes totally enmeshed, teaches her many of the same lessons hard-learned by an Austen heroine (or two).

The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen is such a great title for this particularly charming novel. It has such a mix of things going on: an homage not just to Jane Austen, but also to the fantasy genre. Other reviews I have read of this book compare it to a wild variety of other stories, and that's because there are so many influences informing the action. It's apparently clear that, just like Jane Austen, Ms. Bright and Ms. Grafton share a passionate love for books of all sorts. This novel is not fan fiction, but I think it is no less a book for fans. The enthusiasm of fan culture permeates it. To me it felt like the authoresses had taken Hermione Granger's time turner and transmuted it into an amber cross (there is an awesome moment in the book when Rose gives Jane a copy of The Philosopher's Stone to read). Such fun! I do hope there will be a sequel. The end leaves an opening for one. I feel like the adventure has only just begun, and I definitely want to be on board when it continues. Highly recommended!

Jane Austen Lives Again by Jane Odiwe

It's been forever since I wrote a review! And I read a bunch of great Austenesque novels over the summer, so I have a lot of backtracking and sharing to do. I believe my best reviews are written when when I have just finished a novel, so I fear I won't really be doing these books justice. However, a late and short review is better than no review at all. Believe me, I know.

I had the very great pleasure of meeting the author of this first book after many years of corresponding (and even of more admiring her work) at this year's Jane Austen Festival in Bath. Jane Odiwe was just as lovely as I always knew she would be. In fact, all the Austenesque authors I met while in Bath seem exceptional people to know. Must be something about those of us who have Austen as a muse.

Ms. Odiwe, also a painter, seems to live a life inspired by Austen. No wonder she should be compelled to bring our dear authoress to life in her novels. Jane Austen Lives Again feels like the culmination of the journey Ms. Odiwe has been leading us on through her last few novels. In Searching for Captain Wentworth (read my review here) she took us through a portal to Regency Bath, where our heroine meets Jane Austen. In Project Darcy the heroine encounters the ghost of Tom Lefroy while staying at the Ashe Rectory near Steventon, triggering episodes in which she finds herself inhabiting Austen's body. Perhaps it was inevitable that Ms. Odiwe would next make Austen her heroine instead of a using a modern surrogate.

Jane Austen Lives Again is not really a time travel story. It's more of a Frankenstein story, though far less gothic. The time is 1925. Dr. Lyford, descendent of Jane's doctor during the illness that proceeded her death, has reanimated her, cured her, and taken quite a few years off her age at time of death in the process. Now determined to make her way in a new world, she gets a position as governess to Sir Albert and Lady Milton's five daughters, each of whom bears a resemblance to one of Austen's heroines. They live a rather bohemian lifestyle in their crumbing ancestral castle. Jane takes them in charge, of course. There is so much more to the story - romance, health complications, makeovers, wild motorcycle rides - but what stand out to me most of all is Ms. Odiwe's ability to write like she's painting. I've spoken of this is in probably all my reviews of her work, but it is fascinating to watch her capture this post-WWI world, which is so very different from the one she usually describes and so very incongruous from the one with which we usually associate Austen. I love this super vivid introduction of Lady Milton:

Lady Milton dragged on her cigarette holder and blew ring of smoke into the air. Her ankles were crossed, and as the scarlet Louis heeled slippers with pom-poms of swansdown tapped against the other in agitation, the kimono fell away from her knees to reveal pale shapely legs. Jane thought she must have been very beautiful once, and stared with fascination at her heavily made up face, powdered and rouged, with kohl-black eyes lined with paint.  

We're in a whole new world! I can see Lady Milton liked she stepped off an old New Yorker cover.
Jane Austen Lives Again is perhaps my favorite of all the novels Ms. Odiwe has written to date. What a joy to view a different time and place through Austen's eyes, so skillfully rendered! Writing this review, I want to start rereading it and relive the adventures of Jane, along with her most interesting charges, Mae and Alice Milton, once more.

