Thoughts on recent forays into the works of Jane Austen

Some months ago, in my home village, on a grassed area by a bus stop, there appeared a mysterious concrete plinth. (Mysterious to me, who hadn’t read the village magazine or the notes from the Parish Council, where its intent may have been announced.)

Some time later, a small building, like a little shed, was erected on the plinth, complete with shelves, doors and a felt roof. Finally, after some delay, the enigma was resolved as the shelves began to fill with books. It was a village book-swap.

In the course of time I donated a handful of my own books and in return took some away. I felt I mustn’t use it as somewhere just to dispose of unwanted books, but there wasn’t a lot there that appealed. Perhaps inevitably there were many cookery books, books for children, romances and thrillers too dark for my taste, but I approved of the principle and am always pleased to see people scouring the shelves. Books should be read, enjoyed if possible, discussed, shared, swapped, recommended – even ditched in disgust.

A few of my choices proved to be gems, leading me to discover new authors. One, however, wasn’t new: a very fat paperback with tiny print containing the complete works of Jane Austen. At this point I should confess – it feels like treachery – that my first acquaintance with Jane Austen was not a success. We had to read one of her books, I forget which, at school. As a budding adolescent feminist I was appalled by nineteen-year-old heroines who thought of nothing but marriage. Perhaps my teachers had explained some of the background, but I don’t remember that. So I reacted in ignorance, which I hope has now been addressed. Regrettably, If you were a young gentlewoman of limited means and not much education that was any use for survival, it probably seemed your best option.

I resolved to reread many of the works, which I had already read and enjoyed – after the teenage revolt. However to my shame there was a seventh book I had barely heard of: Lady Susan. Written as a series of letters (appropriate for the time, though probably not so popular today) both from the protagonist and between various people in her circle, it shows Lady Susan with startling clarity. Behind the elegant phrases and the flowery civilities is revealed a thoroughly horrible woman – conniving, heartless and egotistical. I have an idea that Jane Austen must have greatly enjoyed this devastating, yet subtle, portrayal.

Jane Austen has long had her admirers all over the world, and is enjoying a revival of popularity today, to some extent owing, I suppose, to films and television series based on her books. There have also been spin-off novels charting ‘what happened next at Pemberley’, ‘what became of the other Bennet sisters’ and so on. and I have read maybe half a dozen of these. Some were well-imagined and very readable; others were dire.

The appeal of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ in particular seems enduring, and this is no surprise. A friend and fellow author has written a clever twist on the idea of expanding (respectfully, of course) on Austen’s original, focusing on minor characters who may have only merited a paragraph. In a series of short stories entitled A Great Deal of Ingenuity, Ruth Leigh delivers in sparkling prose an insight into characters who deserve a fuller airing. I enjoyed every well-written word and am delighted that there is soon to be a sequel, called My Own Darling Child.

I have absolutely no hesitation in recommending them.