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1willgrstevens
I find the character of Mr Weston in 'Emma' extremely puzzling - not for what he is, but for the way he's presented.
In the book, he's the man everybody loves and is concerned for - and, as far as I can discern, Jane Austen thinks that everybody is right to love him and to be concerned for him.
Yet, in reality, he's an exploitative old so-and-so. He appears to be concerned all the time about other people and their welfare - and yet things always turn out exactly he wants; he never experiences real discomfort, disappointment or frustration. I find that I yearn for somebody (one of the Knightley brothers, perhaps?) to explain to him in plain language that, despite all his apparent concern for others, he's really a horribly self-regarding old .
There are plenty of examples throughout the book, but the most extreme one comes at the end. How dare he allow considerations of his own domestic comfort to delay his daughter's marriage to the man she loves? How can he allow Mr Knightley to make the great sacrifice of giving up his own home and coming to live with his father-in-law?
What surprises me is that Jane Austen doesn't pass this, obvious, judgement on Mr Weston. What's going on? Is she simply leaving it to the reader? If so, why the silence? It's not her normal style for she is often a sharp, even harsh, critic of her characters - for example, the way in which, in 'Persuasion', she treats Mrs Musgrove's sorrow following the death of her son Dick. Jane Austen tells us that Dick was worthless, so why, she asks, should his mother go on grieving for him?
Or, alternatively, does Jane Austen approve, or at least condone, Mr Weston's behaviour?
I don't see it. Any ideas? All I can think is that he may have been a recognisable portrait of some member of the Austen family, and so Jane holds her fire for that reason.
In the book, he's the man everybody loves and is concerned for - and, as far as I can discern, Jane Austen thinks that everybody is right to love him and to be concerned for him.
Yet, in reality, he's an exploitative old so-and-so. He appears to be concerned all the time about other people and their welfare - and yet things always turn out exactly he wants; he never experiences real discomfort, disappointment or frustration. I find that I yearn for somebody (one of the Knightley brothers, perhaps?) to explain to him in plain language that, despite all his apparent concern for others, he's really a horribly self-regarding old .
There are plenty of examples throughout the book, but the most extreme one comes at the end. How dare he allow considerations of his own domestic comfort to delay his daughter's marriage to the man she loves? How can he allow Mr Knightley to make the great sacrifice of giving up his own home and coming to live with his father-in-law?
What surprises me is that Jane Austen doesn't pass this, obvious, judgement on Mr Weston. What's going on? Is she simply leaving it to the reader? If so, why the silence? It's not her normal style for she is often a sharp, even harsh, critic of her characters - for example, the way in which, in 'Persuasion', she treats Mrs Musgrove's sorrow following the death of her son Dick. Jane Austen tells us that Dick was worthless, so why, she asks, should his mother go on grieving for him?
Or, alternatively, does Jane Austen approve, or at least condone, Mr Weston's behaviour?
I don't see it. Any ideas? All I can think is that he may have been a recognisable portrait of some member of the Austen family, and so Jane holds her fire for that reason.
2TheUpturnedKnows
"I find the character of Mr Weston in 'Emma' extremely puzzling - not for what he is, but for the way he's presented."
Then you are on the road to a deeper understanding of the deep complexities and mysteries of this greatest of novels!
But first you need to get the names straight--now that I have reread your post, you clearly are talking about Mr. Woodhouse, but what's very interesting is that all of your questions ALSO fit Mr. Weston, so I will leave them in!
"In the book, he's the man everybody loves and is concerned for - and, as far as I can discern, Jane Austen thinks that everybody is right to love him and to be concerned for him."
There is no way in any of her novels, but above all in Emma, to definitively know what JA thinks about any of her characters. That is her greatest genius, to keep the reader uncertain, and therefore open to multiple interpretations.
"Yet, in reality, he's an exploitative old so-and-so. He appears to be concerned all the time about other people and their welfare - and yet things always turn out exactly he wants; he never experiences real discomfort, disappointment or frustration. I find that I yearn for somebody (one of the Knightley brothers, perhaps?) to explain to him in plain language that, despite all his apparent concern for others, he's really a horribly self-regarding old ."
