Janespotting: Aunt Celia by Jane Gillespie

Jane Gillespie is one of those authors who has dipped into almost all of Austen's works as inspiration for her own, including a fun if forgettable take on Mansfield Park, a look at the naughtiest characters from Northanger Abbey, and a sweet, witty take on one of the neglected characters from Sense and Sensibility. So how would she approach our lovely Emma and her shenanigans?

Again, Gillespie eschews he main character and follows one of the more overlooked characters from the original, Mr. Weston, father of Frank Churchill and husband of "poor Miss Taylor," Emma's former governess. This novel opens almost two decades after Emma, with the widowed Mr. Weston and his nearly-adult daughter, Celia, anticipating a visit from Frank and Jane Churchill and their large family. Celia wonders if she still will be friends with the Churchills' eldest daughter Stella, who is two years younger and livelier than her "Aunt" Celia.

Besides these visitors, who are staying at the larger Donwell Abbey, the Westons are hosting the widow Mrs. Petteril. Mr. Weston, a kind soul, thinks Celia needs female company after her mother's death. Celia would be just as happy to spend her time cheering her father, because Mrs. Petteril is not a very sympathetic lady. In fact, the impoverished widow is scheming to have her wastrel son Henry marry Celia, and then marry Mr. Weston herself.

While Celia manages to escape these machinations—mostly—she does not find comfort with her relations, either. Her Uncle Frank is rather severe (family life has made him responsible and boring), and her Aunt Jane is occupied with her younger children. The Churchill boys are a bit rambunctious, and barely under the control of their tutor, James Aske, who hopes to devote some of his time to poetry. Stella is a bit of a flirt and a flibbertigibbet, and enjoys teasing James about his ambitions; she is egged on by Henry, who has his own plans to find a rich wife. Celia is sympathetic to James, and is further intrigued when his brother, Captain Aske, shows up to drag his younger brother back home to their parents Lord and Lady Langleigh. Nobility? Oh my!

Captain Aske is a rather humorous, straightforward type. There is no urgent reason for him to bring James home, except that he has promised to do it and is impatient to finish the job. A chance meeting with Stella in the village leads him to enlist her help by passing a message to James. The message goes astray and causes a misunderstanding; in her panic Stella lies and says Celia was the intended target of improper intentions. She runs away and is taken in by Henry, who runs away with her. She is not discovered as missing until Celia has managed to be falsely accused of involvement with three different men and cleared her name. The serious Captain Aske takes the blame and goes in pursuit; Celia discovers James is intrigued by her as well; and Stella is returned home, abashed, unblemished, and ready to settle down.

Scheming villains, innocent maidens wrongly accused, and happy endings with wealthy and handsome young men ... we can check off many of the elements that make a good Austenish read. This one had the added benefit of a very appealing heroine; Celia is considerate and patient (without being a doormat), so seeing her triumph over the plans of selfish people to make herself and her family happy was a pleasure to read. So another thumbs up for a Gillespie "sequel": fun if not earthshaking.

Janespotting: A Visit to Highbury by Jane Austen-Leigh

To begin my review of the various sequels to Emma, it's only appropriate I start with this one penned by Austen's own great-great-great-grandniece. A Visit to Highbury is subtitled "another view of Emma," and that's exactly what this provides, retelling the story from the point of view of Mrs. Goddard, who runs the school that Harriet Smith attends. The novel is epistolary, meaning it is told entirely in letters, which can provide charm but also have limitations.

Because Mary Goddard is well outside Emma's inner circle—she is the one left keeping Mr. Woodhouse company when Emma goes off to parties without him—her view of the novel's events is fairly tangential. But she speculates and passes along gossip in letters to her sister Charlotte Pinkney, who is living in London with her new husband and wondering if she has made the right decision in marrying him. In her letters back to Mary, she clamors for more gossip, looking for ways to entertain herself because her husband treats her as merely a housekeeper. Mary complies, speculating about the mysteries of why Mr. Elton has suddenly run off to Bath, who gave Jane Fairfax a piano, and why Frank Churchill has stayed away from Highbury so long. She also admonishes the tart-tongued Charlotte to be more dutiful and open towards her husband.

In Charlotte's letters, we get a few outside views of events, as the Pinkneys share an apothecary with John and Isabella Knightley, and on a trip to Bath they encounter the future Mrs. Elton and her family. Mostly, however, Charlotte Pinkney writes of her growing accommodation with her husband and their new friendship with a young girl who is being mistreated at the girls' school next door. She claims their sympathy by being the daughter of a missing naval officer and by sharing the name of Charlotte, and gains their friendship because of her sweet nature. As the elder Charlotte makes small overtures to Mr. Pinkney on the younger one's behalf, she discovers there is more depth to him than she had bothered to notice, and they grow closer. Mrs. Pinkney even shares the mysteries of Highbury with her husband, who has some very perspicacious theories.

The novel concludes with several happy endings: besides the three matches in Austen's Emma, we get one for the young Charlotte, whose father reappears and can bless her match with a young naval officer. We also get true love between Mrs. Pinkney and her husband, an expected baby, and—most desired throughout the book—an upcoming visit between the two sisters, which brings an end to their letters.

I found this a charming little novel, approaching Austen in tone and wit and giving a little embroidery to the events of Emma. Mrs. Pinkney is open enough in her letters to make her an interesting character, while the gently chiding Mrs. Goddard keeps a bit of the formal flavor of an Austen novel. If you're the kind of Austen fan who hates to see people take liberties with the original characters, this is the kind of "sequel" for you.

Janespotting: Clueless

So about the same time the Austen film renaissance began in the mid-1990s appeared this teenage comedy from writer-director Amy Heckerling, starring Alicia Silverstone as a privileged California teen. Not all reviews acknowledged it (and it wasn't in the credits), but Heckerling freely admitted she stole liberally from the plot of Emma for her film. Standing in place of Emma is Cher: a pampered rich girl who is queen of her high school but is not interested in high school boys, whom she considers "dogs." She skates along on charm, wrapping her daddy around her finger, and when she can't get her cranky debate teacher to change her grade, she tries to fix him up with history teacher. With a little makeover from Cher, the ruse works, cheering her teacher and boosting her grade. Looking on with disapproval—and standing in for Mr. Knightley—is Cher's stepbrother Josh, a college student she calls "granola breath" who is always chastising her for her shallow selfishness.

Feeling cheered by her good deed in matching her teachers, Cher adopts the new girl/Harriet Smith-analog Tai, who is kinda grungy and attracted to a slacker student. Cher and her best friend make Tai over, then try  to set her up with classmate Elton, who admires a picture of Tai Cher has taken. As in the original, Elton is admiring the artist, not the subject, and when the three go to a party he engineers giving Cher a ride home, makes a move on her, then shows he is too snobby to be interested in Tai. After Cher ditches him, she gets robbed and has Josh come rescue her. Cher shows she has a bit of a brain by correcting Josh's obnoxious girlfriend, who is misquoting Hamlet.

The Frank Churchill role is filled by a new boy at school named Christian. He has a rat pack vibe and Cher is  interested in a date although it's clear to the audience he is gay. (This neatly avoids too many characters by cancelling the need for a Jane Fairfax analog.) They take Tai to a party with Josh's friends, where Josh dances with Tai because she looks lonely. Tai is rescued again while shopping with Cher, when Christian rescues her from some pranking boys. Tai's story makes her popular, to Cher's detriment, and things go downhill as Josh criticizes her again and she flunks her driving test.

Making things worse is Tai's request that Cher help her charm Josh, when Cher thought she wanted Christian. Being no demure Harriet, Tai calls Cher "a virgin who can't drive" when Cher hesitates and the two quarrel. Just as Emma suddenly discovered her feelings for Mr. Knightley, Cher has a sudden realization she wants to be with Josh. She doesn't know how to act around him, so she undertakes a "makeover for the soul" by organizing disaster relief. She also makes up with Tai and encourages her to pursue the slacker boy. The denouement travels far from Austen, as there's no question of Josh's Knightley-analog being in love with someone else. With all the bickering between the two, however, it's not clear he knows his own feelings, so instead Heckerling shows the two working on research for her dad's court case. When another lawyer chides Cher for screwing up, Josh comforts her and they confess their feelings—and we have a cute rom-com ending.

Although "Clueless" is built on the skeleton of Austen's plot for Emma, it's totally a typical teen comedy of the time. There is partying and drinking, an emphasis on brand names and fashion (even satirically so), and practically invisible adults. And yet, the dialogue is a cut above what you might expect from a teen comedy, with lots of big words; one character even comments, "Wow, you guys talk like grownups." The reply: "Well, this is a really good school."

As a teen comedy Clueless is fun—especially with Silverstone's charming portrayal of Cher—and maybe a little deeper than the usual raunchy teen flick. As an Austen adaptation, it's an interesting curiosity, showing how many of Austen's themes and even character types are timeless.

Janespotting: Emma (2010 miniseries)

So a few years ago, PBS presented a whole season of Austen adaptations, five of them new ones. (Pride & Prejudice being the lone exception, of course. You don't mess with your audience.) And despite having two relatively new versions of Emma barely more than ten years old, the powers that be (in this case the BBC) decreed it was time for a new one—and why not, if you're going to make it a miniseries?

