During winter breaks I enjoy choosing a favorite book to reread, such as Jane Eyre and Emma.

This year I decided to spend Christmas with Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth. They are wonderful company! Anne is wise and well-spoken, considerate of others, and eager to help wherever she can. Captain Wentworth is a gentleman, thoughtful and courteous. He is conscious of Anne's virtues and her value as a companion, and he hopes to secure her love again.

You see, Frederick and Anne first fell in love when she was 19, but he had no money, and her family objected to the match. So Anne was persuaded to refuse him. Eight years later, Frederick has returned to the neighborhood and is now a wealthy naval captain. He is single and is looking for a wife. Anne is also single and still loves him. In truth, she has been waiting for him. But can he forgive her for refusing him all those years ago? They'll have to work through a few obstacles to find out.

Since Anne and Frederick are creations of the inimitable Jane Austen, you can be sure that although our hero and heroine have great worth, this novel also features relatives of such vanity and silliness as to make you both wince and laugh in amusement. Anne's father and sisters are ridiculously full of themselves and judge everyone to be beneath them, save perhaps for royalty. One of my favorite scenes in the book is when Anne goes to visit her whiny sister Mary, and everyone in the family takes turns pulling Anne aside to secretly complain about Mary, begging her to do something. Poor Anne, always caught in the middle!

I am not sure when I first read Persuasion, but it's likely been a decade since I last opened it, so this reread was a true delight. Austen's insight into her characters, their feelings and motivations, is so profound that I always marvel at how cleverly and artfully she wrote them. Take this first description of Anne's foppish father:

Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's character; vanity of person and of situation. He had been remarkably handsome in his youth; and, at fifty-four, was still a very fine man. Few women could think more of their personal appearance than he did; nor could the valet of any new made lord be more delighted with the place he held in society. He considered the blessing of beauty as inferior only to the blessing of a baronetcy; and the Sir Walter Elliot, who united these gifts, was the constant object of his warmest respect and devotion.

And we quickly see how little Sir Walter appreciates his daughter, Anne, and how much she is ignored by her vain sister Elizabeth:

... but Anne, with an elegance of mind and sweetness of character, which must have placed her high with any people of real understanding, was nobody with either her father or sister; her word had no weight; her convenience was always to give way; — she was only Anne.

Last year I also reread Sense and Sensibility, and in that book, I was struck by how well Austen described those who were vain and silly. There is plenty of that in Persuasion, but there are also excellent descriptions of love and feeling, and of the agony that only the heartsick person knows, that it shows the author's maturity. This novel was completed in 1816, and Miss Austen died the following year. I think her powers of observation and insight were never greater.

While I think this to be a splendid novel, if you are new to Jane Austen, I do not think I would start here. I would recommend Pride and Prejudice to the novice; Persuasion should be delayed until you are ready. It is a treat all the more worth savoring because you have waited for it.

Update December 2024
It's another winter break spent with Anne and Capt. Wentworth! During this reread, I wondered about the real people that inspired Jane Austen to create such silly and selfish characters. For example, which relative inspired the egotistical Mary Musgrove, Anne's younger sister who never stops complaining and who always fancies herself sick? Was there a real man who inspired the excessive vanity of Sir Walter Elliot? I wish more of Jane's letters to her sister Cassandra had survived, as they may have revealed some of these secrets.

This time I listened to Juliet Stevenson performing the audiobook — she is one of my very favorite narrators, and I've decided to listen to all of her Jane Austen readings. I also watched my favorite movie adaptation of Persuasion, which is the 1995 version with Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds. Highly recommended!

Favorite Quotes
"How quick come the reasons for approving what we like."

"I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives."

"This is always my luck! If there is any thing disagreeable going on, men are always sure to get out of it."

"My idea of good company, Mr. Elliot, is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company." / "You are mistaken," said he gently, "that is not good company, that is the best. Good company requires only birth, education, and manners, and with regard to education is not very nice."

"I do not think I ever opened a book in my life which had not something to say upon woman's inconstancy. Songs and proverbs, all talk of woman's fickleness. But perhaps you will say, these were all written by men."/ "Perhaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything."

"We certainly do not forget you, so soon as you forget us. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home, quiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us. You are forced on exertion. You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions ... All the privilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one, you need not covet it) is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone."