Mr. Darcy's Christmas Calendar by Jane Odiwe

After that day, time at Chawton cottage, and the calendar, which had seemed to work so magically together, began to alter. When Lizzy woke the next morning and attempted to open the door she found it was stuck and resisted being opened at first. There was no glow of light behind the perforations of door number eight, as there had been previously, and it simply wouldn't open. She didn't want to force it; the calendar was such a beautiful and precious object that she hadn't the heart to tear it. If she thought about what had happened to her over the last week or so, dwelling too much on trying to reason out exactly what was going on, she concluded that therein lay the road to madness. The only way she could keep her sanity and make sense of the whole experience was to tell herself that she'd fallen into a parallel universe, one that she'd often dreamt of visiting. She was fairly certain that it wasn't just that she was dreaming - never before had she been able to sustain so much action when sleeping, but trying to analyse it all was getting her nowhere. That magic of some kind, the sort she'd believed in as a child, held some enchantment over the whole episode was an unshaken conviction, and she was glad, that even though she was twenty-one and well past childhood days, that such a powerful spell had charmed her. She resolved to think no more on it, and accept it for what it seemed - an extraordinary Christmas gift. It came as almost no surprise that as soon as she'd accepted this, the little door of number eight flew open of its own accord, and Lizzy saw a magician's hat. At least, she thought it might have been, but on reflection she decided it could just as well belong to a gentleman like Mr Bingley, as there wasn't a rabbit in sight.

Tis the eight day of December, and what better way to begin a review of a book entitled Mr. Darcy's Christmas Calendar than with the scene in which the heroine, Lizzy Benson, opens the door of her very special advent calendar, purchased at the gift shop at Chawton. Before I proceed any further, I must confess that until I met my husband, I had no notion what an Advent calendar was. Yes, I grew up watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, but I really had no idea those little doors might contain chocolate or other treats inside. Then my mother-in-law presented me with the calendar she made my husband when he was born. This framed piece of embroidery features a large Christmas tree with twenty-five ornaments, each with a corresponding hook, to which scraps of paper are attached. Part of the Christmas magic in my husband's house was waking up each morning in December to see what instructions or treats the elves had left overnight, usually a Christmas story, craft, or game. For ten years now I have been in charge of making sure this bit of Christmas magic keeps happening. From having no notion what one was, an Advent calendar has become one of the most important parts of our holiday.

That being said, when I learned one of my favorite Austenesque authors, Jane Odiwe, was writing a Christmas story about an Advent calendar, I made immediate plans to read the book December first, before a fire, and with a cup of hot cider in hand. Unfortunately, these plans were waylaid when my grandfather died on November 30th. When I finally did get to the book, it proved the perfect balm to my heartache. The opportunity to escape the modern world for a fantastic Regency one, in which Jane Austen lives side by side with her characters from Pride and Prejudice, slowly tweaking the story until it takes the form we all know and love, is, as the heroine notes in the quote above, an extraordinary Christmas gift. I've enjoyed all three of Ms. Odiwe's time-travel tales (be sure to read my reviews of Searching for Captain Wentworth and Project Darcy), but I think this latest is my favorite. I say that taking into to account the brilliantly portrayed romance between Jane Austen and Tom Lefroy in Project Darcy, but I did not find the modern day romance nearly as satisfying. In contrast, the hero of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Calendar, a Mr. Williams, is the perfect Darcy stand-in: even more Darcy than Darcy in this book. Another strength of the novel is how the modern events parallel those of the past, which I greatly enjoyed. Further, Christmas magic totally penetrates the story, and as odd as traveling through time via an advent calendar might seem, I found it a lot more believable than the machinations used int he previous stories, probably due to the holiday atmosphere. Yet I think my favorite thing about this particular book had less to do with a swoon-worthy hero and the joys of the season than the commentary on the writing process the book provides.

Bear with me for a moment, but this is a book written by an author about another author who is writing a book. And not just any book. When the story begins, Austen is still calling her tale First Impressions, and it bears little resemblance to the final novel, most particularly in that there is no Darcy and Wickham seems set to play the hero. There are not many scenes in which Lizzy gets to speak directly with Jane Austen, but when she does, great truths about the writing process are revealed. I don't know if this aspect of the book would be as fascinating to a reader who does not write fiction, but I found myself laughing again and again over the writing truths Austen shares, making her feel relatable as a fellow writer, not just a distant, mythologized idol. A few examples:

"I've lost my way a little with the plot, and I'm not sure how to get it back."

