My Thoughts/Noticings/Ramblings:
Ch. 12
One of the nice things about Catherine being more realistic than heroic is that she just wants to make things right with the Tilneys, so she doesn't waste any time being angry about the perceived slights from them--she just tells her side and hears their side and has done with it! (Of course, it's not all smooth sailing ahead, but at least this conflict wraps up quickly.)
Ch. 13
...this has all happened in six days. (This makes Isabella's accusation that Catherine is choosing Miss Tilney over "her best and oldest friends" pretty bizarre (202).)
Thank goodness for Mr. Allen. He's finally around long enough to say something sensible--that it's not a great idea for unmarried and unrelated men and women to drive all around together. His wife is all, "Oh, yeah, definitely, bad idea," which shocks Catherine, because Mrs. Allen encouraged her to go out for a drive with Mr. Thorpe just days earlier. But now Catherine's moral suspicions are confirmed, and she has a good reason to turn down any future applications from Mr. Thorpe.
Ch. 14
We finally get to spend some time with the Tilneys! My overall impressions are that Henry is as weird as he seemed in the beginning, but in a generally pretty likable way, and that Miss Tilney seems more like an Austen heroine than Catherine does! She is witty, reasonable, kind, and know how to deal with her oddball brother.
Ch. 15
Oh Catherine, you sweet, innocent little bird. "What do you think of this whole marriage thing? How about that old saying "one wedding begets another?" ...So, I'll see you at the wedding, huh?" It's lucky for her she had to hurry away, or she might have found herself engaged to Mr. Thorpe!
My Takeaways:
Something is rotten in the house of Thorpe. They are being way too weird about Catherine and James. The Tilneys, on the other hand, seem like good people (well, the General is pretty weird. But we'll see more of him later.)
Vocab/Clarifications:
Ch. 12
When Catherine visits Miss Tilney, is told she is not at home, and then sees her walking out a minute later, that hurts. It's like if you called up a friend to say "Oh, hey, I can see you across the park" and you watched them take out their phone, see that you're calling, hit ignore, and then laugh with their other friends. Poor Catherine is right to freak out.
Ch. 13
elasticity (p. 210) --in this case, something like "energy" or "bounciness"; I still find it a strange compliment from General Tilney, but I guess it's been established that Catherine is a pretty ordinary kind of person so someone looking to compliment her might have to get a little creative or risk sounding insincere.
Ch. 14
Henry explains his objections to the overuse of the word "nice"--it used to mean tidy or refined, which would make it an odd choice of words with which to praise a novel. The other word he mocks in this chapter is "amazingly"--the kind of enthusiastic hyperbole mostly associated with Isabella. Catherine has her own version of the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other, but for usage. (Of course, Austen is known for using dialogue, and particularly diction, to show the reader a great deal of information about her characters, so take that as you will...)
panegyric (p. 228)--extensive praise for something or someone
Ch. 15
A few notes on marriage: while adults didn't need parental consent to marry, it was highly unusual to marry without it (and certainly not against it.) Part of the arrangements for marriage concerned finances: what would the bride get from her family, and how would the groom be able to support his family? Usually eldest sons of wealthy families had personal fortunes that could be used to support a family, while younger sons (and men from less wealthy families) worked as clergymen, military officers, or a few other specific jobs that were deemed acceptable for the upper classes. Here, the arrangements for James and Isabella are left vague, with only the assurance that James's father would do what he could to "forward [James's] happiness."
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Ch. 9-11
My Thoughts/Noticings/Ramblings:
Ch. 9
Mrs. Allen is the world's worst chaperone. Not only does she have a bizarre habit of announcing every little thing to the room ("Oh, look, a speck of dust on my dress!") but she is totally unable to pick up on Catherine's silent plea for help when Mr. Thorpe comes along to take Catherine out for a ride. Really, she should be all over that--it's not a great idea to begin with and Thorpe is clearly a jerk. CHAPERONE BETTER, MRS. ALLEN.
Mr. Thorpe somehow finds a way to be even less charming than before: "Old Allen is as rich as a Jew--is not he?" (132). Now, I ain't sayin' he's a golddigger...but he is anti-Semitic and terrible at holding a conversation in which other people are actually permitted to speak!
Ch. 10
Can I just point out that Mr. Tilney's joke about everyone saying that Bath is great for six weeks and then it's boring is almost precisely what Isabella and James were so thrilled to find themselves agreeing upon earlier in the chapter? It's like if your best friend came running over to you going, "OMG, I've been talking to the guy I like, and he says he hates when people cut him off in traffic! I hate that too! We're meant to be!"