And you are not even mentioning that Mr. Weston gives up toddler Frank to his sister in law "for other considerations" (and if you are familiar with the ancient language of real property deeds, that is EXACTLY the language used to describe land that has been SOLD), but in the novel, Isabella Knightley DOES question Mr. Weston's decision to "sell" Frank.
"There are plenty of examples throughout the book, but the most extreme one comes at the end. How dare he allow considerations of his own domestic comfort to delay his daughter's marriage to the man she loves? How can he allow Mr Knightley to make the great sacrifice of giving up his own home and coming to live with his father-in-law?"
Don't feel bad for Knightley, once he marries Emma and moves in at Hartfield, Hartfield becomes HIS property!
"What surprises me is that Jane Austen doesn't pass this, obvious, judgement on Mr Weston. What's going on? Is she simply leaving it to the reader? If so, why the silence? It's not her normal style for she is often a sharp, even harsh, critic of her characters - for example, the way in which, in 'Persuasion', she treats Mrs Musgrove's sorrow following the death of her son Dick. Jane Austen tells us that Dick was worthless, so why, she asks, should his mother go on grieving for him?"
You are wrong, most often JA's narration is often very complex and seemingly contradictory, and there are endless debates among Janeites as to JA's actual opinion about most of her characters.
"All I can think is that he may have been a recognisable portrait of some member of the Austen family, and so Jane holds her fire for that reason."
But in the subtext of the novel, she does not hold her fire, and I do indeed believe that Mr. Woodhouse has real life models, about whom JA did not have very kindly feelings.
Then you are on the road to a deeper understanding of the deep complexities and mysteries of this greatest of novels!
But first you need to get the names straight--now that I have reread your post, you clearly are talking about Mr. Woodhouse, but what's very interesting is that all of your questions ALSO fit Mr. Weston, so I will leave them in!
"In the book, he's the man everybody loves and is concerned for - and, as far as I can discern, Jane Austen thinks that everybody is right to love him and to be concerned for him."
There is no way in any of her novels, but above all in Emma, to definitively know what JA thinks about any of her characters. That is her greatest genius, to keep the reader uncertain, and therefore open to multiple interpretations.
"Yet, in reality, he's an exploitative old so-and-so. He appears to be concerned all the time about other people and their welfare - and yet things always turn out exactly he wants; he never experiences real discomfort, disappointment or frustration. I find that I yearn for somebody (one of the Knightley brothers, perhaps?) to explain to him in plain language that, despite all his apparent concern for others, he's really a horribly self-regarding old ."
And you are not even mentioning that Mr. Weston gives up toddler Frank to his sister in law "for other considerations" (and if you are familiar with the ancient language of real property deeds, that is EXACTLY the language used to describe land that has been SOLD), but in the novel, Isabella Knightley DOES question Mr. Weston's decision to "sell" Frank.
"There are plenty of examples throughout the book, but the most extreme one comes at the end. How dare he allow considerations of his own domestic comfort to delay his daughter's marriage to the man she loves? How can he allow Mr Knightley to make the great sacrifice of giving up his own home and coming to live with his father-in-law?"
Don't feel bad for Knightley, once he marries Emma and moves in at Hartfield, Hartfield becomes HIS property!
"What surprises me is that Jane Austen doesn't pass this, obvious, judgement on Mr Weston. What's going on? Is she simply leaving it to the reader? If so, why the silence? It's not her normal style for she is often a sharp, even harsh, critic of her characters - for example, the way in which, in 'Persuasion', she treats Mrs Musgrove's sorrow following the death of her son Dick. Jane Austen tells us that Dick was worthless, so why, she asks, should his mother go on grieving for him?"
You are wrong, most often JA's narration is often very complex and seemingly contradictory, and there are endless debates among Janeites as to JA's actual opinion about most of her characters.
"All I can think is that he may have been a recognisable portrait of some member of the Austen family, and so Jane holds her fire for that reason."
But in the subtext of the novel, she does not hold her fire, and I do indeed believe that Mr. Woodhouse has real life models, about whom JA did not have very kindly feelings.
3willgrstevens
Oh dear! Another senior moment! Of course, I meant Mr Woodhouse, not Mr Weston.
And, in a way, it assists the point I'm making. For, since I am now older than Mr Woodhouse, you might think that I'd have become more sympathetic to the self-indulgent old buffer. Only I haven't.
