Dear Ashton Dennis,

As you can see from the above comments, everyone is thrilled with Letters From Pemberley, a brand-new book due out in two weeks. Letters From Pemberley: The First Year is by Jane Dawkins, a native of Britain who now resides in the Hudson Valley region of New York State. When she first approached me with her idea for a continuation of Pride and Prejudice, I was intrigued. As a Jane Austen fan myself, I'm constantly aware of the many sequels written but only a few, in my experience, truly have captured the wonderful flavor of Austen's writing and literary wit.

"Incorporating Jane Austen's own words and characters from her other works (who appear here with different names, either associated with Austen's life, borrowed from another of her novels, or a word-play on their original name), Ms. Dawkins has pieced together a literary patchwork quilt to tell the story of Lizzy's first eventful year as Mrs. Darcy, mistress of Pemberley. The result is an entertaining and satisfying tale which will surely delight Jane Austen fans everywhere."

"Gossip about characters from Pride and Prejudice is presented, as are a number of new characters cheerfully identified by Dawkins in her preface as pastiches of Austen characters from other books and from Austen's own life. Indeed, new characters are introduced with a sly wink to insiders (like Richard Mansfield and the sisters Norland -- the elder a young lady of sense, the younger of sensibility).... Dawkin's expressed wish to entertain is... realized in this light, amusing book." Publisher's Weekly

From her own introduction, Ms. Dawkins writes the following:

"My own particular wondering has always been about Elizabeth's first days at Pemberley, her bewilderment perhaps, her anxieties - the every-day of a new life as wife and mistress of Pemberley. Although she is a gentleman's daughter (as she forcefully reminds Lady Catherine de Bourgh at the end of Pride and Prejudice), she suddenly finds herself in a very different league of wealth and privilege altogether, mistress of a large house, and surely aware that many will consider that Mr. Darcy has married beneath himself. Notwithstanding the support of a loving husband, she must sometimes have felt insecure and alone and rather isolated during those early days. It was this 'little bit (two Inches wide) of ivory... with a fine brush' aspect of Elizabeth's first days at Pemberley that I have attempted to explore, rather than the larger sweep of the years which follow the end of Pride and Prejudice. "I think, too, that Elizabeth would have sorely missed her favourite sister, Jane, with whom she had such an intimate relationship, and decided that since they would probably have written to each other often and frankly, this book would take the form of a series of letters to Jane, written over the course of that first year at Pemberley. "Rather than a 'sequel' then, this book more closely resembles an old-fashioned patchwork quilt, where in place of the scraps of fabric reminding one of the favourite frocks or shirts whence they came, there is a line or a phrase or a sentence from one of Jane Austen's books or letters stitched alongside the lesser scraps of my own manufacture. (A sequel, I think, would be a brand-new frock altogether!)"

Chicken Soup Press, Inc. thinks you will be just delighted with Letters From Pemberley: The First Year. We cordially invite you to visit our website at http://www.chickensouppress.com/ and click on "New Titles", or http://www.chickensouppress.com/newt.htm to read further about the book, along with an excerpt from the first letter.

You will also find information for ordering which you can print out. Jane Dawkins will personally autograph the book to you or a special someone.

Please join us in this charming literary adventure!

Thank you very much.
Sincerely,
Margaret S. Campilonga, Publisher
poet@warwick.net

I find myself in the curious position of agreeing with both Ashton and Ray M. on Emma T.'s "S&S".  I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and it did add somewhat to my understanding of the novel, although the credit should go to the cinematographer. The opening scene goes a long way to explain, though not excuse, the excesses of the Romantic poets and their admirers, with such beauty around we understand how Marianne could be seduced by it. However, ET's potraying an income of 500 pounds a year as one step above starvation detracts greatly from the movie. Eleanor and Marianne's financial problem is not that they're poor, it's that they have no dowry. And with their rather silly mother, there's no chance that any of their income will be saved to provide for the girl's marriage.  At any rate, I agree with anyone who wants to throw Marianne in the duckpond.  The girl is borderline antisocial and in my opinion, no illness or marriage is going to make her less so. (She's just learned a lesson in how to use they system.)

To Ray M., whomever "Cliff" might be, I don't have a problem with historical info or reading suggestions.  Somehow I've stopped reading much fiction over the past few years and mostly read history.  Not "solemn" history (I agree with Catherine Morland)but more social history and letters and such. I'm glad to hear you weren't mortally offended by my little joke. Someday I'll tell you the one about trying to explain the concept of "germs" to a restaurant worker.