With almost four hours to tell the story, we're treated to a relatively faithful telling of the story, plus lots of scenes that further develop both major and minor characters. Most important is the opening that contrasts the early childhoods of Emma, Frank Weston, and Jane Fairfax. We see all three lose their mothers, but Emma is kept at home while Frank (now Frank Churchill) and Jane are sent away from loving homes for their own good. This is a very effective contrast, and further scenes of Emma as an older child hearing Miss Bates natter on about Jane, with another nattering 7 years later, make her distaste for Jane a little more understandable.

Another added scene is of a young Emma claiming to see a future match between John Knightley and Isabella—something Mr. Knightley finds ridiculous—but she is proven right at their wedding, also shown. Although this doesn't happen in the book, it gives her self-confidence in matchmaking an added boost, especially after she foresees the wedding of Miss Taylor and Mr. Weston. We might find Emma a bit insufferable by now, but we also get a scene portraying Emma's loneliness after Miss Taylor marries and leaves, making her a bit more sympathetic.

With this leisurely pace, we don't even meet Harriet Smith until over 20 minutes in. We do get to see the discussion between Mr. Knightley and Mrs. Weston over Emma's friendship with Harriet (although not the line about Knightley wanting to see Emma in love with some doubt of return, boo). He seems to agree with her advice not to press Emma about it, but when Emma helps Harriet reject Robert Martin (whom we see apply to Mr. Knightley for advice in an earlier scene), he can't help but start a big argument. At first he seems more frustrated than angry, but the discussion becomes very heated, as only true friends can argue. "Men don't want wives who argue," Knightley tells Emma, adding that "Harriet and Robert are not your dolls" and warning she will regret her meddling. As the first hour ends, we see the argument has made Emma thoughtful.

The second hour begins with the Christmas party at the Westons; the scenes are quite amusing, showing Emma's growing realization that Mr. Elton is making a play for her. As we had seen her before being very giggly with Harriet over the match, we also see her truly upset at Harriet's disappointment. There are also some very amusing moments, for instance when Emma has not received an invitation to the Coles' party and discusses it with Mr. Knightley. They have some very witty exchanges, with Knightley sometimes sarcastic in response to Emma's silliness—but always amused, never nasty.

The rest follows fairly closely to the plot of the book, but that isn't what I like best about this version. The miniseries format gives it a steady pace and depth that allows the film to portray both Emma and Mr. Knightley's growing feelings for each other. At the Coles' party, we see Emma very thoughtful as she considers Mrs. Weston's idea that Mr. Knightley gave Jane Fairfax a piano. When Emma is upset at the upstart Mrs. Elton and complains to Mr. Knightley, we see how he wishes she could get out and experience more of the world. We also see Mr. Knightley's growing jealousy of Frank Churchill—although after he dances with Emma at the ball, he shouldn't need to worry, as the scene wonderfully hints at the pair's growing feelings for each other, as do the scenes of both remembering the dance.

The casting and acting is also uniformly good, with care in all the minor roles. Jane Fairfax is quiet and reserved, as she should be, but we do see occasional hints of more as she reads Frank's letters or gets excited about the ball. We get additional scenes with the Bateses, and Miss Bates is appropriately dignified and flighty. Mr. Elton is suitably obsequious and ingratiating, while Mrs. Elton is infuriatingly interfering. And finally! We have a Harriet that looks the part, a sweet round face framed by lovely blond curls. Although she is obviously inexperienced and inferior in wit to Emma, we can also see her improvement in sense and sophistication over the film, enough that you might actually believe a sensible gentleman could overlook her background or her more polished friend.

Best of all the minor characters is Michael Gambon, better known as Professor Dumbledore in the later Harry Potter films; he is terrific as missish Mr. Woodhouse, obsessing over cake and health risks. In other versions the character can seem somewhat peevish, but Gambon shows his worry as grounded in losing the ones he loves, and we see him genuinely doting upon Emma and his family. To emphasize this, John Knightley's grumpy worrying provides an amusing counter to Mr. Woodhouse's loving concern.

BBC/PBS Masterpiece

Of course, the film really belongs to the two actors who play Emma and Mr. Knightley, Romola Garai and Jonny Lee Miller. I had never seen Garai in anything before, but I particularly liked her approach to the character. She made Emma able to hold her own with Mr. Knightley without seeming bratty, and really captured the combination of overconfidence and inexperience that makes the character. As for Jonny Lee Miller, he is not very tall, or darkly handsome, but I do believe he is my favorite Mr. Knightley. After all, Mr. Knightley is not supposed to be a lofty dreamboat like Mr. Darcy; he's the steady guy who's the treasure that's been under your nose for a long time but you were too stupid to see it. And as Miller plays him, we see his steadiness, his frustration (rather than anger), and his journey as he realizes the friend he has guided for so long means more to him than just a friend. I guess the Emma and Knightley in this version feel more like real, complicated people who evolve, rather than characters who follow a prescribed plot. This is the version that makes me understand why some people might find Emma their favorite Austen novel, so I recommend it if you're a fan.

Janespotting: Emma (1996 TV film)

Not long after the feature film version of Emma came out in 1996, this BBC adaptation appeared on American television. Although it was written by Andrew Davies, the same screenwriter who penned the previous year's Pride and Prejudice miniseries, this version was only two hours long. Nonetheless, the film opens with a scene that isn't in the book but is crucial to the conclusion: someone robbing a hen house and stealing chickens.

We are then very quickly taken through Emma and Harriet's interactions with Mr. Elton—we get no "courtship" puzzle to encourage them—and after just 20 minutes we are at the start of the Weston party, where Emma finally realizes that Elton has been courting her, not Harriet. Despite skimming over a lot of the Elton story, the film does take time to show Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley discussing Emma's relationship with Harriet (he thinks it is a bad idea), and throw in the line from the book that Mr. Knightley should like to see Emma "in love, and in some doubt of a return." I don't know why more adaptations don't use this line—probably because it suggests that Mr. Knightley is not thinking of Emma as a match for himself at this point— but I like it because it's nice ironic foreshadowing.

In any case, we swiftly get Emma's soon-broken vow to stop matchmaking, our first visits from Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill, the introduction of Mrs. Elton, and the events on Box Hill. The strawberry party is left out entirely (or else mashed together with Box Hill so thoroughly I didn't recognize it), which is no great loss, as the two events are rather similar. We do get a scene of Jane Fairfax weeping in a field, cluing us in to the revelation to come. However, in this version we don't see Emma really encourage Harriet in her new infatuation, which Emma thinks is for Frank Churchill but is really for Mr. Knightley, no comment that "raising your thoughts to him is a mark of good taste." This may seem like a minor quibble, but without it, Emma's discovery that she and Harriet love the same man loses a bit of effectiveness.

All is resolved happily, of course, and we get an added coda not in the book: a harvest dinner in which Emma gives an invitation to Robert Martin and sisters and gets to dance again with Mr. Knightley. The final scene is of more chicken raiding—so crucial to getting Mr. Woodhouse to agree to the marriage, as my college professor stressed when we read the book. I won't quibble with these additions, as they help illustrate the change in Emma's character while bringing the story full circle.

So the plot condensation had some pluses and minuses. What about the casting and acting? As Emma, Kate Beckinsale—the lone brunette to play the role—conveys a real sense of youth and inexperience, and is very good at conveying Emma's interior confusion and doubt when things don't turn out the way she expects. She's probably the most likeable Emma on film, although that may not be truest to the character.

Mark Strong is brooding and attractive, but his Mr. Knightley is very angry in arguing with Emma, almost uncomfortably so. He seems better suited to Mr. Darcy than Mr. Knightley, whom Austen describes as having "a cheerful manner, which always did him good." Raymond Coulthard's Frank Churchill has much the look of Ewan McGregor's, with charm and amiability but a little less smarm (and much better hair). The jewel here is Olivia Williams as Jane Fairfax, who is very good at showing subtle hints of her fondness for Frank Churchill. The screenplay also wisely includes her comment comparing the "governess trade" to the slave trade, giving her more wit than most adaptations, which make Jane as insipid as Emma thinks she is.

The one real drawback, again, is the miscasting of Harriet. Again, I remind you of Austen's description of the  "very pretty" Harriet: "She was short, plump, and fair, with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great sweetness." While Samantha Morton is a very good actress with two Oscar nominations to her credit, and as such gives Harriet the right temperament, her face is thin and sharp-featured, foxy rather than plump. Compared to Kate Beckinsale's radiantly elegant Emma, Harriet looks plain, again making it hard for me to believe that men would overlook her dubious background, or that Emma might believe she is a serious competitor for Knightley's attention.

So all in all, I think I prefer the other 1996 adaptation to this one, which doesn't have quite the wit and easiness of the Gwyneth Paltrow version. It's definitely worth a viewing, though, especially for comparison purposes. If you're at all interested in the mechanics of story, it's always a fun exercise to see what someone thinks are the essential elements when they create their adaptation.