"My characters are always springing out of nowhere; believe me, I have little control over them, but sometimes they are reticent to show themselves."

In the past, I have often lauded Ms. Odiwe's ability to encapsulate her painter's eye into her writing. While that eye is still definitely on display in Mr. Darcy's Christmas Calendar, I feel like she is showing us her writer-self, as channeled through Austen, in a manner not accessible in her previous work. I throughly enjoyed this book. I will return to it at future Christmases. It was a lovely way to get into the holiday spirit.

And do go check out the online Advent Calendar Ms. Odiwe has available on her blog. Better than chocolate: http://janeaustensequels.blogspot.com/2014/12/a-happy-mr-darcy-advent-calendar.html.

Jane, Actually by Jennifer Petkus

I admit to embarking on this book with a great deal of skepticism. I only bought it because it was available for free on Kindle at the time, and I needed reading material for my tip to San Francisco. Even then, I read every other book I had purchased for the occasion before (somewhat reluctantly) finally beginning this one. The introductory material seemed to justify my concerns: the ghost of Jane Austen communicating through the internet? Really? But then I got hooked ...

Jane, Actually or Jane Austen's Book Tour is premised on the notion that the afterlife, a maddeningly isolated state. has been scientifically proven, and a form of electronic communication, the AfterNet, constructed to allow the countless disembodied souls floating aimlessly through eternity to communicate with the living and each other. The idea is a bit farfetched, I know, and distinctly creepy (I can just imagine the NSA enlisting dead agents, a level of paranoia that the author, Jennifer Petkus, does not explore in this volume), but the notion of being able to communicate with the real Jane Austen is so unbelievably exciting that all my concerns and doubts were quickly swept away. Ms. Petkus does an admirable job of bringing Austen to life (excuse the term), while accounting for the experiences she must have encountered in the 200 years since her death. This is no longer a quiet country spinster, as much as her handlers strive to maintain that image. She has been on battlefields, travelled across the globe, and has a decided technology addiction (it is her only way of communicating, after all). Nevertheless, her portrayal is both believable and cozily familiar. The premise of the book focuses around the launch of her new book, a completed Sanditon. She uses an avatar (a paid actress named Mary Crawford, ironically) in order to communicate directly with an audience, and perhaps my favorite part of the book is her Keynote address at JASNA's AGM:

A well-known photo appeared on the screens showing a woman in Regency dress lounging by a pool with a cordless phone in her hands.

"This photo is so last century," Mary said with a sigh. "Look at the size of that cordless phone. I really must have a new picture taken."

This book is like a love letter from Jane to her Janeites. She forgives our trespasses on her work, even thanking us for them. In return, she's pretty much precisely what we wish her to be. There are many cameos by real Janeites, though at times the names have been changed to protect the innocent. As exciting as Jane's character is, the society of those around her is what keeps the story moving. She develops relationships with a wide swarth of humanity. There's Mary Crawford, the struggling actress, Melody Kramer, her gay agent and best friend, Dr. Alice David, Jane's internet nemesis, and many more, but the most important, I would argue, is Albert Ridings, her dead friend, who does not know she is the "real" Jane Austen but enjoys lively debates about her work online. Oh yes! Ms. Petkus provides Jane with a hero, and a most appropriate one, I think:

All this was new to Albert, this dissection of Austen. He had enjoyed Austen since his discovery of her while in hospital. His memory was that he held Persuasion in his hands as he drew his last breath, and that he died without the knowledge of the reunion of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth. It was not until two years later that he could confirm their happiness and it was one of the few joys he could remember from those dark days.  

It was understandable than, that his enjoyment of Austen was uncritical. She gave him joy and beauty at a time when he languished in the hell of the trenches and finally as he lay dying in the influenza ward. And over the decades, he had reread those six novels when ever he found someone enjoying them. He recalled the joy of finding someone reading Austen for the first time and enjoying her; and the misery of some dull elf reading her who did not understand her and did not appreciate her beauty.