Ch. 11
AGH I can't with this chapter. It's viscerally uncomfortable for me to read it. Mr. Thorpe is the WORST. He tells Catherine that he saw the Tilneys headed off in their carriage and then--when they drive past them on the street--he refuses to stop and let Catherine out. This chapter makes me want to set this book on fire (NOT that I condone burning books! It's just an impulse I have!)
My Takeaways:
Turns out Isabella is not a great friend, at least not when someone more interesting is around. And her brother is my least-favorite fictional person ever. And Mrs. Allen is pretty useless, so thank goodness for the Tilneys! Although it's going to take some explaining on Catherine's part to account for not being home when they came for her. Grrrr.
Vocab/Clarifications:
Ch. 9
It is noted that Mrs. Tilney (Henry Tilney's mother) was given twenty thousand pounds when she was married. This can best be translated into "a whole BUNCH of money." The relative prices of things have changed so much that it's hard to really compare amounts between then and now, but she's on par with the wealthy Bingley sister from Pride and Prejudice so we have a sense that she comes from a great deal of money (and so was unlikely to marry anyone who didn't.)
Ch. 10
Ok, if you haven't seen a film based on an Austen novel (they've all got dancing!) here's an example of what these country dances look like. Starts about halfway in.
Ch. 11
commerce (p. 184)--a card game, which the group plays instead of going out to a public entertainment.
Ch. 9
Mrs. Allen is the world's worst chaperone. Not only does she have a bizarre habit of announcing every little thing to the room ("Oh, look, a speck of dust on my dress!") but she is totally unable to pick up on Catherine's silent plea for help when Mr. Thorpe comes along to take Catherine out for a ride. Really, she should be all over that--it's not a great idea to begin with and Thorpe is clearly a jerk. CHAPERONE BETTER, MRS. ALLEN.
Mr. Thorpe somehow finds a way to be even less charming than before: "Old Allen is as rich as a Jew--is not he?" (132). Now, I ain't sayin' he's a golddigger...but he is anti-Semitic and terrible at holding a conversation in which other people are actually permitted to speak!
Ch. 10
Can I just point out that Mr. Tilney's joke about everyone saying that Bath is great for six weeks and then it's boring is almost precisely what Isabella and James were so thrilled to find themselves agreeing upon earlier in the chapter? It's like if your best friend came running over to you going, "OMG, I've been talking to the guy I like, and he says he hates when people cut him off in traffic! I hate that too! We're meant to be!"
Ch. 11
AGH I can't with this chapter. It's viscerally uncomfortable for me to read it. Mr. Thorpe is the WORST. He tells Catherine that he saw the Tilneys headed off in their carriage and then--when they drive past them on the street--he refuses to stop and let Catherine out. This chapter makes me want to set this book on fire (NOT that I condone burning books! It's just an impulse I have!)
My Takeaways:
Turns out Isabella is not a great friend, at least not when someone more interesting is around. And her brother is my least-favorite fictional person ever. And Mrs. Allen is pretty useless, so thank goodness for the Tilneys! Although it's going to take some explaining on Catherine's part to account for not being home when they came for her. Grrrr.
Vocab/Clarifications:
Ch. 9
It is noted that Mrs. Tilney (Henry Tilney's mother) was given twenty thousand pounds when she was married. This can best be translated into "a whole BUNCH of money." The relative prices of things have changed so much that it's hard to really compare amounts between then and now, but she's on par with the wealthy Bingley sister from Pride and Prejudice so we have a sense that she comes from a great deal of money (and so was unlikely to marry anyone who didn't.)
Ch. 10
Ok, if you haven't seen a film based on an Austen novel (they've all got dancing!) here's an example of what these country dances look like. Starts about halfway in.
Ch. 11
commerce (p. 184)--a card game, which the group plays instead of going out to a public entertainment.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Ch. 4-8
My Thoughts/Noticings/Ramblings:
Ch. 4
If we're continuing to think about how uneventful and unlike a book Catherine's life is, this meeting between Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Thorpe falls right in line. There ther are, sitting on a bench, not talking, kind of eyeing each other, and finally Mrs. Thorpe kind of recognizes Mrs. Allen. (And, mind you, this is no coincidental meeting the moment they arrived in Bath--Mrs. Allen has been sitting around for days wishing she knew someone there. That kind of dead air isn't usually allowed in fiction.)
Catherine met Mr. Tilney in the most run-of-the-mill way possible--being introduced as dancing partners by a guy whose whole job is to introduce people as dancing partners--and now she gets a friend in a similarly dull fashion.
Here's a great example of why I love Austen: She describes Mrs. Thorpe and Mrs. Allen as "talking both together, far more ready to give than to receive information, and each hearing very little of what the other said" (62). Austen has this way of presenting the facts of a situation in a way that gets right at the heart of human interaction; her use of understatement is one of my favorite things about her books. (I also love her quiet sarcasm: "Catherine was delighted at this extension of her Bath acquaintance, and almost forgot Mr. Tilney while she talked to Miss Thorpe. Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love" (64.) Her feelings for Isabella can hardly be called friendship at this point, just as her feelings for Mr. Tilney can hardly be called love, but certainly as readers we expect those things--and Catherine probably does too.)
