Libby Purves
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A backlash is a healthy thing, if only because it provokes a sharper defence of whatever is being lashed out at. Celia Brayfield’s attack on Jane Austen here yesterday struck some amusing chords — yes, many of us are bonneted-out and do not hunger for more films full of luminous Hollywood divas and chaps in breeches. Yes, there is only so much sprigged muslin one can take.
There are some fine films, and some atrocious ones. The new Becoming Jane is a jeu d’esprit in which the young authoress lives most of her own novels in months, with James McAvoy morphing from Mr Darcy to Mr Wickham before becoming in turn Willoughby (when he runs off with a richer girl), Edward Ferrars (when he can’t defy his rich relative) and finally Captain Wentworth (when she turns him down). To appreciate Austen you do not need to like the films. But you do need to read the books fairly.
Brayfield does not, furiously abhorring the “doll’s house world” of drawing-room restriction. The author of Wild Weekend and Mister Fabulous and Friends now accuses Jane Austen of focusing on “young women’s fancies” while ignoring the French Revolution, Napoleon, and the Chinese woman pirate Zheng Yi Sao. She berates Austen for not being Mary Wollstonecraft, for failing to “look out of the window” at poverty and recording a sexist society. It seems a bit hard to condemn a writer both for ignoring her society and for recording it, but let that pass. The fact is that England in the 1800s was indeed sexist, and it is salutary to be reminded that our modern mores are not some historical norm but an interesting new adventure.
Being a middle-class girl in the 1800s, clinging on to the lower rungs of the financial ladder, was frightening. Daily life was arduous — all that sewing was not a hobby but household maintenance and the construction of clothes. In the country, livestock must be tended and a woman’s retreat to the drawing-room in a clean dress was often well earned. The older generation, especially if moneyed, held a power over the young unimaginable to our generation.
Beyond the walls of home the prospect was alarming: no social security, no pensions, no dole, no health service, antibiotics or reliable contraception; terrifying childbirths, no careers for single women without a slide down the social scale towards poverty. Austen’s dark word “want’ is very different from its equivalent in modern women’s fiction, all wannabe and must-have. Her willingness to laugh at Mrs Bennet in Pride and Prejudice is actually brave and edgy: five unmarried daughters really could end up in the poorhouse, given the entail (on financial matters she is as precise as Balzac).
In her world, marriage was not a rom-com happy ending: for the girl with no money it was a necessary escape from either poverty or the despised dependency of a Miss Bates. Yet escape had its own dangers; a husband could beat, starve or bore you with impunity. To hold out for love and a companionate marriage was nobly foolhardy: Charlotte Lucas is not wholly condemned for taking Mr Collins and finding consolation in “her parish and her poultry”. There’s hard realism for you — not “young women’s fancies”.
Yet Jane Austen laughs, poking fun at her world with more acuity than those who merely sneer at bonnets. She muses cheekily on men who find that “imbecility in females is a great enhancement of their personal charms”. She is witty, she is observant, she tells a good story. She is no modern feminist, yet through silly Catherine Morland she utters a complaint that prefigures exactly our own feminist historians: “History, real solemn history, I cannot be interested in . . . I read it a little as a duty, but it tells me nothing that does not either vex or weary me. The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars or pestilences, in every page; the men so good-for-nothing, and hardly any women at all — it is very tiresome.”
The accusation of ignoring her era’s history is common enough, but misguided. Poverty is not ignored; it is not dwelt upon probably because it was ubiquitous, and even daft Emma spends a lot of time helping cottagers. The most telling descriptions are the Portsmouth scenes in Mansfield Park, with dirt and sluttishness and a rough drunk father to remind Fanny Price what happens if you marry without judgment. This is as stark as any modish fictional slumming of today: starker, because closer to home. As to foreign wars, fringe characters vanish into them and sometimes die; if we are honest, that is all that most of us would know of wars today, if you discounted television pictures watched from a sofa.
When not excoriating her for ignoring Chinese pirates, Brayfield attacks Austen for not recording developments in molecular theory or joining the philosophical fight between reason and romanticism — though what else, on a domestic scale, is Sense and Sensibility? She also accuses Austen of making today’s publishers ban women novelists from putting war scenes in their books (though nobody remotely dissuaded me from putting Basra and Umm Qasr in one of my own, before sidling back to the personal dramas). But here we come to a wider modern error: the self-important belief common among writers that their work is worth nothing unless it plonkingly takes on current “issues”.
Thus affluent chaps from Primrose Hill sit smugly writing up the cracked concrete and crack cocaine of the inner city, a knowledge of Scottish syringe argot is a sine qua non on the festival circuit, and many a gritty novel has been inspired, not by a feeling heart and personal vision, but by a calculated scan of the home and foreign news pages in search of a “high concept” to excite the Sunday critics.
Jane Austen would see right through that. And laugh.
