Books I Have Reviewed

‘The Other Bennet Sister‘ – Concluded

In the second part of my review of ‘The Other Bennet Sister’ by Janice Hadlow, we find Mary Bennet, of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ infamy, in the company of the cheerful Gardiner family.

Faced with their easy kindness and general optimism, Mary Bennet quickly realises that growing up means, rather paradoxically, learning to present a buoyant and kind exterior; and, whatever one’s personal doubts and feelings, consciously making the best of whatever positive attributes one has to one’s credit: a tidy figure, lovely eyes, a kind smile, a willingness to work hard… Twin themes with which I identify quite closely, occasional glimmers of wisdom in the text catching me unexpectedly and leaving me feeling wistful and gratefully wiser: The notion that happiness is a choice comes through loud and clear.

There are many dangers in attempting a work of this nature. Not only the obvious problem of repeats and the realisation that P & P is one of the best-known novels of all time and that its devotees can probably quote large parts of the book. The reach back to more formal language is also fraught with difficulty: how far should a modern re-telling attempt to ape the language, flavour and wit of the original, and to what degree must a modern version use more accessible English?

There is also the problem of plausibility. It has often occurred to me that Mr Collins, in searching for a wife, was looking in entirely the wrong place, and that his helpmeet in life might well have been Mary. And indeed, in TOBS we have a fleeting, mutual regard between Mr Collins and Mary – prompting a jealousy in Charlotte Collins which does, at least, galvanise her to be kinder to her husband – followed by a dance with two younger, far more suitable men in the Gardiners’ entourage, one of whom is, admittedly, not handsome.

It’s a curious twist that Mary, cast as so plain and pedantic and without any fortune to call her own, should now find herself with a choice of two entirely eligible suitors. Does the ugly duckling become the swan, or are the feelings roused in her two vying suitors more likely the consequence of jealousy, the ‘you have it, I want it’ feature of possessiveness? Mary chooses her suitor, and chooses, therefore, her life, buoyed by happiness and by the joy of having, and running, her own home. It hardly occurs to her that in electing to enter the married state she is, in many ways, electing one form of servitude over another. Perhaps a more comfortable one. But it speaks volumes for the aspirations of Georgian and Victorian women that they aspired so ardently to marry, thus exchanging the service they owed to their fathers and brothers, for that which they will offer to their husbands.

All in all, a very creditable novel, painstaking and carefully written and even, dare I say it, educative!

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‘The Other Bennet Sister’ by Janice Hadlow

Though I hesitate to buy books at supermarkets, I picked this up quickly: where else, at the moment, can we buy new books? Needing something to read, ‘The Other Bennet Sister’ looked a safe bet. I love Jane Austen, for her wisdom and her wit, and have read all her books, seen the films… And ‘Pride and Prejudice’ is my favourite.

TOBS is a good book, an interesting story that does very well to graft itself into the original story while keeping some of the original flavour and not being unduly repetitive.

It quickly became apparent to me that, in order for TOBS not to lean too heavily on the work that inspired it, the first part of this retelling is concerned with a reprise of P & P from Mary’s point of view, only then moving forward to what happened after we leave Elizabeth and Jane contemplating their own versions of married bliss. In this, the author does a good job to weave a path for Mary through an earlier narrative which leaves her almost no room, and indeed, casts her as a colourless and unpromising pain in the bahookie.

Managing Mary’s emergence from the low expectations of her family – and indeed, of Jane Austen – while honouring the original story is a significant achievement in itself and must have presented the author with a fair nightmare of checking and double-checking for internal accuracy and consistency. Indeed, so painstaking and careful has this process obviously been, that I can almost hear the author sighing with relief when Mary finally sets out on her own path and a fresh aspect to the story can be crafted without constant reference to what went previously.

Through suitably juvenile reflections and dawning awareness, Mary must concede the unenviable choices facing her: she must marry. And if that proves elusive, she must either live as an object of charity with Jane and their mother who is horrible to her, or become a somewhat unwelcome addition to Lizzy’s blissfully happy household. If all that fails, she can go into servitude as a governess. In realising that her choices are so limited, Mary does finally find a home with the Gardiners, her mother’s brother being a far kinder person to her than Mary’s mother could ever be. From the warmer embrace of her uncle’s home, Mary sits and waits for a miracle.  

(to be continued)

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Katherine by Anya Seton

In April and May hereabouts the weather is usually fine, albeit unpredictable, and we tend to think, “It’s going to be such a wonderful summer…” Then in June it rains, and we think, “What happened?” and wonder how we can fill our summer days.

I can tackle my TBR pile, review books and sort out my shelves; in fact, I must: my mother has several hundred books in a collection which has been whittled down from several thousand, and the only way I know to handle all the books that deserve reading, is to read them.

I am currently immersed in “Katherine” by Anya Seton which is the only book, lately, that has made me cry. I have to read it slowly, which is unusual for me, though the style and form make it difficult to speed-read. Dating from the 1950s, I thought it would be rather staid, but it’s surprisingly frank and engaging and it hits home in ways I scarcely expected it to, when I’m reading it late at night.

I am also loving the adventurous, based-on-true-life love story told well away from the harsh limelight of the Tudors, who look surprisingly spoilt when considering their prolific and adventurous antecedents, the Plantagenets. Though very occasionally, the tale leaks into gushing sentiment, the details with which Ms Seton fleshes out a scanty factual record, are engaging and really help to hold my interest. In my mind’s eye, I can see the wharfs where the Duke and his paramour stand together, I can feel the jolt of the horses they ride, the journeys Katherine undertakes and her splendid isolation in one of the Duke’s many castles.

I like a historical novel. Though “Katherine” is a big read and has taken me many days, yet I think it must rank as one of my favourite historical novels ever. Given the remoteness of the period and the reality that much of what is known about is overshadowed, written about in retrospect and with a rather caustic, politicised hindsight – high-born men simply did not marry their commoner mistresses! – I find myself rooting for John of Gaunt – of course! – and delighted utterly that finally, he and Katherine marry and they both live happily thereafter. Just like a fairy-tale.

I cannot, for the life of me, work out why this novel is not yet a film, nor why Katherine and John do not feature more widely in common myth, like Romeo and Juliet or even Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry the second of England. But that could simply be because I fell in love with the characters.

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