Jane Austen

This début novel by Sydney playwright Jennifer Paynter is a skilful retelling of Pride and Prejudice, narrated by Mary Bennet, the forgotten middle sister. Mary’s character is true to Austen’s original conception. She is bookish, plain, and unloved, although romance soon appears on the horizon in this version of events.

‘If you are afraid of half a dozen speeches,’ cries Mr Rushworth, as the rehearsals for Lovers’ Vows at Mansfield Park are getting underway, ‘what would you do with such a part as mine? I have forty-two to learn.’ Did the editors of the new Blackwell Companion to Jane Austen intend to evoke Mr Rushworth’s self-admiration or his barely disguised anxiety when they commissioned the forty-two essays of this plump, large-format book? The 1997 Cambridge Companionto Jane Austen, by comparison, seems exiguous: thirteen essays of about 7,000 words, edited by two of the Blackwell contributors (Juliet McMaster and Edward Copeland). An updated edition is due later this year, and indeed many of the Blackwell writers also appear in the Cambridge volume.

The prospect of discovering another work by a favourite author is always a pleasing one, even if the reality, when it is actually encountered, is sometimes disappointing. With a writer like Jane Austen, with only six published novels, who would not wish for some further delights to be unveiled? When Austen died, her sister, Cassandra, was left with the unpublished manuscripts of a number of juvenile writings and later works. After Cassandra’s death, members of her family had them in their hands (or perhaps one should say ‘on their hands’, given their subsequent feeling that the possession entailed a level of somewhat burdensome responsibility).

Does any male under thirty not employed in the English department of a university really like Jane Austen? At least Shakespeare wakes you up now and then with a spot of violence and bloody murders.

This literary gender divide is at the heart of Joel and Cat Set the Story Straight (Penguin, $19.95 pb, 244 pp), Nick Earls and Rebecca Sparrow’s funny story about a male and female student writing a story together, inspired, as an author’s note informs us, by an Internet story about a male and female student writing a story together. Very metafictional.

Why do we need another edition of Mansfield Park? Particularly, what is the justification for an expensive one, when we can get a plain reprint for $5, or a well-annotated paperback for $10? The answer is the one that all scholarly editors are driven by: editorial principles have changed. What was considered acceptable textual practice even twenty years ago no longer fulfils readers’ desires to get close to origins, to understand contexts.