“Please understand that I fully appreciate the importance of this community. After my death, I saw my popularity fade away and I faced the contemplation of my literary death. But wondrously, I did not completely fade away and I saw successive generations rediscover me.”
The audience laughed again as a portrait of Mark Twain appeared with his quote: “Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.”
“Every adaptation, every continuation, every movie, keeps me alive for the next generation. Yes, there have been some liberties taken that have irked me, but let me be honest, I should be little more than a wikipedia article were it not for the people in this room and countless others before you. I should be nothing more than the province of graduate students studying obscure Regency female authors. I should be a dusty book on a dusty shelf in a dusty library, but you have found and continue to find something of value in my words and in the very boring life of a woman who travelled little and never married. You have found something that is worthy of assembling from every corner of North America once a year in a different city.
“And from the bottom of my heart, which still beats though I have no body, I thank you, utterly and completely.”
Mary had to stop for the entire audience stood and applauded and there were no half-hearted meeting of hands this time.
“I told you this would happen Jane,” Mary said to Jane.
“Only because of the eloquence you bring to my words, my dear.”
Mary nodded and smiled at the applause; happy for the joy it must bring her friend. And she found herself with tears in her eyes and for the first time, she truly felt the power within her, to move people, to excite them, but it was a power she exercised not for her gratification, gratifying as it was. She was moved to do this for her art and for the body of work of another. She took those words Jane had supplied and together they made something so powerful that she feared the applause would never stop.
“Please, please,” she said with a voice made rough from tears. “I’m supposed to give a thirty minute talk.”
There was laughter at this, which broke the spell. Mary motioned the audience to sit and as they sat she took the opportunity to dry her eyes with a tissue.
“Now to return to the challenge of my own legacy, which is not a new problem for me. In fact every author faces the challenge of meeting expectations and, it is hoped, exceeding them. However, I am perfectly aware there are people in this audience who don’t care for one or more of my novels or who have never even read some of them. It’s understandable that people have favourites; I certainly do.”
Behind Mary some quotes appeared: “I want to tell you that I have got my own darling child [Pride and Prejudice] from London.” And another quote: “I can no more forget it [Sense and Sensibility], than a mother can forget her suckling child.”
She turned to look at the quotes. “Yes, those are a little embarrassing two centuries later,” she said with a cock of her head after turning back to the audience. “I cannot express how mortifying it is have to every single silly thing you’ve ever said immortalized in print. But I digress. Any author—at least any author of integrity—always has to attempt something new. And many have thought I was attempting something new with Sanditon, or The Brothers, as I thought of it. And yes, I was trying something new, just as I tried something new with Emma and Mansfield Park. And yes, I am well aware that Mansfield Park is the novel that many have never finished or even attempted.
“But after so long a gestation, can I call Sanditon my new novel? Can it be still be something to compete with all the continuations and adaptations? That, of course, is for you to decide, but I think it rather good, precisely because I have laboured on it for so long. It has evolved with the decades and the centuries and I blush to call it timeless, even though it remains a product of my life and times.”
The screens showed a succession of Regency images, including a Cruikshank3 caricature of the bloated Prince Regent, a cartoon of women wearing wetted muslin gowns, another of John Bull4 begging for food and the David painting of Napoleon on his horse.5
“Even though the world has rushed by me while I was silent, I find that things, the important things like love and honour and decency, remain the same. And yet I can’t deny that some of the innocence I once had is gone. Like Mrs Bennet’s complaint about the Longbourn entail, I have realized that many of the strictures and inequalities of the Regency are inherently unfair and grate on modern sensibilities, and yet I know that those same inequalities remain quintessential elements of a Jane Austen novel.
“So long-time Janeites, please forgive me if Sanditon offers a knowing nod to modern-day readers, while at the same time those of you—and there must be a few—who expected a Jane Austen for the twenty-first century, must be patient.
“Because I can assure you I have fully embraced the modern world. I tweet, text, post, email and chat with a facility to rival that of any teenaged girl. My friends know I am addicted to social media and electronic devices.”
A well-known photo appeared on the screens showing a woman in Regency dress lounging by a pool with a cordless phone in her hands.
“This photo is so last century,” Mary said with a sigh. “Look at the size of that cordless phone. I really must have a new picture taken. But I digress again, a symptom I fear of my dwindling attention span. Now where was I? Oh yes, in keeping with this modern world of instant communication and texted marriage proposals and rejections, I promise that my next novel will be something new, but I assure you it will be recognizably in my hand.
“However that next novel still waits to be born and to borrow from my father, it will consist of ‘effusions of fancy by a very mature lady and consisting of tales in a style entirely new.’6 Thank you again for your kind acceptance and recognition, and I humbly remain your servant, Jane Austen.”
The audience stood and applauded even louder than before, although to Jane, of course, it was silent.
“Of all the blithest sounds … I would trade everything to be able to hear again,” she said to Mary, but the noise was so much that Mary could not understand her friend’s words. She was grateful when the emcee came onto the stage.