Janespotting: Emma (1996 film)

Among the cinematic Austen revival of the mid-1990s were two versions of Emma, both released in 1996. The first was released in theaters and was written and directed by American Douglas McGrath, who had previously written Bullets over Broadway with Woody Allen. It was also the first starring role for Gwyneth Paltrow, whose performance made many people wonder where this British actress had come from (America, it turns out).

At under two hours, there was quite a bit of condensing necessary. I found this version very well-paced, with the first half hour showing Emma's romantic machinations, all in a very playful manner. In one sequence, the director made several clever cuts, taking the subjects from one scene to another mid-sentence, quickly continuing the thought and the story. Of course, other events are combined or simplified. The gypsy attack happens to Harriet and Emma, rather than Harriet and a classmate we never see again, and the film combines the events of the strawberry party and the Box Hill outing. Finally, as Emma struggles with the news that Harriet believes Mr. Knightley cares for her, she discusses her feelings with Mrs. Weston, writes in her diary, and says a prayer for him "to at least stay single." These events aren't in the novel, but they dramatize Emma's change of heart very well and contribute to continued good pacing.

Neither was the screenplay slavish in reproducing Austen's dialogue. Although this meant no "If I loved you less I could talk about it more" line (sigh), there were quite a few witty gems in there. On our first encounter with Miss Bates, she tells Mr. Elton, "Your sermon on Daniel left us quite speechless, we could not stop talking about it!", encapsulating her character perfectly. And there are several amusing exchanges between Emma and Mr. Knightley; the scene where they argue about Harriet and Robert Martin takes place during an archery practice at Donwell Abbey. As Emma's aim gets worse during the argument, Mr. Knightley murmurs "try not to kill my dogs," with a fond smile.

I thought this version did a very good job of portraying the genuine affection between Emma and Mr. Knightley, as he is instructive and never angry, not even after Box Hill, when he sounds frustrated. Of course, that might be due to Jeremy Northam, who is yummy yummy dreamy and brings the right sense of brotherliness, exasperation, and playfulness to role. (Although I'm not sure Mr. Knightley should be so yummy yummy dreamy.)

Gwyneth Paltrow is pretty good as Emma, with the right mix of sincerity and brattiness and her emotions easy to read on her face—maybe a little too easy, though, as it wasn't a very subtle performance. Most of the minor characters are very good, with some stellar Brit actors: Alan Cumming has right mix of smarm and solicitousness as Mr. Elton, and Juliet Stevenson is perfect as tacky, imposing upstart Mrs. Elton. Sophie Thompson (sister of actress Emma) brings out the silly and the dignified in Miss Bates, and Ewan MacGregor gives Frank Churchill the right mix of vivacity and secrecy, although he has to act while wearing one of the nastiest wigs I have ever seen.

The one serious flaw in casting is in Toni Collette as Harriet Smith. While I think she's a wonderful actress, with her own quirky attractiveness, she doesn't match Austen's description at all: "She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great sweetness." Collette is not plump (her face is more angular), nor does she have regular features or light hair. Plus, she plays Harriet with a slight dippiness that makes Harriet completely overshadowed by Paltrow's elegant Emma. Harriet is supposed to be pretty and charming enough for Emma to think that men will overlook her dubious background, and in this case I didn't buy it.

Still, this version was fast-paced and witty enough for me to enjoy it very much. It got to the essential bits of the story, and for the most part kept my favorite parts from the book. If you only have a couple of hours to introduce yourself to Emma, this is a good place to start.

Janespotting: Emma (1972 miniseries)

As one of Austen's most popular novels, Emma has been adapted for film and television multiple times, including twice in 1996 alone. I doubt I'll be able to view all of these adaptations, considering the earliest was in 1948, but I'm going to do my best. I'm particularly wanting to get the 1960 BBC miniseries with David McCallum, currently playing "Ducky" on NCIS, as Frank Churchill, but since I can't find it on DVD/tape anywhere, I'm starting with a later BBC version.

The 1972 BBC miniseries of Emma—amazingly, available at my library—is six 42-minute episodes. At nearly 4½ hours, that's long enough to be extremely faithful ... or extremely boring. You never know what to expect with some of these older adaptations, which can be overly formal, strangely decorated, or otherwise not suitable for modern tastes. This one was a pleasant surprise. The sets and costumes were appropriate, the direction was paced well and didn't call attention to itself, and the acting was, for the most part, restrained.

I did have some quibbles with the acting/casting choices, however. While the actress playing the title role was the right age for the part, she played Emma with a certain smugness I found off-putting. Her verbal sparring matches with Mr. Knightley were playful, but there was an unpleasant edge to them, like Emma cared more about winning the argument than listening to her friend. 

There were also some particularly weird changes concerning Jane Fairfax. First, on the occasion in the book that Emma and Harriet visit Miss Bates and end up hearing a letter from Jane Fairfax, instead she actually is in residence. Instead of the Dixons being the daughter and son-in-law of the Campbells, the family who took Jane in, they are a couple Jane meets on holiday who have offered her a position as governess. And when Miss Bates reveals that the Dixons have made such an offer, Jane Fairfax becomes upset that Miss Bates has revealed anything—to the point where she objects furiously, something out of character for someone who is supposed to be so reserved.

Why vary from the story, if not for time considerations? After watching for a while, it seemed as if the writer wanted the viewers to understand what was going on before Emma does. So we see Jane Fairfax clearly upset and hiding something, where in the book it's unclear why she is waiting to get a governess position. We get a new scene showing Harriet the day after the dance with Mr. Knightley, swooning over the chance to go to Donwell; in the book we are surprised along with Emma to learn that Harriet considers this dance a big service, not Frank Churchill saving her from gypsies.

Strangest of all, the writer removed both Mr. Elton and Jane Fairfax from the outing on Box Hill. Presumably getting rid of Elton was to emphasize that Mrs. Elton was taking liberties with leadership of Mr. Knightley's party, but that was already shown in the strawberry picking party. But by removing Jane as a witness to Frank and Emma's flirtation, there's no reason for her to suddenly accept a governess position and reject Emma's advances of friendship. After making Jane's discomfort so obvious before, that seems a strange choice.

Lastly, the ending had the characters seeming oddly direct for circumspect Austen characters. Emma never directly apologized to Miss Bates for insulting her in the book, but that awkward scene is in the film. In the book Mr. Wodehouse never says no to Emma's match with Mr. Knightley, although "he tried earnestly to dissuade her from it," but in the film he forbids it, briefly, before the report of hen thieves changes his mind.

While overall this was a fairly faithful adaptation of the novel, the changes they did make seemed to underestimate the viewers' intelligence, and also undermine Emma's character. When you read the book, Emma seems charming in her conviction, and we are just as surprised as she is when her matchmaking comes back to haunt her. In the film version, Emma seems a little snotty, even more so as we see how wrong she is while she continues in her mistakes. So while this was a very watchable version of Emma, it wasn't entirely satisfactory. Next time we'll see what differences condensing the story into a feature-length film can make.

Janespotting: Emma (Austen's original)

Emma was my first exposure to Austen, back in college, and at the time it didn't strike me as particularly wondrous. Sure, it had wit, but it didn't make me want to go out and read everything else Austen ever wrote. Maybe that was because I read it for a class—it's hard to really enjoy a book when you're taking notes and on a deadline—or maybe it's because I didn't fall in love with the heroine, as so many other people have. Austen sums her up in the first sentence: "Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her."

Unlike Austen's other heroines, Emma does not need to worry about money or marriage, and so she occupies much of her time with matchmaking and other amusements. As the novel opens she is celebrating the marriage of her former governess to a neighboring gentlemen, although the family's close friend (and Emma's brother-in-law), Mr. Knightley, says Emma made a lucky guess, not the actual match. Undeterred, Emma tries to pair her new friend, the lovely but dubiously born Harriet Smith, with the local minister, Mr. Elton. This turns out disastrously when she discovers Mr. Elton has been wooing her, not her friend, and poor Harriet is left disappointed and distressed.

Emma spirits are only temporarily dampened; when Frank Churchill visits the neighborhood, she is ready to flirt with him and promote a match between him and Harriet. In particular, Emma enjoys speculating with Frank about the lovely Jane Fairfax, the niece of their impoverished neighbor Miss Bates; Jane is destined to support herself as a governess. Jane is lovely and musically talented (annoying Emma, who doesn't apply herself and suffers in comparison), and her reserved manner perversely inspires Emma to imagine something inappropriate behind a gift piano. Emma's behavior becomes another point of contention with Mr. Knightley, who has long been accustomed to instructing her. They both enjoy their verbal sparring matches, although Emma is put out when Mr. Knightley tells her she is spoiling Harriet.

Emma's unrestrained pursuit of amusement comes to a head one afternoon when, encouraged by Frank Churchill's flattery, she cruelly insults Miss Bates. She is crushed to see Mr. Knightley's disappointment in her, and determines to apologize and also make up her lack of attention to Jane Fairfax, whom she has come to pity. Not long after she discovers that Harriet is not aspiring to Frank Churchill, but Mr. Knightley—and that she believes he returns her affection. Emma is shocked, for she hadn't realized before that she is the only one for Mr. Knightley. One final surprise remains: after Frank Churchill's aunt dies, leaving him her fortune, it is revealed that he and Jane Fairfax have been secretly engaged. Mr. Knightley and Emma reveal their feelings to each other, and even silly Harriet ends up engaged, to the young farmer whom Emma originally thought beneath her friend's notice.

