Jane Austen January – Emma – some early thoughts

I decided to do something a little different this year and start out my annual Jane Austen re-read with Emma, which is never in the running for my favorite Austen novel and sometimes finds itself in the position of least favored.  It’s been several years since I last read it, and I don’t think I have ever done it justice, as a reader.

Let me see if I can explain.  I read Pride and Prejudice first, and then I spent so much time watching the 1995 BBC adaptation that it supplanted the original; when I read the book, I was most often struck by its deviation from the adaptation.  Sometimes I took the trouble to read the book carefully and critically, to consider new (to me) ideas and challenge my assumptions about the book.  Sometimes I read it for the comfort of a familiar and amusing story.  But no matter what I sought from the reading of it, I have always approached P&P with respect.  I know it’s brilliant, and I know that after 20 or so readings (and God knows how many viewings of the various adaptations) that I have just scratched the surface of all the truth and wisdom Austen crammed into it.

Emma, on the other hand, I have never — ’till now — bothered to read carefully and critically, nor have I ever found it particularly comfortable (or comforting).  When I read it, I did because I thought I should, not because I particularly wanted to or anticipated any benefit from it.  I was first introduced to its story through the movie adaptation Clueless, and I very incorrectly assumed that the original was a bit frivolous.  Emma is such a difficult character to like, and there are so many troubling aspects to the story (Mr. Knightley’s being vaguely creepy, perhaps, or Emma’s and Harriet’s friendship being so unequal — and frankly awful — or the entire Jane Fairfax/Frank Churchill comedy of errors story seeming like such an interruption to the main story line), that I honestly could not be bothered to take it seriously.  Emma is a fun, light, and entertaining comedy of manners and nothing more, I thought.

I was wrong.

Now about halfway through the book, I am not finding anything particularly fun and light about it.  In fact, the whole thing seems overshadowed by impending doom.  The action opens with loss — the loss of Miss Taylor — and with Emma seeing her future stretching out before her, bleak and lonely.  Emma, in desperation, seeks an unequal friendship with young, naive Harriet Smith, whom Emma pretty much captures and isolates like a pet, removing her from the company of good people among whom Harriet could have a happy and prosperous life and setting her on a path that cannot end well.

Later in the story, when Mrs. Bates, Miss Bates and Jane Fairfax are introduced, the story grows darker still.  Miss Bates is a natural foil for Emma, except that Miss Bates is poor where Emma is rich, and Miss Bates loves and approves of everybody (while viewing herself in a somewhat self-deprecating sort of way) where Emma is contemptuous and critical of everyone, including herself, at times (moreover, most of Emma’s criticisms of others apply directly to her, so I read her criticism of the neighborhood as an extension of her dislike of herself.).  Take away Emma’s wealth and shift her twenty years into the future and she’s actually in a much worse position than Miss Bates, who is at least harmless and well liked…

And then there’s Jane Fairfax, whom Emma avoids and abuses simply because Jane, out of everybody in the neighborhood, best demonstrates the sort of young woman Emma knows she ought to be but isn’t.  When Jane Fairfax is around, Emma cannot escape from her self-disgust (though she does try to take Jane Fairfax down a peg or two by inventing the notion that Jane, a much prettier woman than Miss Campbell, the girl with whom she was brought up, either supplanted Miss Campbell in the affections of her husband or nursed an unrequited affection for him; Emma then shares this invented notion with Frank Churchill, which action is one of the most ridiculous and dangerous things Emma does in the entire book.).  Moreover, Emma fears not only that Jane Fairfax acknowledges Emma’s deficiencies of character and application but also that other worthy people (Mr. Knightley and Miss Taylor/Mrs. Weston) do as well.  Honestly, none of that is fun and light.