(Interestingly, though, I have become much more sympathetic towards Emma herself. When I first read the book - don't ask me how long ago that was - I loathed her. But now she seems really quite likeable. I'm not sure that I'd want her as a daughter, though ... )
You draw a distinction between Jane Austen, the person, and Jane Austen, the narrator of her novels, and, of course, you're right: we simply don't know to what extent the narrator of the novels reflects, or doesn't reflect, Jane Austen's own opinions and attitudes. I should, though, be surprised if they were very far apart. The main reason for saying this is that the narrator seems to be very much the same person in all the novels, and also seems to resemble the writer of Jane Austen's letters.
But be that as it may, surely, the point is that the narrator appears to have a distinct personality with a distinct point of view, which is often forcefully expressed, as in the example which I cited from 'Persuasion'. One way or another, judgements are constantly being passed on the characters in the books; it seems to me to be fairly rare for there to be any ambivalence. (Perhaps Henry and Mary Crawford in 'Mansfield Park' are an exception, but I find it hard to think of others.)
So you still leave me with the question: why doesn't old Woodhouse get it in the neck, as he undoubted deserves? Does the narrator condone, or even approve, his conduct? I find it hard to believe that.
And, in a way, it assists the point I'm making. For, since I am now older than Mr Woodhouse, you might think that I'd have become more sympathetic to the self-indulgent old buffer. Only I haven't.
(Interestingly, though, I have become much more sympathetic towards Emma herself. When I first read the book - don't ask me how long ago that was - I loathed her. But now she seems really quite likeable. I'm not sure that I'd want her as a daughter, though ... )
You draw a distinction between Jane Austen, the person, and Jane Austen, the narrator of her novels, and, of course, you're right: we simply don't know to what extent the narrator of the novels reflects, or doesn't reflect, Jane Austen's own opinions and attitudes. I should, though, be surprised if they were very far apart. The main reason for saying this is that the narrator seems to be very much the same person in all the novels, and also seems to resemble the writer of Jane Austen's letters.
But be that as it may, surely, the point is that the narrator appears to have a distinct personality with a distinct point of view, which is often forcefully expressed, as in the example which I cited from 'Persuasion'. One way or another, judgements are constantly being passed on the characters in the books; it seems to me to be fairly rare for there to be any ambivalence. (Perhaps Henry and Mary Crawford in 'Mansfield Park' are an exception, but I find it hard to think of others.)
So you still leave me with the question: why doesn't old Woodhouse get it in the neck, as he undoubted deserves? Does the narrator condone, or even approve, his conduct? I find it hard to believe that.
4TheUpturnedKnows
Thanks for your amicable reply.
You may not be aware that there is a significant strand of Austen scholarly criticism which focuses on the very special question of the reliability and objectivity of the narrator in all her novels, but particularly in Emma. Because Austen so often and extensively blends the thoughts of the heroine with the narration, there are a multitude of passages where it simply cannot be objectively determined which is which.
My discovery, which led me to develop my entire theory of Jane Austen's "shadow stories" (see my blog for more details), is that you get two parallel fictional universes in the same novel if you (a) read the narration as essentially objective and reliable, versus (b) read the narration as essential SUBJECTIVE (i.e., reflecting the prejudiced perceptions of the heroine) and therefore mostly unreliable.
Vis a vis Mr. Woodhouse, because Emma is so favorably disposed toward her father, and willing to overlook all his flaws, the narration reflects her perspective, and that is how Mr. Woodhouse appears to most readers. However, if you read the narration recognizing its subjectivity, and therefore you read it "against the grain", you see a very very different Mr. Woodhouse.
Are you familiar with Jill Heydt-Stevenson's very influential article, which was followed by her book Unbecoming Conjunctions in 2006?
Her most explosive finding was that the riddle that Mr. Woodhouse struggles to remember in Chapter 9 of Emma is actually very very sexually explicit and extremely unsavory, and relates to the urban legend about how men could cure their venereal disease, by having a certain sort of "interaction" with a young woman who had never participated in that sort of "interaction" before, if you follow my euphemisms.
That does not suggest anything positive about Mr. Woodhouse.