The one part of the book I did find a bit lacking was the part from which I was anticipating deriving the most enjoyment: readings at book signings of the completed Sanditon, the launch of which drives the story. Ms. Petkus was working at a disadvantage here, as "Another Lady" has already completed Sanditon in a most satisfying manner (it is my absolute favorite piece of Austenesque literature). While Jane, Actually does not strive to actually provide a completely realized plot to Austen's last, unfinished novel, I couldn't help but compare the scenes shared with those of Another Lady's. I'm afraid anyone who takes on Sanditon in any manner will always be compared to the standard already set. It's not quite fair, I know, but it is the truth.

I highly recommend this amusing portrayal of ourselves, the Janeites, to ourselves. We deserve this gratifying romp with our idol through the modern world, and I thank Ms. Petkus for facilitating the experience. I will certainly return to enjoy it again.

Searching for Captain Wentworth by Jane Odiwe

Despite the appearance of grey cloud, briefly overhead, the sun decided to challenge the densest vapor, evaporating all into whipped confections like floating meringues in the cobalt sky. The sisters returned. Jane's mood was bright, but if anything she was overly talkative and I wasn't completely convinced that she was as happy as she appeared. She sat down a little way in front, looking out a the view across Bath. I watched Cassandra reach inside her basket producing a pocket sketchbook, a pencil, a bottle of water and a small box of paints.

"Do not move, Jane," she called. "I shall picture you for posterity ... a portrait of unwearied contemplation."

"Just as long as you do not paint my face!" Jane called, turning her back to us, arranging her dress and striking a pose.

"I would not dare ... I know how much you dislike sitting for me. No, I shall not ask you to turn. I shall capture the folds in the back of your gown instead and paint your elegant bonnet."

With swift strokes of her pencil, Jane's figure was outlined. Dressed in turquoise blue with her bonnet strings undone, she sat upon the grass, one neat little foot poking out from under her gown, her hand resting upon her knee. Only the most tantalizing curve of her cheek was displayed so it was impossible to guess her expression or sense any emotion. After a few minutes, she protested at sitting still for so long. Ignoring her sister's request to sit for five minutes longer, she was on her feet in a second and came over to my side. Ever restless, Jane held out her hand to me.

Cassandra Austen's portrait of her sister, Jane.

I begin my review of Jane Odiwe's newest book, Searching for Captain Wentworth, with this quote from the beginning of Chapter 23 because it is the kind of stuff to make a Janeite weep. I was already entranced by this novel when I came to this scene, having stayed up way past the time I ought to have already been asleep in order to read it, but this moment overwhelmed me. To be a fly on the wall when Cassandra Austen painted her enigmatic portrait of Jane! This book is as close as one will ever get.

I've read fictionalized accounts of Jane Austen before, but usually I find such portrayals disappointing. The best I came across prior to this book was Janet Mullaney's Jane and the Damned, but as Austen is a vampire in that novel, though a very engaging one, all sense of the historical figure gets submerged by fantasy. Not so here. Ms. Odiwe has brought my favorite writer to life in a way I have seen no one else accomplish, endowing her with nervous energy, a rebellious tongue, and infinite charm. She is just as I like to imagine her, and it was an absolute joy to spend three hundred pages in her presence.

But this book isn't about Jane Austen. The main character, Sophie Elliot, is a modern woman and an aspiring writer. After a bad breakup, she seeks refuge in the house her family has owned in Bath since the 18th century. Quickly discovering how she can pass from her own time into the Regency Era, she inhabits the body of her ancestor and namesake, who just so happens to live next door to the Austen family. At first her experiences terrify her, but Sophie finds the desire to return to the past irresistible, and even when she tries to remain in one time or the next, happenstance intervenes to send her hurtling back. One of the biggest lures of the 19th century is her growing friendship with Charles Austen, who is visiting his family while on leave from the Navy, but how can she allow herself to fall in love with a man who has been dead for two hundred years?

Ms. Odiwe's version of Cassandra's portrait

As I have read other novels featuring Austen as a character, so have I read Austenesque books involving time travel. Ms. Odiwe's stab at the genre is as good as the best of these, beautifully depicting a historical time and place. My husband and I (both confirmed food geeks) have an ongoing discussion regarding the value of sauces, and so I particularly got a kick out of this passage:

I chanced to look up from the plate of food that I wasn't entirely certain about. Everything had arrived on the table at once. Arranged symmetrically on white gilded Wedgewood with a laurel motif, the mahogany table gleamed under candlelight, bearing plates of salmon with bulging, glassy eyes, jellied tongue glistening with gelatine, Florentine rabbits complete with heads and furry ears, oily mackerel that stared at me balefully from my plate. Was it my imagination or was the green gooseberry preserve that covered it doing more to disguise the fact that the fish had not seen the sea for quite some time?

