New year, new ideas. In an effort to be more active as a blogger (and more engaged as a reader), I’m changing my usual Friday list post around a bit. Fabulous Finds Friday used to simply be an arbitrary list of cool finds from the week, which is fine, but kind of boring. Taking a hint from Top Ten Tuesday, I’ve decided to now do what I’m calling “Fabulous Five Friday.” The title isn’t terribly different, but the concept is more refined: each Friday I will create a curated list of books that are all related in some way—“best books about books” or “five favorite Stephen King novels,” etc. I know this can be similar to the Tuesday lists, but those tend to be broader, and I’ll be keeping an eye out to prevent topic overlap (or accidental theft of The Broke and the Bookish ideas). Maybe if I just run out of ideas, I will do top five best finds of the week/month, but those should be few and far between unless I somehow make five amazing finds all at once.

With that said, here is the first Fabulous Five Friday: Top Five Best Books About Jane Austen. (As the inaugural post, I had to go with my favorite topic.)

A Fine Brush on Ivory by Richard Jenkyns

The subtitle says that this is an appreciation of Austen and that is just what it is. It takes a thorough but non-academic approach to the various elements that Jenkyns finds most admirable and most deceptively complex for an author who worked at a self-professed "small" scale.

What Matters in Jane Austen? by John Mullen

A game of 20 questions in book form. Mullen interrogates Austens work, asking questions both literal (why does money matter?) and metaphorical (why is the seaside dangerous?). He explores topics I never considered, even after half a dozen readings of Austen's novels.

Searching for Jane Austen by Emily Auerbach

Why would we need to search for Jane Austen, one of the most well-known and continually adapted authors of all time? Auerbach's intent is to recenter our focus on Austen as keen observer of society with immense wit, irony,  and even meanness, moving away from the portrait of her painted by her family and many fans as a boring but saintly spinster obsessed with romance plots.  The book is publisheed by a university press, so it is academic in scope and intent, but not dry or littered with academese.

A Truth Universally Acknowledged edited by Susannah Carson

A collection of 33 essays from writers and scholars on why they appreciate Austen. The variety of voices and approaches gives a big picture view of how Austen's writing continually influences and brings joy to people of all ages, backgrounds, and tastes. And you are guaranteed to find a new perspective, regardless of how many times you've read Austen before.

Bitch in a Bonnet (volumes 1 and 2) by Robert Rodi

Rodi and I don't see eye to eye on all things Austen (we certainly disagree about Fanny Price, Henry Tilney, and Jane Fairfax), but his close-reading analysis of Austen's work is not only thorough, it is often hilarious. The book started out as a blog, with much the same intenet as Aurbach's book-- to reclaim Austen's "bitchiness" and liberate her from being stodgy Aunt Jane.

(Sorry for flooding everyone's feeds with these all in one day. Family drama kept me offline for a while and I find doing these fun- and I'm a compulsive completer.)

Robert Rodi's Bitch in a Bonnet duo were lucky finds for me. I went combing through Amazon for Jane Austen non-fiction and bought Vol. I on a whim (it was only 99 cents!). While not deep scholarship, they are very fun. They started out as a blogging project and have not had much of a marketing campaign, so I don't think they're very well known.

This one is probably cheating, as it is not a reference from a work of fiction. But it made me laugh, so here goes.

In Bitch in a Bonnet (Vol. II), Robert Rodi attempts to "save" Jane Austen from her current romance-addled Janeite fanbase. According to Rodi, Austen would find the overwrought Kiera Knightley version of Pride and Prejudice literally laughable (pg 132):

Seriously, though, Austen was-as I've noted before- a daughter of the Enlightenment, and a steely-eyed observer of human behavior. Nothing, to her, would be more ridiculous than the kind of harps-and-violins crap that you find in, oh, say, Hollywood versions of Jane Austen Novels. (Think of that final makout-session-in-nightshirts scene from the Keira Knightley Pride and Prejudice. Austen would have thrown popcorn at the screen. And missed, because her aim would be lousy due to laughing so hard.)

Books that start out as blogs are often problematic. If the material is available for free online, why would you pay to have it in book form? For me, it’s a matter of convenience, but also of presentation- I’d rather read on my Kindle than stare at a computer screen, plus most books compiled from earlier materials go through another phase of editing before being packaged for sale (I hope, anyway). Plus, I can help support an independent author.