You may not be aware that there is a significant strand of Austen scholarly criticism which focuses on the very special question of the reliability and objectivity of the narrator in all her novels, but particularly in Emma. Because Austen so often and extensively blends the thoughts of the heroine with the narration, there are a multitude of passages where it simply cannot be objectively determined which is which.
My discovery, which led me to develop my entire theory of Jane Austen's "shadow stories" (see my blog for more details), is that you get two parallel fictional universes in the same novel if you (a) read the narration as essentially objective and reliable, versus (b) read the narration as essential SUBJECTIVE (i.e., reflecting the prejudiced perceptions of the heroine) and therefore mostly unreliable.
Vis a vis Mr. Woodhouse, because Emma is so favorably disposed toward her father, and willing to overlook all his flaws, the narration reflects her perspective, and that is how Mr. Woodhouse appears to most readers. However, if you read the narration recognizing its subjectivity, and therefore you read it "against the grain", you see a very very different Mr. Woodhouse.
Are you familiar with Jill Heydt-Stevenson's very influential article, which was followed by her book Unbecoming Conjunctions in 2006?
Her most explosive finding was that the riddle that Mr. Woodhouse struggles to remember in Chapter 9 of Emma is actually very very sexually explicit and extremely unsavory, and relates to the urban legend about how men could cure their venereal disease, by having a certain sort of "interaction" with a young woman who had never participated in that sort of "interaction" before, if you follow my euphemisms.
That does not suggest anything positive about Mr. Woodhouse.
5susanbooks
Whoa! I always knew there was something "off" about the "Kitty, a fair but frozen maid" thing! Thx so much!
6TheUpturnedKnows
You're welcome, Susan!
That's only the tip of the iceberg of what I call the "shadow story" of Emma.
If you want to know more about my theories, you are welcome to read a sampler of my posts at my blog, and I hope if you do, you will give me some feedback there!
Cheers, ARNIE
sharpelvessociety.blogspot.com
That's only the tip of the iceberg of what I call the "shadow story" of Emma.
If you want to know more about my theories, you are welcome to read a sampler of my posts at my blog, and I hope if you do, you will give me some feedback there!
Cheers, ARNIE
sharpelvessociety.blogspot.com
7susanbooks
I love the name of your blog -- I'm on my way to check it out now. Esp since you're not one of those dull elves ;)
8TheUpturnedKnows
;) well, I must warn you that there are many Janeites who, based on the tip of the iceberg that I have revealed online, in my blog and also in other Janeite discussion groups, who think I am hallucinating the whole thing--but I know what I know, and have never lost confidence that I am onto something significant that will change the face of Austen studies, once I publish my first book.
9willgrstevens
"Vis a vis Mr. Woodhouse, because Emma is so favorably disposed toward her father, and willing to overlook all his flaws, the narration reflects her perspective, and that is how Mr. Woodhouse appears to most readers. However, if you read the narration recognizing its subjectivity, and therefore you read it "against the grain", you see a very very different Mr. Woodhouse."
There is certainly one thing going for this view: although 'Emma' is a third-person narrative, Emma herself is present in nearly every scene. The one major exception, as far as I can recall, is volume 1, chapter 5, which is an extended dialogue about Emma, in her absence, between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston. It would be interesting to know how you fit this chapter into your view of things. How does it 'reflect ... (Emma's) ... perspective'?
The more general point, though, is that you seem to be turning 'Emma' into an uncomfortable compromise between a third-person narrative and a first-person narrative - which is not how the book reads.
Now, having said that, and roundly disagreed with you ... it interests me greatly that, to an extent, what you say chimes in, in a curious way, with a pet theory, or perhaps fantasy, of my own. I wonder why it is that the letter from Frank Churchill to Mrs Weston, contained in volume 3, chapter 14, is usually taken to be an honest and complete statement of the truth from Frank's point of view? It's taken as the solution to all the puzzles. Certainly, its contents are never challenged by any of the characters, or by the narrator.
I've even written an additional chapter for the book (another tête-à-tête between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston) in which Mr Knightley exposes the gross improbability of what Frank says, and suggests a much more plausible interpretation. If you're interested, and can let me have an e-mail address, I'll send it to you.
