Last night, for the first time in my life, I picked up and read a book written by Jane Austen. Austen has quite a reputation, so I felt a little late to the party, but after reading the book – Pride and Prejudice – I understand why I never bothered before. It isn’t that Austen is a bad writer, but rather that I have to exert effort to pay attention at times, because her interests are simply so divergent from mine. Where she fills in details, I am often unconcerned, and she frequently leaves out those things I would really like to know.
However, I think men who want to understand how women operate would do well to pick up the book and put some effort into finishing it. I imagine this would be particularly difficult for those of us of a technical, scientific bent, but it’s worth it all the same.
Although her prose is not particularly eloquent or poetic, it is tight enough to follow and sufficiently consistent. As for the dialog, which follows the conventions of the time (early 19th century), Austen is enough of a pro to avoid sliding too far away from the common speech and straining credulity. When it comes down to it, she is a good writer, and not too frilly or flowery for a man’s tastes. One common theme is that of pedantry, which Austen evidently despises. That inclination credits her, as there is nothing more difficult to read than a pedantic schoolmarm.
I haven’t had time to put much deep thought into the book yet, but on first impression I see the author as fairly representative of female sensibility in general, and not a feminist by any means. In fact, if a man wrote on women in the same manner Austen does he would certainly be accused of misogyny. Some of the characters in Pride and Prejudice, such as the younger sister Lydia, the mother Mrs. Bennet and Lady Catherine De Bourgh could be drawn up directly from complaints men have made right here on The Spearhead. Women’s affinity for cads and disgust for betas is out in the open — Austen is socially honest and accurate. Most of the men are sympathetic characters, and the chief villains usually female rivals. There’s nothing about the book that would offend or surprise men who are aware of gender differences.
While the honesty and accuracy of her discourse on women’s nature and behavior is refreshing, the primary value lies in the window her writing provides into the female mind. To me, it is with some resignation that I have to accept that it is indeed profoundly different from our own, but it is at least encouraging to realize that there is less intentional malice than one might expect from their behavior.
I’d like to go over the book again and put a bit more effort into analyzing it, because it is a very valuable resource. For now, I can tentatively state that Austen’s genius lies in her remarkable ability to create an accurate portrait of the feminine with words. Her understanding of men leaves something to be desired, but perhaps that is for the best, because she may never have gone anywhere or written anything of consequence if she’d limited her attention to our sex.