Jane Austen does not have to be sparkling and enjoyable in order to be interesting, however, and I am finding in this reading of Emma that it might be the most interesting (read: thought-provoking) of all of Austen’s novels.  Here is a story about a woman who is allowed to be perfectly awful, whose sterling qualities are difficult to find amid all the jealousies and pettiness of her youth and pride.  But I honestly don’t believe that Emma is in any way more awful than I was at 20.  Emma isn’t nice, kind, or pleasant; she doesn’t inspire pity (she is, after all, “handsome, clever, and rich.”); and she doesn’t actually suffer all that much on her road to love.  Given all of this, it seems typical for readers to dislike Emma just as much as she dislikes herself; however, I find myself, on this read-through, at least, giving Emma (and, through her, myself) the permission to be unpleasant.  We’ll see how that continues as I progress to the novel’s second half.

Let’s discuss!  From the conversations I’ve had with some of you on Twitter, I don’t think I’m alone in my habitual approach to Emma.  What do you think Austen was about with this book?

(I’m planning another post on some of the perviness to be found in Emma, by the way.)

Review – A Woman Entangled by Cecilia Grant

So, I’d heard of Cecilia Grant, of course.  I read her amazing post about feminism and romance, and I admired her for opening up a discussion on the issue to explore the nuances of culture, feminism, romance, love, gender, story, ideology, etc.  But I hadn’t read any of her books until last month when I saw this book come up on NetGalley and thought, gosh, that author’s name seems familiar, somehow.  I think I’ll read that one.  I didn’t put the dots together until after I’d finished the book (and bought and read her first two books).

Cover image, A Woman Entangled by Cecilia Grant

The publisher’s blurb, courtesy of Goodreads:

Kate Westbrook has dreams far bigger than romance. Love won’t get her into London’s most consequential parties, nor prevent her sisters from being snubbed and looked down upon—all because their besotted father unadvisedly married an actress. But a noble husband for Kate would deliver a future most suited to the granddaughter of an earl. Armed with ingenuity, breathtaking beauty, and the help of an idle aunt with connections, Kate is poised to make her dreams come true. Unfortunately, a familiar face—albeit a maddeningly handsome one—appears bent on upsetting her scheme.

Implored by Kate’s worried father to fend off the rogues eager to exploit his daughter’s charms, Nick Blackshear has set aside the torch he’s carried for Kate in order to do right by his friend. Anyway, she made quite clear that his feelings were not returned—though policing her won’t abate Nick’s desire. Reckless passion leads to love’s awakening, but time is running out. Kate must see for herself that the charms of high society are nothing compared to the infinite sweet pleasures demanded by the heart.

You know how sometimes you read on autopilot, without devoting your full (or even a majority share) attention to the book?  Other readers will have a different mass of distractions, of course, but here’s my typical list: when reading at home, my kids playing and calling for my attention, TV on in the background, the mountain of housework I don’t feel like doing sitting there staring at me with judgement in its figurative eyes, my husband looking back and forth between that mountain and me with a book in my hands, my thoughts about the day I just had and the one that faces me tomorrow, my never-ending to-do list scrolling through my mind, etc.; when reading at work on a break, emails popping up on my screen, music playing in one ear, my phone, Twitter, my never-ending to-do list scrolling through my mind, etc.  And most of the time I can enjoy a story even with that distracting and desperate soundtrack playing in the background, but sometimes I stumble upon a book that is so much bigger, in its narrative, than my life’s soundtrack.  These books drown out all that background noise and leave me feeling refreshed and energized, the way I’m supposed to feel after reading a book.  (Also, I can’t read them around my kids, because I don’t feel right completely ignoring them…)

A Woman Entangled is one of those books.  It grabbed my interest by the fourth page, and it didn’t let go until I’d finished the book.  Even then, I was still caught up with thinking about it.  It has:

1. Pride and Prejudice references galore, and the story foils P&P except that the roles are a little bit reversed with Kate playing proud but vulnerable Darcy and Nick playing worthy but mortified Elizabeth.  That makes Kate sound just awful, but she isn’t.  
2. Humor, but the author’s voice is rather serious.  The humor is witty and a bit wry, and I loved it.
3. Discussions about women in (Regency) culture (that have applications to our culture today).  Kate and Nick have a memorable conversation about the impossible cultural need for women to be beautiful (and thus receive the attention of countless menfolk) yet remain in ignorance of their beauty (despite all that male attention).  There are plenty of other discussions, but that’s the one I bookmarked.
4. Friendship between women whose conversation does not revolve around the male characters (this book passes the Bechtel test with flying colors.).  Even better, the book proffers the idea that friendship with a worthy woman could be just as desirable and helpful to a woman looking to find some security in the world as marriage to a worthy man (more, perhaps, as friendship doesn’t involve the transaction of one’s self into another’s keeping).