There is certainly one thing going for this view: although 'Emma' is a third-person narrative, Emma herself is present in nearly every scene. The one major exception, as far as I can recall, is volume 1, chapter 5, which is an extended dialogue about Emma, in her absence, between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston. It would be interesting to know how you fit this chapter into your view of things. How does it 'reflect ... (Emma's) ... perspective'?
The more general point, though, is that you seem to be turning 'Emma' into an uncomfortable compromise between a third-person narrative and a first-person narrative - which is not how the book reads.
Now, having said that, and roundly disagreed with you ... it interests me greatly that, to an extent, what you say chimes in, in a curious way, with a pet theory, or perhaps fantasy, of my own. I wonder why it is that the letter from Frank Churchill to Mrs Weston, contained in volume 3, chapter 14, is usually taken to be an honest and complete statement of the truth from Frank's point of view? It's taken as the solution to all the puzzles. Certainly, its contents are never challenged by any of the characters, or by the narrator.
I've even written an additional chapter for the book (another tête-à-tête between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston) in which Mr Knightley exposes the gross improbability of what Frank says, and suggests a much more plausible interpretation. If you're interested, and can let me have an e-mail address, I'll send it to you.
10susanbooks
Upturned: Similar to your idea of the shadow narrative is the idea of the subversive strain (If I'm understanding you right), the idea that Austen seems to be telling a straightforward socially conservative story but beneath that she's radically questioning popular assumptions of her day. Margaret Kirkham's Jane Austen, Feminism, & Fiction was my intro to this idea.
11TheUpturnedKnows
Yes!!! That is EXACTLY what I just wrote in my reply to you and to Wisewoman in the "Biographies" thread--and yes again, Kirkham was a hugely significant pioneer in regard to this sort of reading. All the evidence I will be adducing in my book will be in 100% support of Kirkham's prescient little book, which I have practically memorized from frequent readings of same.
12TheUpturnedKnows
Will, you're going to LAUGH when you read this message, as I just laughed a second ago!
"There is certainly one thing going for this view: although 'Emma' is a third-person narrative, Emma herself is present in nearly every scene. The one major exception, as far as I can recall, is volume 1, chapter 5, which is an extended dialogue about Emma, in her absence, between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston. It would be interesting to know how you fit this chapter into your view of things. How does it 'reflect ... (Emma's) ... perspective'?"
There are actually TWO places in the novel where Emma is not present, the other being the very brief interludes at the beginning, and end, of Chapter 41, when we are inside Knightley's head.
All this means is that Austen, sly writer that she was, was giving the reader two windows into the head of a character who was playing Sherlock Holmes as HE tried to solve the mystery. There is no rule of literary composition which she thereby violated, and these two places were actually PIVOTAL for me in decoding the shadow story of the novel.
"The more general point, though, is that you seem to be turning 'Emma' into an uncomfortable compromise between a third-person narrative and a first-person narrative - which is not how the book reads."
No, I am saying, very clearly, that the novel is ANAMORPHIC, i.e., it contains two DISTINCT parallel fictional universes. It is precisely the failure of all previous scholars to recognize this hidden structure that has prevented anyone before me from elucidating the coherent shadow story that Austen INTENTIONALLY embedded in the novel. Instead, whenever scholars have detected elements of the shadow story, they have tried to blend it into the overt story--which has had the sometimes hiliarious effect we saw in Mars Attacks---the head of a person grafted onto the body of chihahua! ;)
"Now, having said that, and roundly disagreed with you ... it interests me greatly that, to an extent, what you say chimes in, in a curious way, with a pet theory, or perhaps fantasy, of my own. I wonder why it is that the letter from Frank Churchill to Mrs Weston, contained in volume 3, chapter 14, is usually taken to be an honest and complete statement of the truth from Frank's point of view? It's taken as the solution to all the puzzles. Certainly, its contents are never challenged by any of the characters, or by the narrator. I've even written an additional chapter for the book (another tête-à-tête between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston) in which Mr Knightley exposes the gross improbability of what Frank says, and suggests a much more plausible interpretation. If you're interested, and can let me have an e-mail address, I'll send it to you."
And here's the FUNNY part of my post-you don't know it, but I have been aware of your additional chapter for nearly two years!
