Before she wrote as Jane Austen, one of England’s most famous writers was entitled “A Lady”.

Publisher: (Numerous, but I’d wager Vintage would be a good one)
Pages: N/A
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: N/A
First Published: 1811
Date Reviewed: 30th April 2010
Rating: 3/5

Having now read Pride And Prejudice and Persuasion it was only right I continue on in my task to become well acquainted with each of Austen’s works.

Elinor and Marianne are two very different sisters with very different tastes in men but neither of them realise that what seems to be is not always what is. When Elinor falls for Edward Ferrars and Marianne for Willoughby the future looks bright for both of them but they live in ignorance of the secrets of their lovers.

It is quite clear from the writing and plot development that this is the work of a person still coming to understand themselves as a writer. At 20 years of age and in a society where people tended to keep solely to their communities it’s understandable that Austen’s work would be less polished than many debut writers of today; however that’s not to say it’s awful, there may well be some awkward moments where better editing would have sufficed in bringing the story to a higher level, but the overall quality speaks of promise rather than imminent failure.

The issues to be addressed therefore are as follows: the storyline. It takes a good third or so of the book for the story to pick up and gain momentum and indeed any reasons for continuing. The story drags its feet behind the family on their various trips to and from their friends’ abodes with no sign of being anything more than a look at a number of incredibly regular and boring existences. Austen should have combated this by inserting more points of interest, as she later did for Pride And Prejudice.

The other issue is confusion, and I have found this to be discussed in biographies so I know that my saying so is not completely in error. Austen seems not to know whether she likes Elinor or not. Elinor comes across as a sensible, kind soul and then suddenly turns round and tells her sister not to write to their mother because she is writing to their mother already. It may be that at the time Marianne was in the full throws of passion for Willoughby but the way in which Elinor communicates her response is downright nasty and by that very effect confusing. It comes without warning.

Something that Austen excels in, however, is in articulating rivalries and the eternal struggle women have had with each other when it comes to loving the same man. She tells us from the beginning when a character is perhaps not telling the full truth in order to be spiteful, and then proceeds to cleverly trick us into not believing her (Austen) before bringing it all together nicely, but without any hint of “I told you so”.

Austen, as in her other novels, presents age-old issues between the relations of men and women. Her male characters are as dastardly as any character in a British soap opera (I’m thinking of Eastenders, since you ask) and as confusing to women as many men in real-life (and probably British soaps too).

There is not much time given to describing locale although in a way that’s an asset because it lets you form your own imagination while concentrating on the action, or lack of it. Sense And Sensibility, perhaps more so than Austen’s later novels, is character based. With fewer characters than some of her novels but at the same time with more issues presented, it all comes together, after that first dull third, to create a busy narrative.

There are some fantastic quotations to be had in this book:

The ivory, the gold, and the pearls, all received their appointment, and the gentleman having named the last day on which his existence could be continued without the possession of the toothpick case, drew on his gloves with leisurely care, and bestowing another glance on the Miss Dashwoods, but such a one as seemed rather to demand than express admiration, walked off with an happy air of real conceit and affected indifference.

But of the writing otherwise I’m afraid I have to revert back to the negative, at least for the most part. There are a few errors that could’ve done with a once over and throughout the book there seems a problem with was/were and gave/given. I can’t say this for certain, because I know that the book is set mostly in the country and people quite possibly spoke very differently there at that time but it is difficult to read a book by someone held in esteem when they are delivering dialogue, of people with money, that reads like the spoken word of people nowadays who are considered lacking in education. To read sentences beginning with the like of “you was going to” and “I have gave him” makes for a distraction from an otherwise engaging story. So I would like to be able to trust that this is simply the cause of accents and not something that should have been vastly edited.

With Sense And Sensibility, Austen obtained on a big undertaking, to write her first full-length novel, and to fill the pages with a work that would stand equal in entertainment on shelves dominated by male authors. That she succeeded is far from debatable but that this is the best example of her writing is not. Sense And Sensibility is an average novel but one which proclaims the possibilities for later perfection – which as we all know, happened.

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Sometimes an author’s light fades miserably. And sometimes it’s their fault entirely.