Ch. 5
Isabella, it seems, is better schooled in the arts and sciences of being a heroine: she drops a strong hint about being into clergy, and even punctuates it with a sigh, but sweet dopey Catherine doesn't pick up her cue to harass Isabella into giving up her carefully not-so-guarded secret.
"Alas! if the heroine of one novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard?" (p. 72) Oh, Jane Austen, I love you so. She's rolling her eyes at the prevailing notion that novels were somehow shameful, immoral, frivolous, etc--which, you know, has not gone away. These days, the target of that kind of hand-wringing and pearl-clutching is usually commercial YA lit (or New Adult, or chick lit), but the essential idea is the same: "This writing is newly popular, especially with women--young women! Something must be wrong with it!" Ironically, many of the people railing against YA or whatever category of modern writing they find irksome will lament that people aren't reading the great literature of Austen, Dickens, et al.--which of course, in their time, was considered to be fluffy popular entertainment. </soapbox> This novel does, of course, parody and critique other novels, but I have to view it as coming from a place of love rather than hate. You can love a thing and still see what's laughable about it, or what could be improved, and I think that's the stance this novel is taking (at least so far.)
Ch. 6
"I do not pretend to say that I was not very much pleased with [Mr. Tilney]; but while I have Udolpho to read, I feel as if nobody could make me miserable" (84). This may be Catherine's biggest failing as a heroine and I have to say I've never loved her more. "Yeah, he was cute, but whatever--I have a book to read."
In contrast, Isabella spends the whole chapter talking about men: Mr. Tilney, the mysterious sallow-complected man in front of whom Catherine must not reveal her secret ("Huh?" thinks Catherine), and finally the two men in the pump room who bother her so much she drags Catherine all over town in pursuit of them. (Hey, sometimes a lady has to make her own meet-cute!)
Ch. 7
"He was a stout young man of middling height, who, with a plain face and ungrateful form, seemed fearful of being too handsome unless he wore the dress of a groom, and too much like a gentleman unless he were easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent where he might be allowed to be easy" (92). I can't even count the burns in this sentence. Basically: John Thorpe, who could charitably be described as "average", thinks he's so hot that he must dress that badly and behave that rudely in order to spare the world from the debilitating effects of his hotness (because how else could you possibly explain his awful clothes and manners?) DANG, Jane Austen.
Also, it will probably not surprise you to learn that, unless his carriage was being pulled by the horses of Apollo himself, he did not go ten miles an hour from anywhere to anywhere. He will prove to be, consistently and without remorse, full of...it. You know, beans. Baloney. Garbage. Ahem.
John Thorpe is the worst, Part 572: "'Ah, mother! how do you do?" said he, giving her a hearty shake of his the hand: 'where did you get that quiz of a hat, it makes you look like and old witch?'...On his two younger sisters he then bestowed an equal portion of his fraternal tenderness, for he asked each of them how they did, and observed that they both looked very ugly" (102-104.)
Ch. 8
Back to the running commentary on how this is NOT a typical rom-com: Catherine sees Mr. Tilney with a woman on his arm and does NOT freak out! (Seriously: this has never happened, before or since, in a story with a romance. The heroine always, always assumes that the Other Woman is a romantic one. Every. Time.)
My Takeaways:
Mr. John Thorpe: the man I love to hate! I can't get enough of Mr. Thorpe (ok, that's not true: a few chapters from now, I know from experience, I will wish he didn't exist) and the unending fountain of awfulness Austen draws on in her characterization of him. He's like Michael Scott meets Gilderoy Lockhart.
Vocab/Clarifications:
Ch. 4
quizzes (p. 64)--strange or unusual people
Apparently the last paragraph of the chapter is a send-up of the way certain novels of the time took whole chapters to have characters talk about very specific moral lessons or political issues; while a lot of what Austen is parodying here (like Very Special Perfect Heroines or the over-the-top series of events that tend to befall them) still seems fairly relevant and recognizable, this is pretty specific to the time and I wouldn't have known what she was doing without the annotations in my book (66-67).
Ch. 5
Going to the theatre used to be a very different experience. People are always going to the theatre in Austen's books (and other books set around the same time and even a bit later) but they almost never pay any attention to what's onstage. Instead, they paid attention to the other audience members! (I'm sure some people went to the theatre to see the plays but that would make for fairly dull reading, so characters usually don't.)