Though the food be rancid, there is so much to relish in this book! Truly something for everyone, Searching for Captain Wentworth beautifully combines echoes of Persuasion with paranormal fantasy and history. Reality interposes as well. Ms. Odiwe has been championing The Rice Portrait of Jane Austen (featured on the book's cover) on her blog for some time now, and the painting itself plays a role in her plot. Her depiction of Jane Austen also seems inspired by it, as in this first description of the authoress: "The girl whose broad smile reached her twinkling eyes had round rosy cheeks like a painted doll and unruly chestnut curls dancing under the brim of her bonnet in the breeze." Ms. Odiwe's novels usually feature artwork and very appropriately, as Ms. Odiwe is the artist behind some of the most touching Austen inspired renderings I have seen. One of my favorites is her version of Cassnadra's portrait, in which she shows Jane glancing back at us. This book is like that painting, provinding a tantalizing glimpse of Jane. Paintings like Cassandra's watercolor and The Rice Portrait provide a foundation for Ms. Odiwe's story, bridging the distance between past and present.

Cassandra & Jane Austen, imagined by Ms. Odiwe

If you have not had the pleasure of reading Ms. Odiwe's books, let me recommend them to you with enthusiasm. I have loved each of her novels, from Lydia Bennet's Story (one of the first Austenesque books I ever read, which is why I never reviewed it on this blog, even though it is amongst my favorites) and Willoughby's Return (which was one of my first reviews) to Mr. Darcy's Secret. Each is an entirely different undertaking from the next, and  is a remarkable addition to an already diverse body of work. I cannot wait to find out in what manner Ms. Odiwe will delight us next! 

Jane Austen Made Me Do It: "Heard of You" by Margaret C. Sullivan, "The Ghostwriter" by Elizabeth Aston, and "Mr. Bennet Meets His Match" by Amanda Grange

Today my daughter started preschool. Though I am feeling immense separation anxiety, the couple of days a week she will be so occupied gives me much needed time to catch up on my life, including pursuit of my Austen related interests. Therefore, I suddenly have the time to review more than one story from Jane Austen Made Me Do It at a time, and as I just completed three delightful stories in a row, all by writers I have long admired, I will address all three here. The first, "Heard of You" by Margaret C. Sullivan, whose book There Must be Murder (read my review here) is by far the best piece of Northanger Abbey Austenesque I have yet encountered, is a prequel to Persuasion, focused on how Admiral and Mrs. Croft met and fell in love. This was such a great notion for a story - recounting how one of the happiest married couples in Austen came together - while portraying Wentworth in his early days as a midshipman. I particularly appreciated how Ms. Sullivan captured Admiral Croft's (a mere Commander in our story) unique voice: "A fine day for sailing, is not it? And if we are lucky, the French wil stop skulking about and come out boldly to meet us, and then we shall have a fine battle." His joviality and enthusiasm for his profession are beautifully rendered. It is an endearing story which I highly recommend.

The next story is "The Ghostwriter" by Elizabeth Aston, author of the Mr. Darcy's Daughters series of books (excellent fun!), a tale which brings long deceased writers into the present to haunt failing writers and inspire them to greatness. In this case, one Miss Jane Austen appears before rabid Janeite Sara, whose obsession has destroyed her relationship. Miss Austen not only provides a much needed swift kick in the you know what, but also a heavy dose of reality. This is what she has to say on the subject of Mr. Darcy as an idealized man:

"I myself am Mr. Darcy. Had I been born male instead of female, and in affluent circumstances, I would have been just such a man: reserved, proud, and clever. And no doubt have made some women's life a misery. Put him out of your head, or at least leave him on the page where he belongs and, as you say today, get a life."

I love that! This story is very cute, and I adore the representation of Austen, but I do have two bones to pick with Ms. Aston. The first regards Sara, who perhaps did need to learn not to compare real men with Mr. Darcy, but she certainly did not need to settle for Charles, the so-called hero of our little tale. He is, quite frankly, an ass. I would also like to mention that if there was a locket floating around containing a lock of Jane Austen's hair, a pivotal item in this story, it would be worth far more than 5,000 pounds.