Publisher: Bloomsbury
Pages: 404
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-7475-9808-4
First Published: 2008
Date Reviewed: 28th February 2010
Rating: 2/5

Sovay finds that her family are more caught up in the political turmoil than she thought. She assumes the role of highwayman to steal documents that incriminate her family and won’t rest until her father and brother are safe. The country is on the brink of civil war and the male members of the family are high up in the ranks of the revolt for freedom.

The subtitle on the front of the book and the blurb on the back suggest that the story revolves around highway robbery. This is not the case. Sovay robs for love for all of 5 minutes and only robs otherwise a handful of times. The book is far more about politics and struggle than adventure and scandal. It’s also a very slow read; towards the last quarter the story picks up significantly, but it remains easy to put down.

There are many main male characters in this book who enter at different stages of the story and remembering them all can be challenging, but the upshot is that Sovay is strong enough a character herself, even in her weaker moments. In her Rees has created a perfect example of the balance between strength and courage and the expected hesitations and thoughts of a teenage girl. Sovay is forward thinking and would be fine as a character in a present-day novel, while retaining her historic features.

Rees’ previous novel, Pirates!, dealt with the concept of rape and if you’ve read my review of the book you’ll remember that I discussed the fact that it went too far for the teenage target audience. Sovay goes further and it is incomprehensible why the publishers thought it could be categorised as a book for children. Sovay becomes friends with a boy who lives in a brothel. The boy is a prostitute and he and other boys dress up in drag for their older male clients. The idea of prostitution is bad in itself for a children’s novel, but to include such perversion and deprivation of young people is incredibly worrying. Rees doesn’t describe what goes on in detail but she drops big obvious hints of it, and although the characters aren’t happy with their lives they are content enough. There isn’t the big escape or lesson for the brothel owner or clients and the whole subplot is very disturbing. There’s the definite sense that Rees wants to write more freely – so she should try adult literature instead where her stories would be acceptable. If the style of adult literature and forming appropriate characters is difficult then maybe she should realise that children need to be protected from such ideas until they are old enough to understand; and if she can’t perhaps she should stop writing altogether.

The book takes an abrupt turn about two thirds of the way through, first sending Sovay to a scientist’s home and then packing her off to France. Although France is referenced several times it isn’t implied that she’ll go there at any point and the whole thing feels forced, as though Rees wanted to add more adventure to it. This doesn’t work when you’ve set your story in a hideous period of history and the seriousness of events that follow, in this book, swing back and forth between coming across as not so bad and being horrific in nature. Rees should also have spent more time on the ending as there are threads left loose.

For a long while there are a possible two or three men that Sovay could end up with. The final result could prove a shock; it comes out of nowhere but is treated as something you knew all along. Badly handled would be the right phrase here as anyone harbouring notions of Sovay becoming attached to one of the other men will be bitterly disappointed, it’s rather like someone entering an auction just as it finishes and taking the item from the auctioneer’s table.

One thing stands out and is exquisite, so it’s a pity it’s contained within only several pages and that at the end. The revolution in France causes all the main characters to be suspected of being against the changes and Sovay ends up in prison. Rees makes the poignant observation that the revolution itself had failed in it’s promise to make everyone equal, condemning anyone who was so much as in the wrong place at the wrong time without a proper jury or any defence – and that it’s ironic that it was on those journeys of people from court to the guillotine that class and wealth lost importance and everyone sort to give solace to each other. We then experience this court and the prison to which the condemned spend their last night for ourselves. We share in the knowledge that those who first sort equality had images of domination, and rejoice when those who killed thousands for no reason are brought to justice.

Sovay had potential, but it was not realised. The book would be a good basic, and I stress basic, introduction of the French revolution – for adults – but it is not appropriate for the target audience and definitely not recommended for any children who are of a nervous disposition, especially if the parents or guardians are uncomfortable with the idea of a discussion that will compromise their innocence at such an age.

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Does one ever have a need to introduce Austen? I would say not. But I will say that for once I am damned proud to be English.