I can see why Emma is many readers' favorite Austen book. It is light-hearted and playful, like its heroine, who never has the threat of poverty or loneliness hanging over her head. Early on Emma reveals her intention never to marry, noting that "a single woman, of good fortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant as any body else." When you think about it, Jane Fairfax, not Emma, is more like the typical Austen heroine in situation: potentially consigned to poverty and facing many obstacles on her road to romance and happiness. I guess that's why Emma isn't one of my favorite heroines: yes, she's charming and kind, but she's also rather shallow, at least until the end of the novel. On the other hand, the secondary characters are some of Austen's best, between the over-talkative Miss Bates, the enigmatic Jane Fairfax, the obsequious grasper Mr. Elton, and his vulgar, pretentious new bride.

So for me Emma ranks somewhere in the middle of Austen's novels: I don't love it like I do Pride and Prejudice, but I'd much rather read it than Mansfield Park. Actually, how I feel about Emma depends on whether I'm feeling indulgent and playful or not. I'll be considering that playful edge more as I begin exploring all the film version of Austen's classic. Stay tuned.

Janespotting: The Matters at Mansfield

I conclude my survey of Mansfield Park-related works with Carrie Bebris's fourth "Mr. and Mrs. Darcy Mystery," a series that turns the married Elizabeth and Darcy into amateur sleuths who just happen to encounter (and solve) puzzling events within their social circle. I really enjoyed the third volume, North by Northanger—it not only made great use of characters from the novel, but avoided some of the mysticism I disliked about the first two installments—and hoped the fourth volume would be another step forward.

I'm glad to report that this was indeed the case. Not only did The Matters at Mansfield bring in some of the most interesting characters from MP—mainly Henry Crawford and Mrs. Norris—but it also continued developing some of the minor characters from Pride and Prejudice. We get another strong dose of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is as stubborn and interfering as ever. The book opens with the Darcys at a family function (the engagement ball of Darcy's cousin Earl Fitzwilliam, the Colonel's older brother), and Lady Catherine is busily planning an engagement for her daughter Anne. You'll remember from P&P that Anne is sickly and put-on; Elizabeth observes, however, that while Anne is still put-upon, she seems a little less sickly than at their last meeting, and even dances with her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam while Elizabeth and Darcy distract Lady Catherine's attention away from her. At this ball they are also introduced to one Henry Crawford, who seems pleasant enough—although Anne won't dance with him, feeling her mother may return at any time. She is right to feel nervous; Lady Catherine is about to sign an agreement affiancing Anne to Neville Sennex, the son of a viscount whose reputation is that of a wastrel with a bad temper.

To everyone's surprise, Anne is found missing the next day, having run off to Scotland to elope with Crawford. She had a previous acquaintance with him, and sensing her mother's intent to match her with Sennex, decided to take action. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam follow quickly, but are too late to prevent the marriage and its consummation; they do convince the couple to return to England to face Lady Catherine and her lawyer. An accident injures Anne's leg and forces them to stop in the village of Mansfield, a place where Crawford is rather better known than he'd like. He gets unpleasant visits from both Mrs. Rushworths (the estranged Maria and her mother-in-law), and it looks as if he's going to settle the marriage with Lady Catherine's lawyer when a woman shows up looking for "John Garrick," points Crawford out as the man, and claims to be his wife.

This, of course, is utter disaster for Anne (emotionally) and Lady Catherine (socially), especially when Crawford splits town, threatened with gaol as a bigamist. He remains missing for a few days, until a body turns up on the grounds of Mansfield Park, with a gunshot to the head. Suicide? Murder? A duel? Darcy feels obligated to seek out the truth, even though the list of suspects could include someone in his own family and further complications make the puzzle even harder. The resolution is satisfying, both as a mystery—I figured it out just soon enough before the Darcys to feel clever—and as a romance, concluding with a wedding arranged for romantic, not financial, reasons.

I thought Bebris again made very good use of characters from Austen's novels, and I had no quibbles with her interpretations of this time. Henry Crawford, in particular, seemed very consistent with Austen's view of him; unlike his portrayal in some other sequels, he was both charming and thoughtless, much like the original. (So many of the sequels seem to give him a pass, putting all the blame for the affair on Maria Bertram.) So I give this installment another big thumbs up, and look forward to Bebris's take on Emma, which just came out this year. It's going to have to wait a while, though; "Janespotting" is going on hiatus for the summer, to give me a break from all the Austen sequels. While the last few summers I've turned to the classics for my remedial lit program, I'm going to go in a different direction this summer ... but you'll have to wait a couple weeks to find out more.

Janespotting: Mansfield Park (2007 TV film)

So after a dull, overly faithful miniseries and a wild, horribly adapted feature film, how would PBS's recent "Masterpiece" adaptation of Mansfield Park perform? I was intrigued when I saw that it featured Billie Piper as Fanny Price, and not necessarily in a good way: I first knew of her as a manufactured teenybopper singer who was popular while we were living in London from 1998-2002; later, however, she did a great job as Companion Rose Tyler in the new Doctor Who's early seasons, although since the character had a broad working-class London accent I wondered how well she would portray a lady of the early 19th century. I also wondered how the film would condense the novel into a mere 90 minutes.

Turns out, pretty well. The film got straight to the point, having Fanny narrate the story of how she arrived at Mansfield Park (and fell in love with Edmund) during the first 2 minutes of opening credits. By 6 minutes in we were introduced to the Crawfords, and by 15 minutes in we were in the midst of the play. The first half hour wasn't even over and Maria was married and sent away on her honeymoon with Julia. While this might seem overly speedy, the first half hour hits all the essential points: Fanny is underappreciated, Edmund is her friend, Maria is a flirt, the Crawfords are intriguing, the play is naughty. (And this version, unlike the miniseries at 3½ times the length, took a few seconds to explain exactly why.)

As a reward for this rushed setup, we get a half hour devoted to Henry Crawford's pursuit of Fanny (including a picnic in place of the ball), and her steadfast refusals. In a major change from the original novel, this film doesn't send Fanny back to her family in Portsmouth; instead, she is left alone at Mansfield while the Bertrams and Mrs. Norris visit a distant relative. I've read some reviewers cavil about this change, claiming that it doesn't give Fanny a chance to consider how her refusal of Crawford may consign her to a life of relative poverty. But I think that's a minor quibble; the whole point of Fanny's character is not that she is swayed by financial concerns—the trip to Portsmouth doesn't change her mind, after all—but that she has come to consider Mansfield Park her home and its inhabitants her real family. Absenting everyone from the Park serves that purpose just as well, and it saves the time (and expense) of introducing a new setting and characters.

So if we have half an hour for the initial setup and half an hour for Crawford's pursuit, what's in the last half hour? As it turns out, a really nice romantic payoff. Tom is returned home in dire straits, the rest of the family becomes appreciative of Fanny, Mary Crawford makes a crass remark about Edmund inheriting, Maria runs away with Henry, and then we get 15 wonderfully romantic minutes of Edmund realizing he is in love with Fanny and finally declaring himself. Edmund, being a bit more shy than the average Austen hero, needs a little nudge to assist him; in this case it is supplied by Lady Bertram, who encourages them to spend a little time alone together, walking the Park grounds. (Jemma Redgrave—yes, one of those Redgraves, Colin's daughter—presents Lady Bertram as somewhat on the ball, a welcome change from the usual ditzy portrayals.) Words of love are exchanged, a wedding ensues; finally, a filmmaker who takes advantage of Austen's reticence to give us something that approaches a classic Austenish romantic denouement.

That's not to say there weren't some flaws; it did skim a lot of the events in the novel (no trip to Sotherton, no trip to Portsmouth) and gave short shrift to Mrs. Norris, one of Austen's nastiest villains. Fanny Price was styled like a country girl, with her hair loose, which wouldn't have been proper for the time period even if she was a poor relation. However, the cast was uniformly excellent: Blake Ritson (later to play Mr. Elton in the 2009 Emma) made an appropriately reticent Edmund; Michelle Ryan (star of the brief Bionic Woman remake) is the first Maria I've seen who really looked as well as acted the part of a sexy flirt; and Hailey Atwell is the best Mary Crawford I've seen yet, at first charming and flirtatious with just a hint of unsavory character, later gradually revealed. And Billie Piper? Although she may be a little too beautiful to play Fanny Price, even with the country styling making her more unfashionable than her cousins, she hit the right notes of steadfastness and shyness, and successfully allowed us to see Fanny's inner turmoil. All in all, although purists might quibble, I found this a good film adaptation that got to the heart of the story despite its shorter length. I'd recommend it to anyone looking for a decent historical romance.