Ch. 6
Udolpho (p. 78)--The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe. Here's the full text if you're curious, but I have it on good authority that it's quite a slog by modern standards. At the time, though, this was basically Twilight (in fact, there is a recent adaptation of Northanger Abbey in which the main character is a Twihard, so let's go with that.) It's creepy and gothic and fairly ridiculous, and a lot of adults were convinced it was the end of the world because it was those things and popular all at once.
Ch. 7
devoirs (p. 92)--respects (to "pay your respects" is to pay your devoirs") or duty to someone
Catherine accidentally indicates that she might like to go for a ride in John Thorpe's two-person carriage, and then finds herself "in some distress, from a doubt of the propriety of accepting such an offer" (100). She's right: this is a big no-no. A young, unmarried man and a young, unmarried woman had no business driving around by themselves. (Even in this day and age, it raises eyebrows: twice when I was in high school or college, I was in a car with a guy at night and had to interact with the police. The first time my friend got pulled over for driving like an idiot and the cop clearly thought I was being kidnapped or held against my will or something fishy because he questioned us for ages; the second time my friend and I parked in the airport observation lot to chat and watch the planes and an officer kicked us out because it was too late and the lot was closed but his knowing smirk even after he asked us, bizarrely, if we were an item, showed us exactly what he thought was going on.) But in a society where you basically needed a chaperone to go to the bathroom, this was right out.
While I haven't read Udolpho, I have read both Tom Jones and The Monk--John Thorpe's favorite novels. Tom Jones I kind of loved--it's actually really funny in parts (still!) and it's also surprisingly bawdy for the time (which is surely what Mr. Thorpe enjoys about it!). The Monk is hands-down the creepiest, most twisted book I've ever read. I don't remember a lot of the plot, I think because it melted my brain, but I know there was violence and incest involved. And...magic, maybe? Ghosts? The devil? I remember my overwhelming impression being "This is bananapants, how does this exist." What I think is most significant about this exchange between Catherine and Mr. Thorpe, though, is how jerky he is about her asking if he's read Udolpho. "Udolpho! Oh, Lord! not I; I never read novels; I have something else to do" (100). And then he goes on to make exceptions for novels that it's practically rude even to mention to a lady (although he's already cussed in front of her, so that ship has sailed.)
Ch. 8
The impenetrable world of Edwardian dance! Ok, so, Mr. Thorpe had asked Catherine in advance if she would dance with him. This is a pretty official agreement, like making plans to do something with someone (at least if you're a decent sort of person like Catherine is.) He blows her off by coming in late for the dancing, so Isabella (after a whole three minutes of holding out till Catherine has a partner) and James go up to dance without Catherine. This puts them in a different "set", or group of dancers, because the dances we're talking about are elaborate group dances rather than the couples-holding-onto-each-other ballroom dancing that came somewhat later. Then Mr. Tilney comes along and asks Catherine to dance--but since she's already given her word to Mr. Thorpe, she has to say no (well, at least according to the principles of polite behavior.) She rather regrets the decision to agree to dance with Mr. Thorpe, for all of these reasons and because he is a terrible conversationalist.
Ch. 4
If we're continuing to think about how uneventful and unlike a book Catherine's life is, this meeting between Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Thorpe falls right in line. There ther are, sitting on a bench, not talking, kind of eyeing each other, and finally Mrs. Thorpe kind of recognizes Mrs. Allen. (And, mind you, this is no coincidental meeting the moment they arrived in Bath--Mrs. Allen has been sitting around for days wishing she knew someone there. That kind of dead air isn't usually allowed in fiction.)
Catherine met Mr. Tilney in the most run-of-the-mill way possible--being introduced as dancing partners by a guy whose whole job is to introduce people as dancing partners--and now she gets a friend in a similarly dull fashion.
Here's a great example of why I love Austen: She describes Mrs. Thorpe and Mrs. Allen as "talking both together, far more ready to give than to receive information, and each hearing very little of what the other said" (62). Austen has this way of presenting the facts of a situation in a way that gets right at the heart of human interaction; her use of understatement is one of my favorite things about her books. (I also love her quiet sarcasm: "Catherine was delighted at this extension of her Bath acquaintance, and almost forgot Mr. Tilney while she talked to Miss Thorpe. Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love" (64.) Her feelings for Isabella can hardly be called friendship at this point, just as her feelings for Mr. Tilney can hardly be called love, but certainly as readers we expect those things--and Catherine probably does too.)
Ch. 5
Isabella, it seems, is better schooled in the arts and sciences of being a heroine: she drops a strong hint about being into clergy, and even punctuates it with a sigh, but sweet dopey Catherine doesn't pick up her cue to harass Isabella into giving up her carefully not-so-guarded secret.
