The Lasting Legacy of Jane Austen

I must admit, I am a fan of Jane Austen, that early 19th century British spinster who wrote some of the best novels in the English language. Though she only wrote six novels (and two, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, were not quite complete at her premature death), her novels to this day remain beloved and well-read, and frequently adapted into films and miniseries. Why is this the case? What makes the work of Jane Austen so superior to that of many other novelists who have come and gone since then, many of whom were popular for a time and then became obscure. Since people have fought about this issue for nearly 200 years, and since voluminous writings have been written about the issue, this entry will only look very briefly at some of the reasons for Miss Austen's longevity as a popular novelist.

First off, one must say at the start that Austen's six novels are all quite well written. Unlike the verbal diarrhea of many other novelists (often spanning near 1000 pages, and sometimes beyond), Austen's novels are quite modest in length and scope. They are filled with witty and insightful commentary about women and men, parents and children, gentry and nobles, and so forth. Furthermore, her novels are about the subject of marriage, something which must have been near and dear to her heart (it is tempting to speculate that she wrote about what she was, for whatever reason, unable to enjoy). Since each of these gives some hint as to her lasting popularity, it is worthwhile to examine each briefly in turn.

First, Austen's novels are quite modest in scope and length. Her novels are eminently translatable into films (unlike those of say, Rowling, or Eliot, or other novelists who are unable to curb their pens). Not only are they short in length, though (which makes them vastly easier to read), but they are modest in scope. Austen's novels are basically about young women of the gentry or low nobility (the baronetage, to be precise) who are seeking to marry. Most of them live in smallish towns and communities, often the manor houses of rural England. While there is often movement between various locales, the same community of people is present in both, which dramatically reduces the important characters one must remember (unlike, say, the 500 characters in "War and Peace," to name one of the more egregious offenders among other novels). Therefore, Jane Austen's novels allow for considerable dexterity in analyzing character and plot without presenting difficult reading or a multiplicity of pointless characters. This increases the popularity of a writer's body of work.

However, the simplicity of Jane Austen's work is not sufficient to explain her lasting popularity. If that were the case, then Harlequin romances would be world class literature. My mother's reading collection notwithstanding, that is not the case. Part of what separates Jane Austen from the run-of-the-mill romance author (though, make no mistake, she is a romance novelist) is that her writing is so penetrating about human character. Jane Austen's characters do not seem like stock figures, but are richly developed with complicated and ambiguous characters, placed in situations that show them to be humanlike in their behavior (rather than plaster saints or cardboard villians). Some people, for example, profoundly dislike Emma (I know I do), and feel quite sympathetic for the Crawfords, and wonder why they had to be punished so falsely for their (supposedly) minor pecadillos (in this case, I side with Austen). The fact, though, that one can even treat the characters of romance novels as legitimate facsimilies of human beings is quite impressive. Furthermore, even when not engaged in direct characterization, Jane Austen's grasp of dialogue (the dialogue between Darcy and Elizabeth, or Elizabeth and Lady Catherine, is part of of what makes Pride & Prejudice a classic) is excellent. Going still further, Jane Austen's subtle and yet profound observations about humanity (including the worth placed on marriageable women as to the the sort of gentleman they would be likely to attract marriage proposals from) are stunningly inerrant, for the most part.

Finally, the subject material of Jane Austen's writing is of great interest. Part of this is because Jane Austen herself wrote in such a matter that there appears to be room to fashion theories about the exoteric and esoteric meaning of her writing. In other words, her writing leaves enough ambiguities that it is possible to dispute whether her writing was being honest or somewhat coy. Was her interest in writing about marriage ironic or straightforward. Was she truly a country Tory or did she secretly harbor a desire to critique the unfairness of male-dominated society? People have earned doctorates in literature arguing about the vagaries of proto-feminism in Elizabeth Bennett, for example, or commenting on Persuasion being a call for life and love as Jane lay dying, or commenting on the wisdom of the erstwhile heroine of Northanger Abbey, whose judgment (though sound) is constantly being threatened by those who are supporters of the status quo, or the anti-slavery commentary in Mansfield Park. Obviously, I spend way too much of my time reading books (just as I spend way too much of my time writing), but the point is that Jane Austen's choice of subject material has been of great interest to a large group of people, including myself.

So, what of it then? Obviously, not everyone has developed an appreciation for the fine works of Jane Austen that I have, but certainly everyone (even myself, far too serious most of the time) can enjoy fine works of literature and art. That the novels of Jane Austen have survived for nearly two centuries, and are much more widely read today than they were in her own time (when they were published anonymously, and Jane Austen hardly profited at all from her writings--a fate that seems to befall those of us who write literature with any cliams towards excellence rather than popular mediocrity). That said, perhaps the spinster daughter and sister of Anglican ministers would have approved of the great interest in her literature. It certainly does her belated justice, and gives proof that her life, though short and somewhat lonely, had a purpose even she could not forsee.