Sunday, July 13, 2014

My Year with Jane: Emma (1815)

Emma. Jane Austen. 1815. 544 pages. [Source: Bought]
Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage, been mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman as governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection.
Did I like Emma more the second time around? That would be a definite yes. Is Emma my new favorite Austen? Of course not! Emma is still Emma. She'll never be a heroine that I love and adore. But have I learned to appreciate her? I think so. At least to a certain extent. There must be something about her if Mr. Knightley loves her so much. I trust Mr. Knightley. He's one big reason why I think Emma will always be worth reading and rereading.

The plot: Emma and her father are "mourning" the loss of Miss Taylor who married Mr. Weston. Emma doesn't have anyone exactly her equal in terms of social status, so she bends a bit and befriends Harriet. When the novel opens, Harriet and Mr. Martin are on the way to making a match. Emma sees Harriet as potentially being her equal and staying her equal--if she marries well, marries above her current status. Emma sees Harriet as being desperately in need of saving. Harriet becomes her project. Find a husband for Harriet, she will! Who is in need of a wife? Well, there's Mr. Elton. He's available, of course. Wouldn't it be splendid if those two got together?! The problem, as you might be aware, is that Mr. Elton has a wife in mind, and that wife is so not Harriet...

Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Weston are hoping that Frank Churchill, Mr. Weston's son from his first marriage, will come to visit as he promised. There's always an excuse, a good excuse, or at least a valid excuse. When Frank does come to the community, well, expect trouble.

Oh, how I HATE HATE HATE Frank Churchill. Even if I try to stretch myself and see it from his point of view, I can't find my way to justifying ANYTHING he says and does before he is found out.

It was interesting to be reading Emma while watching the series  Emma Approved. I am a big, big Emma Approved fan, and, I must admit it was fun to go back to the original.

Have you read Emma? Do you have a favorite adaptation? What do you think of Clueless and Emma Approved?

The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.
Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew it would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by every body.
“Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old. I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at various times of books that she meant to read regularly through — and very good lists they were — very well chosen, and very neatly arranged — sometimes alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew up when only fourteen — I remember thinking it did her judgment so much credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing requiring industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the understanding. Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing. — You never could persuade her to read half so much as you wished. — You know you could not.”
A poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, or neither.
Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall. And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a situation as mine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much mistress of their husband’s house as I am of Hartfield; and never, never could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and always right in any man’s eyes as I am in my father’s.
There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves.
It is very unfair to judge of any body’s conduct, without an intimate knowledge of their situation.
Nobody, who has not been in the interior of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be.
Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.
Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideas only varied as to the how much.
A vast deal may be done by those who dare to act.
How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling declared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun? — When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which Frank Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied? — She looked back; she compared the two — compared them, as they had always stood in her estimation, from the time of the latter’s becoming known to her — and as they must at any time have been compared by her, had it — oh! had it, by any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison. — She saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr. Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had not been infinitely the most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself, in fancying, in acting to the contrary, she had been entirely under a delusion, totally ignorant of her own heart — and, in short, that she had never really cared for Frank Churchill at all!
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. — You hear nothing but truth from me. — I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. — Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover. — But you understand me. — Yes, you see, you understand my feelings — and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.

© 2014 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews


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