Pride and Prejudice

1813, 1966 Norton Critical edition
Jane Austen
Pride and Prejudice
Price unknown
Falling apart paperback
A-

I dropped out of college when I was 19.  My boyfriend hung in a bit longer before he dropped out, too.  We eventually married and divorced.   During that time when he was in college and I wasn't, he was assigned Pride and Prejudice.  He couldn't get through it, but I'd heard good things about Jane Austen, so I borrowed his book.  I've been borrowing it for 24 years, rereading it at least a dozen times, and it obviously wasn't even a new copy at the time.

What is it about Pride & Prejudice that stays with me, and so many other readers?  The shortest  answer is Lizzy.  Austen's, perhaps British literature's, best heroine is witty but sometimes clueless, kind but occasionally misanthropic.  She loves her family and she's ashamed of them (except for dear Jane of course).  She can fall for the smooth talk of Wickham (like Elinor trusting Willoughby), and yet analyse a letter like a scholar.  Lizzy is not my absolute favorite Austen protagonist (that's Emma Woodhouse, as I'll explain for that novel), partly because she's so many people's favorite, but she never ceases to delight me.

P & P is a novel full of fun characters.  There are ones that you'd never want to live with or even visit-- Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet, and Lady Catherine springing immediately to mind-- but at the safe distance of fiction they endlessly amuse with their self-centredness and idiocy.  (Even Lady C is a bit of a dolt, with things like her claim that she and her daughter would've been very talented musicians if they'd only ever taken lessons.) And there are characters that aren't necessary to the plot, like Sir Lucas and Mr. Hurst, that still entertain when they show up.

In my review of Sense and Sensibility, I said that this novel is more insightful.  For example, Lizzy herself admits that she enjoys "hating" Mr. Darcy and hopes she won't find dancing with him enjoyable.  And there's the line about how when, after an anticipated event fails to live up to expectations, the only thing to do is to start looking forward to another event.  Lizzy and the other characters, even the exaggerated ones, feel real and sometimes relatable.

My ex-husband did eventually come round to this novel, I think mostly due to the very good 1995 Firth & Ehle TV version.  I think Jennifer Ehle is perfect, from her voice to her "fine eyes."  I actually like Colin Firth better in some of his other roles, but then I'm not as enamored of Darcy as some people are.  I've grown used to Darcy, including his snobbishness, but he'd be about fifth on my "Austen hunks" list.  (Ahead of Col. Brandon and  Capt. Wentworth anyway.)  I think partly due to Firth's "wet shirt" scene, Darcy is regarded as very swoonworthy, and not coincidentally most Austen spin-off fiction (in the sense of professionally published fanfic) seems to be Pemberley-centric.  I've read one Darcy & Lizzy later-years novel, but I can't remember anything about it.

As the 1813 Critical Review critic noted, Lizzy & Darcy are like Beatrice & Benedick, and the "love-hate" here has probably influenced even more romantic comedies than Much Ado About Nothing.  The thing about MAAN, and some rom-coms, is that the hate changes to love for no other reason than that interfering friends (and the authors) decide it should.  At least here, both characters go through changes, not only from their prejudiced views of each other (and Darcy's disparagement of Lizzy at a ball is borrowed from Evelina) but from their original selves.  By the time they reconcile, months have passed and they've both grown into better people, mainly from knowing each other.  Their arguments aren't just "battles of the sexes" but clashes of world views.  Each is shaken up by meeting such a different person, and it's a broadening experience.  And yet, they aren't total opposites, because they have shared values, as with the Lydia crisis.

A few words about Lydia.  In the hands of most writers, she'd be just irritating, but Austen makes her funny and believable as well.  Whether she's loudly yawning and saying, "Lord, I'm tired!" or chasing after soldiers, she is a recognisable fifteen-year-old of a certain type that still exists.  She is both a scene-stealer and someone that the reader gets sick of.  And, as with Lucy in S & S, Austen feels no need to punish her, beyond giving her the shallow husband she wants and deserves.

P & P isn't a perfect book (I'm not sure I've ever read a perfect book), and if I had to pick one flaw, it'd be that too many of the conversations are indirect quotations.  I understand that in some cases this is to save time, but how can Darcy's first proposal go completely paraphrased, particularly after we get to see all of Mr. Collins's?  I love Austen's ironic distance, but there are times when she should bring the reader closer to the action.

Because this is a critical edition, another student used this copy before my ex, and there are a few notes written in an unfamiliar hand, mostly about the impact of money on love.