First of all, instead of saying etc. or et cetera, people back in the day just used &c. That's awesome because one, it's an ampersand (though I don't really like it touching the c. It's a little too awesome for the c, but okay, fine) and it makes sense. 'Et' means 'and' in Latin, and I think it may mean that in Spanish too. Maybe. Yes, I thought it was worthwhile to mention this. Please stop judging me.
There's a biographical note from the 1818 edition included within this edition. Here is a section from its first paragraph: "And when the public, which has not been insensible to the merits of 'Sense and Sensibility,' 'Pride and Prejudice,' 'Mansfield Park,' and 'Emma,' shall be informed that the hand which guided that pen is now mouldering in the grave, perhaps a brief account of Jane Austen will be read with a kindlier sentiment than simple curiosity" (3). Those... Those Victorians sure have a way with words... Talk about tact.
"No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine" (13). All right, comma splice and weird improper use of language aside, Jane Austen once again creates a great (and somewhat backhanded) opening sentence.
"Mrs Allen was one of that numerous class of females, whose society can raise no other emotion than surprise at there being any men in the world who could like them well enough to marry them" (20). MRS BENNET? This kind of makes me wonder if Jane's mother or one of her aunts was like this...
Oh, when they first meet Mr Tilney, he tells them that he buys his own cravats. Boy knows his cravats? SNAP THAT MAN UP.
"'Thank you; for now we shall soon be acquainted, as I am authorized to tease you on this subject whenever we meet, and nothing in the world advances intimacy so much'" (29).
Jane Austen also interjects a lot too, in a Kurt Vonnegut-ish manner. I've been reading the Hipster Disney Tumblr, so I'm tempted to make a joke, but I'm going to resist. I think what may be more interesting is though this is one of the first books she wrote, I believe it wasn't published until after her death. I thought that this way of hers had developed in her later books (it comes through a little in Mansfield Park), but I guess not. Maybe that's why it wasn't published when it was originally submitted to the publisher...? The fact that she's a she probably didn't hurt either. But maybe that's why it tones down a little later on. (There will be more on this later...)
"Mr Tilney was no fonder of the play than the Pump-room" (35). A pump room, according to Google, is a microbrewery of sorts. (Perhaps a pub?) This is the only time I've seen her mention it, and she mentions it at least three times every fifteen pages. Before I looked it up (IE, before two minutes ago) I thought it was a sort of boiler-engine room sort of place (which doesn't even really make much sense in the story since it talks about men going there to smoke, but my brain is always keyed for steampunk, okay?), which made this really, really funny... Like Oscar Wilde if steampunk had actually happened when it should have... But now it's not. Sigh... I just want everything to be steampunk! And as long as I'm dreaming, I would also like to be dating Ben Barnes. Cool, thanks, bye.
Isabella starts talking about how partial she is to the profession of the clergyman (cough cough Catherine's brother) and she sighs a little dramatically when she tells Catherine about this. "Perhaps Catherine was wrong in not demanding the cause of that gentle emotion--but she was not experienced enough in the fineness of love, or the duties of friendship, to know when delicate raillery was properly called for, or when confidence should be forced" (36). Spoiler alert: nobody actually does. Even when they think they do and seem pretty confident, refrain from believing it. Trust me.
Anyways, here is a (long) example of what I mean by Jane Austen's little interludes:
"They... shut themselves up, to read novels together. Yes, novels;--for I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are in themselves adding--joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such work, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust" (37). Okay, you know what, I can't put this all down here. She goes on for about two pages and starts lecturing the entire world because they honour authors such as Milton or Pope but then bash contemporary novelists and their novels and treat bookreading with shame. Et cetera, et cetera--it boils down to the fact that Jane Austen is not subtle. (Though I do agree with her.) This thought process will be echoed later in Pride and Prejudice, when someone degrades the importance of reading (when Elizabeth is teased for preferring reading to cardplaying?) and Mr Darcy says that he respects and agrees with that (or whatever it is exactly he says, all I know is that he's got Elizabeth's back) and earlier when he's talking about his library at Pemberly and someone is complimenting it and Mr Darcy's just like, psh, yeah, "'I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these'".