Janespotting: Mansfield Park (1999 film)

After the success of 1995's films of Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion and miniseries of Pride and Prejudice, and 1996's Emmas (TV and film), I'm sure someone thought it would be a great idea to delve into the rest of Austen's oeuvre. But what to choose? Northanger Abbey was full of all that weird Gothic stuff, so Mansfield Park was the only complete novel left. "Fanny Price is such a dreary character, though," I imagine the producers saying. "Not suited for our modern audience at all. Can we give her a little more zazz? Maybe sex it up a little bit?" Viewing the resulting 1999 film of Mansfield Park, I don't think that imaginary conversation is too off the mark.

The first clue as to the "zazzed" nature of this version is on the outside of the DVD box, where it gives the rating of PG-13. The second occurs less than two minutes into the opening credits, where it says the film is based on the novel Mansfield Park by Jane Austen and "on her journals and letters." The film opens with the juvenile Fanny Price telling a fanciful story to her younger sister Susan on the day she is to be taken to the Bertram family at Mansfield Park. After she arrives there and Mrs. Norris argues in front of Sir Thomas that she had not intended to keep Fanny at her home, Fanny tries to interject a comment before being shushed. In the next scenes that show Fanny growing up at Mansfield Park, we see her writing letters with clever observances to her sister Susan, reading aloud her writing to her cousin Edmund (including a short history of England similar to the one Austen herself wrote in her youth), and horsing around with Edmund to the extent that Sir Thomas has to reprimand her for her high spirits. Clearly, this is not Austen's Fanny Price, but a Fanny Price who more closely resembles Austen herself.

The plot moves along very similarly to the book; the few omissions (brother William Price, the outing to Sotherton) are less obnoxious than the total inversion of Fanny's character. (That's not to say that the omissions aren't obnoxious; we see so little of Henry Bertram interacting with Maria and Julia before Maria's marriage that we don't get a sense of how wrong his flirtations with them have been, something that supposedly undermines Fanny's later distrust of him.) We don't see Fanny refusing to participate in the play (we see little of the play anyway), because how could an aspiring novelist who names her horse Shakespeare so thoroughly revile another form of literature? When Sir Thomas returns from Antigua and declares that Fanny should have a ball in her honor, she runs from the room—and not because she is shy and uncomfortable of attention, but because she will not be displayed like a horse at market. Finally, when Fanny refuses Henry Crawford's offer of marriage, it immediately angers Sir Thomas, who threatens to send her to Portsmouth unless she complies, and Fanny defiantly replies, "I will not." This is quite a change from the book, where Sir Thomas tells her to her face that "You will have nothing to fear, or to be agitated about. You cannot suppose me capable of trying to persuade you to marry against your inclinations," and plans the trip to Portsmouth as time for her to enjoy William's company and perhaps reconsider Crawford's offer.

So now we have a forthright, defiant, proto-feminist Fanny in Portsmouth, where she receives further attentions from Crawford with some confusion. She claims she will not marry him, but after receiving a letter from Edmund in which he calls Mary Crawford "the only woman in the world whom I could ever think of as a wife," she changes her mind and accepts him. Then, after a sleepless night, she once again rejects Henry, infuriating him and sending him away and setting him up for Maria's clutches. While this incident is taken from Austen's own life—she entered into an engagement, only to change her mind the next morning—it is completely contrary to the steadfastness that is the chief essence of Fanny's character.

Despite her recalcitrant refusals, Fanny is called home to Mansfield to help nurse her cousin Tom back to health after he has been in a drunken accident. Here is where we get into the very un-Austenish PG-13 territory. First, Fanny runs across a series of drawings that Tom made while Antigua that are shocking in their depictions of slavery and slave conditions. (Apparently Tom is an artist, and while I find interesting this version's intimation that Tom's wild behavior is due to his guilt over what he has seen on the family plantation in Antigua, added to all the other crazy changes it's just too much.) Second, Henry Crawford is staying at the Park at the invitation of Sir Thomas, and one morning while up early to attend to Tom, Fanny runs across Henry making love—naked breasts and everything!—to the visiting Maria.

The end is close enough to the book: Mary Crawford reveals her shallowness, Edmund sends her away, and eventually makes a lovely declaration to Fanny. Of course, this was never in doubt, for unlike the book, this film makes frequent reference to Edmund's feelings for Fanny throughout. Very nice, but not enough to make up for all the trashing of the original plot and characters.

All these complaints are not to say that the movie wasn't good; the production values were excellent, and the acting was good overall. Frances O'Connor was charming as Jane Aust—I mean, Fanny Price, and Jonny Lee Miller made a suitable Edmund.* Most interesting was Harold Pinter—yes, that Harold Pinter, the playwright and Nobel Prize winner—as a very scary and stern Sir Thomas. It wasn't a bad film, but it wasn't a true Austen adaptation. Give it a different title—Fanny Price, maybe—and say "inspired by the works" of Austen, and I wouldn't get so up in arms. As it stands, though, I can understand those fans who consider this film a travesty unworthy of the name of Austen. If you loved the book, you'd probably be too shocked to enjoy this movie at all.

*Interesting trivia: Miller played a minor role as a Price brother in the 1983 MP at age 11, and would go on to play Mr. Knightley in the 2009 TV version of Emma. Also, the actress who played Maria played Henrietta Musgrove in an earlier Persuasion and Mrs. Forster in the P&P mini, and the actor who played Mr. Rushworth would later play Mr. Bennet in Lost in Austen. Stick around British television long enough, and you'll end up in multiple Austens, I guess.

Janespotting: Mansfield Park (1983 miniseries)

I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get my hands on this earliest adaptation of Mansfield Park, but I decided to give Netflix a try and see how many of these oldies I could get within the one-month trial membership. This BBC production is an extremely faithful version of Austen's novel, told over six one-hour episodes. With early 1980s production values, however, might not necessarily be a good thing.

The plot certainly didn't veer far from the original novel. We see Fanny introduced to Mansfield Park, her growing friendship with Edmund, and the changes wrought by the arrival of the Crawfords. All the little amusing details are there, including how Aunt Norris initiated Fanny's arrival but claimed she never intended to raise her herself; the ridiculousness of Maria's fiance Mr. Rushworth (and his 42 speeches); Fanny's return to Portsmouth and how she makes things quieter by buying her younger sister a pair of silver scissors. Unfortunately, all the tedious and boring details are there as well, but without the benefit of footnotes to explain for the viewer. Honestly, you'd think that the screenwriter transposing the scene where the young people discuss which parts they should portray in the drama Lover's Vow might intersperse one line here or there so that we understand what it means for Maria and Julia to battle over playing Agatha. There's nothing, though, so the five-minute discussion of a play few modern viewers know is tedious beyond belief. There are similar slow spots, not helped at all by the era's avoidance of musical scoring except in transitions.

Still, the scenery and costumes were fine, and the acting was uniformly good. I recognized few of the actors, most of whom have gone on to long careers in British television and film. (The one exception: the actress playing Maria Bertram, Samantha Bond, played Miss Moneypenny in the various Pierce Brosnan-starring James Bond films.) The actress playing Fanny, Sylvestra Le Touzel, might have been made up a little more plainly than I would have liked (Sir Thomas remarks on his return she is uncommonly improved), but she captured Fanny's quiet steadfastness. The actress playing Lady Bertram was a hoot, and the actor playing Edward was pleasant enough.

My main dissatisfaction with this version, aside from the slow spots, was in the romantic conclusion of the film. There it had to vary from the original, for as I wrote in my review, Austen shows nothing of Fanny and Edmund's declaration of their love for each other. She merely says that "he was very steadily earnest in the pursuit of the blessing [of her hand in marriage], and it was not possible that encouragement from her should be long wanting." Given that setup, why not show Edmund being steadily earnest, or Fanny "receiving the assurance of that affection of which she [had] scarcely allowed herself to entertain a hope." Nope. In a major change from the book, where Fanny and Edmund witness Mary Crawford's shocking nonchalance towards Maria's affair firsthand, Edmund instead tells Fanny of Mary's faulty moral understanding and tells her he is glad she is there to listen. Fanny replies that she shall always be there, and that's that. No declaration of feelings. No proposal. No fun!

So overall, a pleasant-enough version of the story, and a good object lesson on why it's sometimes good to deviate from the novel to write your script. This will not be the case for the next version I'll be reviewing, but you'll see more on that later.

Janespotting: Version and Diversion by Judith Terry

This is the last of the Mansfield Park sequels I could lay my hands on, and I was intrigued because it was written by a professor of English who seems to have more than a passing knowledge of Austen; at least, she has had articles published in the journal of JASNA (Jane Austen Society of North America). And the premise looked interesting: a "below-stairs" portrayal of Mansfield Park, told by a ladies' maid who serves the Bertam sisters.

Our narrator introduces the story as her own personal history, writing in the present as the "new wife of a squire," someone in a privileged position in society. Her name is Jane Hartwell, and she relates her humble origins as the granddaughter of the gardener at Sotherton, home of the Rushworths. She is quick-witted and acquires skills that make her suited for a combination of general maid and ladies' maid to Julia Bertram—an economy suggested by Mrs. Norris—and the first half of the novel relates many of the events of Austen's novel, but from the servants' perspective. We see that Julia isn't so bad except when under Maria's influence (interesting, that none of the sequels paints her as misunderstood); Tom is a randy scalawag who blames servants for his own shortcomings; Fanny is insipid and unable to stand up for herself; and Henry Crawford is still a flirt, but one who is honest and forthright and charms the pants off Jane.