To the Meister: forgive me for pointing out that Shelley may well have been engaging in statutory rape in a cemetery, but what didn't Shelley do?  Also, Marilyn Manson rips up bibles in public and displays his genitals at every opportunity...does this mean two hundred years from now the assumption that everyone did it will be correct?  Context, sir, context.

I don't doubt that corpsmen save a lot of lives in combat.  However, without morphine, antibiotics, sterile tools, plasma, and legal human anatomy courses, we shouldn't over estimate the effectiveness of trauma intervention before the Second World War.  (See Ernie Pyle for an on-the-spot assessment of what morphine, sulpha,and blood plasma did for the wounded in the early days of the war.) Lastly, like many Native American healers, the majority surgeons got their reputations for being a "good" doctors through selection bias.  If you refuse to treat anyone you're not sure you can save or cure, your success rate is always %100.

Finally, a rather general thought which is that the world 1999 is so far removed from that of 1799, that I wonder if we can really know whether JA was inured to suffering, or whether her definition of poverty, suffering, injustice, etc. would be no closer to ours than that of a visitor from Rigel. Are there any of us today who can understand that "hand of God" worldview?
Cheryl

Reference on spitting: Final paragraph on 3/29/99

Dear Folks,

Yes, it does make me want to spit, but I have been trying to do better as per Cheryl’s instructions about how to get along with women from the north.

Speaking of being so mad I want to spit, I can think of nothing that makes me want to spit any more than to think about all of the students who are having Jane Austen ruined for them by the teachers of the world.  Now I’m not one of those who criticize without having a ready solution. First I would rule out all assignments except that the student read the book. There could be nothing said that would lead the student to think that there was or was not irony, metaphors, allegories, or any other term which might even remotely be considered literary. Any mention by the teacher of literary criticism would result in the teacher’s instant dismissal. Nor would the teacher be allowed to ask any questions that even vaguely hinted at "compare the writing of Jane Austin to Charlotte Bronte". The teacher’s sole function would be to "tease" the story line by saying stuff like, "A woman in Tasmania suggested that one of the characters in S&S would benefit from being thrown into a duck pond. Who do you think she might have been talking about and what might her reasons be for feeling this way? If you had to throw one character in a duck pond, who would it be and why?"

Hell, I could teach kids to love Jane Austen. We all could and yet the dreary and same old way of ruining Jane Austen (and every other author) goes on and on. I can remember reading Look Homeward Angel while I was in my mid twenties and thinking "Thank God I did not have to read this in school--it would have ruined it."

I am suggesting nothing less than a jihad against women (and men) in tweed who are setting about to turn this whole world into non-readers thereby making it impossible for us to carry on an intelligent conversation with anyone.

Am I right?

Dear Ray,

You really should be seeking professional intervention about this tweed thing, I think.  Man alive, it's dominating your life!  I believe that you are quite correct, however, in your comment that there is nothing like a compulsory novel (with damn fool questions attached) to ruin an author in the eyes of school children for all time.  It is such a great pity, because there are tremendous benefits to be gained from reading the books commonly set - but they are presented so poorly!  I have noticed that, as our vernacular moves further from that of 19th century England, students are beginning to experience 'language barriers', also, in their reading of these works, in the same way that they do with Shakespeare.
Julie

Dear Folks,

Ok, I admit it, I have about played this tweed thing out as far as it will go.  Actually I have a tweed jacket myself and for about one day a year it is cool enough here to wear it. I have noticed that when I put it on I tend to behave like an overbearing know it all who can dream up all kinds of useless and boring things for others to do. In other words, I feel like a teacher setting forth to ruin all of literature.

I must say that I have been disappointed in Julie and Ash who, after reading my well-reasoned and insightful tirade against "Point out examples of irony in Jane Austen", went right ahead and pointed some out. How can we hope to stamp out this kind of assignment if we point irony out? My feeling is that, when faced with irony requests, we should deny that there is any irony in Jane Austen except that teachers are always making readers look for irony when there is none.

My suggestion is that Enya show my post to her teacher and see what the teacher has to say against the charges. If teachers really want students to read Jane Austen, the assignment should not be "give examples of irony in Jane Austen"--the assignment should be "give examples of sex in Jane Austen". That would set them to reading.