Oh, and Wilde complains about the same thing, possibly in his essay "The Critic as Artist" (don't quote me on that one, though...). He says that people should not use classics as bludgeons with which to beat new novels into shape. It's really well-written, though, I'm not doing it any credit at all... Then again, of course it's well written. Look who wrote it!
"Let us not desert one another; we are an injured body" (37). This actually does not occur in the story's context, this occurs in Jane Austen's little lecture. Authors of contemporary novels insult each other and put each other down (especially if their heroine picks up a book that is contemporary and puts it down with disgust) in an attempt to make themselves stand out and seem better or more moral or what have you, thus deserting each other when they really should be standing together and supporting each other under the public eye, and so on.
By the way, on page forty-eight we get an illustration of the stupidity of Mr Thorpe (Isabella's father), who is just as foolish as his daughter is a flighty scoundrel. Mr Thorpe is almost as stupid as the headmaster (or whoever it is Humbert Humbert speaks to at the girls' school) in Lolita. Catherine asks him if he has ever read Udolpho and he says that he never reads novels, for he always has something else to do. He then says that novels are "'all so full of nonsense and stuff; there has not been a tolerably decent one come out since Tom Jones, except the Monk; I read that t'other day; but as for all the others, they are the stupidest things in creation'" (49). Later he admits to liking the writing of "Mrs Radcliff"--the author of the book Catherine has suggested that Mr Thorpe read. He then attempts to cover for himself by saying he confused it with a French book named Camilla--a book which, despite my never reading it, he has clearly misunderstood its point and deeper meaning. Though I have never read anything of Tom Jones (though the name sounds familiar) or "the Monk", it's clear that he's exactly what Jane Austen has just railed against, and that he is a fool.
Isabella's brother attempts to attract Catherine--the whole family tries to pull them together in very annoying ways--and at one point he attempts to distract her from Mr Tilney by way of another dance. But how does he ask? "'I suppose you and I are to stand up and jig it together again'" (59). LINES THAT WOULD WORK ON ME. Well, if they were from someone other than John Thorpe. But still. I pretty much died laughing. I know it was probably normal slang for the time, but still. Best. Thing. Ever.
Also, like Mr Darcy, Catherine has an awesome "bugger off" scene. Mr Darcy's "bugger off" scene is when he's writing a letter to his sister and one of the girls who so desperately want to win his attention are continuously up in his grills, talking incessantly, and he shuts her down continuously. I'm not doing the scene any credit. (It's in the first half of the book, in case if you're so curious... One of my posts about Pride and Prejudice specifically probably include it, but you'll have to find that yourself.) Catherine's scene comes with Isabella--"'Do you know I get so immoderately sick of Bath; your brother and I were agreeing this morning that, though it is vastly well to be here for a few weeks, we would not live here for millions. We soon found out that our tastes were exactly alike in preferring the country to every other place; really, our opinions were so exactly the same, it was quite ridiculous! There was not a single point in which we differed; I would not have had you by for the world; you are such a sly thing, I am sure you would have made some droll remark or other about it.' 'No, indeed I should not.' 'Oh, yes you would indeed; I know you better than you know yourself. You would have told us that we seemed born for each other, or some nonsense of that kind, which would have distressed me beyond conception... I would not have had you by for the world.' 'Indeed you do me injustice; I would not have made so improper a remark upon any account; and besides, I am sure it would have never entered my head.' Isabella smiled incredulously, and talked the rest of the evening to James'" (70-71). SHUT DOWN, ISABELLA, SHUT DOWN LIKE A BITCH. OOOOH. Haha, awesome. I hate Isabella so much. Does it show? (Good job, Catherine, even if I'm not sure if you were intentionally shutting her down, but I'm pretty sure you were!)
