A Pride and Prejudice relationship chart

My husband read my book. He kept telling me he was going to read it, but I really didn't think he would, because he never reads fiction. He reads--he reads lots of books; just not fiction. However, I was wrong! He did read it, once we got a hard copy.

Now, my husband is familiar with Pride and Prejudice in a general way. He's watched at least parts of various movie versions, and I will sometimes talk to him about the characters and what I'm writing about. However, he is not so familiar as to remember exactly who everybody is, and a few chapters into UA, he was asking me a lot of questions about how different people were related. To help him, I made him the following set of family trees, and I thought I would post it here too.

Still Reading Sense and Sensibility

So I'm still reading Sense and Sensibility. I've gotten through the part where Lucy Steele shows up and breaks Elinor's heart. I have to say that my favorite part so far is the wonderfully ridiculous conversation with the Palmers, especially Mrs. Palmer (chapter 20). It is difficult to express just how funny this whole scene is, in a perfectly deadpan fashion. Mr. Palmer is determinedly rude, while it seems the ruder he is the happier his wife is, while all the while poor Elinor keeps trying to change the subject, but no matter how often she does Mrs. Palmer says something else vulgar (but perfectly good humored). I particularly loved this:

[Mrs. Palmer speaking] "You cannot think what a sweet place Cleveland is; and we are so gay now, for Mr. Palmer is always going about the country canvassing against the election; and so many people come to dine with us that I never saw before, it is quite charming! But, poor fellow! it is very fatiguing to him! for he is forced to make everybody like him."

And this:

[Elinor] "You have been long acquainted with Colonel Brandon, have not you?"  

[Mrs. Palmer] "Yes, a great while; ever since my sister married. -- He was a particular friend of Sir John's. I believe," she added in a low voice, "he would have been very glad to have had me, if he could. Sir John and Lady Middleton wished it very much. But mama did not think the match good enough for me, otherwise Sir John would have mentioned it to the colonel, and we should have been married immediately."

"Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir John's proposal to your mother before it was made? Had he never owned his affection to yourself?"

"Oh! no; but if mama had not objected to it, I dare say he would have liked it of all things. He had not seen me then above twice, for it was before I left school. However I am much happier as I am. Mr. Palmer is just the kind of man I like."
 

Besides this, I have to admit that there are times that I find I like Marianne better than Elinor. Not when she's being completely self-centered and melodramatic, but I like her honesty--the fact that she refuses to tell the polite lies that Elinor tells. For instance, when Elinor wants to get time alone to talk with Lucy, she tells this whopper about her ardent desire to help decorate a basket for Lady Middleton's spoiled daughter:

 "Perhaps," continued Elinor, "if I should happen to cut out, I may be of some use to Miss Lucy Steele, in rolling her papers for her; and there is so much still to be done to the basket, that it must be impossible, I think, for her labour singly, to finish it this evening. I should like the work exceedingly, if she would allow me a share in it."
 

Marianne, on the other hand, offended her hostess with this shocking piece of rudeness (which doesn't seem particularly rude by our current standards):

"Your ladyship will have the goodness to excuse me -- you know I detest cards. I shall go to the pianoforte; I have not touched it since it was tuned." And without farther ceremony, she turned away and walked to the instrument.

 I don't see that it should be necessary to tell lies to get out of a game of cards you have no desire to play. Why can't you just say that you don't like cards?

Any way, I do like Marianne. She has delicacy and taste, and it's hard to blame her that she can hardly stand the alternately vulgar and tedious Middletons. Besides, she's only seventeen. But whenever she indulges in hysterics I want to shake her.

Upon Re-reading Sense and Sensibility

I have probably not read most of Jane Austen's novels as many times as a professed fan should. I wish to right that, and right now I am reading Sense and Sensibility, Austen's first novel. All of my favorite Jane Austen-based movies are based on S&S; it's a story that I love, and I think its lessons about reason versus romance and the best way to approach a relationship are valuable and needed in this day and age.

So far I have read up through chapter 19, which takes us to the middle of Edward's visit to Barton Cottage. So far we have moved back and forth between Edward and Willoughby, the two men who come in and win the Dashwood girls' hearts, and then mysteriously leave without declaring themselves. First there was Edward Ferrars, who, however, never speaks at all during the chapters which introduce him and discuss his growing attachment to Elinor. The ladies move to Devonshire, and duly meet the dashing Willoughby, who captivates all with his charming manners and undisguised preference for Marianne's company. No sooner does he exit stage right, leaving disappointment in his wake, then Edward suddenly comes back on the scene. Edward's behavior, however, seems as inexplicable as Willoughby's before his going. Everyone knows he's in love with Elinor, but he doesn't behave like he is, doesn't even behave like he's very happy to be there.

Austen creates symmetrical situations for the two couples, while describing a complete difference in behavior and personality. Edward is shy and rather socially awkward, and not particularly handsome. He and Elinor behave themselves with restraint and perfect propriety, and Elinor exerts herself not to hope too much or become too much attached to him when he has not given her certain knowledge of his affection. Willoughby is all things manly and beautiful, open, talkative, as impetuous and passionate as Marianne herself, and neither of them exercise any restraint whatsoever. Marriane loves him with devoted adoration, and doesn't care who knows it. All of this is setting the stage for future revelations which will reveal the motives of each gentleman in keeping silent, and prove the wisdom of their ladies' approach to love.

One of the things that strikes me in reading this is how both Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood think Marianne must be engaged, although she has not said anything to either of them about it. It is assumed by both of them that she (at 17) has every right to enter an engagement even without her mother's knowledge or consent, and in fact, Mrs. Dashwood refuses to even ask her about it. This is not a wise move on Mrs. Dashwood's part (the narrator tells you so frankly), and is proof of how Mrs. Dashwood allows her delicate sensibilities to interfere with her ability to be a good parent, but even Elinor seems unsurprised at the idea that an engagement could be formed without an application for consent. The fact that Mrs. Dashwood's consent is certain does not seem like adequate reason to forgo it.

Another thing I am struck by are the ages discussed. I am now 36, which puts me at poor, despised Brandon's advanced age. Of course, the part of the story where Marianne talks about how infirm he is and how he couldn't possibly be capable of passion (any more than a 27 year old woman), is wonderful comedy which shows just how young and foolish she is. But then there's Mrs. Dashwood, who is reckoned "barely forty," but who her step-son John is sure cannot possibly survive another fifteen years. John and Fanny are likewise ridiculous, but it serves as a reminder that the white-haired women who are so often pictured as mothers and aunts in the movies aren't accurate. The mothers in most of these stories are probably only in their early forties. It is a little disconcerting to think that I am nearer Mrs. Bennet's age than Elizabeth's--after all, 36 is reckoned still young in our time--and realizing how very young most of these heroines are gives me a new perspective on them too.