![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
igenlodeI came across "Jane and the Madness of Lord Byron" shelved as a curiosity between the Austen biographies and the Byron books :-p
Apparently the author has done a whole series of these "Jane Austen detects" historical whodunnits, like Gyles Brandreth's Oscar Wilde murder mysteries (disclaimer: I haven't read the latter). This one contains a lot of references back to what was evidently a significant past romantic involvement for the character, which is a trifle disconcerting to those of us not already accustomed to think of Miss Austen as the undercover assistant to charismatic noblemen operating on the verge of the law, which seems to be the backstory hinted at here! According to the author's end-note she seems to go to a lot of trouble to set these mysteries during periods of Austen's life where the events might have been possible (e.g. we don't know that Jane Austen ever went to Brighton, but she might have done so after her sister-in-law's death), so presumably the 'Gentleman Rogue' also fits into a convenient lacuna of historical fact...
We first glimpse Lord Byron in this novel in the act of tying a young girl up with his cravat and carrying her off in a closed carriage, which to be honest made me very sceptical about the story's premise from the start; this sounds as if the author has confounded the real-life Byron with the 'Byronic' heroes of his fiction. I know rather more about Byron's life than about Austen's, though I haven't made any detailed study of it, and I'm not aware that he ever eloped with anybody, let alone attempted to kidnap and carry off unwilling maidens.
However the author redeems herself to Byron-fans by having him later recognise Miss Austen as a fellow-writer -- having succeeded in penetrating the guise of her anonymous publication -- and acknowledge her unexpectedly as his superior in the craft, telling her she ought to acknowledge her books: "If you will write, then proclaim your words to the World!"
And by having her heroine far from immune to Byron's personal magnetism; she doesn't like or approve of him, but she responds to the compulsion of his presence: ("to enter a room Byron owned was to breathe a more electric air"). His historical entanglements with Lady Oxford (who here employs Jane's insight to try to clear her lover of a murder accusation) and Lady Caroline Lamb feature in the book, and indeed the pivotal plot point hinges on Byron's reluctance to admit to succumbing to Caro's blandishments one more time, after having spent months pointedly trying to shake off her attentions. Byron the self-dramatising and perverse egotist rings true; Byron persecuting reluctant upper-class virgins in a gratuitous Snidely Whiplash impersonation doesn't convince.
(I see that one online review from an avowed Byron-fan complains that the character is basically used as a prop in the story, which is true.)
Once you accept the initial premise, however (and the somewhat unconvincing solution to the crime), the story is not unenjoyable as Regency pastiche. It's certainly not as annoying as Murder at Masnfield Park.
The thing that really frustrated me, however, was the author's verbal tic of misusing 'shall' at every opportunity.
The reviewers gush about how authentic to Austen the author's style is, but this particular issue is a very modern one, and one that I've only encountered recently in American writers; I checked back against Austen herself to see if it really is an archaicism that I don't recognise, but it is not. Austen herself is far more meticulous in making the distinction between "I shall" and "you will" than any modern writer, and while some of the above examples could just about be defended as imperatives, they really aren't, which is why they sound wrong. ("They shall not be safe!" is an expression of intent -- "I will endanger them" -- not a conditional prediction of the future. That would be "If X happens then they will not be safe".)
I strongly suspect that because 'shall' sounds 'quaintly British' to American ears, they feel that substituting "He shall" indiscriminately in place of "He will" makes their dialogue sound authentically old-fashioned. Unfortunately, as I said above, it's something that people were actually more careful about in the olden days; it grates about as badly as the misuse of 'thou' ("Thy art very beautiful, mine lovely!")
Overall: a decent book, but not one I'll have any interest in rereading.
Apparently the author has done a whole series of these "Jane Austen detects" historical whodunnits, like Gyles Brandreth's Oscar Wilde murder mysteries (disclaimer: I haven't read the latter). This one contains a lot of references back to what was evidently a significant past romantic involvement for the character, which is a trifle disconcerting to those of us not already accustomed to think of Miss Austen as the undercover assistant to charismatic noblemen operating on the verge of the law, which seems to be the backstory hinted at here! According to the author's end-note she seems to go to a lot of trouble to set these mysteries during periods of Austen's life where the events might have been possible (e.g. we don't know that Jane Austen ever went to Brighton, but she might have done so after her sister-in-law's death), so presumably the 'Gentleman Rogue' also fits into a convenient lacuna of historical fact...
We first glimpse Lord Byron in this novel in the act of tying a young girl up with his cravat and carrying her off in a closed carriage, which to be honest made me very sceptical about the story's premise from the start; this sounds as if the author has confounded the real-life Byron with the 'Byronic' heroes of his fiction. I know rather more about Byron's life than about Austen's, though I haven't made any detailed study of it, and I'm not aware that he ever eloped with anybody, let alone attempted to kidnap and carry off unwilling maidens.
However the author redeems herself to Byron-fans by having him later recognise Miss Austen as a fellow-writer -- having succeeded in penetrating the guise of her anonymous publication -- and acknowledge her unexpectedly as his superior in the craft, telling her she ought to acknowledge her books: "If you will write, then proclaim your words to the World!"
And by having her heroine far from immune to Byron's personal magnetism; she doesn't like or approve of him, but she responds to the compulsion of his presence: ("to enter a room Byron owned was to breathe a more electric air"). His historical entanglements with Lady Oxford (who here employs Jane's insight to try to clear her lover of a murder accusation) and Lady Caroline Lamb feature in the book, and indeed the pivotal plot point hinges on Byron's reluctance to admit to succumbing to Caro's blandishments one more time, after having spent months pointedly trying to shake off her attentions. Byron the self-dramatising and perverse egotist rings true; Byron persecuting reluctant upper-class virgins in a gratuitous Snidely Whiplash impersonation doesn't convince.
