Happy Birthday Jane Austen

The end is nigh: there are only two chapters left to release for my novel Gentlemen of Gloucestershire. Instead of only focusing on it or Norhanger Abbey today, though, I instead wished to inform my readers that a special birthday is coming up along with Christmas: Jane Austen was born on December 16, 1775, and this week marks the 246th anniversary of that day.

The truth is, unlike a lot of Janiets, I don't know that much about the author's actual life. I've read a few of her letters as inspiration for writing in her style, and learned more during my deep dive into Regency research, but otherwise have not spent much time devoted to the person behind the tales I enjoy. That's largely the case for most of the authors I like: it's their works I spend more time with, rather than their biographies. Still, in the past year of writing, editing, and posting my own modest sequel, I've been struck by ways Austen inspires me beyond her artistry. Her documented care and love for her nieces and nephews rings true for me, as a single aunt who very much enjoys her own "niblings." From everything I understand her family was very important to her, and this mindset carries through in her novels.

Consider that we spend far more time with, and know more about, an Austen heroine's siblings than her love interest. A sure sign of a man's reliability is how he treats his female relatives; even someone as unreliable as Henry Crawford still enjoys a close friendship with his sister Mary. On the flip side, men and women alike are skewered when they show little concern for their families: consider how mercenary the John and Fanny Dashwood are presented in the first chapters of Sense and Sensibility, or that both a fop like Sir Elliot and a likeable wit like Mr. Bennet are both tarred with the same sin of neglect when it comes to providing for their daughters.

Fandom loves to see the hero reject any and all obstacles to the desired Happily Ever After. But while Austen allows her characters their streaks of independence, she almost never truly breaks the ties that bind. One of the most shocking moments of Mansfield Park is the Rushworths' divorce, followed by the prodigal daughter and her aunt sent away in disgrace. It stands in stark contrast to the many ways she brings families back together again: Darcy and his aunt eventually make peace, Mrs. Ferrars and Edward reach an understanding, Captain Wentworth and Lady Russell learn to appreciate each other, Mr. Knightley comes to live at Hartfield rather than separate father and daughter, and Henry is reconciled enough with his father to get his consent.

John Donne wrote that "No man is an island." Jane Austen, both by her life's example and the words she left us, suggests that no true love will ever separate us from the connections already formed, "for good or for bad." Rather than whisk the couple away to a life of independent bliss, each novel's marriage binds them ever closer to kin, friends, and the larger community.

In Gentlemen of Gloucestershire, I decided to not only delve into the Henry/Catherine dynamic, but also the fractured and often dysfunctional Tilney family. It is not my goal to redeem characters against their will or inclination; repentance, after all, requires admission of wrong-doing, something some of Austen's characters appear almost incapable of. But regardless of their state of grace, they are still related, and still a part of each other. What does it take to make that kind of thing work? It's not a question we ask much in modern storytelling: more often than not, popular stories embrace the "found family" model, where a group of misfits comes together, either already orphaned or willingly cutting themselves off from abusive, neglectful, or just unlikable relatives. Parents are antagonists; siblings are rivals; strangers are more trustworthy.

One my cautions to new interns I supervised was against reading too much into the theatre world's promise to be "family," since in my experience that was rarely true. I made many friends and worked with some very collegial professionals during my career. But family are the ones who, when the chips are down, have to take you back despite everything. You don't get "fired" from family (sometimes, every when you want to!) Even when those relationships sour, or break apart, they leave a huge impact on our lives. How many work acquaintances or old roommates rank on the same level for the majority of people?

So during this festive season, it may be helpful to remember Jane Austen and her many odd, erratic, and difficult families when dealing with yours (and mine!) Perhaps don't trust them with the good silver or an unlimited supply of credit. But do try to put up with a Mr. Woodhouse's hypochondria symptoms, or Mrs. Dashwood's extreme emotions, if only for a day. It's not easy to forgive, especially when the other person seems unwilling to meet in the middle, but hopefully there are some Gardiners, Musgroves, and Morlands to even things out.

Everyone's had a hard year. Perhaps the best gift any of us may give each other is the strength of character to actively chose a charitable outlook instead of an inward-facing one.