Libby Purves worked for some years for BBC Radio 4, as a reporter and a presenter on the Today programme and, since 1983, has presented Midweek. She joined The Times as a columnist in 1990. She received an OBE in 1999 for her services to journalism and was Columnist of the Year in the same year. In her spare time she writes bestselling novels. Her opinion column appears in the The Times on Mondays
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I thought berating Jane Austen was SO last decade! I've no idea who Ms Brayfield is, but her rage does seem a bit outdated. On the other hand, much as I applaud and admire Ms Purves, I feel she's a bit unfair on us, Primrose Hill dwellers. Some of us have been living here since the 60's, long before the "Primrose Hill chaps" (and chappesses) have taken over, and we love Jane Austen.
O. Kustow, LONDON, UK
You can't read a Jane Austen novel without being punishingly aware of the risk involved in being a young middle class woman, from penury, as in Fanny in Mansfield Park, and Eleanor and Marianne and their mother and sister, all living on charity, to Charlotte Lucas, married to an idiot to keep food on her table, and to the poor ruined ward of Colonel Brandon and the Fanny's rash, adulterous cousin, both cast off for ever by the sexist society that, goodness me, apparently JA DID notice all around her after all. Read the text, Celia Brayfield, and stop looking at the sprig muslin.
Jane, London, UK
Not for the first time, Hurray for Libby Purves. My wife and I saw Becoming Jane Austen and were pleasantly surprised. What you say about Tom Lefroy and the range of Austen men he metamorphs within is spot on. The worst thing about the movie is that the Austen family - all of them bar poor old George an author - was portrayed as the Bennet family. Though having said that ,the resulting Bennet family was less gross than in eg the 'Colin Firth' TV version.
I was very pleased to see Henry and his second wife the comtesse: very well done, and to a extent rebutting the stuff about the narrowness of Austen's experience.
But principally, in your piece, I was delighted to see the whinging Brayfield get her come-uppance. My happiness about that could only have been increased if you had been able to respond to the still worse piece in the Observer by Victoria Coren. Worse, because here snideness was combined with a false knowingness: Has she ever read and understood what there is of Sanditon?
Donald Measham, Matlock, UK
Thank you for a wonderful defense of Jane Austen. Ms Brayfield and the other critical articles in the Times the last week or so violate one of the most important rules of any kind of historical writting....namely you never judge a historical period thru the eyes of your own time. And you never judge it by the mores of your own time period. Ms Brayfield lost any sort of credibility when she brought the female Chinese pirate into her argument. Considering that
most people....male/female,wellread/ueducated,rich/poor didn't even know what was going on in other side of their own country let alone across the world. Also don't most writting teachers preach that the best writters write about that which is familiar to them.
Linda, Santa Fe, USA
I absolutely agree, Jane Austen would be laughing in somebody's face. She is projecting her era through words and while it may be interpreted as politically incorrect by todays standards it was undoubtedly right on the mark for the era in question.
Kathleen Lee, Savannah, GA USA
Doc M appears to share Gradgrind's view that unless something is fact, fact, fact, it is of no importance. The truth about human emotions and the fierce internal battles people fight with their own natures may take place in a 'tea-party world', but that doesn't make them insignificant. Art holds a mirror up to nature, it's not supposed to be history!
Carolyn Ten Holter, Oxford,
What a splendid piece of writing. Please avert your gaze as you step over the mangled remains of Celia Brayfield. Libby on song is up with Chesterton.
Mike Fowle, Felixstowe, Suffolk
You can judge the quality of Jane by the quality of her friends and enemies. It's not a co-incidence, I think, that she was greatly admired by Sir Walter Scott, Anthony Trollope and Rudyard Kipling - but rather despised by Charlotte Bronte, who hadn't cottoned-on to the fact that Jane (in Northanger Abbey) had taken the p*** out of Jane Eyre before CB had even written it!
EVERYBODY has met a Miss Bates, or a Mr Collins or a Mrs Elton (Kipling's The Janeites); how many people have met a bigamist who keeps his mad wife locked up in the deserted wing of his crumbling mansion . . .?
Most of Jane's characters could read her description of themselves without getting the joke, and yet she tells it in a way that makes you think that only you and she are in on it.
Unhappily, it is that wonderful gossipy quality of her writing (like P.G. Wodehouse) that makes her work virtually undramatisable without diminishing it - noble though some of the efforts to do so have been.
NicholasThorowgood, Reading, Berks.
Thank goodness (not for the first time!) for Libby Purves, this time in her welcome 1000-word pasturing of the tiresome hee-hawing Celia Brayfield. Like effective writers everywhere, Libby combines solid knowledge (here the books of Jane Austen) with pertinent common sense ("The fact is that England in the 1800s was indeed sexist, and it is salutary to be reminded that our modern mores are not some historical norm but an interesting new adventure"). Brayfield tells us little about Austen and very too much about herself (what a novel insight on Austen: she didn't write about female Chinese pirates). As Libby says, "Jane Austen would see right through that. And laugh".