It’s that last point that is so interesting and important.  As the romance builds between Kate and Nick, I found myself waiting for the moment when Kate would realize that all her goals were less important than the power of love or that Nick was a more worthy prize than social acceptance.  I kept waiting for Kate to have to compromise her values or to discover that her long-held values were actually wrong somehow.  I waited in vain.  I even began to worry that the book (a romance novel!) wouldn’t have a happily ever after.  The ending was so unexpected, and in a way that’s sad.  It’s sad that I kept expecting the novel to bow to patriarchy — to devalue Kate’s feminine drive towards social acceptance, to force Kate to subject her desires in order to have a relationship with Nick, to confirm the idea that Kate’s happiness can be achieved only through her relationship with Nick (and her letting go of her other goals) — and it’s sad that I was so surprised by the book’s resolution.

Bottom line: I loved this book, and Cecilia Grant has earned a spot on my auto-buy and my ‘authors I want to high-five’ lists.

A Woman Entangled was released as a mass-market paperback and e-book  on June 25, 2013 by Bantam Dell, a division of Random House.  If you’re interested in learning more about the book, please click on the cover image above to visit the book’s page on Goodreads.  To learn more about Cecilia Grant, please visit her website.

*FTC Disclosure – I received an e-galley of this book from Bantam Dell via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.*

Jane Austen January – Austen’s men

OK, here’s the thing.  I love Persuasion, but Captain Wentworth is a bit of a douche-pony throughout much of the story.  Every time I re-read the book, I am astonished anew at how annoying he is in his anger and resentfulness.  It annoys me further that Anne interprets and excuses his behavior, that she castigates and blames herself for the decision she made at nineteen.  But then the novel redeems itself (to me) by giving Anne an opportunity to share her thoughts with Captain Harville, overheard by Wentworth, and allowing Wentworth to realize fully just how wrong he was and do a bit of groveling.

I absolutely love it when Austen allows her heroes to learn where they have been in the wrong and to amend their behavior where appropriate in order to earn the respect and affection of their chosen ladies.

• Pride and Prejudice – Darcy’s fatal error in his first proposal to Elizabeth is his arrogant assumption that she will be gratified by his proposal, that he need not exert himself in any way to be pleasing.  Honestly — “Your family is pretty damn awful, and I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life wishing that they weren’t a part of it, but I just can’t help myself… Marry me.”  After the ensuing confrontation with Elizabeth, Darcy eventually realizes that her condemnation of his character is not wholly unjust, and he takes pains to improve himself.  When he approaches her a second time, he is hopeful but not certain that he has succeeded.
• Persuasion – Wentworth’s error throughout the eight years of his estrangement with Anne is in holding too tightly to his belief of having been wronged by an inconstant Anne (rather than perceiving that the risk in marrying him was all on her side and asking her again once his ability to provide for her (and any children) was more a sure thing.  He compounds this error by being a real jerk muffin towards Anne once he is again in her company.  These are grievous errors, to be sure, but in his letter to Anne and subsequent conversation, Wentworth demonstrates that he appreciate’s Anne’s sufferings and fully comprehends that he was the cause of most of them.  And, oh, that letter…
• Emma is perhaps a bit less approachable to a modern audience given the huge age gap between Emma and her Mr. Knightley and the rather odd occurrence of Emma sort of growing up under his tutelage (ew).  Yet even in this story, Mr. Knightley approaches Emma convinced that he, with his constant correcting and nitpicking, has driven away all chance of her affection.  The very instance of his seeing his behavior towards Emma as potentially officious rather than his natural right becomes, to me, the most attractive part of his character.
• Northanger Abbey – Henry Tilney gets to apologize for his father’s atrocious behavior, but he’s mostly on this side of the list because I like the story and construction of Northanger Abbey so well.  Henry may not be exactly my favorite type of hero, but he is certainly the most charming and witty of all of Austen’s men (except, maybe, Frank Churchill–but Frank is also a bit silly and quite selfish and so does not qualify as a truly good man).