Dear Sir,

I can't be a goody-twoshoes, as I have no feet, remember? Goody legirons, perhaps? And I wouldn't (couldn't) quibble with Enya's immaculate research, could I, - her high grades would only serve to bolster all of our already adequate egoes.

I quite like the idea of exploring sexuality in Jane Austen's novels: I have always contended that there is plenty of it, thank you, provided one knows where to look. Her novels could hardly work as well as they do, being love stories, without sexual tension. It's just that we, today, need to remember that sexual tension can exist as much in the raising of an eyebrow as of a skirt (what DO we do in Tasmania for fun, I hear you chorus?). I hesitate to say that this is a feminine thing, this appreciation of the subtlety of sexual attraction.

O.K., now swell up like a turkey gobbler and tell me how ignorant and mistaken I am!
Julie

Dear Julie and Ray,

It seems like only yesterday that I went to the hospital to be introduced to my new grandson. I placed a baseball in his cradle and announced that his first words would be "Hey! batter, batter". My daughter was at once amused and incredulous. I followed the baseball with a series of stuffed animals all pre-named "Batter-Batter" (I am so insidious - I am so proud). I recently declared victory when the boy was sitting on my lap and staring at grandpa's lips as I repeated, once again, "Hey batter, batter!" Then he said "Ba'er, Ba'er". I was astounded but my joy was short-lived when the Committee For Sanctioning Baby's First Words (I mean my daughter) disallowed my claim. I don't get it; the experiment was repeatable, performed before the Committee, and my wife was a witness (although, my wife preferred the role of diplomat to that of a good witness). But still, the claim was disallowed - "Anthony has not yet spoken his first words". (Now I know what it must be like dealing with the Olympic Committee). My faith was completely shattered most recently when my grandson began to repeat "Hhhh, Hhhh" (sic); in this instance there could be no mistake - my daughter's gaggle of obstreperous male cats had taught the boy to hiss. Everyone agreed that this was the proper interpretation but still the Committee For Sanctioning Baby's First Words disallowed my claim (I think we all know what will be Anthony's official first word - that is so corrupt!) I was sitting there disconsolate, trying to find something to say, and finally offered "Well, if he can learn so easily from your cats, imagine what he is learning from your TV". My daughter was stunned, she looked as if I had just chucked her into a duck pond - I loved it.

It has been over a year now since the latest instance of a pre-adolescent, American boy committing mass murder in his schoolyard. In that case, two very young boys had an impressive plan. The youngsters first sounded a fire alarm to bring their teachers and classmates into the schoolyard; the victims were concentrated in this way; and, so, more efficiently brought down by automatic weapon fire. The casualty rate was very high, the real-life, computer-game score was the highest to date in our part of the world. As I said to my daughter, "Imagine what can be learned from TV". Bruce Willis, and other media spokesmen, quickly came on TV to explain that it was a silly notion to think that their creations were in any way responsible, "School boys kill, not films. We only reflect American society, not influence it". (They were ridiculing folks like myself.) These hypocrites are sure to provide the finest schools and environments for their own children; the principle being that it is wise to purchase good influences even while publicly denying the possibility of bad ones.

We are all teachers (and students) regardless of the fabrics we wear. Some teachers are bad or even corrupt, while others are good or excellent. One cannot choose to be or not to be a teacher and student. The only choices are about what to learn and with how much depth. Do you agree that to be human is to be a teacher and student, and precious little else? Bruce Willis must deny this simple axiom.

Our great novelists have been among our greatest teachers and their lessons are preserved in that most human of all institutions, the library. And yet, as Ray has observed, our children are alienated from their heritage. I have taken the position that Jane Austen meant for us to understand that Darcy was always a fundamentally good person and that it was Elizabeth Bennet who had to overcome her false first impressions, her pride and her prejudice. I still contend that, but Julie Grassi has taught me to modify things a bit. I don't know if the good Tasmanian teacher remembers, but Julie taught me that Darcy did change in one sense; Darcy learned that it was not enough to be good and handsome - he must also make an effort. What a wonderful lesson that is, and it is right there in the library for our grandsons to find.

I am now going through the Thomas Hardy novels. The last chapter of Tess of the D'Urbervilles is only a page and a half. After reading that, I was devastated; I wasn't depressed (far from it); rather, I was grieved and I was ashamed. But why was I ashamed? I think the answer lies in the answer to that other question, why does Hardy kill off Tess at the end? Some will say that this was just Hardy being Thomas Hardy - He always dispatched a few characters at the end of a novel. I don't think so, I think he killed off Tess in order to punish Angel Claire. But before her execution, Hardy gives Angel a week with Tess so that he could know that she was the perfect woman and the perfect wife - So that Angel could learn to appreciate and express his guilt "It's my fault, it's all my fault!". That was Angel's guilt and shame (and my shame as well) and he would have to live with it. - What a wonderful and cruel punishment and what a powerful lesson.