When Tom Bertram discovers their affair, he has Jane fired; she decides to go to London to make her fortune as an actress. While playing a small role during the Mansfield production of Lovers' Vows, not only was she praised by Crawford but by the talented scenery painter Matthew Quinney, who had London experience. Jane runs away with Quinney, who is also a bit of an agitator for working class rights. The second half of the novel becomes her picaresque journey, as she escapes a posse hunting Quinney only to be captured by a gang of thieves who commit unspeakable acts upon her person. Eventually, however, she is taken in by a kindly former co-worker, given work at Covent Garden, and through talent and hard work becomes a leading lady at the theatre.

This success brings her into the orbit of the Bertrams and Crawfords once again; her refusal of Henry's proposal drives him into the arms of Maria, and scandal ensues. When Rushworth challenges Henry to a duel, Julia asks Jane to try and intervene; instead, her appearance inflames Maria so much that she takes one of the dueling guns and tries to shoot Jane. (Poor Maria; every author's villain.) Jane survives, of course, to finish her story of her successful career and marrying well. It's left in doubt until the very end whether the wealthy gentleman in question is Henry Crawford or not; I won't spoil it here, because this was a very entertaining novel and you might like to read it yourself. It had good pacing, re-use of Austen's original characters, and interesting details regarding class conflicts of the age. It may have made Fanny and Edward minor characters in their own story, but it was all the more entertaining because of it.

Janespotting: Mrs. Rushworth by Victor Gordon

I nosed around for information about the author of this week's featured Austen continuation, Victor Gordon, but I couldn't find much at all. He was published in Britain and had a few books on food published. (I wouldn't advise googling his 1989 title, Prawnography, looking for more information.) In 1989 he also published the novel Mrs. Rushworth, a continuation of Mansfield Park. From the title, it's obvious he's exploring the story of Fanny's cousin Maria, who notoriously married for money and then ran away with Henry Crawford, who deserted her.

The novel opens almost immediately after the end of MP, with Maria and her devoted Aunt Norris reading the announcement of Fanny and Edmund's marriage. The two have been traveling nonstop, trying to avoid Maria's notoriety, and finally decide to settle in Leamington Spa for a while. They seem to find their niche, until they discover the existence of a novel called Mansfield Park at their local library. Mrs. Norris tries to buy all the copies, but some get out, and when a local baron's son tries to take advantage of Maria, she decides that the only way to escape her reputation is to travel to America. She heads to Liverpool to book passage, and along the way aids a woman of shadowy background give birth. The experience moves her strangely, and gives her the courage to stand up to Mrs. Norris when she tries to derail the American trip, and then Maria's budding romance with Charles Cheviot, a gentleman of hidden musical and theatrical talents. When Mrs. Norris tries to prevent them traveling on the same ship to America, Maria gives her the slip and she and Charles end up getting married.

After a happy and successful seven years in America, during which Maria bears two children, the family returns to England, settling in Liverpool, where Charles has a nominal job that allows him to spent time writing music. Maria encourages him in his efforts to write an opera, and they become respectable members of the city establishment, even after Maria's father dies and the annual support he had provided her is withdrawn. (This is shown in a very clever scene that echoes the beginning of Sense and Sensibility.) They befriend Maria's cousin (and Fanny's brother) William Price; they forgive him for being the venue through which Jane Austen learned Maria's story (he mentioned it to Austen's brother, also a naval officer) and host a ball in his honor. They also spend a lot of money mounting a production of Charles's opera, which is marred by public misbehavior but ends with Charles being offered a chance to join an opera company in London as an apprentice. Maria encourages him to take the position, but the pay is too low to support the family. Instead he devotes time to his real job, which has him managing the affairs of a widow who has inherited a mill.

The job takes him away from Maria, who typically lets her imagination run away with her regarding Charles and the widow. When William Price visits after losing an eye fighting for his country, she doesn't prevent a session of "cousinly comfort" bestowing a "hero's reward" in her bed. When this single night ends in a pregnancy, Maria can't prevent Charles from discovering the truth, and although she declares her steadfast love, he finds it hard to forgive her. While there was a possibility for reconciliation, she storms off in a melodramatic huff and becomes an actress. By the time she tries to come back, Charles has already started divorce proceedings, and eventually ends up with the mill widow, who by chance is the young woman whom Maria aided in giving birth all those years ago. Maria's child is adopted by Tom and Susan (Susan Price having married Tom Bertram in this novel as well), and Maria herself returns to America to become an actress.

Maria was one of the more unpleasant characters in Austen's original novel, and here in this novel she is just as flawed. However, we are given more of her interior life and at times she becomes a somewhat sympathetic character. Mrs. Rushworth gives us an almost picaresque journey which is always interesting to read. She comes close to redeeming her flaws, but not quite, and the way the author weaves in Austen and all her novels was very entertaining. So while the book wasn't very Austenish in tone (too much naughtiness going on), it made very good (and fairly consistent) use of her characters and told an entertaining tale. All in all, it was a much better read than I would have expected from someone better known for writing about food.

Janespotting: Ladysmead by Jane Gillespie

Like Joan Aiken, British writer Jane Gillespie wrote several Austen sequels, including ones to Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility. Published in 1982, Ladysmead is her earliest effort at attempting Austen; like the other sequels, she takes one or two of the more colorful (ie, naughty) characters and drops them into a completely new situation. In this case, it is the family of Reverend Thomas Lockley, a widower who has managed to marry off five of his seven daughters. With four younger sisters already wed, the second daughter, Sophia, "felt the cage of spinsterhood beginning to enclose her," at the decrepit age of 23. She has resigned herself to managing her father's household and keeping an eye on her youngest sister, Lucinda. This proves a challenge, as the family is continually economizing, and Lucinda is depressed: her best friend has just moved away and she has few other distractions, living in the remote countryside of Lancashire.

Luckily for the story, the friends' cottage at Ladysmead is let to another set of tenants, an older widow and her niece: of course, it is Mrs. Norris and Maria Rushworth (here going by Rushton) from MP. Although she knows nothing of the scandal that led the two to leave London, Sophia is somewhat unsettled by her new neighbors: Mrs. Norris is interfering, while Maria Rushton is aloof and snobby. She finds it convenient to befriend Lucinda, however, bossing her around and encouraging her to develop a contentious attitude. She encourages her young friend to flirt with one of her father's students, even though she has no real liking for the boy. This concerns Sophia as well as her father's rector, Charles Williams. Charles has a secret devotion to Sophia, but his offers to assist her only make her angry.

When the owner of Ladysmead and the neighboring mansion passes away, his heir Mr. Dalby comes to the area to decide what to do with the property. His manners are pleasing and he makes Sophia laugh, but Mrs. Rushton decides he should be the target of Lucinda instead. Several meetings and excursions are alternately planned, thwarted, and executed, with no one satisfied with the outcome. When Mr. Dalby invites a friend to the area and he turns out to know Mrs. Rushworth's sordid history, it leads to another shock: not only does Dalby elope with Mrs. Rushton/Rushworth, but they leave the poor Mrs. Norris behind. The events disturb poor Lucinda so much that she runs away from home, seeking solace from her new friend's betrayal by visiting her old friend.

Charles follows her and discovers her, of course (shades of Mr. Darcy finding Lydia in P&P). While he is gone Rev. Lockley declare he intends to marry Mrs. Norris, giving her a home and thus freeing poor Sophia to go out into society. This shocks Sophia so much she shows her disappointment to Charles, who reveals his own feelings and offers to marry her so she can escape. When Sophia realizes his proposal is based on love and not pity, she discovers her own heart is glad for his devotion despite her mistreatment of him. She accepts him, Dalby returns to take Mrs. Norris back to Mrs. Rushworth, and all ends happily with Sophia and Charles ensconced at Ladysmead.

As I mentioned, this novel follows a similar pattern to Gillespie's other Austen sequels: an upright, steadfast, suffering heroine; one or two flawed but entertaining minor characters from Austen's original; and a virtuous hero who demonstrates his worthiness of the heroine. Is it formula? Pretty close, but since Gillespie's style is entertaining and her borrowed characters are true to the original, I don't consider that a problem—especially when the novel is less than 200 pages, making for a light, quick read. This one was fun if somewhat forgettable.

Janespotting: The Youngest Miss Ward by Joan Aiken

Last week I read a very traditional Mansfield Park sequel written by British novelist Joan Aiken in 1984; this week I read a not-so-traditional MP prequel the same author wrote in 1998. The Youngest Miss Ward centers around the family that provides MP with three characters: Lady Bertram, Mrs. Norris, and the elder Frances Price. The novel opens as Maria Ward has secured a marriage with Sir Thomas Bertram, and her father has bestowed a relatively large dowry upon her, as befits marriage to a baronet. That leaves less than expected for Maria's other sisters: Agnes, the eldest, whom they expect to match with the cleric Mr. Norris; Frances, who is beautiful but a bit flighty; and the title character Harriet, aka Hatty, who is only twelve as the novel opens.