"A man does not recover from such devotion of the heart to such a woman! He ought not; he does not."

"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope ... I have loved none but you."

Segundas Oportunidades


Um amor interrompido tende a retornar, em busca do desfecho merecido...

E assim aconteceu com Anne Elliot e Frederick Wentworth, cujo romance fora abortado, tinha ela 19 anos, por divergência de estatutos sociais. Anne fora persuadida pela família a abdicar dum amor sincero, por Frederick Wentworth não reunir as condições que fariam dele um pretendente à altura.
Agora, já perto dos 30, quase madura e menos manipulável, ser-lhe-á concedida nova oportunidade...

Estou em crer que neste romance, Jane Austen é simultaneamente autora e personagem, pois quando jovem, Jane Austen viu-se igualmente coagida por outros a romper um noivado.
Assim, ao conceber Persuasão, já na recta final da vida, a autora encontrou uma forma de prosseguir por empréstimo, um episódio encetado no passado e que ela vira infelizmente gorado!

Logo, esta segunda oportunidade, foi não apenas para Anne, mas igualmente para Jane, que assim recriou e de certa forma vivenciou, uma experiência que lhe fora furtada!

Enfim... mais uma vez se constata quão ténue é a linha que separa a realidade da ficção!
A imaginação preenche lacunas!

Still perfect.

n  Random thoughts on Persuasionn
(because I'm too stuffed to write a full review)

‣Jane Austen is S-A-V-A-G-E. Her biting commentary on social situations and arrangements, on people and relationships is always top-notch; I would gladly read her grocery list if it offered such caustic insight on potatoes and cabbage.

‣ Persuasion is considered her most romantic book. Even though I prefer Pride and Prejudice, I have to admit that her heartwarming touch on emotions varying between jealousy, admiration, resignation and love, young and enthusiastic love that develops into mature, all-encompassing agape, is truly unique.

‣ Anne Eliot is a marvel of a character, perceptive and witty, melancholic because she is constantly rejected by her family yet never refusing to give, even when she doesn't expect anything in return.

‣ One of the most distinguishable aspects of Austen's storytelling are the wholesome, engaging (and in this instance, vain and self-centered to the point of ridicule) secondary characters. They make her stories complete, there's always intrigue, twists and revelations that, while not monumental, add a touch of spice and complement the main couple.

‣ My only complaint is the scarce interactions between Captain Frederick Wentworth and Anne Eliot. I wanted more time with them, watching them tiptoeing around their past and their still lingering feelings, absorbing their affection and connection.

‣ Every time you finish a book by Jane Austen, the (hopeful) conclusion is the same: it's the smart girls that get the guy.

I need to get me a Captain Wentworth to write me letters like he writes to Anne

n  

When any two young people take it into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to carry their point, be they ever so poor, or ever so imprudent, or ever so little likely to be necessary to each other’s ultimate comfort.

n
While reading Jane Austen my first and final impression, and the most constant sensation throughout, is of a keen intelligence. Her mind is like a rapier, sharp and graceful; and with this implement she needles and probes our mortal frame.

Austen’s concise novels explode with meaning; they can be read on so many levels. We see Austen the anthropologist, explaining and mocking the customs of her English countryside; Austen the moral philosopher, searching for the keys to human conduct; Austen the formal innovator, pioneering new techniques in fiction; and Austen the humorist, the Romantic poet, the psychologist, and so on.

In many ways Persuasion is the mirror image of Emma. Whereas Emma Woodhouse is young, beautiful, and immature, Anne Elliot makes her appearance as a poised woman past her prime. Emma is vain and silly, while Anne is the maturest and wisest character in the book. Thematically, too, the two novels are opposite. Emma, as Gilbert Ryle observed, is primarily concerned with influencing other people. When is it beneficent, when is it egotistic, and when is it mere meddling to involve oneself in another’s affairs? Persuasion, as its name implies, tackles the opposite problem: Under what circumstances should we yield to advice, and allow ourselves to be persuaded?

As usual with Austen, the social world her characters inhabit is the pinched life of the country gentry. Modern readers cannot help finding the dictates of manners and the demands of politeness to be harsh and constraining. If it were only more socially acceptable to speak one’s mind—or, God forbid, to engage in some form of romance without marriage—then the plots of the books would fall apart, as with so many other classic novels.