"And now I may dismiss my heroine to the sleepless couch, which is the true heroine's portion; to a pillow strewn with thorns and wet with tears. And lucky may she think herself, if she get another good night's rest in the course of the next three months" (90). Okay, so Jane Austen's being a little bit of an intense romantic. But this is after the Thorpes attempt to separate Catherine from the Tilneys so that John Thorpe may be able to snap her up... UGH IT MAKES ME SO MAD. The Thorpes suck. Hey, I have an idea. Isabella can marry Mr Murdstone. Regret being a gold digger now!? Well, it's too damn late.
The means they do it by is forcing Catherine to break dates with the Tilneys (sometimes by actually using physical force) and then they make deceitful reasons up for Catherine. Is this high school right now, Thorpes? Your kid is a slovenly mess, your daughter is a gold digger, and you guys aren't exactly the plastics. I will fight all of you.
"'If I am wrong, I am doing what I believe to be right'" (100). Again, the Thorpes are trying to screw up Catherine's relationship with the Tilneys. Isabella and her brother literally grab her by the arms and hold her back. UGH, they make me so mad. While I was reading the book I wanted to hurt somebody. And I know Victorian women were supposed to be restrained and whatever, but I hate being manhandled. I would have seriously punched them both in the face. Or at least struggled. Maybe I would have kicked them. It would probably a little different from wrestling with my brother, in that they wouldn't be expecting it and I would have defeated ALL OF THE THORPES. Yeeeees. And the crowd goes wild! Can't you hear them cheering? Ah, my public! Don't dream it, be i--Oh, sorry. I'm confusing myself with Tim Curry again. My bad, sorry.
"'Young men and women driving about the country in open carriages!'" (104). NO! Anything but that! Say it isn't so, Jane! Next they'll be showing off their--dare I say it? Their ankles, and maybe even their shoulders! The very thought of it makes me faint...
"'A monstrous deal of good nature, and it is not only good nature, but you have so much, so much of every thing; and then you have such--upon my soul I do not know any body like you.' 'Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, I dare say, only a great deal better'" (123). I love Catherine's cute little naive response to the compliments being placed upon her. Also, I love it when Jane Austen uses the adjective 'monstrous'. How much? I consider it equatable to my love of Colin Firth yelling...
So by the time volume II starts, Isabella starts growing distant because it's becoming clear that the Thorpes' plan isn't going to work out, and also because Isabella is a scheming manipulative little Willoughby. Man, Isabella is even worse than Susan! Catherine also takes a time at the Tilneys' where because of her love of Gothic horror novels becomes convinced that she will uncover some crazy mystery. She also becomes convinced that father Tilney poisoned his wife or something, because he didn't seem very upset when talking about his late wife (to be fair, she died nine years prior). This part of the book is kind of arduous to stick to--if it was any other author, it probably wouldn't be so bad, but from Jane Austen it was kind of like, uh... What the hell are you doing, Jane? The end is, like I must have mentioned but don't care to actually check, wraps things up sort of suddenly while playing off of this as well, so this bit is kind of what keeps it from being next to Emma on the 'classics' shelf. (Also: it's really bothering me that I can't think of what book would be on its other side. I'm pretty sure it would be The Martian Chronicles, but...) Anyways. This is kind of putting my 'final thoughts' paragraph first, but whatever. Let's continue, shall we...?
Oh, and Isabella tries to convince Catherine that she's always been in love with or eventually fell in love with the brother Thorpe. No, Isabella, your brother sucks. Then she attempts to make Catherine agree to an engagement and Catherine is just like no... And then Catherine's beloved's brother appears and the two of them start flirting and I could kill Isabella, for serious. I'm not going to blame the Tilney brother for being seduced by her, for clearly he's an idiot.
"'Circumstances change, opinions alter'" (146).
