'The Other Bennet Sister' by Janice Hadlow

MY THOUGHTS:

The recent Binge series starring Ella Bruccoleri was delightful so I followed it up with a re-read of this hefty novel, which I bought back in 2020 when it was first published. 

It focuses on poor, nerdy, lonely Mary, the middle Bennet girl. Of course Jane Austen, her initial creator, never intended for us to admire this character. In Pride and Prejudice, Mary is depicted as a bluestocking in the worst sense of the word, with no sense of humor. Her scholarly ambitions are poked fun at as pompous and try-hard; the polar opposite of Lydia's and Kitty's giddy frivolity, but equally silly in the eyes of others. 

Yet the popularity of this novel along with the TV series proves how many of us are eager to take Mary to our hearts. Not only does she fail to impress people on any account, despite trying so hard, but she has no close sister companion. Mary Bennet is a representative for those of us who ever felt outshone or eclipsed. She's unsought and invisible unless mocked. 'Plain like a potato, a length of unbleached calico, a flat, white dinner plate.' 

This story follows Mary to London, where she seeks refuge with her uncle and aunt Gardiner to escape Lady Catherine de Bourgh's overbearing plans to set her up as a governess. But in the big city, Mary catches the eyes of two young gentleman. First is Tom Hayward, a hard-working young lawyer with a passion for poetry, and second is William Ryder, a wealthy university drop-out whose luxury loving motto may well be YOLO or 'Seize the day.' 

Being all about Mary, one of the novel's themes is the limitations of trying hard. Since I've worked on all sorts of projects with Mary's white-knuckled determination to excel, I really understand her earnestness. Yet some attributes simply elude effort. For example, Mary simply doesn't sparkle, while Lizzy does it naturally. Then later, the kind-hearted and whimsical Tom describes the sort of mindset necessary for appreciating poetry. Rather than doggedly trying one's best to figure out the poet's intentions, a more helpful approach is to come at it with a simple willingness to be swept up in the grandeur, inviting it to yield its meaning. (This may, in fact, hold true to some extent for all literature and not just poetry.) 

Janice Hadlow is sensitive in extending several secondary characters' stories too. She never contradicts the personalities Austen has given them. I love it when Mary goes to stay with the Collins family, and our sympathy for poor Mr Collins is properly stirred. At the same time, Hadlow leaves us wondering whether Charlotte just shoved poor Mary under the bus. But the wonderful Gardiners of Gracechurch Street step up even more graciously than they do in the original classic. And mean girl, Caroline Bingley, gleams at her catty and malicious best. Once again, she's trying to sink her claws into an extremely eligible bachelor before a Bennet girl gets him. This book is a very cool example of why I love fanfic style works that stick strictly within the parameters of canon. 

I do think the novel could have been condensed quite a bit. For example, the TV series compresses a couple of the ball incidents into a single one, for good reason. But never mind, even though it tends to ramble, at least we're in Austen's Regency era, a very fun time period to get bogged down in.

 Also, of course, is the question that can't be hedged. Is it a stretch to believe that awkward Mary, after merely moving to London and buying a few brighter dresses, suddenly attracts the serious attention of not one but two bright and appealing young gentlemen? It would seem that since they are both literary and cultured fellows, Mary's unconventional depth of reflection appeals strongly to them. I can buy that. 

Overall, Janice Hadlow's aim is probably to help modern Mary counterparts grow more generous toward themselves. Its potential to do just that makes it a book worth reading. As Mr Collins and Aristotle help her to understand, true happiness depends on ourselves. And the most important habit to conquer is the habit of misery itself.  

You might also like to visit my fanfic page.

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The Bottom Line - Some ways in which the TV series embellishes or improves upon the book. These may be spoilerish so proceed with caution. 

1) In the series, Mary accidentally smashes Mr Ryder's prized momento from his father. It's a shattering end to one episode. 

2) In the series, Mary's four sisters are actively snooping around while Mary ponders whether or not to accept Mr Ryder's proposition, (which only later becomes an actual proposal). This adds a nice comical touch, especially when Elizabeth does her utmost to convince Mary that Ryder's first idea is demeaning. 

3) The series starts Tom Hayward off with a fiance, Ann, who never exists in the book. This possibly does add a bit more necessary tension for the screen. 