What makes it tolerable is Austen’s often wry lampooning of the social order. This is especially sharp in Persuasion. Anne’s father, Sir Walter Elliot, is a contemptible baronet who prides himself in his looks and cannot manage his estate. Anne’s relation, Lady Dalrymple, is a viscountess with no charms, mental or physical, whom Anne’s father and sister nevertheless slavishly follow for her rank. The Royal Navy serves as the foil to these exalted oafs, a true meritocracy that allows young men with talent, but no birth, to make their way in the world.

On a formal level I found the novel interesting for its dearth of dialogue. Instead, Austen employs her technique of “free indirect discourse,” a kind of mixture of dialogue and reported speech. The result is that we see the world filtered through the narrator’s understanding—and in this book, this understanding is almost identical with Anne Elliot’s, Austen's only character who is almost as intelligent as herself. This creates some interesting effects.

Normally, characters in novels know somewhat less than the audience. We can, for example, immediately see that Emma Woodhouse’s schemes are ill-conceived, while she remains ignorant. But in Persuasion, Anne figures things out just as fast as we do; and her actions are consistently well-considered. What is more, while in most novels the character must undergo some change before the end—Emma must swear off her meddling ways—Anne Elliot’s challenge is to stay absolutely constant to the same good impulse that guided her eight years earlier. She begins the book wise, and remains so throughout.

The final result of these elements—indirect discourse, the stability of Anne’s character, as well as some clumsiness in pacing and plot—makes Persuasion a somewhat less exciting read than other Austen novels. But this lack of excitement is more than compensated by the wealth of interesting questions posed by the text. Jane Austen was an artist of the highest order, with a mind that would put many philosophers to shame.

I just...
I can't...
*sigh*

See, it's like this: I'm a third of the way through this book. I already know I don't like it. If finish it, review it, and rate it as I see fit, you'll all get mad. You'll say that I just didn't understand the book. Or, you'll express bewilderment at my "strange" reaction and then show concern. We'll compare Austen to the Brontës. I'll drag Rebecca into this, and then someone will drag Virginia Woolf into it too. I'll say something like, "This isn't prose. It's an instruction manual. A bitter, bitter instruction manual." And, that will make you even more angry. People I've never even spoken to before will appear from nowhere and start heckling me. I'll break a chair over someone's back...

No, let's not do that. Let's just pretend that ill-fated trip to the library never took place.

Up next: Vita!

Anne Elliot is something like Jesus Christ... or maybe just a Cinderella?

There is something so comforting in the pleasure of reading the same story without it being exactly that same story. The thing is that I don't know if I like Jane Austen's novels or just Jane Austen adaptations enough for how much more of the same 'Persuasion' is.

Speaking of adaptations, the most recent one of 'Persuasion' was heavily criticized. I watched the first 5 minutes of it (or less) until I decided that I want to read the novel first. If the controversial changes are related to presenting a more realistic Anne Elliot, I totally support those changes.That's because Anne Elliot was a little bit too unbelievable to me.

For someone who made the wrong decision of denying the marriage proposal of the man she loved (Frederick Wentworth - unexpectedly absent from the action) at the insistences of her family, she seems a little bit inhuman in the way she is living with the consequences of her decision.

Her family is ignoring her, treating her like some sort of servant, and there isn't much else to do.

Other readers have seen her as so mature, the adult in the room. Because her family is so superficial and mean, I see her more as Cinderella.

Not that there is a problem with Cinderella, but there isn't enough struggle for those 8 years that have passed since she has last seen Frederick.

A bad mistake can make someone more mature, but I think the desperation and depression are just too close from such a mistake to not show a little bit more of that ugly side.

Jane Austen doesn't do that. For how on point she continues to be on marriage, gender, and class, she also remains too close to the land of fairy tales. I can't accept the kind of altar she builds for her Anne Elliot in this context. But that doesn't mean that I won't search for 'Persuasion' adaptations, old and new.

Jane Austen is ruthless and brilliant; she is sarcastic, subtle and superbly witty. She writes in such a matter of fact way that the absurdity of her characters is in plain sight. Sir Walter Elliot is a complete fool. Austen doesn’t need to tell her reader this, she shows it to them. The man is completely bankrupt, but he completely refuses to cut down on his ridiculously high expenditure or sell of any of his lands. He is so obsessed with his outer image that he risks all to keep it in a state of, what he perceives as, perfection.