"Alas! if the heroine of one novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard?" (p. 72) Oh, Jane Austen, I love you so. She's rolling her eyes at the prevailing notion that novels were somehow shameful, immoral, frivolous, etc--which, you know, has not gone away. These days, the target of that kind of hand-wringing and pearl-clutching is usually commercial YA lit (or New Adult, or chick lit), but the essential idea is the same: "This writing is newly popular, especially with women--young women! Something must be wrong with it!" Ironically, many of the people railing against YA or whatever category of modern writing they find irksome will lament that people aren't reading the great literature of Austen, Dickens, et al.--which of course, in their time, was considered to be fluffy popular entertainment. </soapbox> This novel does, of course, parody and critique other novels, but I have to view it as coming from a place of love rather than hate. You can love a thing and still see what's laughable about it, or what could be improved, and I think that's the stance this novel is taking (at least so far.)
Ch. 6
"I do not pretend to say that I was not very much pleased with [Mr. Tilney]; but while I have Udolpho to read, I feel as if nobody could make me miserable" (84). This may be Catherine's biggest failing as a heroine and I have to say I've never loved her more. "Yeah, he was cute, but whatever--I have a book to read."
In contrast, Isabella spends the whole chapter talking about men: Mr. Tilney, the mysterious sallow-complected man in front of whom Catherine must not reveal her secret ("Huh?" thinks Catherine), and finally the two men in the pump room who bother her so much she drags Catherine all over town in pursuit of them. (Hey, sometimes a lady has to make her own meet-cute!)
Ch. 7
"He was a stout young man of middling height, who, with a plain face and ungrateful form, seemed fearful of being too handsome unless he wore the dress of a groom, and too much like a gentleman unless he were easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent where he might be allowed to be easy" (92). I can't even count the burns in this sentence. Basically: John Thorpe, who could charitably be described as "average", thinks he's so hot that he must dress that badly and behave that rudely in order to spare the world from the debilitating effects of his hotness (because how else could you possibly explain his awful clothes and manners?) DANG, Jane Austen.
Also, it will probably not surprise you to learn that, unless his carriage was being pulled by the horses of Apollo himself, he did not go ten miles an hour from anywhere to anywhere. He will prove to be, consistently and without remorse, full of...it. You know, beans. Baloney. Garbage. Ahem.
John Thorpe is the worst, Part 572: "'Ah, mother! how do you do?" said he, giving her a hearty shake of his the hand: 'where did you get that quiz of a hat, it makes you look like and old witch?'...On his two younger sisters he then bestowed an equal portion of his fraternal tenderness, for he asked each of them how they did, and observed that they both looked very ugly" (102-104.)
Ch. 8
Back to the running commentary on how this is NOT a typical rom-com: Catherine sees Mr. Tilney with a woman on his arm and does NOT freak out! (Seriously: this has never happened, before or since, in a story with a romance. The heroine always, always assumes that the Other Woman is a romantic one. Every. Time.)
My Takeaways:
Mr. John Thorpe: the man I love to hate! I can't get enough of Mr. Thorpe (ok, that's not true: a few chapters from now, I know from experience, I will wish he didn't exist) and the unending fountain of awfulness Austen draws on in her characterization of him. He's like Michael Scott meets Gilderoy Lockhart.
 |
| Source |
 |
| Source |
Vocab/Clarifications:
Ch. 4
quizzes (p. 64)--strange or unusual people
Apparently the last paragraph of the chapter is a send-up of the way certain novels of the time took whole chapters to have characters talk about very specific moral lessons or political issues; while a lot of what Austen is parodying here (like Very Special Perfect Heroines or the over-the-top series of events that tend to befall them) still seems fairly relevant and recognizable, this is pretty specific to the time and I wouldn't have known what she was doing without the annotations in my book (66-67).
Ch. 5
Going to the theatre used to be a very different experience. People are always going to the theatre in Austen's books (and other books set around the same time and even a bit later) but they almost never pay any attention to what's onstage. Instead, they paid attention to the other audience members! (I'm sure some people went to the theatre to see the plays but that would make for fairly dull reading, so characters usually don't.)
Ch. 6
Udolpho (p. 78)--The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe. Here's the full text if you're curious, but I have it on good authority that it's quite a slog by modern standards. At the time, though, this was basically Twilight (in fact, there is a recent adaptation of Northanger Abbey in which the main character is a Twihard, so let's go with that.) It's creepy and gothic and fairly ridiculous, and a lot of adults were convinced it was the end of the world because it was those things and popular all at once.