4) Now, here is an adjustment I really like. In the series, Mary offers some impromptu assistance to Caroline during that stormy day on Scafell Pike, when Caroline falls and badly twists her ankle. Hence, Caroline's letter to Tom shortly after this event humanizes this mean girl, as she decides to return a favor. In the book, this formative accident never happens. Therefore, Caroline's motive for writing to Tom remains essentially selfish, as she wants Will all to herself. Kudos to the series, for excavating a grateful, generous side to Caroline Bingley, be it ever such a fleeting flash in the pan.  

5) As I mentioned above, some handy editing takes place in the series. For example, the ball in which Lizzy is first offended by Darcy is one and the same as the ball in which Mary is forced to offend poor John Sparrow. Yet in the book, they're needlessly stretched out. 

6) Also as mentioned above, Lady Catherine de Bourgh gets way too bossy in the book, insisting on trying to find Mary a position as a governess, until Mary appeals to her uncle and aunt hugely to prevent this happening. The series didn't feel it necessary to add this detail, which I consider a strength of the book. Poor Mary was beginning to feel cornered like a rabbit in a hole, which thoroughly stirred my empathy. 

Taken together, the visual excellence of the series is a great treat after the effort of getting through the thick book. I wouldn't miss it. You can watch the series without reading the book, as many viewers have done, but I recommend not doing it the other way around. If you've read the book alone, it simply must be followed by watching the series.     

 

'The Screwtape Letters' by C. S. Lewis

Summary: A Masterpiece of Satire on Hell’s Latest Novelties and Heaven’s Unanswerable Answer

C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters has entertained and enlightened readers the world over with its sly and ironic portrayal of human life and foibles from the unique vantage point of Screwtape, a highly placed assistant to “Our Father Below.” At once wildly comic, deadly serious, and strikingly original, C.S. Lewis gives us the correspondence of the wordly-wise devil to his nephew Wormwood, a novice demon in charge of securing the damnation of an ordinary young man. The Screwtape Letters is the most engaging account of temptation—and triumph over it—ever written.

MY THOUGHTS:

 This is the first time I've ever read this spiritual classic through from cover to cover, although I've dipped into it here and there over the years. But I decided this year would be the year.

It is an epistolary novel. We all know humans are said to have guardian angels, but it seems we are each assigned personal demons from hell too. Wormwood is a novice tempter whose Uncle Screwtape writes him a series of letters, instructing him in the treatment of his human charge at a pivotal moment. Not only has a serious war just broken out, but the young man has just turned to the enemy's camp and become a Christian, and the two fiends aim to get their own claws stuck back into him. 

Okay, from the very outset, we must get used to topsy-turvy references. God is always referred to as 'the Enemy' while Satan is depicted as 'our father below.' Once we have that straight in our heads, we are treated to a wealth of diabolical wisdom full of snares, traps, and subtle attitudes tweaks that have proved effective against humans for generations. 

Don't let its modest size fool you. It's a really dense little book, full of pithy prose slabs. Some of the letters are worth pondering several times. 'The fact that devils are predominantly comic figures in the modern imagination will help you,' Screwtape tells his nephew. Therefore, Lewis didn't make the book overly funny. It is full of witty, pointed satire rather than comedy. 

'Humans are amphibians, half spirit and half animal. The Enemy's determination to produce such a revolting hybrid was one of the things that determined our father to withdraw his support from him.'

And how about, 'You first allowed the patient to read a book he really enjoyed because he enjoyed it and not in order to make clever remarks about it to his friends.' Ooh, is that a call-out to all book bloggers to assess our own motives? 

Throughout the story, the pair of demons aim to set the young man up with dodgy women, but he falls in love with a nice, pure girl from a squeaky clean Christian family. They then realize that they might be able to use this young lady's fixed, somewhat judgmental opinions to infuse the young man with spiritual pride. And so it goes on. I appreciate how Screwtape identifies the young man's mother as a glutton, even though she eats extremely sparingly, for the vice is not a matter of quantity but rather the extent to which our consumer habits grip our passions and priorities. 

My problem is the ending. I got to Letter 31, the culmination of the book, after a long day in hospital where I'd had some day surgery. At home that same night, I thought nothing could lift my spirits better than finishing off one of the bestselling, uplifting classics of the last century. But the ending broke my heart!

It devastates me in the same way the The Last Battle hurts me at the end. And I partly blame myself. I should have seen where Lewis was going with this. I should have! I should have!