To my mind, nothing suits a man so well as a little uncertainty.  It is the quality that separates my favorites of the Austen men from my least favorite.

• Mansfield Park – Edmund Bertram… ugh.  One day he happens to look over at Fanny and realizes that he might just be in love with her after all.  It’s true that he repents of trying to force her to marry Henry Crawford (and of being carried away by his appreciation of Mary Crawford’s fine features…), but I always wish for significantly more groveling than the reader receives.  Fanny, of course, is perfectly happy to have him, but she’s Fanny, so it hardly signifies.
• Sense and Sensibility – Edward Ferrars gets another ugh from me.  I think he’s my least favorite of all the leading men.  After leading Elinor on and being super moody and a bit freaky about the hair ring (ew), he just shows up one day, declares that Lucy married Robert instead and asks Elinor to marry him, and she’s like “Hells yeah!!” And he’s like, “Good, ’cause Lucy had appalling diction, and her letters have been an embarrassment to me for a long time, but what can I say? Boobs!” And Elinor’s like “LOLZ.”  Ugh.

Who are your favorites among Austen’s men?  What are your qualifications for inclusion on your favorites list?

Jane Austen January – Pride and Prejudice – Caroline Bingley

I haven’t started reading Persuasion yet, so Pride and Prejudice is still my favorite book of all time.  I seem to waffle back and forth between these two, but my waffling has nothing to do with any concrete, supportable impressions of the books; rather, my inclination towards one or another is based on which one I have most recently read, what my prevailing mood is that season, and, probably, what I had for breakfast.  My rational self, who shows up to the party every now and then, believes that both books are equally excellent, yet different (rather like my children).

Anyway…

My favorite thing about Pride and Prejudice is that both Elizabeth and Darcy go on an incredible internal journey to get from their starting positions to their ending ones.  My next favorite thing is the way that all the secondary characters (caricatures, all) influence Elizabeth’s and Darcy’s respective journeys.  If these characters cannot go on a journey of their own, at least they have some impact on the main characters’ development, right?

My favorite of these influential secondary characters is Caroline Bingley, who is wonderfully awful throughout the book and is considerably more observant than Elizabeth (of course, nearly every character wins that prize).  In a weird way, she acts both as Darcy’s confidante and as Elizabeth’s tormentor, and, throughout the Netherfield section of the book, she simultaneously helps Darcy to increase his affection for Elizabeth and helps Elizabeth to increase her dislike for Darcy.

Caroline Bingley has her own reasons for paying close attention to Darcy, but I wonder if she would have picked up on his burgeoning regard so quickly had he not rather flippantly made to her his initial comment about Elizabeth Bennet’s fine eyes.  Darcy must have known that Caroline was angling for him–she isn’t subtle–so I wonder if he was trying to let her know that he just wasn’t into her.  I’m not entirely certain, however, that Darcy’s motives are so virtuous.  If he were really interested in discouraging Caroline’s regard, he ought not have made his vaguely smarmy “I can appreciate your figure better from over here, sexy ladies!” comment to Caroline and Elizabeth.

A lot of characters notice that Darcy frequently follows Elizabeth around with his creepy stalker eyes, but only Caroline knows with certainty that he looks out of admiration rather than censure, and only Caroline is in any position to talk to Darcy about his staring problem.  As Caroline is consumed by jealousy, she takes every opportunity to needle Darcy about his attraction to Elizabeth, and her needling prompts in Darcy a consciousness of his growing feelings (and feeling of their being dangerous to him) and, perhaps, an increased awareness of Elizabeth’s attractiveness.  After Elizabeth walks to Netherfield, Caroline slyly suggests that Elizabeth’s behavior may have dampened his appreciation for her ‘fine eyes.’  Darcy replies that they were brightened by the exercise.  Once Elizabeth and Caroline are under the same roof, Darcy has the opportunity to compare their behavior: Elizabeth reads, and Caroline pretends to read; Elizabeth behaves with civility to most and friendly warmth to Bingley, and Caroline is cold and uncivil (sometimes downright rude) to Elizabeth and obsequious to Darcy.  With such comparisons to hand, it’s no wonder Darcy develops an attraction to Elizabeth.