“Thank you Miss Austen,” she said into her microphone. “Thank you,” she repeated in a louder voice, and then she added, “Really, if you want to ask Miss Austen your questions, you will have to stop.”
The applause diminished and eventually stopped.
“Thank you,” the emcee said again. Now we have two microphones set up so please form lines. And our disembodied members can use the AfterNet hotspots to ask questions as well. And please give your first name only.”
Lines quickly formed behind the microphones and the emcee said, “OK, let’s start with the microphone on my left. Please ask your question.”
A young woman of not much height wearing a “Dead Leaves!” T-shirt stood on tiptoes to ask her question. “It’s such an honour to address you Miss Austen. I’ve adored your books all my life and …” She was interrupted by the young man with headphones who adjusted the height of the microphone. The emcee used the opportunity to give some guidance.
“I’m sure we all want to thank Miss Austen, but if we all do, we won’t have enough time, so please just state your name and question,” she said, in a pleasant tone but one familiar to schoolteachers everywhere.
“Yes, ma’am,” Dead Leaves girl said. “Uh, my name’s Ashlyn and uh … I want to know, oh, I loved Sanditon, uh … how different is Sanditon from what you originally meant to write … before you … died?”
“Thank you, Ashlyn,” Mary replied. “And I’m happy you enjoyed Sanditon.” She waited just a second for Jane’s comment before she continued.
“I think it is essentially the same story I meant to write,” Mary continued. “But it may be more comic and physical than my other novels, possibly in compensation for my … situation.”
“It is also perhaps
more calculating than if I had completed it while still living. I have to credit Mr Dickens for that. My stories have always been … well some laud them and some criticise them for the value my characters put on money and wealth. But Lady Denham … I am afraid her portrayal suffered as I had greater awareness of the suffering of others. I was far crueller to her than I was to even Fanny Dashwood.
“But at the same time, I could not give way to the despair and hopelessness of Mr Dickens, which may also explain the somewhat broader comedy of Sanditon. I needed to balance the damage Lady Denham inflicted with the essential good humour of Charlotte and the Parkers. I hope that answers your question,” Mary concluded.
Dead Leaves girl nodded happily, and the emcee now called for a question from the other line. An elderly man, stooped but with bright eyes and evident delight, asked, “Thank you, Miss Austen. My name is Edward and I wanted to know whether you’ve had success connecting with your family. Although I enjoy good health now, with each year, I’m afraid I contemplate my own … well, you know.” He nodded and quickly withdrew from the microphone.
“I think I understand your question, Edward. Of course since my identity was confirmed, I have been in contact with many of the living descendants of the Austen, Leigh, Knight and Perrot families. But I think your unspoken question is whether I have communicated with my dear sister, Cassandra, and I am sad to say I have not. I am, however, happy to say that no one has ever attempted to falsely represent any members of my family.
“I would dearly love to talk to Cassandra, or Henry or my father or mother, but I fear the long span of years … I wish you well, Edward.”
Mary noted Jane’s abrupt conclusion and with little difficulty conveyed the sadness she had detected.
The next question asked was whether Jane ever planned to try her hand at other genres.
“Oh, it would be tempting. I look with envy at the skill and success of JK Rowling or the allure of writing a murder mystery, but my narrator from Mansfield Park said it best, I let other pens dwell on such stuff. But as I alluded to earlier, I do embrace the twenty-first century and my next book will be set in the here and now, and do not be surprised by my heroine texting and tweeting. I can’t let Helen Fielding7 have all the fun.”
Mary was surprised to be relaying Jane’s words, not thinking Jane had made any decision about her next novel; and then she wondered at Melody’s reaction, for she did not think a modern-day novel was what Jane’s agent had anticipated.
Mary’s musings prevented her from judging the crowd’s reaction, but Jane, more adept at reading body language, hastened to reassure the audience.
“Do not for one second think I turn my back on the Regency, however,” said Jane, who was also contemplating Melody’s ire. “I simply want a chance to explore modern sensibilities and make some sense of it.” Mary relayed those words.
The emcee waited until the audience quieted before saying: “OK, now I think it’s time we took some questions from our disemembered … uh, disembodied members. We have two volunteers who’ll be asking the questions, Julie Henshaw for the women and Stephen Abrams for the men. Why don’t you ask the first question, Stephen?”
Stephen’s name surprised Jane, who had not known her avatar’s friend would act as a voice for disembodied questioners.
Stephen stepped up to the microphone and made a show of adjusting his earbud. He didn’t know why; it just seemed appropriately theatrical even though he doubted anyone would notice. He coughed once, and said, “Thank you Miss Austen. The first question is from Albert, and his question is, ‘Do you believe in second chances?’”
“Hello, Albert,” Mary said for Jane. “That’s an intriguing question. Could you elaborate?”
Stephen grinned at the sight of Mary’s puzzled look, thinking she might be overacting.