I read about it in the archives of Austen L in early 2008, after I INDEPENDENTLY realized exactly what you realized in 2000, which is that Frank's letter, IN THE SHADOW STORY parallel universe, is a string of lies. In the overt story, however, it is all true.
And...I was able to obtain a copy of your chapter from another member of Austen L who had received it from you back in 2000, and I took great delight in reading what you wrote.
It happens that, ingenious as your invented chapter was, you were not, in my very considered opinion, correct in your envisioning of the shadows beneath the letter. However, I tip my hat to you here and now for your great imaginative leap way back in 2000, when nobody, not even me, was talking about these shadows in JA's novels!
Have you stopped laughing yet? ;)
Cheers, ARNIE
"There is certainly one thing going for this view: although 'Emma' is a third-person narrative, Emma herself is present in nearly every scene. The one major exception, as far as I can recall, is volume 1, chapter 5, which is an extended dialogue about Emma, in her absence, between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston. It would be interesting to know how you fit this chapter into your view of things. How does it 'reflect ... (Emma's) ... perspective'?"
There are actually TWO places in the novel where Emma is not present, the other being the very brief interludes at the beginning, and end, of Chapter 41, when we are inside Knightley's head.
All this means is that Austen, sly writer that she was, was giving the reader two windows into the head of a character who was playing Sherlock Holmes as HE tried to solve the mystery. There is no rule of literary composition which she thereby violated, and these two places were actually PIVOTAL for me in decoding the shadow story of the novel.
"The more general point, though, is that you seem to be turning 'Emma' into an uncomfortable compromise between a third-person narrative and a first-person narrative - which is not how the book reads."
No, I am saying, very clearly, that the novel is ANAMORPHIC, i.e., it contains two DISTINCT parallel fictional universes. It is precisely the failure of all previous scholars to recognize this hidden structure that has prevented anyone before me from elucidating the coherent shadow story that Austen INTENTIONALLY embedded in the novel. Instead, whenever scholars have detected elements of the shadow story, they have tried to blend it into the overt story--which has had the sometimes hiliarious effect we saw in Mars Attacks---the head of a person grafted onto the body of chihahua! ;)
"Now, having said that, and roundly disagreed with you ... it interests me greatly that, to an extent, what you say chimes in, in a curious way, with a pet theory, or perhaps fantasy, of my own. I wonder why it is that the letter from Frank Churchill to Mrs Weston, contained in volume 3, chapter 14, is usually taken to be an honest and complete statement of the truth from Frank's point of view? It's taken as the solution to all the puzzles. Certainly, its contents are never challenged by any of the characters, or by the narrator. I've even written an additional chapter for the book (another tête-à-tête between Mr Knightley and Mrs Weston) in which Mr Knightley exposes the gross improbability of what Frank says, and suggests a much more plausible interpretation. If you're interested, and can let me have an e-mail address, I'll send it to you."
And here's the FUNNY part of my post-you don't know it, but I have been aware of your additional chapter for nearly two years!
I read about it in the archives of Austen L in early 2008, after I INDEPENDENTLY realized exactly what you realized in 2000, which is that Frank's letter, IN THE SHADOW STORY parallel universe, is a string of lies. In the overt story, however, it is all true.
And...I was able to obtain a copy of your chapter from another member of Austen L who had received it from you back in 2000, and I took great delight in reading what you wrote.
It happens that, ingenious as your invented chapter was, you were not, in my very considered opinion, correct in your envisioning of the shadows beneath the letter. However, I tip my hat to you here and now for your great imaginative leap way back in 2000, when nobody, not even me, was talking about these shadows in JA's novels!
Have you stopped laughing yet? ;)
Cheers, ARNIE
13susanbooks
How funny, Will & Arnie -- the mtgs of Janeites here!
& LOL at Upturned! I just posted exactly what you posted here in the bio thread, too. Great minds & all that :)
It's great to hear Kirkham getting applause.
& LOL at Upturned! I just posted exactly what you posted here in the bio thread, too. Great minds & all that :)
It's great to hear Kirkham getting applause.
14TheUpturnedKnows
A quick story about her--when I first became aware of the importance of her book, I wanted to reach out to her and let her know that I was working on a project that would in many ways be an extension of her work which she first published nearly 30 years ago. Alas, I was unable to establish either email or phone contact with her, and I found the prospect of using snail mail across the Big Pond far too slow to be wiling to employ it.