Caroline’s influence on Elizabeth is exactly the reverse.  Elizabeth views Caroline’s obvious attempts to attract Darcy’s attention with contempt, and she, although indirectly, seems to blame Darcy for Caroline’s behavior.  The more Caroline reacts to Elizabeth with jealousy and spitefulness and to Darcy with toadying, the lower Darcy sinks in Elizabeth’s estimation.  This is not, in itself, all that surprising; how could Darcy possibly appear to advantage in such a setting?  So, while Darcy is able to compare Elizabeth and Caroline and conclude that Elizabeth is far superior, Elizabeth views Darcy’s interactions with Caroline and concludes that Darcy is proud and vain.  She assumes Darcy’s responses to Caroline are in keeping with his usual manner, proud, reserved, aloof, and awful (Bingley’s term: “I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to do.”), and she does not consider that Darcy’s responses to herself and Bingley are of quite a different tone.

In the end, it all comes down to Darcy’s letter and his amended behavior in Derbyshire to remove the last of Elizabeth’s resentments and misconceptions of Darcy.  When she meets Caroline at Pemberley, Elizabeth is able to see and appreciate the difference in behavior between Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Caroline Bingley.

For those who are participating in this Jane Austen January, how is your reading going?  If reading for the first time, what do you think of it?  If this is a re-read, has anything stuck out to you as surprising or new during this read?

Jane Austen January – Pride and Prejudice – Film Adaptations

Pride and Prejudice is my favorite story, and the only alteration that could improve it for my particular enjoyment would be the inclusion of animal antics.  (This inclusion would not, of course, improve the book in general, but I really dig frolicking puppies and enjoy them wherever I find them.)  I can’t always be reading the book, but I do enjoy visiting its themes, characters, and story through the relative ease of its many film adaptations.  I am a fan of most Austen film adaptations, with the stunning exception of the 1986 version of Northanger Abbey.

The first adaptation of P&P that I saw was the 1995 BBC TV mini-series version starring Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle.  That version is still my favorite, but I thought it would be fun to compare trailers for some of the other versions I have seen, some more derivations than strict adaptations.  I’ll start with the 1940 film production starring Laurence Olivier and Greer Garson.

What did she say?!  This adaptation is perhaps my least favorite, but it is amusing in its own way.  At any rate, if you watch it, you’ll find out what she said.

I could not easily find an official trailer for the 1995 BBC TV mini-series version, but here is a fairly decent fan-made version.

I first saw this version in 1997, very shortly after I had first read the book, and I watched it so often (and in what I consider still to be my formative years, too) that it is very difficult for me to separate the characters of the book from their adaptation counterparts.  When I read Mrs. Bennet’s lines in the book (especially my favorites: “A little sea bathing would set me up for ever,” and “Tell him what a dreadful state I am in…and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me, such spasms in my side and pains in my head, and such beatings and my heart, that I can get no rest by night or day.”) I hear Alison Steadman’s voice in my head.  My imagination’s Lydia bears a stunning resemblance to Julia Sawalha.  At five hours in length, this version can easily be faithful to the book, but I wonder if it tends too strongly towards presenting caricatures rather than fleshed-out characters to be really faithful to its spirit.  It is sprightly and amusing, to be sure, but it lacks a lot of the depth that I find in the book.

By way of contrast there is, of course, the 2005 film version starring Matthew Macfadyen and Keira Knightley.

My favorite thing about this version is the music, sadly not highlighted in that trailer, but I also love its portrayal of the Bennet family in general, of Mrs. Bennet and Mary Bennet in particular, and of Charlotte Lucas, and its depiction of Longbourne (that faint shabbiness that contrasts so well with the elegance of Netherfield and Pemberley).  Though I do enjoy this version, it is a teensy bit melodramatic, rather more angsty than sparkling, that melodrama perhaps best demonstrated by Darcy’s first proposal being delivered during a rainstorm… I particularly love the thunder that underscores Darcy’s comment about Elizabeth’s father.

