Book #87: Sense and Sensibility

Book #87: Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

May 11, 2014


This was Austen's first published novel, and I must say, my favorite of the four I've read. It seemed to be even more satirical than any of the others; every character, except perhaps the protagonist Elinor, is more or less ridiculous. At times, I wondered how Elinor, a sensible young woman in most ways, could go on living without tearing her hair out. She was usually able to be so calm in the face of her brother's incessant greed, Mrs. Jennings' loud-mouthed cluelessness, and several "gentlemen" who were all full of shit. Not knowing much about Jane Austen's personal life (maybe I should read a biography, or at least watch that Anne Hathaway movie), I imagine that Elinor is more or less herself in fictional form. Elinor isn't perfect, but she's the only character in the novel who consistently exemplifies the virtues that Austen values, like being discreet and strong in your emotions, being careful in social situations, and being rational (most of the time). In fact, I'd say she's the only Austen protagonist who does this. Elizabeth Bennett, beloved by so many, is awkward and outspoken in social situations; Anne Elliot was too easily influenced by others; and Emma Woodhouse could be a younger version of Mrs. Jennings, a character who is a source of amusement (and annoyance for the Dashwood sisters). However, Mrs. Jennings isn't all bad; she and her daughter Mrs. Palmer seemed to be pleasant people, though Elinor and Marianne judged them as being too forcibly merry, and too gossipy. In any case, the entertaining characters, and the fact that all too often Elinor is the reasonable party in just about any situation, is what made this book so enjoyable for me.

I wasn't so much drawn into the events driving the plot, though I was interested in the outcome for the Dashwoods. Here again, Austen revolves the story around romances and misunderstandings, hurt feelings, engagements made or sort of made or not really made, and broken, and all kinds of emotional entanglements becoming untangled by the end, resulting in marriage for the two Dashwood sisters. I wasn't drawn into any of the romances. I knew Willoughby was going to be a dick from the start; like other bad guys in other Austen novels, he was too fun and too well liked by the characters at the start to not be bad news. He was attracted to Marianne, Elinor's emotional sister. She was the type to read poetry and play music, and when things publicly went wrong between her and Willoughby, she delved into her pain, almost with a relish, it would seem. Elinor, in contrast, had also been disappointed in love. Her haughty sister-in-law's brother, Edward, had had a "thing" with her before she and her widowed mother and sisters moved to Devonshire, to live on the Barton estate of her mother's cousin, the sociable Sir John and his wife Lady Middleton, who was only interested in keeping up a good public appearance and in spoiling her children.

What I loved most about this novel were the scenes making fun of the doting of these pampered brats. Austen was probably expressing an annoyance with times that she'd found herself with other women, all of whom were cooing over some snot-nosed brat, and she wasn't at all interested. Both Elinor and Marianne could care less about other people's children, though tactless Marianne was the more refreshingly open about it. It's so funny how things haven't changed in 200 years. Opportunities for women have expanded far and beyond anything that women in Austen's time could have ever dreamed of, and yet the talk at any party between women wouldn't be any different today. Yawn.

Anyway, Elinor finds out that Edward is attached to a detestable young woman named Lucy Steele. It's revealed by the end of the book that sheltered Edward had basically become engaged to Lucy because he didn't know any other women, which I guess makes sense. What isn't accounted for is his behavior in London toward either of the women. He was a pussy, at first, when it came to standing up to his mother. It's funny how the young women were at the mercy of men to marry them, but the men in turn were at the mercy of their wealthy, widowed, overbearing mothers. I suppose that there are men today who would have to answer to their mothers, and so creep around for that same reason. But I felt like Elinor forgave Edward too easily. Also, though Marianne's marriage to Colonel Brandon (a character who was seen too little of in the book) was hinted at from the beginning, it was too quickly tied together in the end. It was kind of like, well, he's a nice guy, and he conveniently lives right near my married sister, so what the hell? What the hell, indeed.

I think that Sense and Sensibility is every bit as good as Austen's best-known work, Pride and Prejudice, but it lacks the strength of a good romance. Colonel Brandon was like a softer, cuddlier Mr. Darcy, and who has time for that? I felt like there was something to John Dashwood's idea of Elinor marrying Colonel Brandon; that's definitely how it should have worked out, even if Mr. Dashwood's reasons for it were all to do with Colonel Brandon's fortune. The characters were happy in the end, I guess; even the most detestable of them did not suffer terrible fates, which I guess is disgustingly realistic, since I wanted Lucy Steele and Willoughby to both suffer worse than they did. In the end, I felt that Elinor was too forgiving of everybody but herself. But she got her man, and in Austen's time, that was the ultimate happy ending. Whatever.