Bitch in a Bonnet started out in 2009 as a blogging project. The premise is simple: Robert Rodi was sick of what he saw as the droves of clueless Austen fans who focus in on her romance plots and period piece film adaptations, so he decided to do a close reading of all of the major novels to highlight what so many seem to be missing. I have found myself annoyed by these types, too, especially when they decide to write books themselves (I’m looking at you, Flirting with Pride and Prejudice). They so obviously miss the point. Never mind that it’s unfair to dictate the “point” of a book for any given reader, sometimes you just can’t help being frustrated by those who seem to bypass what truly makes an author great and thus waters them down and propagates a bad system. I’m being a snob- as is Rodi- but since you are perfectly at liberty to bypass his book and my review if you don’t like them, I’m just going to go with it.

This book was so much fun! Since Rodi’s mission was specifically to bring Austen’s biting wit into focus, he fills the pages with the sharpest dialogue and most ironic scenes. There are few things calculated to entertain me more than sharing the best of what Austen has to offer, with snarky commentary besides. However, though I thoroughly enjoyed the book, it wasn’t a one-sided kind of enjoyment; I had an ongoing argument with Rodi through nearly the entire thing. I don’t consider this as anything negative- good books should promote a dialogue with the reader and this one certainly does.

Volume II covers the last three of Austen’s books to be published: Emma, Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion. This immediately presents difficulties for anyone trying to trace any kind of development or growth, as the publishing chronology does not reflect the order in which the books were written. Rodi acknowledges this in the section devoted to Northanger, but I still found the order somewhat problematic. Northanger was likely the very first novel Austen ever wrote, though it was the penultimate one to be published (posthumously). This creates problems when Rodi says that Emma “prefigures” Fanny Price, because I don’t think she does. It’s true that Austen revised the novel later in life, but it so clearly derives from her almost anarchic juvenilia, I can’t help but think it would have been much more thoroughly revised if she expected it to actually be published.

One of my biggest gripes with Rodi’s first volume was his treatment of Fanny Price. I know she is not a favorite with many readers, but I think Rodi sacrifices her on the altar of snark, without looking into the profound psychological nuance of her character and situation. (I also think he gives Henry and Mary Crawford too much credit- buying into their charm as dangerously as Maria Bertram did.) I mention this because he often compares characters, specifically Jane Fairfax, to Fanny, and because I find fault with his treatment of Fanny, I can’t get on board with those comparisons. He is generally fair to Jane, but there is a moment that pulled me up short and had me ranting (probably out loud). Jane makes a comment about her future prospects- that is, becoming a governess- and is less than thrilled about it; Rodi says she “whines” about this future position, which will be nothing more than “looking after a few spoiled brats in their parents’ undoubtedly comfortable home.” This is particularly grating as, not far into the book, he mentions how Austen treats servants like they are invisible and this is a weakness of hers. Which begs the question: just what does he think a governess is? They were liminal figures, maybe one notch above “regular” servants, and many below the family. It would have been a fairly bleak future after having lived in relative luxury with her best friend and loving guardians- Mrs. Weston’s outcome is not typical. Call it nitpicking, but it is things like this that get me all worked up.

I also had issues with his view of Henry Tilney- I think he misreads the tone of Tilney’s remarks, and paints him as vain and self-centered, when I’ve only ever seen him as witty, fun, and perhaps a little insecure. But this is personal perspective, so it’s still fun to carry on my mental arguments, even if it’s simply a matter of taste.

There were other moments like this, but I don’t think they detracted from my enjoyment. If I wanted to read a book 100% in alignment with my personal interpretation of literature, I would need to write my own book, for other people to then argue with.   I must have highlighted about half of the text, capturing dozens of witty remarks, astute observations-and yes, points of contention. There are quite a few passages where the only note I left was “Nope.” I won’t go through all of those here, but for every “nope,” there were dozens of agreements- and lots of laughs. He separates Austen fans just a little too cleanly into separate camps- romance vs. social commentary- when they are not mutually exclusive categories, but his comedy requires it on some levels, so it generally doesn’t interfere with the overall intention of the book.

In Sense and Sensibility, Austen gave me one of my favorite lines in all of literature: “Elinor agreed with it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition.” Rodi has put together a fun project, and because it is intelligently written, I have no problem paying him the compliment of rational opposition.

From page 473 (in reference to the multiple locale changes throughout Persuasion):

That there's been such narrative and thematic unity through these discordant settings has been due to Austen's handling of her heroine, Anne Elliot, certainly the soundest, sanest, most self-contained member of the cast, whose point of view accommodates rapid shifts in locale and personnel without losing her own moral or ethical footing. She doesn't sparkle, our gal Anne, but she burns with a low, steady flame.