The following adaptation, the 2003 release Bride and Prejudice, holds a special place in my heart.  Over-the-top and silly though it sometimes is, it gives an excellent portrayal of the Mr. Collins and Charlotte characters, and provides a plausible, modern twist on Wickham’s infamy toward Georgiana.  It is, further, an excellent antidote to the 2005 version’s angst and drama.

I imagine fans of P&P have seen all of these versions.  Are there any others that you can recommend?  Do you, like me, enjoy watching film adaptations of this story?

Jane Austen January – Pride and Prejudice – an opening post

I have happily settled in to the reading of my favorite novel Pride and Prejudice.  I really should have started my January with Northanger Abbey, which I find very charming but which is rather inferior to the other books and cannot but suffer by the inevitable comparisons, but I just don’t possess very much self-control.

“Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, “is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds: but, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”

Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst are two of my favorite characters in P&P, in a guilty-pleasure sort of way.  They are gloriously awful, but it amuses me that they are just as silly and empty-headed as Lydia and Kitty but obsess about petticoats and beautiful little designs for tables instead of officers and dancing.

For anyone participating in this Jane Austen January, who are your favorite characters from P&P? 

Also, please check out Austenprose to discover all the various ways that one can celebrate the bicentenary this year of Pride and Prejudice, first published in 1813.

Jane Austen January

Portrait of Jane Austen in watercolor and pencil by Cassandra Austen (1773-1845), digitally restored and remastered by Amano1 Source: http://www.janeausten.co.uk/regencyworld/pdf/portrait.pdf via Wikimedia Commons

On Christmas Day in 1997, I received a collected volume of Jane Austen’s novels from my mother.  It is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.  I had read Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Mansfield Park several times, but this volume introduced me to the other books.  In January of 1998, I read all of the books, and in every January of the following years, I made it a tradition to read at least a few Jane Austen novels.  This coming January represents the fifteenth annual Jane Austen January, and I’m hoping to make it into a somewhat informal blog event.

This year, I plan to read Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, and Northanger Abbey, but I might add in Sense and Sensibility as well, depending on how much free time I have.  My goal is to write at least one blog post about each of the books and, I hope, to engage in discussions with other readers.  I’m totally open to discussing other Jane Austen works, but I probably won’t read more than these four books, so my comments will be limited to my last reading.  (It’s been a while since I read Mansfield Park and Emma…)

Every time I read these books, I discover something new about them, though whether that is due to my changing over the years, to the books’ being that nuanced, or just to my possessing a truly terrible memory, I’ll never know.

Is anyone game to join me in this fifteenth annual Jane Austen January?  Please let me know in the comments below.  (Lurking is also totally welcome.)  Discussions can take place on Twitter, if that’s convenient, and in the comments feature on this blog.  Check the side bar for my Twitter info.  Please also feel free to do your own thang with posts on your blog, if you have one.  I do this event every year, alone; this is my first attempt to bring other folk into the mix, so we’ll see how it goes.  🙂

The Apothecary’s Daughter and my ridiculous memory

I possess an uncertain memory.  In some situations, I have astonishingly accurate, detailed recall, and in other situations I have no ability to recall a situation, conversation, book, etc.  I suspect it comes down to focus: at work, I generally focus on the emails I receive and read, and it’s amazing what I can recall (and how quickly).  Years after I emailed someone once, I’ll still remember the content of that email.  My freaky brain latches onto codes, so a full decade after I worked for a telephone answering service, I still remember the switchboard line numbers for some of our clients.  In my private life, I’m known for being flaky, ditzy, and generally forgetful.  I forget to tell my husband about appointments I’ve made; I forget to call people back; I forget to respond to emails.  I forget 80% of what I read.  It’s astonishing that I can be known for my cleverness and exceptional memory in one area of my life and can be famous for my ditzy forgetfulness in all the others.