Then there is the way he perceives his daughters. Elizabeth is vain and stupid like her farther, but, to him, she is wonderful. She adheres to the strict code of womanly/daughterly custom; she is also a self-absorbed flatterer; thus, her pig headed farther loves her dearly. The protagonist Anne, on the other hand, is intelligent, kind and occasionally speaks her mind; thus, her father and sister view her as furniture. She is “only Anne.” There is no affection for the younger sister because she isn’t so fixated upon her outer image. She is pushed aside and rarely listened to. At the start of the novel, this is so much so, that it doesn’t even feel like she is present. The initially quiet heroine is overshadowed by her overbearing farther and the ridiculous nature of society.

And now, with Austen at my back, I’m going to slate Sir Walter to death. Let’s start with the opening of the book. Just look at the mastery of the tone:

“SIR WALTER ELLIOT, of Kellynch-hall, in Somerset- shire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt. As he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century—and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed—this was the page at which the favourite volume always opened:

“ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH-HALL.”



This symbolises is high self-regard along with his obsession with his personal status; it is all that is important to him: it is all he wants to read about. As a result, he spends hours reading and editing the entries, and turns to it when in need of comfort. Traditionally, the book that would be taken in an individual’s time of need would be the Bible. This demonstrates that to Sir Walter, his status is the most important aspect of his life; it’s all he truly cares about. There is also a degree of significance in the fact that all the edits Sir Walter makes are past instances, there are no new entries to signify the recent decrease in monetary fortune. The book, and him, both belong in the past; he is constantly looking back at his family’s foundations, but doing very little, prior to Lady Russel’s intervention, to actually improve their current situation. This is both comic and contemptible because when his estate is falling into ruin, he only cares about its outward appearance making him a caricature of the old class; it, suggests that they, perhaps, need to go or at the very least change.

This is where the new, more attractive, navel gentlemen come in. The idea of what constituted gentlemen was becoming more flexible during the Romantic era and nineteenth century. Previously, the higher societies predominantly consisted of those who received their status at birth: the landed gentry. The idea of what makes a gentleman was moving forward with the changing opportunities afforded by the Napoleonic wars. The war meant that men from common birth like Admiral Croft and Captains Wentworth and Benwick, could climb the social ladder due to fortune and title granted by successful soldering. They’d earnt the money that was associated with a higher place within society. They could enter it with a degree of equality.

-Captain Wentworth

So, worthy men have an increase in fortune; they’ve earnt their rank. But Sir Walter, as caricature of the old class, opposes this notion vehemently. This can be seen with, you guessed it, is obsession with outer appearance. This time it’s with his physical beauty. He artificially attempts to cling to his youth, which can be seen when he converses with Anne later in the novel. He has a surprisingly large amount of knowledge about skin treatments that defy age. His self-absorbency with his physical appearance is symbolic of his perceived appearance within society. To him, a gentleman is supposed to possess certain outward qualities. He finds the idea of Admiral Croft disturbing, common and ungentlemanly. He remarks that he has only two objections to sailors:

“First, as being the means of bringing persons of obscure birth into undue distinction, and raising men to honours which their fathers and grandfathers never dreamt of; and secondly, as it cut’s up a man’s youth and vigour most horribly; a sailor grows old sooner than any other man; I have observed it all my life.”

According to him, this can lead to one becoming an object of disgust such as Admiral Baldwin who is “all lines and wrinkles” and “rough and rugged to the last degree.” Sir Walter is practically disgusted at this “wretched life” of a sea fairer. Never mind the fact that he has spent his life in service to his, and Sir Walter’s, country, which contrasts with how Sir Walter has spent his whole life in service to himself. Yet, his position in society is higher and more esteemed. The navy is deserves his respect; they helped to facilitate an England that remained under English rule and not one under the thumb of Napoleon Bonaparte.