"'I wish your heart were independent. That would be enough for me.' 'My heart, indeed! What can you have to do with hearts? You men have none of you any hearts.' 'If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give us torment enough'" (147). This actually occurs between Isabella and her Frederick Tilney. This bit is okay, but then it becomes clear that he means it as a flirtation, not as a "I hate to look upon you because if you were a man your name would be Willoughby", it's a "It tortures me to see you if I can't be having
"'No man is offended by another man's admiration of the women he loves; it is the women only who can make it a torment'" (151).
"'I understand; she is in love with James and flirts with Frederick.' 'Oh! no, not flirts. A woman in love with one man cannot flirt with another'" (151). This--especially the second bit, the first bit is just there for sort of context--seems like it could exist in one of Wilde's plays easily. (Speaking of which, I really need to reread those...)
So when Catherine is still convinced that father Tilney murdered his wife, she asks son that she's in love with about it. He gives the most backhanded description of him: "'You have erred in supposing him not attached to her. He loved her, I am persuaded, as well as it was possible for him to--We have not all, you know, the same tenderness of disposition--and I will not pretend to say that while lived, she might not often have had much to bear, but though his temper injured her, his judgment never did. His value of her was sincere; and, if not permanently, he was truly afflicted by her death'" (197). IE, "He loved her, probably, but he never showed it--I'm pretty sure he loved her though. Yeah. Really." Okay, snarkiness aside, I did like this passage, even as unsure as it is.
And theeeeeen I skip about another forty pages. Upon discovering that Isabella and Frederick Tilney have practically eloped, Catherine begs to go home and of course the Tilneys grant that wish. So...
"Catherine was too wretched to be fearful" (230).
"In the embrace [of her family], as she stepped from the carriage, she found herself soothed beyond any thing that she had believed possible... In the joyfulness of family love every thing for a short time was subdued" (233).
"For soon were all her thinking powers swallowed up in the reflection of her own change of feelings and spirits since last she had trodden that well-known road. It was not three months ago since, wild with joyful expectation, she had there run backwards and forwards some ten times a-day, with an heart light, gay, and independent; looking forward to pleasures untasted and unalloyed, and free from the apprehension from evil as from the knowledge of it. Three months ago had seen her all this; and now, how altered a being did she return!" (237).
"She was assured of [Henry's] affection; and that heart in return was solicited, which... they pretty equally knew was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was now sincerely attached to her, though he felt and delighted in all the excellencies of her character and truly loved her society, I must confess that his affection originated in nothing better than gratitude, or... that a persuasion of partiality for him had been the only cause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circumstance in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine's dignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at least be all my own" (243). First of all, why the hell can't Jane Austen seem to understand the proper use of 'an'? My guess is that she must 'ave 'ad an accent that cut out the 'h' like so. Thus, she was right for applying the 'an' rule... I guess. Well, whatever. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly Jane means by this passage. At first I thought that it was a sort of bitterness--then I was like nope, not possible. But then, I realized that yeah, it's possible. I definitely sense some bitterness, or at the very least biting sarcasm. I imagine that she liked somebody, but they could have cared less because she never did anything about it, or not enough to suggest anything more (this would also explain that line in Pride and Prejudice when someone--possibly Elizabeth's mother--says that women must show more than they actually feel). It could also be just Jane Austen complaining about novels of the time making overdramatic love stories (et tu, Jane Austen?) that are completely unrealistic and what Jane has described as an alternative is much more real, thus creating irony because her idea is not so wild or unusual at all. But funny story Jane Austen, your little love stories ARE unusual and wild. Life is not that nice! (Now who's being bitter?) Way to accidentally create your own standard that can't be lived up to, cough cough Mr Darcy cough that entire book cough.