(I see that one online review from an avowed Byron-fan complains that the character is basically used as a prop in the story, which is true.)
Once you accept the initial premise, however (and the somewhat unconvincing solution to the crime), the story is not unenjoyable as Regency pastiche. It's certainly not as annoying as Murder at Masnfield Park.
The thing that really frustrated me, however, was the author's verbal tic of misusing 'shall' at every opportunity.
"Our retiring Jane, amidst the Carlton House Set! How Mamma should stare!"
"She should suffer palpitations," I corrected, "and utter a vulgarity."
"Lord Moira is an intimate of the Regent's. He is even now in residence. He shall not forget us, I am sure."
"He should do better to set the whole of the blame at Lord Byron's door. His lordship must be called to account for his insult, or no young female in Brighton shall be safe!"
The reviewers gush about how authentic to Austen the author's style is, but this particular issue is a very modern one, and one that I've only encountered recently in American writers; I checked back against Austen herself to see if it really is an archaicism that I don't recognise, but it is not. Austen herself is far more meticulous in making the distinction between "I shall" and "you will" than any modern writer, and while some of the above examples could just about be defended as imperatives, they really aren't, which is why they sound wrong. ("They shall not be safe!" is an expression of intent -- "I will endanger them" -- not a conditional prediction of the future. That would be "If X happens then they will not be safe".)
I strongly suspect that because 'shall' sounds 'quaintly British' to American ears, they feel that substituting "He shall" indiscriminately in place of "He will" makes their dialogue sound authentically old-fashioned. Unfortunately, as I said above, it's something that people were actually more careful about in the olden days; it grates about as badly as the misuse of 'thou' ("Thy art very beautiful, mine lovely!")
Overall: a decent book, but not one I'll have any interest in rereading.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-28 01:02 pm (UTC)I swear I can hear Kitty in my head speaking very much like that (and her mother also). I can't hear Elizabeth and Jane doing it, though.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-28 11:51 pm (UTC)It's possible the style might be an affectation adopted by a certain age-group or intended as an indication of being ill-educated, and I certainly don't know Austen well enough to pronounce definitively. But I went and had a pretty close look at "Pride and Prejudice" to try to find examples of Kitty or Lydia speaking (there are very few directly reported utterances), and I can't see any sign of this particular verbal tic in any of the characters in that book at least.
I also note the following passage between Jane and Elizabeth:
Here the author is very clearly using 'I will' as an emphatic choice over 'I shall': "I will have no reserves from you" equates to "I do not want to have any reserves", and "I will read you the passage" to "I insist on reading you the passage".
And "does not mean that he should" is also a statement of intention, as opposed to a simple prediction that he *would* not...
It adds up to a clear signalling of grammatical distinction that the modern author (myself included) would not attempt to make, and certainly would not be able to rely on the readers' picking up. Which adds to my impression that Jane Austen, far from using it as a trademark stylistic/'period' quirk, was actually rather more careful in this particular aspect than her pastiche author :-(
no subject
Date: 2019-03-29 10:40 am (UTC)``Oh! mamma, do the people here abouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like any thing.''
I found a couple of other possibles as well.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-29 10:56 am (UTC)Exactly the same as Elizabeth's above: Miss Bingley was determined that her brother should not marry Jane, Lydia that everyone should see her wedding ring.
Even today there's still a difference between "I was afraid he would notice" or "if he looked out then he would notice" and "I was determined he should notice".
One can write "I was afraid lest he should notice my ring" (subjunctive, I think), but not "I was afraid he should notice my ring", which sounds wrong to me in precisely the way that the cod-Regency dialogue does. But I suspect that if you're not accustomed to material that makes the distinction, they both just sound pleasingly quaint.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-29 11:16 am (UTC)Indeed, the distinction is largely beyond me. I don't tend to analyse grammar, I just use it.
Though I'll need to get familiar with the subjunctive at some point in my German studies...
https://www.avast.com/sig-email?utm_medium=email&utm_source=link&utm_campaign=sig-email&utm_content=webmail Virus-free. www.avast.com https://www.avast.com/sig-email?utm_medium=email&utm_source=link&utm_campaign=sig-email&utm_content=webmail <#DAB4FAD8-2DD7-40BB-A1B8-4E2AA1F9FDF2>
no subject
Date: 2019-03-30 03:38 am (UTC)So far as I remember the main use of the subjunctive in German comes in reported speech, and I never really learnt it...
no subject
Date: 2019-04-02 09:22 am (UTC)It is suspected that all the fuss about whether you are allowed to happily split an infinitive is because it's impossible to split an infinitive in Latin, and hence, it is clearly wrong to do so in any other language...
no subject
Date: 2019-04-10 04:38 pm (UTC)Although now that you mention it, I think it's impossible to split an infinitive in *any* language at all other than English -- not any of the ones that I know, anyway.
The whole idea of sticking 'to' in front of a verb and claiming that this is somehow the definitive root form of it is very weird. I feel that the infinitive of the verb 'be' (être, sein, быть, εἰμί...) is probably actually 'be', and the fact that in English we need to use an auxiliary 'to' in front of it when referring to the action in specific contexts ("I refuse to listen") is just another case of the widespread use of auxiliary extra words in English. The fact that other languages can stick the infinitive in without needing any auxiliaries doesn't really seem justification to me for claiming that the 'to' therefore becomes an inherent part of the verb...