As it is, I suspect these same two demons have now been assigned to me. I can clearly imagine Screwtape telling Wormwood, 'Use timing to your advantage. Be sure this woman ends the book during a moment of personal fatigue and vulnerability. Then she'll always remember one of the most sublime and insightful novels of the 20th century with a touch of trauma.' 

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No Platform Jumping Here!

 Over the past year or so, I've noticed a new trend. Bloggers I follow (often with their own custom built WordPress blogs) have been abandoning their domains in droves to begin fresh with Substack, even though their old blogs still appear to be extremely interactive and frequently visited. This suggests they must expect a lot from this new platform. My daughter, who is in her mid-twenties, recommended that I follow their lead. She went so far as to tell me that she only ever reads articles or opinion pieces on Substack. If a post from a Google blog like this one popped up on her search engine, she claims she'd scroll straight past.

That surprised me. 'Even if it's a topic that really interests you?' 

'Yes.' 

Whoa, did you know platform snobbery of this nature is so rampant? It seems to be especially the case with the younger generation. My youngest son tells me he admires humble blogs on vintage platforms, but he might be an outlier.

Anyway, back to these bloggers and their new Substack accounts. Since I enjoy these people's writing, I subscribed to their Substacks, careful to remain on their free settings. As a low income family, if I start paying subscription fees to read people's material that used to be free, the budget will balloon into something unaffordable in a heartbeat. It's not that I don't think thought-provoking writing deserves pay, because I definitely do. I simply can't afford to allocate money which is already spread to its limit to read bloggers' content. And getting selective about whose Substack I'd be prepared to pay for when many people have started putting a price on it isn't a road I want to travel down.  

But I've considered my daughter's suggestion, and do understand some of Substack's appeal. It seems to have a simple start-up process, a nifty way of dropping into followers' in-boxes, and that option to try to earn a bit of money by charging readers to access some articles. I've been told it's also a great forum for writers of all types to rub virtual shoulders. In many ways, jumping off Blogger to begin over there seems like a sound move for possibly gaining more traction and followers.

There's just one thing though. I'm still invested heavily into this blog!

My heart doesn't want to jump ship to some new, trendy platform. During this past decade, people have recommended that I change to WordPress or try writing on Medium. While I was still assessing the Medium idea, that platform seemed to fade from my radar, although I know it is still around being used. (And see here, my justification for leaving Bookstagram which I did try my best at for a while.) But now Substack is surging to the fore.

I've spent every week since 2014 adding to my history here. When I introduce new pages with common themes, it feels a bit like adding new wings to my castle. What's more, my dedicated building has begun to reap benefits by showing up high on search engines. Often when I google some vintage book or other, my reviews pop up near the very top. Over a decade of quiet, regular updating seems to have bestowed on this blog a credibility of its own, which even search engines seem to pick up on in their own impersonal way. My blog has taken years of steady updates to nudge search engines that it is around, filling a valuable spot. I'm loath to turn my back on that by starting over fresh with Substack. 

This is an extremely modest blog, which is undoubtedly evident, but page views remain in triple or quadruple figure averages, which increase over time. (Surely they can't all be bots!!!) I don't often see these readers, for they rarely comment, but I appreciate this secret evidence that they're out there. Some of my blog posts do amazingly well. My ranking of the Bronte sisters' seven books has collected around 20000 views to date. My pages on my Trixie Belden Marathon and the Pollyanna series have also got far higher traffic than I expected.

Hopefully the readers who visit are researching, browsing quietly, saving links, and simply enjoying my takes on books, both vintage and in the current spotlight. The stats seem to promise that they are. 

Hey, I invite you to type 'The Vince Review' into the Google toolbar of your phone and wait for the AI blurb to pop up. It consistently boosts my mood with its accurate (and complimentary) summaries of what I do here. 

In a nutshell, I'm going to doggedly stay put. This blog is not trending or going viral or being talked about, and that will never happen. I know nothing about adding bells and whistles and incentives. But I have reason to believe it is quietly doing its job. It serves as a reading room, a quiet resource library of sorts, where people can pop in, spend some enjoyable minutes or hours, take what they need, and hopefully return. 

This blog is over a dozen years old as I write, which can't be said for too many. I read somewhere that the average lifespan of a blog before they crash and burn is three to four years. So I'll resist the siren call of Substack, or any other shiny new platform, and still be here in the future with reliably free content. And I'll finish with this friendly reminder that you are welcome to subscribe to my feed in the toolbar, and then it will show up in your inbox anyway, even though it is not Substack.