Publisher: (Numerous, but I’d wager Vintage would be a good one)
Pages: N/A
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: N/A
First Published: 1813
Date Reviewed: 13th February 2010
Rating: 5/5

Pride And Prejudice has delighted readers for almost two hundred years. It is studied in schools (a pity because it may mar an otherwise potential fan’s interest) and discussed on a consistent basis. The expectation of a thorough review is monumental.

Elizabeth Bennet first comes into contact with Mr Darcy through her family’s new neighbour, Mr Bingley. The Bennets are a modest family so when it appears Mr Bingley has taken a fancy to daughter Jane they are astonished, but not as much as by the manner of Mr Darcy who appalled them all with his pride and assuming behaviour. Mr Bingley seems too good to be true and so it appears he leaves the county suddenly. Meanwhile the Bennets have trouble in the form of their cousin, who has been made heir to their home, and the youngest daughters who have discovered pleasure in the attention of soldiers. Elizabeth can never forgive Bingley for what he did to Jane and doesn’t particularly want to meet Darcy again but somehow he just keeps turning up. Connections and manners may not be what they seem.

Pride And Prejudice is one of those novels you should read if you’ve developed indifferent feelings towards it due to the publicity. What is said of the plot, writing, and author, even if detailed, really does not articulate just how good a novel this is – and that on various levels. You can assume I was one of the indifferent many, and it was only through my own self-imposed goal to read a number of modern classics that I got around to reading it.

Austen wrote of and during an era where people could be quite pompous and women, though able to speak, cautioned not to make a fuss. Austen herself turned this notion on its head, her views on such subjects are clearly explained through the use of her characters, but also in the way she addresses herself as an author within the pages. Not only does she show an understandable lack of compassion for the pride of the middle classes but she sets out to make humour of them without being rude. She sees through falseness in a way that is appealing today – whatever you may feel towards any one character, Austen feels too. Many of her peers would likely have shunned this work, while others who suppressed their feelings on life would have rejoiced in it.

It is perhaps in wit that Austen shines most. She laughs with Elizabeth at narrow-mindedness and gives duologues an oft glittering complexion, an example of which can be seen here:

“Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs Bennet?”

“Yes, or I will never see her again.”

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”

Elizabeth is a well rounded and likeable character, she would fit into 21st century life easily and this is what gives her her longevity. Mr Darcy would be a rival to Edward Cullen of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight saga had he been written recently as he has the same brooding qualities that cause young women’s hearts to melt to this day. On that note it is unfortunate that most young people nowadays will afford Pride And Prejudice none of their time whether they study it or not.

Austen revels in descriptions. She provides a clear picture of settings in the book; it’s easy to create the scenes in your imagination. It also helps that most of her characters are fully realised in that she supplies knowledge of their major personality traits and uses the bare basics of eternal stereotypes as a foundation. Because she is so transparent in this regard it doesn’t matter that not all the book is set in summer – you come away from your sittings feeling as though the sun has been shining each and every time.

Sometimes, old English aside, it appears as though Austen could have benefited from a good editor. Hyphens are used at the start of sentences and there are occasions where semi colons are too frequently employed. This becomes quite a distraction, as such practises would be sent back to the drawing board today. And that is the only bad point of the book. The editor of the version I read (Penguin Classics circa 1972) deleted some of the place names, which was rather annoying, but that is not Austen’s fault of course.

Pride And Prejudice is a colossal stake in our literary hierarchy and it has, rightly so, defined somewhat what good publications should be. The stereotype it has been given is apt. This is a splendid book and long may it continue to delight.

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Gregory has always been rather popular but never more so than when her best-loved book, The Other Boleyn Girl, was picked up by Hollywood.

Publisher: Harper Collins
Pages: 529
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-006-51400-8
First Published: 2001
Date Reviewed: 19th January 2010
Rating: 1.5/5

Nowadays it seems anyone who’s anyone has read this book or is planning to read it. Its second time in the spotlight triggered a new set of fans. But the problems in the book vastly outweigh the successes and leave one feeling unsatisfied.

Before Anne there was Mary. When Mary is set up at fourteen years old to draw King Henry VIII to her affections she is little more than a naive girl, a pawn in the game her family have designed. The trap works and soon she is having an affair with the king and siring his children, estranged from the husband she was forced to cheat on. But it’s not good enough for the Boleyn family’s goal and she has to yield to her sister who employs a different tactic and gains the king as a husband. Though Mary is seen as just another girl to be used to effect it may be that she has the last laugh.