Still, I hope one day to meet her, and to pay her the compliment in person.
Still, I hope one day to meet her, and to pay her the compliment in person.
15willgrstevens
Arnie -
How interesting! I'm glad you liked my pastiche.
As for your own theories regarding 'Emma', of course I should suspend judgment until I've actually seen the detail, but I have to say that it doesn't sound like the kind of thing which I'm usually very sympathetic to.
Doing a degree in Eng. Lit., as I have done, has different effects on different people. In my case, it left me with an hugely increased love of literature, which has stayed with me for decades. On the other hand, it increased my sense of ... mystery; it deepened my feeling that, when faced with some great literary work, the question, 'What the hell is really going on?' is ultimately unanswerable. Indeed, this sense of mystery is one of the tests of great literature. (One consequence of this is that I'm deeply cynical about 'books about books' - I almost never find them helpful or illuminating.)
Frankly, I'm inclined to think that 'Emma', as a literary work, actually has flaws. We don't know whether JA had a clear idea of how the book would end when she started to write it, but I suspect that she didn't. I think 'Emma' might have been a much darker and more disturbing book than it turned out to be, and I think that it's quite possible the JA lost her nerve. (In this connection, there seems to be a reliable and interesting anecdote to the effect that JA said that Jane Fairfax/Churchill died soon after her marriage.) It's easy to forget that JA died in her early 40s, and, had she lived and written more, it's possible that we'd see 'Emma' as a transitional book, containing awkward hints of the direction in which she was about to take off. (Oh! And in this this connection, just look at 'Sanditon' with even more hints of a change of direction - though these are more comic than tragic.)
So, though I'd be interested to know more about your 'double story' theory, I'll be a tough nut to crack if you hope to make me a convert to it. If you tell me that there are mixed messages in 'Emma', I'll certainly agree, but if you're saying that these are deliberately, artistically contrived mixed messages, then ... hmm ....
On flaws in 'Emma': what really does make me laugh is the way in which people tie themselves in elaborate knots trying to show that JA's blunder with the out-of-season blossom is not a blunder at all, but embodies some deep and subtle artistic purpose. I'm also convinced that JA would join in the laughter ...
How interesting! I'm glad you liked my pastiche.
As for your own theories regarding 'Emma', of course I should suspend judgment until I've actually seen the detail, but I have to say that it doesn't sound like the kind of thing which I'm usually very sympathetic to.
Doing a degree in Eng. Lit., as I have done, has different effects on different people. In my case, it left me with an hugely increased love of literature, which has stayed with me for decades. On the other hand, it increased my sense of ... mystery; it deepened my feeling that, when faced with some great literary work, the question, 'What the hell is really going on?' is ultimately unanswerable. Indeed, this sense of mystery is one of the tests of great literature. (One consequence of this is that I'm deeply cynical about 'books about books' - I almost never find them helpful or illuminating.)
Frankly, I'm inclined to think that 'Emma', as a literary work, actually has flaws. We don't know whether JA had a clear idea of how the book would end when she started to write it, but I suspect that she didn't. I think 'Emma' might have been a much darker and more disturbing book than it turned out to be, and I think that it's quite possible the JA lost her nerve. (In this connection, there seems to be a reliable and interesting anecdote to the effect that JA said that Jane Fairfax/Churchill died soon after her marriage.) It's easy to forget that JA died in her early 40s, and, had she lived and written more, it's possible that we'd see 'Emma' as a transitional book, containing awkward hints of the direction in which she was about to take off. (Oh! And in this this connection, just look at 'Sanditon' with even more hints of a change of direction - though these are more comic than tragic.)
So, though I'd be interested to know more about your 'double story' theory, I'll be a tough nut to crack if you hope to make me a convert to it. If you tell me that there are mixed messages in 'Emma', I'll certainly agree, but if you're saying that these are deliberately, artistically contrived mixed messages, then ... hmm ....
On flaws in 'Emma': what really does make me laugh is the way in which people tie themselves in elaborate knots trying to show that JA's blunder with the out-of-season blossom is not a blunder at all, but embodies some deep and subtle artistic purpose. I'm also convinced that JA would join in the laughter ...