Hatty's life becomes a series of disappointments as her relatives keep interfering in it. When her distant cousin Lady Ursula comes to visit, she convinces the family that Hatty should be sent to her uncle rather than "tire out" her mother by reading with her all the time. Hatty isn't even allowed to return home when her mother dies; she manages to adjust to the new household anyway. She comes to enjoy her practical Aunt Polly's company, finds a sympathetic companion in her cousin Ned, and helps her disabled twin cousins develop their mental capacities, despite their nurse's disapproval. She also meets the eccentric Lord Camber, a freethinker who encourages her poetic efforts. After her aunt becomes ill, Hatty ably manages the household through a crisis as measles strikes the family. After it kills the twins, however, their nurse engineers her ouster, blaming Hatty's failure to reveal cousin Ned's affair with a local girl for their illness. Although her eldest cousin, the obnoxious Sydney, offers to marry her because she is such a good household manager, she chooses to return to her father, instead.

She is caught in a snowstorm on the way back to her father's and is forced to spend time at the cottage of the very amiable Lord Camber. She enjoys her time in his household, but the snow ends and he leaves for a social experiment in America and she heads to her father's. Her father, however, has been killed in a hunting accident, and since the property is entailed to the nearest male relative (the aforementioned Sydney), Hatty finds herself without a home once again. Lady Ursula once again provides the "solution": Hatty will go to the estate of Ursula's parents, Count and Countess Elstow, and serve as governess to their two girls.

It's an even more challenging situation for Hatty: the Count is absent, the Countess cares little about the girls; the elder girl is an egomaniac and a kleptomaniac, and the younger girl is mentally disabled (although a musical genius). Hatty is cut off from the members of her uncle's family she loves—she's not even informed when her Aunt Polly dies—and bothered by the ones she doesn't, when Sydney repeats his proposals. When the elder Elstow girl steals her poetry journal, it's the last straw. She retreats to Lord Camber's cottage, where he had invited her to stay any time, only to find Lady Ursula ensconced there, claiming she owns the title.

Still, Hatty finds ways to make herself useful, and after Lady Ursula is attacked by wasps (!) it is discovered that Lord Camber actually made over the title to Hatty. She also finds a letter from Lord Camber to her aunt (one of many letters in several epistolary sections), declaring he would like to make Hatty his wife after he returns from America. So when Lord Camber unexpectedly appears at the cottage shortly after Lady Ursula's mishap, we're all set up for the traditional romantic happy ending, right?

Wrong. Accompanying Lord Camber is a young Native American woman, whom he has married to save from tribal banishment. In another case of interference, Lady Ursula had written to his compatriot that Sydney was intending to marry Hatty. Hatty, however, makes a better ending for herself: she gets her first volume of poems published (under a male pseudonym, of course), keeps the cottage for herself, and marries Lord Camber's steward, who is a much more practical man whom she has grown to love and respect.

This was another enjoyable volume from Aiken, although in tone and plot it was much closer to the Dickensian Eliza's Daughter than the more imitative Mansfield Revisited. It reminds me that Aiken is a consistently entertaining writer, and I'm really looking forward to her Emma variation, Jane Fairfax. There are a few more MP sequels to go, as well as two or three film adaptations, so that will have to wait a while. I'm definitely planning to re-read her children's books some time in the distant future, when I finally get around to that "Diane revisits her childhood favorites" feature.

Janespotting: Mansfield Revisited by Joan Aiken

The late British author Joan Aiken had several Austen sequels among her 100-plus books; you may recall I reviewed her sequel to Sense and Sensibility last spring. I enjoyed that book, but it felt more Dickensian than Austenish, so I wasn't sure what to expect with Mansfield Revisited, originally published in 1984. What I found was a true sequel, one that picks up not long after the end of MP and continues the story with many of the same characters.

At the end of Austen's novel, when Fanny returns to the Park after three months in her family's noisy Portsmouth home, she brings along her younger sister Susan, who is fourteen and shows the most signs of being open to improvement. Aiken's novel begins four years later, when Susan is eighteen and has taken Fanny's place as Aunt Bertram's favorite companion. Sir Thomas Bertram has just passed away, and even though it is really the place of eldest son and heir Tom to handle matters, it is Edmund who travels to Antigua to handle the family's business interests, taking Fanny and their youngest child with them. Tom is more circumspect after the fever that nearly killed him in MP, but Susan still considers dealing with him challenging; when she first arrived he teased her and called her "Miss Bones."

The novel, which is a quick read at under 200 pages, parallels the plot of the original fairly closely: we have a put-upon Miss Price; a new rector come to serve the parish (in Edmund's place); and soon, a visit from Mary Crawford, who has sent news that the she is very ill and has let a local cottage, intending to spend her last days among memories of happier times. Mrs. Julia Yates (formerly Bertram) is also a frequent visitor to the Park, taking Mrs. Norris's place as chief critic of the visiting Price girl and trying to arrange a match between her brother and her simpering idiot of sister-in-law, Miss Yates. Tom has other plans involving the pretty and bubbly Miss Harley, but they take second place to his plans for hunting season.

Things come to a head when two further visitors appear: William Price, who ends up poaching the lovely Miss Harley, and Henry Crawford, come to visit his sister during her last days. Susan finds herself attracted to both of the Crawfords: Mary for her lively wit and kind heart, and Henry for his intelligence and kindness. Both have manners much chastened by experience and the prospect of Mary's mortality, and neighbors hint that the scandal involving the former Maria Bertram was mainly generated by Maria's vengeful behavior. When Tom is forced to stay at the Crawfords' to recuperate from a broken arm, relations between the two families are mended. Tom even falls a little in love with Mary Crawford. On her deathbed, she encourages Susan to make a match with Henry, but when Tom asks Henry his intentions, Susan—who has ten times more fire and independence than her sister Fanny ever did—overhears and objects to them both treating her like she has no say in the matter.

Tom later apologizes and suggest that he should marry Susan instead, because she's been such a brilliant manager of the house. Susan rejects the idea flat out; she will only marry for love, and although it turns out that she's actually in love with Tom, she won't marry him if he doesn't feel the same way. A judicious comment from a trusted friend leads her to discover Tom has more than housekeeping behind his proposal, and the novel concludes with another wedding between a Miss Price and a Mr. Bertram. Since this Miss Price is a much more spirited character, however, and we actually get to see the final declarations of Tom and Susan, the denouement is actually much more interesting than in the Austen original.

So while this sequel was pretty derivative as far as the plot, it made great use of the existing characters (and a few new ones) and was a fun read overall. A big thumbs up to this sequel, but it makes me all the more curious to see what Aiken has in store for her MP prequel.

Janespotting: Mansfield Park (Austen's original)

It's time for me to start looking at Austen's third published novel, Mansfield Park (1814), and I have to admit I wasn't really looking forward to the prospect. I've always considered it my least favorite of her novels, and I suspect I'm not alone in this opinion. The problem for many modern readers is Mansfield's heroine, Fanny Price. She doesn't have the wit and liveliness of Elizabeth Bennett or Emma Woodhouse, the innocent charm and naivete of Catherine Morland, or even the superior sensibility of Elinor Dashwood or Anne Elliot. Fanny Price is a character who triumphs through endurance and inaction, not through any particular achievement or virtues (aside from virtue itself).

A short summary: Fanny is a poor relation who is taken in by her aunt's wealthy family, the Bertrams. She comes to Mansfield Park and finds little kindness nor affection from her relations, who seem most concerned that she remember her place. Her Aunt Bertram is ditzy and thinks of nothing but her own comfort; Sir Thomas Bertram is stern and intimidating; Aunt Norris is most concerned that Fanny not overstep her role or interfere with Aunt Norris's own plans; oldest cousin Tom is in pursuit of pleasure and can't be bothered with a little girl; and her older cousins Maria and Julia ignore her except when they find a third playmate useful. Only her cousin Edmund shows her any kindness when she arrives, and he soon becomes a trusted friend for Fanny.

Not much has changed as Fanny turns eighteen: Tom is more interested in gambling than in business; Sir Bertram is distant (often physically, taking care of the family's business interests in the Caribbean); Aunt Norris is still bossy; Edmund is preparing to enter the clergy; and Fanny stays home to keep ditzy Aunt Bertram company while Maria and Julia go out in society. Maria has just got engaged to very wealthy (if stupid) young man, as suggested by Aunt Norris, when the society at Mansfield Park is interrupted by two visitors, brother and sister Henry and Mary Crawford. Both are attractive, lively, and flirtatious, and they and a friend, Mr. Yates, encourage the group to begin rehearsals for a play. Fanny refuses to participate, thinking the subject (romantic intrigue) inappopriate and believing that Sir Thomas would not approve of a home theatre in general. Even Edmund joins in against his better judgment, thinking it the only way to keep things from getting out of hand. Despite his efforts, Henry Crawford flirts with both Julia and the engaged Maria, and Mary Crawford seriously attracts Edmund's notice.

