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.