Finally I come to "Mr. Bennet Meets His Match" by Amanda Grange, the author of so many diaries by Austen heroes and, more recently, Mr. Wickham (in my TBR list). So often we dwell on the problems with the marriage between Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, while this story refreshingly considers the benefits of the match. Also a prequel, the tale reflects back on the pressures Mr. Bennet labored under when looking for a wife, creating a reasonable scenario for why he made the choice he did. The story echoes many of the episodes from Pride and Prejudice, particularly those enacted between Mrs. Bennet and her daughters and Mr. Collins unwelcome visit to Longbourn. I thought this series of musings from a Miss Jane Gardiner particularly poignant in the development of her latter character:

A large estate or a red coat? Happy were Jane's deliberations as the carriage took her home. Should she marry Captain Quentin or should she marry Mr. Bennet? In her mind's eye she saw both men proposing, and pictured herself, first as the wife of an officer, established in neat lodgings, and then as the wife of a landowner, established in Longbourn, the finest house in the neighborhood.


At that, the image began to fade. Much as he liked her - and she had not been mistaken, she was sure he did like her - and much as she liked him, he would never marry her. What, Jane Gardiner, daughter of a country attorney, to be the mistress of Longbourn? Such things only happened in fairy tales.

This story is definitely one of my favorites in the collection so far. It not only humanizes the Bennets, it also dwells on the very real difficulties an entail posed for a family. And as the entire thing is told in a tone worthy of Austen, I can say little more than an ardent "Brava" to Ms. Grange. It is my favorite thing I have ever read by her. 

Stay tuned for more reviews as I slowly make my way through this fabulous book, definitely the best collection of Austen inspired short stories I have come across. A hearty congratulations to Laurel Ann Nattress of Austenprose for compiling this treasure.

Jane Austen Made Me Do It: "A Night at Northanger" by Lauren Willig

I wrote this post in mid November and never published it. Oh this disordered Mommy brain of mine!

As I slowly make my way through Jane Austen Made Me Do It, beautifully edited by Laurel Ann Nattress of Austenprose fame, I felt the need to go back and review a story I had previously determined not to: "A Night at Northanger" by Lauren Willig. The tale has grown on me while lingering in my mind ever since I finished it a few weeks ago. Though I was immediately impressed with Ms. Willig's writing (which I had been meaning toexplore for quite sometime), the premise she sets for this story initially left me a bit discombobulated. It begins with our main character Cate, a disgruntled television personality working on a ghost hunting show, descending with her crew upon Northanger Abbey, home of Mr. Moreland Tilney-Tilney, whom I presume to be the horribly inbred descendant of Austen's hero and heroine. Though Cate has absolutely no belief in ghosts, she and her companions are predetermined to uncover something terrifying in the old Abbey, regardless of their host's goodnatured insistence that the house is far from haunted: "...you mean that rubbish by the lady novelist! Frightfully famous, too, can't think of her name at the moment. Crashing bore, all this dance and that aunt and who's going to marry whom. Don't go in for that sort of thing myself." So it is to Cate's immense surprise that she meets a very real apparition, demanding to know what she is doing in her room and prepared to dole out life advice.

As mentioned above, the notion of a paranormal reality show in the context of an Austen tribute jarred me at first. I really can't stand that sort of programming and was unable to conjure up any sympathy for Cate, who repeatedly laments the fact that she has yet to become the next Barbara Walters, but then the ghost showed up to entrance me. I do not want to completely spoil the story, so let me just quote the extremely sage career advice that the ghost provides a somewhat befuddled Cate:

"An independence," mused the apparition. "Not something at which one would sneer. Even so..." She seated herself on a chair that wasn't there and looked thoughtfully at a fire that wasn't lit. "Poverty is a great evil, but to a woman of education and feeling, it ought not, it cannot be, the worse."

This story keeps running through my head - haunting me, one might say. I've now reread it twice and imagine I will continue to come back for more. The notion of conversing with this particular ghost is so appealing; I keep wondering how she would advise me on the cares and concerns I encounter each day. When I do finally find more time to read again I will definitely move on reading some of Ms. Willig's Pink Carnation books, which had loitered in my TBR pile for far too long. 