That’s why it’s funny that I read a book about a character with an inescapably good memory.  And do you know what’s even funnier?  I finished the book last Thursday (July 5) and started writing a blog post about it on Monday (July 9).  In four days, I had managed to forget the main character’s name.  (That’s not all that uncommon for me, and you might notice that a lot of the time when I’m talking about the characters of a romance novel, I just call them the hero and the heroine, usually because I can’t remember the character’s names.  I guess I just don’t pay attention to names.)

Cover image, The Apothecary’s Daughter by Julie Klassen

I enjoyed this story, although I had an understandably difficult time relating to the main character (Lilly… I finally remembered her name this afternoon).  Lilly has fantastic recall for anything she’s read or anything she’s experienced/witnessed.  She remembers dialogue from conversations.  She remembers all the apothecary recipes she’s ever learned.  She longs to forget some things, but she doesn’t get her wish.  Lilly also has a taste for adventure and an ability to attract a horde of suitors.

It is typical for a romance novel to have two main characters, but this book really doesn’t.  It’s about Lilly, and there are a bunch of dudes twirling around her, trying to gain her favor, but none of them is treated as another main character.  In a way, that’s one of the strengths of the book.  Part of what drives the plot is the question of whom Lilly will choose (if anyone) at the end.  But by the time I reached the end of the book, I felt sort of manipulated, as though Klassen had lured me into caring about several characters who ended up having little importance by dangling the carroty chance that there would be a turnaround or a reveal and Lilly would end up loving them.  I felt that this story was a nearly-executed (very nearly… it almost made it) attempt to take a straightforward love story and make it more mysterious.

I suspect I’m being slightly unfair to the book because I could not relate to the main character.  I know that taste in reading is completely subjective, and a character that draws me in and seems to speak to my soul will be completely off-putting to another person.  I know that there is a lot to like about The Apothecary’s Daughter, but none of that likable stuff quite makes up for my not being able to connect to the main character (although I recognize that the disconnect is personal and has nothing to do with the book).  I just happen to be a not-very-adventurous homebody with a poor memory, and stories about people who yearn for new locales and who have problems adjusting to the horror of not ever forgetting anything just don’t appeal to me.

Ready for a horrifically abrupt subject change?  Here it is.  I don’t know how many times I’ve read Pride and Prejudice, but I have certainly read it at least once a year for the past fifteen years.  I was in high school when the Colin Firth/Jennifer Ehle P&P movie came out (thank you BBC/A&E!), and I got a trifle obsessed and watched it daily for months on end.  I can spot a snatched line from P&P at a hundred paces, so, naturally, a few lines from The Apothecary’s Daughter really stood out to me.

From page 100 of The Apothecary’s Daughter, Nook version

“I am ashamed to think of what I said then.”

Line from section 6 of the 1995 P&P miniseries

“I am ashamed to remember what I said then.”

From page 185 of The Apothecary’s Daughter, Nook version

“Mary Helen Mimpurse!  That is the first nearly unkind thing I believe I’ve ever heard you say about anyone.”

From page 815 of Pride and Prejudice, Nook version (the freebie)

“That is the most unforgiving speech,” said Elizabeth, “that I ever heard you utter.  Good girl!  It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley’s pretended regard.”

From page 314 of The Apothecary’s Daughter, Nook version

“I hope you will dance, especially should gentlemen be scarce and ladies be in want of a partner.”

From page 454 of Pride and Prejudice, Nook version (the freebie)

“He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner.”

I should really start bookmarking while I read, because there was a fourth eerily familiar line, but I just can’t remember it now, and I don’t feel like skimming through the entire book just to find it.  I’m not trying to start some sort of odd Jane Austen plagiarism brigade (because a hell of a lot of authors would get rounded up in that one, including every author who ever wrote any JA fanfic), but I personally found these lines very jarring.  I’d be trucking along in the story, and then all of a sudden there would be this random P&P reference… and, to me, it was as jarring as a random Rocky Horror Picture Show reference would have been.  Every time I discovered a reference, I felt like I had gotten a joke that the author didn’t intend to make.  I was this guy:

Bottom line… for all that I’ve complained about not connecting with the main character, being irritated by the P&P references, and feeling slightly manipulated by the author, I did enjoy this book.  There are all of these lovely little bits of history woven into the story (history of medicine, apothecary’s lore, etc.), and these details added depth to the characters and explained a lot of the character’s motivations.  I loved Klassen’s descriptions of life in that little village whose name I’ve forgotten.  I loved the scene on Apothecary Row in London…  This book has all these delightful little facets (and a mystery or two!) that make it well worth the read, even if you don’t particularly enjoy the main character.