So, father Tilney isn't ecstatic with Henry and Catherine's union, probably because Catherine was convinced that he murdered his wife. Okay, no. The real reason is that Isabella's brother got mad at Catherine for turning him down so he told the senior Tilney that Catherine's family was destitute. Henry doesn't even care, and he goes to marry anyways, and at that point papa Tilney is just like, whatever. I guess you're not as poor as I thought. Sure. I'm not even kidding you. Let me spoil the end real quick: "On the strength of this [discovery that they do have some money], the General, soon after Eleanor's marriage, permitted his son to return to Northanger, and thence made him the bearer of his consent, very courteously worded in a page full of empty professions to Mr. Morland. The event which it authorized soon followed: Henry and Catherine were married, the bells rang and every body smiled... It will not appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the General's cruelty, that they were essentially hurt by it. To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen is to do pretty well; and professing myself moreover convinced, that the General's unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience" (252). Although Jane wraps it all up nicely (I must admit) it's just like, ummmm, I'm done writing now. Peace! The problem solves itself in less than two pages, and this whole conclusion of happy marriage I've just quoted for you is literally back-to-back with the General realizing that they weren't exactly beggars. Maybe the in-between stuff would have been a tad boring, but at least it would have seemed a little more fleshed out than the General just shrugging and saying, "Well, I guess this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to the family." Lazy writing, Jane! (I guess this post did turn out kind of bipolar, though not as bad as Mansfield Park, of course. I fully intended to go into this praising Jane to the heavens.) Oh well. I still like her a whole lot. I love Jane Austen--I guess it's kind of like my abuse of Jeff Goldblum. I love him, but I guess it's hard to tell
Either way, this is definitely an Austen book I'd suggest to people. It may be a little sloppy, but that's probably just because that this is probably her actual first book (or at least the second).
Speaking of it being sloppy, I'm pretty sure I was praising her for writing her own straight-up commentary into the book, like Kurt Vonnegut is wont to. I've since decided that she didn't do it out of genius or novelty (well, maybe a little out of novelty), but that she didn't do it with finesse--because she didn't really know... how to write, if you know what I mean. Still, not half-bad at all.
Also, she seriously abuses semicolons. Like, I feel like I need to go through semicolon detox. Jeez, Jane. I should go reread Lord of the Rings. When you find a semicolon in there you know you've got something special... Even though there are pretty much a million places where semicolons would be appropriate and preferred, TOLKIEN.
Oh, and there was a page I marked but couldn't remember why I marked till I lost it--it is mentioned, while Catherine is riding home, that she must stop to change the horses. That's so weird! I mean, I guess it makes sense--you can't just run the horse till it dies, and I mean you can't just fill it with gas or give it an oil change and it be good for another fifty miles... But what of the horses? How do you get your horses back? Was all of Regency England just forever trading horses across the country? How did these things work?
Also, I finished this book while I was the mic runner for the school musical, Working. It was pretty fun to see people rushing in and out of boiler room trying to get their outfits on in time or picking up mics or what have you while I was very placidly just reading Jane Austen by flashlight.
MLA Citation Information: Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. Oxford University Press: London, 1975.
What else? Lately my brain has just been shutting down. I've been spelling wild "Wilde" and further "Furthur". The first one is my own fault, and the second one is usually accompanied with me silently cursing Robby D.
Also, does anybody remember Animorphs? Can anybody believe that it's been ten years since it ended? I sure can't... How did life go on? I thought I would die when it ended, for real. But here I am... Watching Doctor Who... Oh my God. Animorphs/Doctor crossover. How hard would it be!? (Well, the Andalites would probably have some trouble with the Doctor. Christopher Eccleston would probably Marco out, David would have been more of a Jake, and Matt... Matt would be funny Marco, not paranoid, kind of crazy Marco.) But yeah. The world should think about this. Or maybe the BBC could make a good Animorphs TV series? I'd trust them with it.
Last post's cryptic song lyrics: Technologic by Daft Punk (By the way, this is just the radio edit of it; the music video was made for that version of it)
This post's cryptic song lyrics: C-c-c-cinnamon lips and candy kisses on my tongue--fu-un. B-b-b-buttery eyes, if only cries could come from those eyes. Oh! Have you landed and if so, would you let me know? I'm tired of looking up into those starry eyes--
PS. Spellcheck decided to completely peace out this time around. Sorry! I've tried to weed out errors best I could.
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