Blair: Austen’s Power
By Peter Blair, The Dartmouth Staff
Published on Tuesday, April 19, 2011
One of the things I find most perennially curious is our generation’s fascination with Jane Austen movies and the novels on which they are based. It seems like nearly every time I gain a new Facebook friend I notice that one of our mutual interests is something related to Jane Austen, usually “Pride and Prejudice” or its movie rendition. Austen seems to always come up in any conversation I have with people about their favorite writers. Given the relational context we find ourselves in — one in which hookups are common and long-term, exclusive relationships are rare — the ubiquity of Jane Austen is an extremely bizarre phenomenon. Our obsession with Austen and her work reveals, in part, our distaste for certain characteristics of our own culture.
Austen’s popularity is bizarre because the world in which Austen’s characters live is entirely alien to us. Her novels embody a view of society and human interaction that is radically different from our own. The men and women of Austen’s novels exist within a complex and altogether foreign web of social, cultural, moral, prudential and even philosophical norms that guide and inform their interaction with each other and with members of the opposite sex.
There is, needless to say, no such thing as a hook-up culture in Austen’s world, but a culture of courtship that operates according to certain prescribed standards and rituals. Though affection and the feeling of “being in love” play a large role in many characters’ romantic decisions, other characters, like Charlotte Lucas, prefer to marry on pragmatic or prudential grounds. The virtues of constancy, humility, generosity and faithfulness feature prominently throughout Austen’s corpus (especially in “Mansfield Park”). In addition, romantic relationships between individuals are understood to have an indispensably communal dimension. In Austen’s works, sex and relationships are, as is often the case today, not viewed as purely private affairs, but as things that have public importance and significance.
This is the world of Jane Austen’s novels, and it is hard to deny that in many respects, Austen’s world is almost unfathomably different from our own. What, then, accounts for the popularity of her novels, especially because they are fundamentally anti-modern and moralistic? I think her contemporary fame indicates that, while not preferable in every respect, there must be something deeply attractive to us about her world. And since her world is so different from ours, it would seem that for the same reasons we are attracted to hers, we must also be displeased with our own.
We like Austen’s novels, I think, precisely because we are dissatisfied with the norms and rituals that govern our interactions with each other, especially our romantic ones. If we like innocent flirting at country balls, as our penchant for Austen suggests, we must also, on some level, dislike drunken hook-ups after games of pong. If we like the faithfulness and stability that define Austen’s characters’ relationships, even when such fidelity brings suffering (as with Mr. Bennett), we must also be discontented with the fleeting and insecure relationships that define our culture. If we appreciate Bingley’s courting of Jane, then the virtual death of meaningful courtship in our dating scene must fail to entirely satiate our social desires.
And that, in the end, is the underlying reason for the appeal of Austen’s world. We want something that our culture isn’t giving us, and we see that something in Austen’s writing. What we want is stability and commitment in our relationships, and the social cues that will help us attain that end. Perhaps next time we interact with Jane Austen, we might take the time to discern how we can put into practice the lessons she provides.
“Meaningful courtship.” That’s interesting. For all the propriety of Georgian-era courtships, I think Jane Austen’s novels hardly about that. Did you ever get that whole theme about marriage as a tool of upward mobility? It’s kind of a big one.
By David C. Becker on Apr 19 | 10:31 am
Ah yes, another article where Peter Blair tells me what I like (or in the case of the Jim Kim article, dislike) and why! Thanks Peter, how else would I know which books to buy? Just kidding, don’t mean to be snarky.
No, actually, I really dislike Jane Austen and it is perhaps for the exact reasons Peter says I should like her. I’m not an English major, but I have my reasons. I dislike her because her books are so inapplicable to our world that they’re cliche. Why would I like a book in which very few of the female lead—yes, lead—characters lack complete agency? Yes, what’s-her-face in Pride and Prejudice does want to marry for love and not right away blahblahblah, but a majority of the female characters are not agents in their own decisions about love, marriage, and sex, including Charlotte Lucas (who Peter cites) who is married to a man in love with someone else (that’s my definition of “faithfulness and stability”!). I dislike Austen because (although some of her characters' decisions may have been groundbreaking at the time—oh my! Elizabeth Bennett didn’t want to be married right off the bat?!—they no longer are. In Austen’s world, women are passive and frivolous and men are active and sensible. My distaste for Austen stems from the overtones of extremely traditional gender roles that permeate her books (think Lydia Bennett in Pride and Prejudice). No, I don’t want to return to a time where men were men (“thank you Mr. Darcy, for rescuing my sister Lydia!”) and women were women (“while I sat here”), even when just reading a book.
By Emily K. Carian on Apr 19 | 10:43 am
“If we like innocent flirting at country balls, as our penchant for Austen suggests, we must also, on some level, dislike drunken hook-ups after games of pong. ” So, according to Peter Blair, if you like one thing, you must like a specific aspect of it, and thus dislike what is the opposite of that aspect.
In this logic, if I like reading the Bible, then this suggests that I like reading about the many ways that God kills children, which means I must dislike allowing children to be born. Perhaps the next time I read the Bible, I should think of ways we can encourage the abortion of babies.
Ridiculous? offensive? Illogical? So is Peter Blair’s argument and it is even more so because he means this in all seriousness.
By Logical Fail on Apr 19 | 12:12 pm
Re: logical fail. I think he was saying if you admire action X and and action X is the exact opposite of action Y, probably you think there’s something deficient about action Y. For instance, if you admire saving the lives of babies, you probably think there’s something wrong with killing them.