Ch. 7
devoirs (p. 92)--respects (to "pay your respects" is to pay your devoirs") or duty to someone
Catherine accidentally indicates that she might like to go for a ride in John Thorpe's two-person carriage, and then finds herself "in some distress, from a doubt of the propriety of accepting such an offer" (100). She's right: this is a big no-no. A young, unmarried man and a young, unmarried woman had no business driving around by themselves. (Even in this day and age, it raises eyebrows: twice when I was in high school or college, I was in a car with a guy at night and had to interact with the police. The first time my friend got pulled over for driving like an idiot and the cop clearly thought I was being kidnapped or held against my will or something fishy because he questioned us for ages; the second time my friend and I parked in the airport observation lot to chat and watch the planes and an officer kicked us out because it was too late and the lot was closed but his knowing smirk even after he asked us, bizarrely, if we were an item, showed us exactly what he thought was going on.) But in a society where you basically needed a chaperone to go to the bathroom, this was right out.
While I haven't read Udolpho, I have read both Tom Jones and The Monk--John Thorpe's favorite novels. Tom Jones I kind of loved--it's actually really funny in parts (still!) and it's also surprisingly bawdy for the time (which is surely what Mr. Thorpe enjoys about it!). The Monk is hands-down the creepiest, most twisted book I've ever read. I don't remember a lot of the plot, I think because it melted my brain, but I know there was violence and incest involved. And...magic, maybe? Ghosts? The devil? I remember my overwhelming impression being "This is bananapants, how does this exist." What I think is most significant about this exchange between Catherine and Mr. Thorpe, though, is how jerky he is about her asking if he's read Udolpho. "Udolpho! Oh, Lord! not I; I never read novels; I have something else to do" (100). And then he goes on to make exceptions for novels that it's practically rude even to mention to a lady (although he's already cussed in front of her, so that ship has sailed.)
Ch. 8
The impenetrable world of Edwardian dance! Ok, so, Mr. Thorpe had asked Catherine in advance if she would dance with him. This is a pretty official agreement, like making plans to do something with someone (at least if you're a decent sort of person like Catherine is.) He blows her off by coming in late for the dancing, so Isabella (after a whole three minutes of holding out till Catherine has a partner) and James go up to dance without Catherine. This puts them in a different "set", or group of dancers, because the dances we're talking about are elaborate group dances rather than the couples-holding-onto-each-other ballroom dancing that came somewhat later. Then Mr. Tilney comes along and asks Catherine to dance--but since she's already given her word to Mr. Thorpe, she has to say no (well, at least according to the principles of polite behavior.) She rather regrets the decision to agree to dance with Mr. Thorpe, for all of these reasons and because he is a terrible conversationalist.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Ch. 1-3
Page numbers from The Annotated Northanger Abbey. I highly recommend this series of annotated editions, edited and annotated by David M. Shapard, for any Austen fans who want clarification on anything from word usage to geography to the manners of the period.
My Thoughts/Noticings/Ramblings:
Ch. 1
This is one of my favorite bits of Austen's comedic writing. This chapter introduces Catherine Morland: the least heroic heroine of all time. Austen is setting up the contrast between the genre conventions of the romantic heroine, and...Catherine.
And to add insult to injury, Catherine's heroic journey is brought about by her neighbor's fit of gout! Nothing noble or tragic there, but hey: a trip to Bath is a trip to Bath! And Bath is a big deal, especially for small-town Catherine. Bath was a very popular destination among people who could afford to travel (and who would therefore be eligible friends and possible husbands for Catherine!) so this is a promising start for a young heroine.
Ch. 2
It's important to Austen, it seems, that we don't get the wrong idea about Catherine--she's no flawless heroine, but she's a darn nice kid. Her education (both formal and informal, as in, exposure to the world) is limited, which is to be expected, but she's got a lot going for her. Once this is cleared up, we launch right back into the same kind of satire that makes up the first chapter. Catherine's parents don't fall to pieces when she leaves home, nor do they give her lavish gifts--they tell her to dress warmly when it's cold and give her a nice bit of pocket money. Her travels are safe and uneventful (here Austen's narrator seems to turn to us and shrug: "No inciting events to be seen! What do you want from me?") and her traveling companion and chaperone Mrs. Allen is thoroughly dull and fashion-obsessed (not at all the type to imperil Catherine's virtue or leave her on the streets to starve, as one might expect in a certain type of novel.) Catherine's first big outing is kind of a bust since she and Mrs. Allen don't know anyone, but Catherine overhears a couple of guys calling her pretty and that makes her night (although of course a TRUE heroine would hold out for heaps of praise, preferable in the form of elaborate poetry.)
Ch. 3
Thank heavens for the Master of Ceremonies, or poor Catherine would be enduring yet another day of "Boy, I sure wish we knew someone here! We sure don't know any of these people, not-a-one!" Instead, she is introduced to snarky stranger Henry Tilney, who shares a satirical wit with our narrator. Shortly into his first conversation with Catherine, he cuts himself off and announces (with mock horror) that he hasn't asked her any of the expected questions yet! He rattles through them, one after another, and Catherine knows it's funny and giggle through it, but doesn't quite understand why (a feeling I remember well from growing up, especially when hanging around interesting guys.)