Within moments of starting the book it’s painfully obvious that Gregory’s work is akin to that of a fan following the demise of their favourite show, and it’s clear that the book was born of dreams pertaining to “what if…” situations. By using Mary as her narrator (the story is told in the first person) Gregory is able to get around events that she doesn’t want to discuss, and has moulded Mary into her own creation as she deems fit. The problems here are that Gregory’s Mary isn’t compelling enough a storyteller and leaves out important details, tending to describe instead her daily routines. The uproar over Anne’s succession is given copious time and Gregory should be commended for giving the reasons for it – but she fails to approach the major factor of the reformation. The only information provided is the Pope’s reluctance to make a decision over the proposed annulment and excommunication of Henry from the Roman Catholic Church. Anyone reading the book without good knowledge of the history of Christianity would assume it was a minor problem. Gregory has her rights as a novelist, but she also has her duties to the history she is using for her own gain. Henry’s pursuing of the church is hardly mentioned and it doesn’t matter who had been chosen to narrate the story – the reformation had such an impact that no one would have failed to mention it, especially not one in such a position as Mary’s.

Katherine of Aragon’s plight comes secondary – as is to be expected in a book focused on the Boleyns – but the way in which Mary constantly thinks back to her after she is dethroned is shameful. In the book Mary does as she is bid by her family, and feels sorry for Katherine. It’s good that she feels bad for having wronged Katherine, it’s a pity she didn’t realise it properly and give it its fair dues sooner.

The feelings of guilt serve in turn as another of the books drawbacks: repetition. Much like Lesley Downer for The Last Concubine, Gregory constantly has her narrator thinking of the very same things she thought about only chapters ago. This happens in reality but as part of a book it has no place. You learn that Mary reminisces over Katherine when her sister performs the same actions as the former queen did but you don’t need it said all the time and especially not in the exact same words.

Gregory’s writing style is adequate at best. This would be fine if she had a good story to tell and it was simply a case of not being good with words. One thing that is interesting however is the lack of spelling and grammatical errors in the book – a rarity today. Pity then that we must attribute that to the publishers rather than Gregory.

Gregory has a right, as a novelist, to change facts (or tempt further discussion by raising issues that have never been proved one way or another), but she goes too far. She clearly sees no redeeming qualities in Anne Boleyn whatsoever and sets out to demonise her. When reading, it is hard not to dislike Anne for her actions but that doesn’t speak for the bigger picture. Historically, Anne was unlikely as poisonous a person as detailed and as such Gregory comes across as having a mighty chip on her shoulder. She is happy when able (by one of her few historical accuracies no less) to condemn Anne to death and put Jane Seymour on the throne. She delights in making George Boleyn incestuous and homosexual and in incest a partner in the creation of a “monster” baby. It’s unnecessary and comes across as a rant against something she had no hand in rather than a good read. Anyone looking to study the period having read this book is wholly unprepared.

So to the book’s positive points – there are only two. Since the book is set mostly at court and has been stripped of most compelling events it drones on and on like the terms and conditions of a poorly produced product. Thus when the story moves to the countryside the sun almost literally shines and the 529 pages of small print seem a lot shorter. It would be even better if Gregory was adept at describing locations but we can let that pass. Unfortunately these moments don’t last long, just as you’re settling yourself down for a more leisurely read Mary is recalled back to court. The second positive point is the end of the book where there is finally some real action and a reason to speed-read.

A tribute to history and the lives of those caught up in a narrow-minded and selfish society this is not. There are so many books out there on Tudor history and even the dull ones are a darn sight better than this.

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Stephenie Meyer is still everywhere and it looks like that will be the case for some time yet.

Publisher: Atom
Pages: 699
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-1-905-65428-4
First Published: 2008
Date Reviewed: 14th December 2009
Rating: 4.5/5

Breaking Dawn is the massive final chapter of the saga. It saw quite a change from the previous books.