By Not quite on Apr 19 | 3:24 pm
“Our obsession with Austen and her work reveals, in part, our distaste for certain characteristics of our own culture.”
I hated reading Jane Austen. I’m really quite happy with our more modern conceptions of romance and sexuality. I’m also quite glad I’m not expected to marry young and have lots of babies and marry for social mobility, as Mr. Becker points out.
Just because Mr. Blair doesn’t observe meaningful courtship doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. And just because Mr. Blair likes Jane Austen doesn’t mean EVERYONE ELSE DOES TOO.
By Angela Zhang on Apr 19 | 6:37 pm
Peter Blair seems to be trying to make a point over and over again—that the drunken hookups that seem common at Dartmouth may not be the best thing ever. Or that he certainly doesn’t enjoy them or partake at all. Unfortunately, Blair has twice now made the argument based on how things were in the past; he argued the so-called economics of sex and supply and demand a bit ago and now cites Jane Austen and tries to figure out why we all like it (which we don’t). Peter, I think you would be SO much better off by just telling it exactly like it is. Why not just say that the way you’ve experienced the current “dating” culture at Dartmouth has left you in want of genuine human connection and emotional intimacy, not just sex? Add to this that we do a whole lot of socializing online and I’d say that maybe you’re feeling a lack of connection to your peers and especially to women. You could also cite that with the Dartmouth fraternity system, it seems that the only environment men and women do interact in is the basement, a highly sexualized atmosphere where men and women see each other for their sexual value (ok, because it’s not like you’re going to have a good intimate conversation in the basement. duh.) Peter, both of your arguments seem to reduce the agency of women and both reek of misogynistic implications. The answer to the issues you see with today’s dating culture is not to move backwards. Romantic as the movies and books portray the past, you have to remember how restrictive those times were for women. So why not focus on a way forward? How can men and women forge greater connections and foster emotional intimacy in this day and age and at Dartmouth? And can you, Peter, talk about this issue without the added judgment or without imposing your morals or without advocating for a time when women were mere chattel? I mean, it’s not like you actually think that women should be deprived of equality and forced to depend on their husbands and fathers for everything? It’s not like you think women are silly and frivolous and less than you, right? Because if the point you’re trying to make is that women’s empowerment and feminism are the core problem for everything, then maybe the reason you’re experiencing a lack of courtship or emotional connection to women at Dartmouth has more to do with the fact that you’re a misogynistic a**hole. If that’s how you see women’s place in the world, then you’ll be hard-pressed to find a woman at Dartmouth at all interested in “courting” you. At least when we’re hooking up, we only minimally interact with misogynistic frat boys. Dating you would simply be unbearable. Refine your argument Mr. Blair! Come out and say what you really mean…human connection/emotional intimacy (and then sex) or is it just feminism is the problem? I sincerely hope it is the former.
By an idea on Apr 20 | 9:21 am
“Austen’s popularity is bizarre because the world in which Austen’s characters live is entirely alien to us. Her novels embody a view of society and human interaction that is radically different from our own”
It’s called Anthropology, and it’s a widely accepted academic discipline. I hardly think it’s “bizarre” that people are interested in cultures that are foreign to us. Saying that is ignoring 1000 years of human history and interaction.
By Christian W. Brandt on Apr 20 | 12:09 pm
Did the author ever READ a Jane Austen Novel? There were many other novelists at the same time whose writings exhibited the similar cultural aspects. Austen stands out now for the same reason she did then, for those clever enough to read her properly. She is funny, hilarious even, but in ways that sneak up on you. Her insight into human nature is shrewd, sometimes painfully shrewd. Her writings show me that despite a vastly different code of conduct in society, human nature does not change at all. As you get to know the characters in an Austen book you recognize them as people you know and understand. Jane herself said she did not write for ‘dull elves’. In humor she is a forerunner to Oscar Wilde more than anyone. Her imagery is delightful, her symbolism is clever, and her sense of irony rewards the reader at every turn. For example, I find it fascinating that Mrs. Norris, arguably the most evil person in Austen’s literary world, has many of the juiciest, most ironic lines aimed at her. It’s as if Fanny is defenseless but Jane is not, and jabs that mean Aunt with a pen now and then. So when some see bonnets and costumes and romance, I see that and more. In I see a wonderful balance between an incisive humor and a morality deeper than the social customs that define it outwardly.
-Lynnae
By Lynnae P on Apr 20 | 3:46 pm
an idea,
I hate comments that are a simple “me too,” or that can be boiled down to essentially that sentiment, but I have to give you a resounding “me too!”
I don’t like how Blair seems to dichotomize gender relations as being either what they are now, or what they were in some idealized past. There’s no reason there can’t be something else that’s better.
And yet, some of the points he makes are often still true. There isn’t much opportunity in most colleges, especially Dartmouth, to connect with someone of the opposite sex other than in the context of a hook-up. That’s a legitimate problem, and even if Blair’s other ideas are wrongheaded, there’s still meaningful dialogue to have about this issue beyond by now old homily that “sex without boundaries is great, do what feels good.” Yeah, it is, and that’s true, but there’s more to intimate relationships than sexual intercourse. Just as society sometimes pressures people to deny their sexual feelings, in the bubble of college, the culture can easily go the other way in marginalizing those who don’t get much fulfillment from having either purely sexual or entirely platonic relationships.
By ‘11 on Apr 21 | 5:38 am