Sir Thomas's return to Mansfield puts a stop to the business; the Crawfords leave and soon Maria marries, taking Julia with her on her honeymoon. Fanny is left home with a newly appreciative Sir Thomas, and when the Crawfords return to the neighborhood, Henry decides to entertain himself by making Fanny fall in love with him. She is secretly in love with Edmund, however, and her steadfast refusal intrigues Henry to the point where he offers marriage. The family thinks she should be grateful and accept, but when she doesn't she is eventually sent to her parents in Portsmouth to think about the alternative. Her parents loud and slatternly household is a contrast to the peace and quite of Mansfield, but Fanny won't yield. Finally word reaches her that Maria has run away with Henry Crawford, and Julia eloped with Mr. Yates, and Fanny is needed home at Mansfield to comfort the Bertrams. Edmund realizes that Mary Crawford is not the woman he thought she was, and that Fanny would be the perfect mate instead.

This is where I should sigh, I suppose ... it's a happy ending, after all, although Austen shows us very little of it. (No romantic words, a la Mr. Knightley's "if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more," and not even a scene where they discover their feelings. Hmmph.) Fanny triumphs by doing nothing, saying nothing, and being steadfast in her virtue. She's always right, about everything! How boring.

Although as I read the novel this time, I began to wonder ... why is Fanny so inactive? After thinking about it for a couple of chapters, I realized: because it's her survival strategy. She comes to Mansfield at a young age, and soon learns her place is not to stand out:

"I should wish to see them very good friends," (says Sir Thomas of Fanny and his daughters), "and would, on no account, authorize in my girls the smallest degree of arrogance towards their relation; but still they cannot be equals." (Chapter 1)

Though [Fanny was] unworthy, from inferiority of age and strength, to be [her cousins'] constant associate, their pleasure and schemes were sometimes of a nature to make a third very useful, especially when that third was of an obliging, yielding temper. (Chapter 2)

"I am not going to urge [Fanny to act in the play]," —replied Mrs. Norris sharply, "but I shall think her a very obstinate, ungrateful girl, if she does not do what her aunt and cousins wish her—very ungrateful indeed, considering who and what she is." (Chapter 15)

"People are never respected when they step out of their proper sphere. Remember that, Fanny," [said Aunt Norris.] (Chapter 23)

It's pretty clear that if Fanny were the type of Austen heroine we adore—witty, assertive, vocal—she wouldn't have lasted long at Mansfield Park at all, and its quiet surroundings are really more suited to her personality. So on this re-reading I came out with a little more respect for Fanny Price and her steadfast correctness ... although I still think Austen could have written a more romantically satisfying denouement. Maybe I'll find one in the several "sequels" that have made written to the novel. We'll soon see.

Janespotting: North by Northanger by Carrie Bebris

This is the third in the series of "Mr. and Mrs. Darcy Mysteries" that Carrie Bebris has written, inspired by various Austen novels. I thought the first, Pride and Prescience, handled the characters and the mystery quite well, while the second, Suspense and Sensibility, was less successful as a mystery, although it made good use of a couple of minor characters from Sense and Sensibility. I'm happy to say that North by Northanger (another clever title!) is my favorite in the series so far.

The novel opens with Elizabeth settling in at Pemberley, awaiting the birth of her first child and trying to figure out how make her new role as mistress of Pemberley her own. She is constantly reminded of her husband's late mother, Lady Anne, by both the house itself and the servants, and worries how to measure up. When she moves an old writing desk and discovers a letter written from Lady Anne to her future successor, it is the beginning of a mystery involving a missing family heirloom.

First, however, the Darcys head to Bath to interview a doctor who will attend the baby's birth. This gives us some good Bath scenes—filled with lots of repartee between the spouses—as well as chance to introduce Capt. Frederick Tilney into the story. Tilney sees Darcy's name in the Pump Room book and invites him to Northanger Abbey, claiming that their mothers were friends and wanting to renew the connection. The Darcys agree, but upon arriving at the Abbey find conditions very strange. There is a lack of servants—and their own attendants mysteriously disappear, and are later discovered to have been drugged—their host doesn't show up for their substandard supper; when they do meet Tilney, they find him severely injured but in good spirits, asking strange questions about their mothers and hinting at the search for a family secret.

Tilney's behavior seems especially peculiar, considering that when the Darcys mention they have found personal belongings in the late Mrs. Tilney's rooms where they have been lodged—a set of diamond jewelry, to be exact—Capt. Tilney doesn't seem interested. The reason seems clear when the Darcys cut their visit short, and within hours are accused of stealing the Tilney diamonds. The jewels are found in a clever replica of Darcy's walking stick, and Darcy is charged with the crime by an overzealous magistrate who won't consider the possibility he has been framed. He is especially disinclined to release Fitzwilliam after Henry Tilney shows up and says that Capt. Tilney died some time ago, and he never heard of the housekeeper the Darcys met.

The Darcys are forced to call on Lady Catherine de Bourgh to get him released, and she returns with them to Pemberley. Elizabeth must deal with her constant disapproval and interference, even as she goes through Lady Anne's old letters to see if there really was a friendship between her and Mrs. Tilney, and thus find some clue as to why their visit to Northanger Abbey went awry. She finds the friendship was real, and is somehow connected to Lady Anne's missing family heirloom, and she and Darcy manage to unravel all the mysteries (and thwart Lady Catherine) whilst preparing for the new baby as well.

I thought this was the best mystery of the series so far; there were no supernatural elements to cloud the mystery (Elizabeth thinking she feels Lady Anne's spirit had little to do with the mystery plot), and the connections between the Darcy family and Tilney family seemed logical. I thought Henry Tilney's character was different than how Austen portrayed him in NA—he showed none of the quirky wit that made him interesting—but then, he's introduced in a very tense situation. Other Austen characters are involved in the mystery in a very organic way, and the Darcys' relationship continues to show affection and witty banter, so that's a minor quibble. The scenes in Bath and at Northanger Abbey have much the same feel as the original Austen, as well. So I'd give this sequel—one of the very few to NA—an unqualified thumbs up.

Next up: Mansfield Park. (And yes, I meant not to use an exclamation point. Sigh.)

Janespotting: Uninvited Guests by Jane Gillespie

I've finally reached the unofficial "sequels" to Austen's Northanger Abbey, and I'm beginning with this 1994 work by Jane Gillespie. Gillespie has also produced other Austen sequels, including one to Sense and Sensibility that I enjoyed very much. So how would she approach continuing Austen's neglected satire?

She did it by revisiting three of the novel's most ridiculous characters: John and Isabella Thorpe and Captain Frederick Tilney. As it is at least 20 years since the close of NA the latter is now Colonel Tilney, but he is still vain, self-centered, and inclined to coast on his name. Although he inherited Northanger Abbey a few years ago, he hasn't spent any time there, finding the countryside boring. When he meets up with John Thorpe in Bath, he takes his old acquaintance's word that the Abbey is in need of repairs, and takes him up on his offer to oversee the work.

Of course, if he had been as familiar with John Thorpe as we are, he would have known the man was prone to exaggeration and just as unlikely to do any real work as he was to tell the truth. But by Chapter 3, Thorpe is ensconced at the Abbey, where his sister Isabella, the impoverished widow Firth, soon joins him, having been turned out of her other siblings' homes. After throwing over James Morland because he wasn't as rich as she had thought, Isabella married a wealthy scion of a Scottish family; she only discovered after the wedding that he had been disinherited. Now she waits for her son Roland to finish his schooling and help support her. Roland, however, feels obligated to continue tutoring the young Charles Ballard, the crippled (but treasured) son of an industrialist. When Isabella decides she must have her son's company, both he and Charles join the group at Northanger Abbey.

The party is complete when Colonel Tilney's daughter Paulina arrives, along with her "uncle" James Morland, a reverend. Hijinks ensue: Thorpe's attempts at uncovering and rebuilding the Abbey's old chapel are increasingly ridiculous; Charles decides to explore an underground passage by himself, injuring his one good hand; and Isabella, once she finally recognizes the bearded James, makes another play for him—at least, until Paulina is called to join her family because her mother is deathly ill. Then Isabella envisions herself as the future mistress of the Abbey—she caught Tilney's attention once before, didn't she?—and ignores him forthwith. The only people who act sensibly are Roland and Paulina, who of course fall in love.

Things come to a head when the Colonel finally discovers what has been going on at the Abbey, and rushes back with Paulina to put a stop to it. He is ready to have Thorpe arrested, but Isabella provides proof the Colonel gave permission, and the situation is defused by Charles's practical father, who also joined the party. Still, it means all the "uninvited guests" must leave: Thorpe to his own unfinished project; Isabella to another sibling's house (still unwed, as the Colonel's wife recovered her health and James Morland his senses); and Roland and Charles to the seaside. All that remains is to remove any obstacles between the young lovers, and these are solved when Roland receives a letter informing him that he has come into a large trust fund from his late grandfather.

The plot isn't anything spectacular, but the fun lies in the way the author uses the characters, especially Thorpe and Isabella. They are so clueless about their own ridiculousness that it's a lot of fun to read about them even if they're not doing very much. So even though the tone of the novel is completely different from Austen's original, this sequel gets a thumb's up from me.