So Bella agreed to marry Edward, and marry they did, a lovely if over-the-top (for Bella’s sensitivities) ceremony in the Cullen house attended by the usual everyday mix of humans, werewolves, and vampires. The honeymoon was lovely too, courtesy of Esme, but things aren’t destined to stay perfect when a human is in love with a vampire, no matter how many trials they’ve got through. Bella thinks she pregnant, and this little creature is going to shake everyone’s life, whether they be immortal or not.

The book is divided into three smaller “books”; the first and last are from Bella’s point of view and therefore read the same as the previous three in the saga. The second takes up the story from Bella’s pregnancy and continues it from Jacob’s point of view whereupon we get some interesting plot turns.

Breaking Dawn is a complete turnaround from the others. Whereas New Moon and Eclipse were undoubtedly fillers, sub plots written to keep the saga in the charts and in the minds of fans (as well as provide more income for the movie makers), Breaking Dawn reads like the follow-on of Twilight. It certainly seems as though Meyer has had more power and say in what she writes and most definitely she knows what’s she’s doing and what makes a good story. For the most part, Breaking Dawn is utterly fantastic, a real page-turner.

The other major differences with Breaking Dawn are the viewpoints and storytelling. Though at first it may seem a pity that Meyer has chosen not to honour Bella seamlessly it doesn’t take long to feel comfortable with Jacob. Meyer writes from his viewpoint well, there’s that extreme difference in the style from the chapters themselves and the chapter titles. Whereas Bella’s chapters are all titled abstractly though in accordance to the main theme of each, Jacob’s are a very simple summary of what is happening at that point in time. Ever blunt, they are great in themselves.

It’s in the storytelling that a debate may arise. Meyer has taken the fantasy to a whole new level. It’s brilliant and so much more mature and detailed than before – but there it is, “mature”. The “problem” with Breaking Dawn is that it’s too graphic and at times lingers on the fence between fantasy and horror. Bella’s pregnancy is full of blood but as it’s not the human birth we accept in the real world it becomes a point to ponder upon – is this content appropriate for young readers? Do they need to read about a huge strong vampire foetus that might just bite through it’s human mother in order to get out of the womb, killing the mother in the process? In Meyer’s defence, those theories do turn out to be simply theories as the Cullen’s manage to deliver the baby without it turning into such carnage, but the thoughts are still there on the page and actually, when it comes to the birth there is a lot of gore included. The way Bella becomes a vampire is also relatively horrific. It may not be, as Carlisle observes, as bad as the usual way of converting, but that’s only in the context of the story. So while the book itself is a fantastic departure from the other three, for parents it may prove worrying and for their children the stuff of nightmares. The older reader will find the book to be far superior. Even those who have previously shunned the saga may enjoy it to some extent.

In lure of young readers there is a lot of sex in the first quarter of the book. It’s not graphically detailed but there are a lot of references and some not-so-subtle innuendo. Even as an older reader the sentence about knowing a better way to lose calories reads badly. Make no mistake: yes, Bella and Edward are married now, and yes, they are enjoying themselves immensely.

As mentioned, the plot this time runs smoothly with every sentence having a reason. One wonders if the saga would be more credible to critics if it hadn’t been at the mercy of the promotion team so early on in it’s journey.

Although in general the plot is exciting there are a few times where proceedings run at a sluggish pace. Of note is the end, which is predictable. The problem with Meyer is that she has an obvious disliking for killing off major characters and while this may be admirable it’s not realistic nor does it make for a good story. Throughout the saga whenever there has been a confrontation of some size the planning that the characters do picks up the pace. But it’s always the same: there’s mention of a battle, there’s planning, and then… oh, all it needs is discussion, or just a five minute fight between a couple of people in an otherwise large army. Victoria was too easy, the Volturi sound menacing but are ultimately too easy, and every confrontation is predictable and miss-able because you already know from all the other times that nothing will happen. If this was Meyer’s decision in light of the age of her target readers then it’s laughable because of the horror elsewhere. And as much as it’s a good idea to promote talking instead of fighting, and that bullies are really cowards, there are better places for it.

All in all, Breaking Dawn is a brilliant read and the number of pages doesn’t matter in the least. But one hopes Meyer’s grasp of what works will improve in her adult fiction because really, it’s there that she shows most promise for lack of boundaries.

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