Dearest Cousin Jane by Jill Pitkeathley

I ordered a copy of Dearest Cousin Jane book, despite the ire that Jill Pitkeathley's earlier book, Cassandra and Jane (read my review here), roused in me, because I could not resist the notion of a novel primarily focused upon that infinitely fascinating actor in all Austen biographies, Eliza Hancock de Feuillide Austen. This glamorous cousin and later sister-in-law of Jane's must intrigue any who read her biographies. As Lady Pitkeathkey (as in my previous review of her work, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of using her formal title) succinctly summarizes in the Afterward, which begins with emphasizing the limited scope of Austen's life experiences:

[Jane's] first cousin Eliza, by contrast, led a most eventful life. Born in India , quite possibly the illegitimate daughter of the great Warren Hastings, who stood trial for treason, she frequented the Frech court of King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette before the Revolution, married a French Comte wo was executed in the Reign of Terror, escaped capture herself by the mob on two occasions, mixed with the cream of London society, was a brilliant hostess, and eventually married Jane's favorite brother before dying of breast cancer before she was fifty.

Such a story cannot but fascinate, and I am pleased to say that I found this latest novel far more satisfying than its predecessor. It is told largely in a diary-esque format, switching from one teller's perspective to the next, and supplemented by both fictional letters and excerpt from real correspondence. The most prominent voices represented are those of Eliza, Jane, their cousin Philly Walter, Mary Lloyd Austen, and Henry Austen, though many members of the family are given the opportunity to express their perspectives. I was particularly amused by Lady Pitkeathley's projecting upon Philly a temperament akin to Aunt Norris', a similarity she has Jane herself acknowledge (in speaking of the planned cast of Mansfield Park, she says, "one is so crotchety as to put us all in mind of cousin Philly"), and casting Mary as a cross between Mary Musgrove ("It is always my luck to miss out whenever anything pleasant is occurring") and Fanny Dashwood. These likenesses are a bit bizarre in light of the fact that, throughout the novel, Jane denies drawing characters from real life, but I find I can be lenient with this inconsistency.

Just like Lady Pitkeathley's previous book, this book cannot be taken as strict biography, but I found its fictionalizing of historical fact far less troubling than I did in the that earlier attempt, even though Jane and Cassandra's characters are clearly premised upon the former representation. I believe this is due to the fact that the story stays within the confines of Eliza's lifespan and remains largely focused upon her. There is just far less personal attachment and preconceived notions to be offended in regards to this character than there was with Cassandra, from whose perspective Cassandra and Jane was written. Furthermore, Lady Pitkeathley's focus on Eliza as a major influence upon Jane is not only believable, but also an idea easily supported by the biographical information that exists. She paints an endearing and sympathetic portrait of this fascinating character, and I am happy to be able to warmly recommend it to all Janeites.

One last thought. In my review of Cassandra and Jane I expounded upon my frustration that Lady Pitkeathley seemed to express in that book opinions disparaging to writers of JAFF. While nothing in the text of Dearest Cousin Jane similarly offended me, there was one statement in the Afterward that hinted at a similarly dismissive attitude. It is, in fact, the sentence immediately preceeding the one I quoted at the beginning of this post:

Yet from that limited experience [Austen] wrote six almost perfect novels that are world famous, constantly analysed, always at the top of any favourite novel list, and that provide endless material not only for academic study but for popular films and television adaptation.

I only mention it because of the noticeable absence, in this list of "endless material", of fiction writers, amongst whom I would readily rank Lady Pitkeathley. Clearly she continues to consider her pursuits academic rather than this apparently sad thing we lesser writers engage in called fan fiction. Such sentiments make me feel like the recipient of one of Lady Catherine's sincere and frank set downs, and having declared so much, like Elizabeth Bennet, I have nothing further to say.