The disapproval of Sir Walter is suggestive of Austen’s approval. She is arguing for the benefits of a system like the navy; it promotes its members based upon merit and due distinction. This is in direct contrast to the old system that Sir Walter reveres. There is a certain degree of irony in the fact that Admiral Croft can afford to live in Sir Walter’s home when Sir Walter cannot. It is a symbolic demotion, one that leaves the self-made man living in deserved splendour. This is where Austen uses free indirect style to suggest that the narrator’s opinions are similar to our protagonist’s. She has a choice between the old breed of gentry, a man resembling her father’s class, or a young romantic naval officer who represents the benefits of an increase in social mobility. It’s obvious which one she chooses. Anne is not a fool. She was persuaded once, but she now sees with clarity and focus. She can see the worth of the two men and knows which one is worth her time.

-William Elliot (The young shadow of Sir Walter)

From analysing the representation of the contrasting gentlemen, it becomes apparent that Austen gives social mobility positive connotations. Sir Walter Elliot remains in a position of higher social rank, but his so called social inferiors are afforded with gentlemen like qualities, ones that he so clearly lacks. They are admitted to high social circles despite their birth. They possess more honour, sense and purpose than the old class of gentlemen that Sir Walter represents. Therefore, when a man such a Sir Walter, one who is vein and self-obsessed, is resistant to the idea of social mobility, it becomes rather difficult not to be persuaded by the benefits of its progress that Austen evokes.

I love Jane Austen’s novels. Admittedly, I’ve only read two, but I can already see the brilliance of the author. Her novels are so subtly clever with hidden suggestions. I really admire what she does. I’m sticking with my rule from here on out though. I attest that each Austen novel needs to be read at least twice, perhaps even thrice, to get the full effect of what she does. I missed so much of it on my initial reading. It’s quite surprising, but sometimes you need to have seen the entire picture before you can judge each individual part. There’s just so much to take from this. I’ve only focused on one angle in my review, though there is so much going on. I’ve actually cut this down a little because it was starting to get far too long for a review. This is an English student’s dream. I need to go and read more Austen novels! Why can’t I have an entire module on her!


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Reviewed in the  August 2024 edition of Quick Lit on Modern Mrs Darcy:

I so enjoyed re-reading this with the Modern Mrs Darcy Book Club this month for Austen in August! (Our official schedule has us reading at a leisurely pace and finishing next week, but I got a little ahead of myself and already finished, oops.) Our community manager Ginger persuaded me to try the annotated edition, and I LOVED that nerdy experience. The editor's notes talked about everything from the significance of a family owning a barouche vs a chaise and four to the geography of Lyme and Bath to the underdeveloped plot points Jane Austen likely would have smoothed in edits had her health not deteriorated. Fascinating!

Riding a recent Brit Lit kick, and recalling fond memories of Pride and Prejudice in college, I picked up Persuasion at a used book shop in a convenient size for subway reading.

Perhaps the atmosphere affected me--dim lighting on stuffy summer DC metro platforms--perhaps it was the biography of Abraham Lincoln I was reading in the evenings had me meditating upon a certain greatness of character that seemed absent amidst the Elliots and company, but I was largely unimpressed by Persuasion.

Yes, "unimpressed" is the right word. Simply as a matter of craft, the book felt clunky. The revelation about Mr. Elliot's true diabolical nature, for example, drops from nowhere: the scattered (though coincidentally saved) letter of a friend whose connection is the very prior moment's discovery and who herself is a very late addition to the cast. Or take Lady Russell: we are given to understand is a towering personality; but the only reason we have for knowing this is the narrator's continual assertions. We never really get to meet her, never get the opportunity to understand how a matron who makes such errors as a judge of character still commands the devotion and respect of someone as clear-sighted as Anne.

Ah yes, Anne. Another largely unimpressive feature of the book. It is maddening to see her allow herself to be tread upon again and again, and by the end of the novel there is little to make me believe she has learned anything, that her spine is any stiffer. Are we really supposed to believe that she has been following the golden mean between malleablility (persuasion) and boldness all along? It seems rather like she and Mary represent the opposite poles of error, while Louisa is the one hitting a really healthy stride. In fact, the only thing the narrator--and Anne--can hold against Louisa, aside from a girlish giddiness now and then, is her tumble in Lyme. "Propriety or death" may be a stirring oriflamme for some, but I'll choose the girl with a little spirit as my Joan any day, thank you.

[4.8⭐]