Book of the Week: Pride and Prejudice

Balls and ribbons, letters and farce, love and rejection, friendship and families – all these things we know and love of Pride and Prejudice.

In celebrating 200 years since the publication of the novel, I want to focus on just that – the novel. So often, Jane Austen’s clever style and pioneering use of the novel form are overlooked and this is particularly the case when the adaptations of the novel for film and television are arguably famed in their own right. Whether you are a fan of the BBC version, or the Keira Knightley film, there are of course some who may have watched both but have never experienced Austen’s writing, despite knowing her stories by heart.

There are few myths about Pride and Prejudice I would like to debunk.

Firstly, it is not a book solely for women. Yes, an Austen cast is often lead by women and she is particularly interested in women’s friendships with each other and their search for love. However it also comically and dramatically encounters of a whole plethora of society, which is part of what makes the story so enduringly loved. It would be very limiting indeed for male readers were they never to read such a novel.

Secondly, that Pride and Prejudice is an old, quaint and safe love story. It’s not. The free indirect narrative gives unprecedented access into the minds of the novel’s flawed characters – especially Lizzy and Darcy, for whom respective prejudice and pride are almost their undoing.

All in all, Elizabeth is a feminist heroine and Mr Darcy the first depressive, male lead. What Austen achieves with intertwining the voice of her narrator and characters is to create the ironic distance that makes the story such a joy and surprise to read. The reader is regularly put in a position of knowledge, but the narrative voice is oblivious, though of course the ‘narrator’ knows too. Just as the language is a feat of genius, so too is the plot. Remember, there are tears and second chances before the happy ending and though our protagonists get their happy ever after, realistic choices are made in the novel too.

That infamous first line reads, “it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife”; the truth of the novel is exactly the opposite: a single woman without good fortune must be in search of a man with one. The most poignant note of realism is perhaps Charlotte’s pragmatic marriage to the ridiculous Mr Collins, who is so finely characterised in the pomp of his letter (which has lead critics to suggest that the novel was originally epistolary). And Austen is not unrealistic or unhopeful when it comes to love and money in another case; there must have been many a Mrs Bennet at the time, who similarly married for love without particular consideration for income, but gets on reasonably happily.

Lastly, when Elizabeth says she falls in love with Mr Darcy upon seeing Pemberley Hall, it’s a joke, of course. I do wish people would stop underestimating Austen’s wit! No one falls in love just by seeing a big, fancy house – it may have indeed been a catalyst for realising her love for him, but the signs are there very much earlier in the novel. Austen’s ironic tone and Elizabeth’s unfailing ability to tease, argue and amuse all suggest this comment is meant as a joke.

Growing up in Bath, I have come to love the elegance of the Georgian high society which is so evident in the graceful architecture. But what really sells Jane Austen for me is her sharp wit and knowledge of the human heart, which are fatefully lost in adaptation.

(And just to put it out there, I prefer the Keira Knigthley version. The whole Colin Firth wet t-shirt situation is so much better in Bridget Jones II.)