Mr. Tilney continues to be a strange dude, first telling Catherine he knows precisely what she will write in her diary, then setting up and knocking down the notion that women are better letter-writers than men, then having a lengthy and detailed conversation about fabric and dressmaking with Mrs. Allen (just the way to win her over!). Finally, he gets Catherine to refuse to tell him what she's thinking (it's that he might be too into making fun of people) and then assures her that, now that he has something to bug her about, they'll be well-acquainted in no time! (Charmed, I'm sure, Mr. Tilney.)
My Takeaways:
Poor simple Catherine is caught in a double dose of satire in these opening chapters. The narrator is constantly comparing her to Real Heroines (and finding her sadly lacking, which is to say, normal!) and Mr. Tilney is poking fun at every social convention Catherine has been taught to obey! She rolls with everything as gamely as possible, but it feels like she may be in over her head here.
Vocab Notes/Clarifications:
Ch. 1
In case you're curious: "The Beggar's Petition" and "The Hare and Many Friends". Catherine memorizes the second much more easily--and who can blame her? "The Hare and Many Friends" is a shorter poem retelling a fable about a bunch of animals; "The Beggar's Petition" is a lengthy meditation on the life of a peasant and the circumstances that brought him low. (Remember: this is when Catherine is a child!) (p. 10)
vicissitudes (p. 16)--literally, the word means a change of fortunes, or a contrast; here, Austen continues to play with genre conventions when she says that Catherine was starting to be interested in books--especially poetry--that would prepared her for the dramatic events that would surely befall her as a romantic heroine.
sensibility (p. 18)--when Austen uses this word, she is talking about emotions, or the ability to feel great emotion. This, too, was a common quality of romantic heroines--they felt everything SO MUCH. This extended to art, nature--beauty of any kind, really. They just had ALL THE FEELS, ALL THE TIME. (The idea here is sort of like The Princess and the Pea--a real heroine would feel EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING, but Catherine is sadly lacking because she is not pining away for someone or mindlessly sketching perfect likenesses of her SECRET CRUSH GUY on every wall. This is more skewering of genre conventions.)
Ch. 2
Upper Rooms (p. 36)--
Bath is a resort town, and the Upper Rooms (as well as the Lower Rooms, or as either might be called, the Assembly rooms) are like the club, but the whole family goes because young ladies needed chaperones and also once you've seen the play and the concert, what are you going to do, really? But you paid to get in and there was dancing and eating and cards with everyone else in town. Generally, people didn't just start chatting each other up, either; introductions were important, so you had to at least have an acquaintance in common.
chair (p. 44)--When it says that Catherine "went to her chair", she means one of these:
.png)
This is how people traveled in Bath. It was popular partly because Bath was a destination for invalids (who came to "take the waters" and be healed) and partly because the streets in the older parts of Bath were too narrow to easily navigate by carriage.
Ch. 3
fag (p. 56)--If you've had me as a teacher you've heard me shut somebody down for using this word. In this context, though, it just means a tiring activity; you may also see "I was so fagged" for "I was worn out." To the best of my knowledge this is both British and outdated, so it still doesn't fly in my classroom in 21st century America!
My Thoughts/Noticings/Ramblings:
Ch. 1
This is one of my favorite bits of Austen's comedic writing. This chapter introduces Catherine Morland: the least heroic heroine of all time. Austen is setting up the contrast between the genre conventions of the romantic heroine, and...Catherine.
| Heroines | Catherine |
|---|---|
| Desperately poor but handsome fathers |
Reasonably well-off, plain father |
| Abused/locked up by parents | Treated just fine by parents |
| Angry/daffy/ill/dead mothers | Happy, steady, healthy mother |
| Almost alarmingly beautiful | Totally normal-looking; even plain |
| Enjoy nurturing tiny, cute animals or lovely plants | Enjoys running around, playing cricket, picking flowers she is not supposed to touch |
| Uncannily clever and good at everything feminine (learning poetry, playing music, drawing and painting) | Moderately clever at best; easily bored with memorization and music; enjoys drawing but is terrible at it |
| Fall deeply in love, preferably with a member of the nobility or at least a foundling with a potentially interesting and tragic backstory | By the age of seventeen, had never been in love. |
And to add insult to injury, Catherine's heroic journey is brought about by her neighbor's fit of gout! Nothing noble or tragic there, but hey: a trip to Bath is a trip to Bath! And Bath is a big deal, especially for small-town Catherine. Bath was a very popular destination among people who could afford to travel (and who would therefore be eligible friends and possible husbands for Catherine!) so this is a promising start for a young heroine.