Jane and the Damned by Janet Mullany

I'm always a bit skeptical of literary "mashups" but have nonetheless found my way to reading several, and even enjoying a few. However, books featuring Jane Austen as a character, especially a vampire, have held very little appeal to me. Generally, I kind of find the entire genre of 21st century vampire novels kind of offensive. Who are these kindhearted, vegetarian creatures? Certainly not the descendants of Dracula! But when I heard that Jane Austen, as represented by Janet Mullany in Jane and the Damned, was everything a fierce vampire ought and should be, I decided to open my mind and purchase a copy. I'm very happy I did. I still had some qualms with the novel (it's rare when I don't), but I read it in a single day, barely able to put the book down, completely entranced by this story of Jane fighting an invading French army in the streets of Bath.

There's my first qualm, by the way, and one I knew would be an issue for me before even turning to page one. What on Earth is Napoleon's army doing invading England, somehow penetrating one of the most effective naval blockades in military history? I am a complete and total anglophile, and the notion disgusts me. I can't imagine what actual British people think about this revisionist history (of course, there are also vampires roaming about as an accepted part of society, so I'm probably being a bit inane in my protests). While the invasion did not hinder my enjoyment of the story, the image of a guillotine in England made my skin crawl with disgust. Nevertheless, it provides an explanation for Jane's motivation in this story, and certainly made for riveting reading, all while giving her ample opportunity to indulge her animal instincts, as in this, rather messy, first kill:

"Eh, ma petite, you walk alone?" His voice rasped. "You like to welcome a Frenchman to your town, yes?"


She hid the knife in the folds of her gown and waited. She could smell his blood now that he was closer, hear the excited thrum of his heart. As though afraid she backed against the railings that led down to the front area of her aunt and uncle's house.


He laughed and lunged at her. He was against her now, almost overwhelming her with his stink and lust and the heat of his blood, grabbing at her skirts. She raised one hand and ripped at his stock and jacket, tearing the fabric-how strong she was, how powerful-and lunged for his neck beneath the greasy pomade-scented black hair.


Now she was the one who attacked. He yelled in fear and the musket clattered to the ground.


"Silence, s'il vous plait!" she hissed at him, looking into his eyes as blood pulsed from his neck-what a waste!-and to her relief his expression became dreamy and distant. He slackened in her grip as she drank, blood spilled over them both, darkening her gown and apron, his boots scrabbling on the flagstones for purchase until he collapsed beneath her.

Now that's a real vampire!

The story begins at a Basingstoke assembly. A few of the "Damned" have amused themselves by making an appearance (in a bizarre parody of the Bingleys and Darcy's attendance at the Meryton assembly), and Jane has an unfortunate encounter with one such specimen, rendering her one of their ilk. She confesses her state to her father, who rushes his daughter to Bath, the waters in this tale having far greater curative powers than are typically attributed to them. But then the French arrive, quickly subjugating the town, and with her increased strength and prowess, Jane decides to delay her treatment until the invaders are defeated, aligning herself with a group of vampires dedicated to this cause, under the aegis of two very old and powerful leaders: a Mr. Luke Venning, who proves to be the hero of our tale, and her creator, William. The result is an exciting and thoroughly romantic tale. Highlights include Ms. Mullany's depiction of the Prince Regent, who, ironically, becomes good friends with Jane (he too, has become a vampire), and Reign of Terror styled court proceedings, which allow our dear authoress to amply display her intrepidity. I wish the battle scenes were a bit more developed, but otherwise Ms. Mullany does an excellent job of bringing this alternative reality to life.

This brings me to qualm number two, but as it cannot be discussed without spoiling the end, I suggest you either abandon this post now or continue at your own risk. Once the French are ousted (that's not the spoiler, just the inevitable), Jane must decided whether to take the cure or remain a vampire. She decides in favor of the former, largely based on the fact that her ability to write has almost completely disappeared during her stint as one of the Damned. Fans of her novels are expected, I suppose, to breath a sigh of relief that she does not abandon a legendary career, but I was actually disappointed. Again and again, throughout the course of the novel, the freedoms and empowerment that Jane gains as a vampire are emphasized. I cannot think that the Jane Austen I know through her novels would ever give up such an opportunity to escape the rigid confinements of her genteel, spinster lifestyle, especially when she is forced to relinquish true love in the process. My heart ached for both her and Luke Venning when she makes this unfathomable decision. However, I have heard a rumor that Ms. Mullany is working on a sequel, so maybe there is hope for Jane and Luke yet. I do hope so. They make a fabulous, bloodsucking couple.