Peter Leary, Edinburgh, UK
The lives and concerns of women, whoever they may be, and however rich or poor they may be, are as important as any war or pestilence.
AJ, Great Neck, New York
Those who criticise Jane Austen seem to hinge their remarks on her not writing what they want. Jane Austen wisely stuck to writing about what she knew, which did not include the poorest. And belittling the social problems of the past because they don't seem very serious in our NHS and welfare supported world to be very serious, is just anachronism of the worst sort. The fate that could befall you if your circumstances shifted just slightly do not bear thinking of - no benefits of any kind except the poorhouse which was worse than prison, hanging for theft, burning alive for killing a violent husband (such a burning actually occurred during Jane's youth).
The Prices in Portsmouth have a maid, but that does not make them middle class. At that time everyone above subsistence level had one. Maids were the domestic technology of the period, and to say someone who has one is middle class is like saying anyone who has a washing machine or a vacuum cleaner now is middle class.
alexandria, Sheffield, UK
I don't think that Jane Austen's political beliefs matter. It is her books, her art that matters. Pride and Prejudice is as neatly organized as any great play by Shakespeare, starting with a view of the unsuccessful marriage of Mr and Mrs Bennett and trying to define or find a good marriage. Every detail in the book is essential, and none can be omitted, just as every brush stroke or every color of a great painting must be a part of a whole, whether it is by Raphael or Rothko. Added to the structural unity of the work are the vitality of the characters and the brilliance of the writing. No wonder that Virginia Woolf called P and P a perfect gem. Like all great art, it opens a magic door on a world, and it only requires a suspension of disbelief to cross that threshold. We may close the book at the end and wonder why the book did not begin at the ending, but the theme or question dealt with the nature of love and not the marriage of Elizabeth and Darcy who were parts of an argument.
jim, Brewster, MA, USA
Not all women readers actually enjoy novels in which the only plot is the mating habits of the upper middle-class. Austen's heroines don't face the poor-house: just becoming 'poor relations', or (shock! horror!) *work ing* as governesses! The Prices in 'Mansfield Park' are shabby-genteel (her father was an invalided Marine officer), and they have a maid, albeit an incompetent one. There is no sign of the rural poor (except as the object of charitable visits), none of the burgeoning industrial working-class. It's a twee, tea-party world, where the worst thing that happens is a bit of quickly-punished adultery (with none of the anguish that better novelists, of wider range, have brought to the theme).
I prefer to read of "The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars or pestilences, in every page". So what if "there are hardly any women"? At least matters of significance are at stake. I only read Austen because I was forced to: not the kind of novels I would touch with a barge-pole
Doc M, Glasgow, Scotland
Jane Austin was a brilliant writer of her time, like Charles Dickens. People who criticise Jane Austen like Cecelia Brayfield, have a very poor understanding of quality writing.
Unfortunately she is a victim of the modern era and the general falling standards of writing skills.
Good writers are people with imagination and awareness of what is going on around them and developing it in their own style, through the characters they portray in the stories.
Very few have this quality and sadly in the modern era of mobile phones and computers unlikely to produce very many more like Jane Austen in the future.
John. Gilmore, Chantilly, France
The 'womens' world of Jane Austen is more peaceful and exciting than all those historical wars in which men feature mainly. If only men could solve their issues like Jane's characters!
R. Ince, Istanbul, Turkey
Well said Libby! An excellent defence of class against the mediocre. However, whilst agreeing all of your valid rebuttals of Celia Brayfields article, you omitted what is probably the greatest thing that separates the likes of Austin from those carping critics who can see no further than promoting their own dogma. Where most novelists struggle to be merely workmanlike, stodgily applying language to tell a narrative, the great ones use language with the finesse of a swordmaster. Shakespeare clearly had it, as did Spencer. In modern times Tolkein achieved the same. As with them, Austin was a master craftsman (craftswoman?), She was, if you will, a Michaelangelo of the written word. It is a joy to read her, irrespective of the content of her writing. That content, significant as it is, merely enhances the effect. And it is this mocking eloquence that brings home the injustices of her times far more effectively than the strident braying or incessant whining of todays activists.
Bob Finbow, Haverhill, England
All those novels based on contemporary issues -- will anybody be reading them in 200 years?
Marie, Washington DC, USA
Yes. Austen's novels are based on her " personal vision" and that's what makes them so interesting. I agree that one doesn't necessarily have to focus on some contemporary issue, that makes the headlines in newspapers, to make a novel interesting.
Suganthy Krishnamachari, Chennai, INDIA
The fact remains that 'who is going to marry whom' represents the only plot line in all of the novels. Boring as hell! We men don't care who marries whom!
Hrothgar, Schaumburg, USA