16TheUpturnedKnows
"Doing a degree in Eng. Lit., as I have done, has different effects on different people. In my case, it left me with an hugely increased love of literature, which has stayed with me for decades. On the other hand, it increased my sense of ... mystery; it deepened my feeling that, when faced with some great literary work, the question, 'What the hell is really going on?' is ultimately unanswerable. Indeed, this sense of mystery is one of the tests of great literature. (One consequence of this is that I'm deeply cynical about 'books about books' - I almost never find them helpful or illuminating.)"
I actually think that my NOT having gotten a degree in English literature was the single most important factor that contributed to my ability to see the shadow stories--because I did not learn that they did not exist, I was not predisposed NOT to see them!
As a result of that deep institutional dogma, I have found that it is almost impossible for academic literary scholars to see what is there--and, with a few exceptions, the better educated they are, i.e., the more of the scholarly literature they have imbibed, the blinder they are!
But as to your comment about mystery, you've made an assumption that is not valid. Just as the overt stories of JA's novels (because it's not just Emma, it's all six of them, and the fragments, too, for that matter) are deeply mysterious, so too are the shadow stories.
So my theory does not claim to eliminate all mystery from JA--quite the contrary, my theory illustrates that the mysteries are much MORE mysterious than you think they are!
"On flaws in 'Emma': what really does make me laugh is the way in which people tie themselves in elaborate knots trying to show that JA's blunder with the out-of-season blossom is not a blunder at all, but embodies some deep and subtle artistic purpose"
Will, that is so funny, and is a classic example of what I have termed a "Trojan Horse Moment", because I've seen so many hundreds of them during my research. What I mean by this is when a reader of Jane Austen's novels has gotten a SUBconscious awareness of something from the shadow story, but is not CONSCIOUSLY aware of it, it nonetheless tends to "pop out" (as Miss Bates would say) in a revealing way.
And so, it is very revealing that you have mentioned the "blunder" of the out of season blossoms, because it is indeed the furthest thing from a blunder (and one of the ways you can know that is that JA tells you, when she winks at the reader by having Frank make the word "blunder" at Box Hill)--it is in fact a MAJOR clue which points to the central fact of the shadow story of Emma, which is that Jane Fairfax has a much more serious problem than concealing an engagement when she comes to Highbury, and the "out of season" blossom points to it, because her problem is that SHE is "blossoming" "out of season", so to speak!
I actually think that my NOT having gotten a degree in English literature was the single most important factor that contributed to my ability to see the shadow stories--because I did not learn that they did not exist, I was not predisposed NOT to see them!
As a result of that deep institutional dogma, I have found that it is almost impossible for academic literary scholars to see what is there--and, with a few exceptions, the better educated they are, i.e., the more of the scholarly literature they have imbibed, the blinder they are!
But as to your comment about mystery, you've made an assumption that is not valid. Just as the overt stories of JA's novels (because it's not just Emma, it's all six of them, and the fragments, too, for that matter) are deeply mysterious, so too are the shadow stories.
So my theory does not claim to eliminate all mystery from JA--quite the contrary, my theory illustrates that the mysteries are much MORE mysterious than you think they are!
"On flaws in 'Emma': what really does make me laugh is the way in which people tie themselves in elaborate knots trying to show that JA's blunder with the out-of-season blossom is not a blunder at all, but embodies some deep and subtle artistic purpose"
Will, that is so funny, and is a classic example of what I have termed a "Trojan Horse Moment", because I've seen so many hundreds of them during my research. What I mean by this is when a reader of Jane Austen's novels has gotten a SUBconscious awareness of something from the shadow story, but is not CONSCIOUSLY aware of it, it nonetheless tends to "pop out" (as Miss Bates would say) in a revealing way.
And so, it is very revealing that you have mentioned the "blunder" of the out of season blossoms, because it is indeed the furthest thing from a blunder (and one of the ways you can know that is that JA tells you, when she winks at the reader by having Frank make the word "blunder" at Box Hill)--it is in fact a MAJOR clue which points to the central fact of the shadow story of Emma, which is that Jane Fairfax has a much more serious problem than concealing an engagement when she comes to Highbury, and the "out of season" blossom points to it, because her problem is that SHE is "blossoming" "out of season", so to speak!