Ch. 2
It's important to Austen, it seems, that we don't get the wrong idea about Catherine--she's no flawless heroine, but she's a darn nice kid. Her education (both formal and informal, as in, exposure to the world) is limited, which is to be expected, but she's got a lot going for her. Once this is cleared up, we launch right back into the same kind of satire that makes up the first chapter. Catherine's parents don't fall to pieces when she leaves home, nor do they give her lavish gifts--they tell her to dress warmly when it's cold and give her a nice bit of pocket money. Her travels are safe and uneventful (here Austen's narrator seems to turn to us and shrug: "No inciting events to be seen! What do you want from me?") and her traveling companion and chaperone Mrs. Allen is thoroughly dull and fashion-obsessed (not at all the type to imperil Catherine's virtue or leave her on the streets to starve, as one might expect in a certain type of novel.) Catherine's first big outing is kind of a bust since she and Mrs. Allen don't know anyone, but Catherine overhears a couple of guys calling her pretty and that makes her night (although of course a TRUE heroine would hold out for heaps of praise, preferable in the form of elaborate poetry.)
Ch. 3
Thank heavens for the Master of Ceremonies, or poor Catherine would be enduring yet another day of "Boy, I sure wish we knew someone here! We sure don't know any of these people, not-a-one!" Instead, she is introduced to snarky stranger Henry Tilney, who shares a satirical wit with our narrator. Shortly into his first conversation with Catherine, he cuts himself off and announces (with mock horror) that he hasn't asked her any of the expected questions yet! He rattles through them, one after another, and Catherine knows it's funny and giggle through it, but doesn't quite understand why (a feeling I remember well from growing up, especially when hanging around interesting guys.)
Mr. Tilney continues to be a strange dude, first telling Catherine he knows precisely what she will write in her diary, then setting up and knocking down the notion that women are better letter-writers than men, then having a lengthy and detailed conversation about fabric and dressmaking with Mrs. Allen (just the way to win her over!). Finally, he gets Catherine to refuse to tell him what she's thinking (it's that he might be too into making fun of people) and then assures her that, now that he has something to bug her about, they'll be well-acquainted in no time! (Charmed, I'm sure, Mr. Tilney.)
My Takeaways:
Poor simple Catherine is caught in a double dose of satire in these opening chapters. The narrator is constantly comparing her to Real Heroines (and finding her sadly lacking, which is to say, normal!) and Mr. Tilney is poking fun at every social convention Catherine has been taught to obey! She rolls with everything as gamely as possible, but it feels like she may be in over her head here.
Vocab Notes/Clarifications:
Ch. 1
In case you're curious: "The Beggar's Petition" and "The Hare and Many Friends". Catherine memorizes the second much more easily--and who can blame her? "The Hare and Many Friends" is a shorter poem retelling a fable about a bunch of animals; "The Beggar's Petition" is a lengthy meditation on the life of a peasant and the circumstances that brought him low. (Remember: this is when Catherine is a child!) (p. 10)
vicissitudes (p. 16)--literally, the word means a change of fortunes, or a contrast; here, Austen continues to play with genre conventions when she says that Catherine was starting to be interested in books--especially poetry--that would prepared her for the dramatic events that would surely befall her as a romantic heroine.
sensibility (p. 18)--when Austen uses this word, she is talking about emotions, or the ability to feel great emotion. This, too, was a common quality of romantic heroines--they felt everything SO MUCH. This extended to art, nature--beauty of any kind, really. They just had ALL THE FEELS, ALL THE TIME. (The idea here is sort of like The Princess and the Pea--a real heroine would feel EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING, but Catherine is sadly lacking because she is not pining away for someone or mindlessly sketching perfect likenesses of her SECRET CRUSH GUY on every wall. This is more skewering of genre conventions.)
Ch. 2
Upper Rooms (p. 36)--
Bath is a resort town, and the Upper Rooms (as well as the Lower Rooms, or as either might be called, the Assembly rooms) are like the club, but the whole family goes because young ladies needed chaperones and also once you've seen the play and the concert, what are you going to do, really? But you paid to get in and there was dancing and eating and cards with everyone else in town. Generally, people didn't just start chatting each other up, either; introductions were important, so you had to at least have an acquaintance in common.
chair (p. 44)--When it says that Catherine "went to her chair", she means one of these:
This is how people traveled in Bath. It was popular partly because Bath was a destination for invalids (who came to "take the waters" and be healed) and partly because the streets in the older parts of Bath were too narrow to easily navigate by carriage.
Ch. 3
fag (p. 56)--If you've had me as a teacher you've heard me shut somebody down for using this word. In this context, though, it just means a tiring activity; you may also see "I was so fagged" for "I was worn out." To the best of my knowledge this is both British and outdated, so it still doesn't fly in my classroom in 21st century America!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)