Perhaps "Hey batter, batter!" will never be an important part of Anthony's vocabulary, but I pledge to you that "Fitzwilliam Darcy" and "Angel Claire" will be, and he will have those lessons before he begins to court a young woman. What do you pledge?

Dear All,

I've just spent my whole morning reading over your discussions and may I say they have been very lively and refreshing. O.K, So...let me introduce myself - I'm an A level student of English Literature, and, as you've probably guessed, one of our set works is Mansfield Park. As I found you a very stimulating, enthusiastic community I was hoping you could guide me towards a deeper understanding of irony in Mansfield Park?...(please?) :o)

Dear Enya,

I think that the irony of Mansfield Park is worth exploring - from reading Jane Austen's private correspondence, it becomes evident that ironical humour was a part of her personality - she is fond of the joke with a sting in its tail.  I rather like the scene at the Parsonage where Sir Thomas is giving Mr Crawford the benefit of his wisdom in matters clerical: he explains to Mr Crawford the duties of a parish priest, 'Mr Crawford bowed his acknowledgement.'  Sir Thomas continues: 'Let me repeat, Sir, that (as a tenant of Thornton Lacey) it is the only way that I would not welcome you as a neighbour.'  Mr Crawford bowed his thanks.'  Mr Crawford, as would his sister, would dearly love to tell Sir Thomas to stick it up his jumper, but of course, cannot.  Like all of her novels, Mansfield Park is full of this kind of light irony, by which she illustrates internal knowledge of her characters.  Mrs Norris provides another instance, when babbling on about the Coachman's rheumatism, which she had been 'doctoring all winter. I cured him at last.....' i.e. when the weather got warmer!  Or Mrs Norris again, on the occasion of Maria's marriage (remember that Mrs Norris had consoled herself for the loss of her own husband by considering that she 'could do very well without him'):  'one would imagine that she had never heard of domestic infelicity in her life, or had the smallest insight into her niece's character.' As indeed, she had not.  The deeper ironies are there, of course, but I like the light ones.  Jane Austen is laughing outright at the end of the novel with this one: ..'and the joyful consent which met Edmund's application, the high sense of having realised a great acquisition in the promise of Fanny for a daughter, formed just such a contrast with his early opinion on the subject when the poor little girl's coming had been first agitated, as time is for ever producing between the plans and decisions of mortals, for their own instruction, and their neighbours' entertainment.'
Julie

You are very welcome here, I hope the community will be of some use to you. As you begin to form your own ideas, you might wish to post them. They will be savaged, of course, but that might be a way of obtaining some useful initial reaction. Perhaps you already know of the Republic of Pemberley, which is a website with much useful information and links to all matters Jane Austen.

For most of my life, I have been the class clown and, to this day, I am the one that makes people laugh at family gatherings (although, it is high time for me to pass that torch to one or another of my nephews). As a result, I don't have much respect for the humorous - it comes from a more primitive part of the brain I think. (Well, I very much love Monte Python and Gilbert and Sullivan - and G.B. Shaw.) What I am trying to say is that I look to Jane Austen for something more--something higher than ironic humor. Still, "ironic" has a more general meaning, so I can point to some things and then hope that other community members will be more useful. Look up a passage with Fanny, Edmund, and Crawford sitting in a drawing room. Crawford explains how he might condescend to play the role of clergyman, but only in a very restricted sense. Fanny sees much that is ironic in his words and remarks on it. Later in the novel, Sir Thomas sends Fanny to visit her parents so that she might be influenced by their poverty and, thereby, be more appreciative of her home at Mansfield Park AND more receptive to Crawford's offer. The irony is that Fanny's absence increases the fondness for her in the hearts of Edmund and, more particularly, of Lady Bertram. Also, it is Edmund who comes to retrieve Fanny and from that point it is the marriage of Fanny to Edmund - not Crawford - that is formed. This is a double irony because at the beginning of the novel, Sir Thomas announces that it is must be understood that by accepting Fanny into his home, he is "not raising a wife for one of his sons".

I am curious, what does "A level" mean?

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