I've downed the last of the Jane Austen novels in our possession. I was fortunate to marry a woman with three of the novels, and I'll wait to finish the next three.
None of the novels is a copy of the others: all three has unique flavors and gifts. Emma, however, strikes me as the most peculiar. This comes from many different considerations: Emma is the most deeply flawed of the female protagonists, and Mr. Knightley is the saintliest of the male. Emma also takes up the largest portion of the spotlight of any of the protagonists. It is undoubtedly a book about her.
Also, the title is the only one of Austen's novels to contain a person's name. And this name is not their formal title, but it is her personal name. I find this to be significant on the social level of the novel. It is introducing the character to us on intimate terms, and carries through on this promise by revealing to us all of her flaws. If I were to ever meet Miss Woodhouse in person, I think that I would not be privileged to speak to her as Emma; taking such a liberty would reduce me to the simpering quality of Mrs. Elton (ugh! Though I think Mrs. Elton has some important lessons for Emma, if she should but listen). How curious that Austen introduces us at this level: what is she saying class? What about the reader and the text?
Another broad thought is that this is a book all about the self-destruction of one woman (at least in regarding certain elements of her domestic happiness) through unrestrained vice, and her salvation through the unconditional - yet entirely reasonable - love of one man. If Mr. Knightley didn't step in and marry Emma, she would have been reduced, by her own decisions, to a fairly lonely life (as she considers near the end of the novel). Is Austen preaching here? What are Emma's flaws, and what is her cure?
There's also, as in all of Austen's novels that I've thus read, consideration of epistemic difficulties. Why is Emma always (practically, anyway) wrong? She's certainly the cleverest wrong person that I've met, but her vision is clouded by her character's flaws. Why can Mr. Knightley perceive so much more clearly? Austen, I think, makes it fairly clear to the reader the actual case of Emma's deceptions long before she herself realizes her errors. This is a source of tension that drives the novel's action. I take this to mean that the questions are important.
Another question that occurred to me is this: what is the difference between Mr. Knightley's condescension to marry Emma and Emma's condescension to be friends with Miss Harriet Smith. One of these is a grave mistake: the other is a source of joy. Is this merely a consideration of class? Or does it take into account the actual accomplished characters of the actors? What sort of moral guidance can we gain from it today?
There: I've prepared the beginning of some discussion. Perhaps someone whose read it will chime in?
3 comments:
For those who wish to join in this discussion, but have not read the book, here is a link to a free, online text.
Interesting questions . . . my first thought is that perhaps the difference between Emma's condescension and Knightley's is that Knightley has a truer knowledge of Emma than Emma had of Miss Smith? Emma, after all, was wrong about what sort of spouse would make Harriet happy whereas, it seems, Knightley was correct in knowing who ought to marry Emma.
fwiw, Emma was a book I enjoyed reading, but enjoyed listening too even more. Its slow pace seemed to lend itself to being read aloud.
Good point, Jess.
Mr. Knightley also knows who Harriet should marry, interestingly enough, and this seems hinged on class.
I got the impression that Emma and Knightley were both in the same general class, or was Emma significantly enough poorer that she was in a different class than Mr. Knightley, but I'm not sure. Anybody know?
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