“Uh, this is Albert speaking: ‘In your novels, many characters make terrible mistakes, and yet those mistakes are forgiven. Elizabeth forgives Darcy for trying to separate Bingley and Jane; Henry Tilney forgives Catherine Morland for suggesting his father is a murderer; and Captain Wentworth forgives Anne Elliot for refusing him. So in your life, did you give people second chances? Did anyone wrong you that you eventually forgave?’”
For several seconds, Mary said nothing while waiting for Jane to respond. “Of course I did, Albert. It is Christian charity to forgive,” Mary finally said, when Jane continued her silence.
“That is good to hear,” Stephen said uncertainly, not sure who had replied. However he did not step away from the microphone and the audience’s attention was split between him and Mary.
At first, Melody was unaware of the drama, her thoughts still on Jane’s earlier revelation that her next book would be set in modern day. It slowly dawned on her, however, that the mood of the room was oddly expectant. She turned her attention to Mary, who once again had the appearance of someone hearing a Who.
She whispered to the woman sitting next to her, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Someone asked if Jane believed in giving people second chances.”
The emcee was also confused at Mary’s distracted attitude, and wondered if she were contemplating saying something else or was purposely avoiding saying anything further.
Of course these few seconds of silence actually represented a spirited debate between Mary and Jane.
“What is this, Mary?”
“You wouldn’t answer any of his emails,” Mary said silently. “He tried to apologize.”
“This is my Albert asking the question? I thought … he is here?”
“Yes, he’s right here in the ball room. Look, you need to say something to him. People are wondering why I’m standing here with a frozen smile on my face.”
“Tell him: ‘But some mistakes are harder to forgive,’” Jane said to Mary.
“I’m not going to say that.”
“If you wish to remain my avatar, you will.”
Finally Mary said it out loud, with very evident displeasure. The emcee, who was about to suggest another question be asked, wondered at the sudden change of tone in Mary’s voice.
“Uh, thank you, Albert,” the emcee said nervously. “Julie, who’s our next …”
“Maybe those are the ones most deserving of forgiveness,” Stephen said loudly.
“We should give others a chance to talk,” the emcee said.
“Even still, some mistakes can be forgiven, but the damage can’t be undone,” Mary said, regretting what she was being forced to say.
Now the audience sensed that the exchange between Stephen and Mary seemed unrelated to just a typical question and answer between Jane Austen and a fan. Stephen could hear whispering around him. He looked apologetically at the people staring at him and made a gesture toward his earbud and then toward the terminal he wore on his arm. He added a shrug as if to say it wasn’t his fault.
“We really should let someone else ask a question,” the emcee said again with desperation.
“Albert says thank you for your consideration,” Stephen finally said, and then stepped back from the microphone.
“You see, he didn’t leave,” Mary said silently to Jane. “He was here for your speech. If you just would have responded to any of his emails, you’d know he was sorry for overreacting.”
“Mary, this is not the time nor place to discuss this. I will thank you to pay attention to the person who now asks her question.”
“Hi, Miss Austen, my name’s Edith,” the next questioner began, “Would you ever consider writing a sequel to Pride and Prejudice?”
1 The first sentence of Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
2 A character from Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
3 George Cruikshank (1792–1878) was a noted caricaturist and book illustrator
4 A national personification of Great Britain in general, and England in particular
5 Jacques-
Louis David’s Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul, crossing the Alps at Great St. Bernard Pass, 20 May 1800
6 The Reverend George Austen is thought to have written, on the cover of a hand-bound notebook containing Austen’s Evelyn and Catharine, or the Bower, this inscription: “Effusions of Fancy | by a very Young Lady | Consisting of Tales | in a Style entirely new”
7 The author of Bridget Jones’s Diary, which borrows many elements from Pride and Prejudice
Yadda, yadda yadda
Jane learns of Melody’s anguish
“I don’t understand, when did you get a boyfriend?” Melody asked for the third time.
“That hardly matters, Melody,” Jane said, trying to make her agent understand her displeasure. “Mary had no right to interfere in my …”
“In your affairs, that’s what you were going to say. For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Perhaps I feared an overreaction.” Jane said this regretting again that there was no way her computer-generated voice could convey sarcasm.
“Well I’m sorry if it’s my job to worry about how people will react to the news that Jane Austen has a boyfriend, and has had … how long has this been going on?”
“There is no this, Melody. Two people of very mature age have entered into a friendship …”
“How old is he? How do you know anything about him? Who else knows about this?”
Jane paused before answering, a little alarmed at how flushed her friend had become.
“You’re becoming overexcited, Melody. Please sit down. I think you’re supposed to breathe into a paper bag before you faint.”
Melody realized that she was indeed feeling faint, but she thought she had good reason. What if Albert’s some poseur twenty something? What if he’s really a woman? What if he’s not even dead?
That last thought, at least, restored some sanity. Surely, she reasoned, Jane would be able to know whether the man were dead. His AfterNet profile would confirm that.
Jane, Actually Page 37