My favorite thing about The Apothecary’s Daughter is that Lilly learns a very important lesson.  She’s got this crazy-good memory, but that doesn’t always mean that she remembers things accurately.  She remembers all the dialogue of every conversation, but that doesn’t mean that she always perfectly understood the context.  Lilly has the opportunity to learn that things often aren’t what they seem, and that even the smartest of us can be surprised by things that were under our noses the whole time.  Lilly also has a difficulty noticing changes in people over time because her habit is to rely on her memory, using information from the past to inform the present.  The way Klassen allows Lilly to discover the other characters, those that she thought she knew so well (her father, Mary, Mrs. Mimpurse, Francis, etc.), is just lovely.  For this reason alone, you should  read The Apothecary’s Daughter, but, of course, there are many reasons to do so.

Armchair BEA 2012 – A positive book experience?

It’s day 3 at Book Expo America 2012, and I’m still participating virtually through Armchair BEA.  Today’s suggested topic, Networking, is a bit of a stretch for me, but I’ll do my best to write something that is marginally on topic.  I don’t get out much.  I get really nervous around crowds of people, so events (such as book releases or book signings) really aren’t my cup of tea.  I’m new to blogging, and this is my first foray into the community.  So I was stumped when I saw today’s topic: “We’d love for you to share a positive “real life” experience with books! Either by way of your own partnerships in your community, a book signing you went to or possibly even a get together with fellow book bloggers.”

Hm.. I don’t have any partnerships in my community; I’ve only attended two book signings (ever), one for Neil Gaiman’s release of American Gods (2001) and the other for Anthony Bourdain’s release of The Nasty Bits (2006); and I’ve never been to a get together with other book bloggers.  Generally, I am such a literal person that the words “either…or” really do mean to me that only the options included in the either/or statement are acceptable, but I’ll just have to be creative.

A few years ago, just before the release of Harry Potter Book 7, some friends and I decided to form a book club.  It was relatively short-lived but enjoyable while it lasted.  The best thing about it was that we all had such varying tastes that we were guaranteed to be forced to read something outside our usual comfort zone.  We read (and I hope I’m not forgetting anything):  Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling, Embers by Sandor Marai, A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson, Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible and Why by Bart D. Ehrman, East of Eden by John Steinbeck, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, The Problem of Pain and A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis, and Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin.  I’m fairly certain I’m the only one of the four (sometimes five) of us who finished the last three on that list, but I’m glad I did (they were good!).

I am in favor of book clubs.  Too often, I get in the habit of reading, reading, reading without ever thinking about what I’ve read.  Sometimes, 10 books later, I can’t even remember the plot or character names of a particular book.  But when I have to discuss the book and what I thought and felt about it with a group of people, whether my good friends or total strangers, I have to think about it.  That book ends up making a stronger impression on me because I took the time to think about it, internalize it, and formulate some thoughts about it.  Four years after reading East of Eden, I can’t tell you all the plot points, but I can remember most of the characters’ names, and I can tell you what I thought about that book.  I can even do that for my least favorite of the books we read (Misquoting Jesus and A Walk in the Woods).  Besides, the book club was totally worth it just to get my best friend to read Pride and Prejudice.  That was a bucket list item, for me.

Ultimately, life got in the way, and our book club fizzled out.  Some of us got married, some started having kids, some went back to school, all got busy.  Eventually, I started this blog both as a creative outlet and as a means to force me to think about what I’m reading (even if it’s not very good).  When I write about books for my blog, my approach is similar to the one I used in the book club–no sense talking about the plot, unless it’s remarkable; focus on the one or two standout things about the book (whether good or bad).  I’m beyond glad that my friends and I did that book club for a time.  It was a very positive book experience!  🙂