Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to another edition of “Why We’re So Obsessed With [insert entertainment franchise / series / artistic phenomenon].” I must have realized last week how enjoyable it is to dissect the reasons for mainstream society’s obsession with certain things, because this week, prompted by a viewing of “Sense and Sensibility” with friends, I started thinking about something else, our fascination with Jane Austen.
I fell into this fascination at an early age, when I first discovered a beautifully bound edition of “Pride and Prejudice” in my parents’ library (technically it’s more of a basement than a library, but we’ll go with library). I think that was around fifth grade, so it was a pretty difficult read for me at that time, but I nevertheless remember soaking up the feeling of that world — exploring a period, society and characters that I’d never so intimately encountered before. Part of my fascination stemmed from the language. As a writer, the narrators’ and characters’ eloquent speech pulled me in and made me wonder, “Why don’t we speak like this anymore?”
Within the next few years, I read every other book of Austen’s, seeking that captivating, almost magical feeling. It took me a while to get to a couple of them (well, mainly just “Mansfield Park”), but I read and enjoyed them all — some to a greater extent than others (my definitive personal ranking is available upon request), but definitely all enjoyed. And in recent years, I’ve taken to reading each one again.
I’ve found, however, that the books themselves don’t warrant as much fascination among mainstream society as the more general idea of the books’ world, most often manifested on screen. Perhaps this is a little perverse, seeing as the books are what originally brought that world to life (and, in my opinion, what hold the most magic and delight — there’s such cleverness and craft to Austen’s writing and storytelling that you can’t fully appreciate until you’ve actually read the books), but it’s intriguing to look into why so many people seem to have this obsession, mild or strong, with the broad concept of Jane Austen’s world. Aside from the countless film and television adaptations of her stories, there have been several spin-offs and Austen-related plots created by other writers: Shannon Hale’s novel “Austenland,” later made into a film, and British TV mini-series “Lost in Austen” both come to mind. I haven’t read Hale’s book, but I remember both that film and this TV series as being a little cheesy though fun all the same. I also remember stopping and wondering to myself, “Why am I watching this? Why am I and so many others eager to gobble up as much Jane-Austen-inspired entertainment ventures as we possibly can?” (Well, I didn’t think that exact phrase, but you get the point.)
Seeing as most of the fascination seems to come from cisgender women, I think that much of the obsession has to do with a yearning for that genteel romance, and that perfect gentleman — someone who knows how to dance, who rides horses in classy breeches and vests, and who perhaps has that smoldering Mr. Darcy look (“Pride and Prejudice,” is, after all, the Austen tale that has been the most present in pop culture). There also seems to be this yearning to feel like a “lady” from that time period — to retrieve the elegance and charm in behavior and lifestyle that some perceive as having been lost in the hectic landscape of modern society. But I think that this fascination also has to do with the simple fact of the stark difference between Austen’s world, as we see it, and our own. Difference is seductive. For me, it’s the strongest pull I feel toward those adaptions of Austen’s work and on-screen spin-offs. Sometimes I just feel like planting myself in a wholly foreign place and time, and Austen’s construction of her place and time contains so much vivacity, charm, and warmheartedness that it strikes me as the perfect escape — an escape from the world I know, the one that can make me feel quite jaded and lost. Sometimes I just want to experience that difference.
Most of us realize, hopefully, that we would never actually want to go back in time and live in Austen’s period — particularly as women. So as long as we maintain that check on reality, I see no problem with our mild obsession over the Austen world. I would hope that it would encourage more people to actually read the books (particularly the more underrated ones — “Northanger Abbey” anyone?), but I see this fascination most as a testament to the power of Austen herself — that her stories and characters can continue to speak to us so strongly, even after all this time.
