Sense and Sensibility (with and Introduction by Reginald Brimley Johnson)

By Jane Austen

Jane Austen’s first published novel, “Sense and Sensibility” is the classic coming of age story of two sisters, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood, who have contrasting temperaments. On the surface Elinor, the older sister represents sense, or reason, while Marianne represents sensibility, or emotion; however upon closer examination we find that they both exhibit varying aspects of each characteristic. Set in southwest England, in the towns of London and Kent, the novel follows the lives of the two sisters as they struggle to find love, romance, and ultimately deal with the heartbreaks along the way. The novel ponders the question of which is the best characteristic, sense or sensibility. It is unclear ultimately what Austen intended as the answer to this question, whether or not she left the novel purposefully ambiguous or if her suggestion is that a proper temperament requires some measure of both qualities. “Sense and Sensibility” is a compelling study of character and one of the great achievements of the romantic genre. This edition includes an introduction by Reginald Brimley Johnson and a biographical afterword.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Digireads.com Publishing
• Release date: Jun 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781420951172

Jane Austen

Jane Austen (1775-1817) was an English novelist known primarily for her six major novels—Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion—which observe and critique the British gentry of the late eighteenth century. Her mastery of wit, irony, and social commentary made her a beloved and acclaimed author in her lifetime, a distinction she still enjoys today around the world.

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SENSE AND SENSIBILITY

By JANE AUSTEN

Introduction by

REGINALD BRIMLEY JOHNSON

Sense and Sensibility

By Jane Austen

Introduction by Reginald Brimley Johnson

Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5116-5

eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5117-2

This edition copyright © 2015. Digireads.com Publishing.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover Image: A detail of Highcliffe, near Christchurch, from the Park, with a Group of Figures, Callander, Adam (fl.1780-1811) / Victoria & Albert Museum, London, UK / Bridgeman Images.

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVIII

Chapter XXIX

Chapter XXX

Chapter XXXI

Chapter XXXII

Chapter XXXIII

Chapter XXXIV

Chapter XXXV

Chapter XXXVI

Chapter XXXVII

Chapter XXXVIII

Chapter XXXIX

Chapter XL

Chapter XLI

Chapter XLII

Chapter XLIII

Chapter XLIV

Chapter XLV

Chapter XLVI

Chapter XLVII

Chapter XLVIII

Chapter XLIX

Chapter L

BIOGRAPHICAL AFTERWORD

Introduction

Mr. Austen-Leigh declares in his memoir that there was scarcely a charm in Jane Austen’s most delightful characters that was not a true reflection of her own sweet temper and loving heart, and when we think of the two eldest Miss Bennets, of Emma and poor Miss Taylor, of Elinor Dashwood, Fanny Price, Anne Elliot, and the unheroic Catherine Morland, we realize the comprehensiveness of the compliment.

Although few authors have shown a less obtrusive personality, it is true that we can study her nature most fitly in her books. From the women in them whom she intends us to admire we may perceive her correct but sincere sentiments, her limited but deep sympathies, her warm affections, and her sprightly mind. From the characters she ridicules we discover her keen observation, her love of satire, and her slightly fastidious refinement, for few have combined so much good nature and absence of cynicism with an equal severity towards vulgarity. To the conception of Jane Austen which we may gain from her novels, however, the memoir by her nephew, Mr. Austen-Leigh, and the correspondence edited by Lord Brabourne have added something beyond the mere pleasure which the last news of a favorite author must afford.

Her nephew has given an enthusiastic description of her appearance, from which we picture her as a vivacious brunette, with bright hazel eyes and round cheeks, which Sir Egerton Brydges called a little too full. She had good features, and dressed neatly, but her chief charm arose from the character which animated her face and her actions.

The description of Anne Elliot’s wise devotion to her sister’s children, and several other sympathetic references to young people, may prepare us to find that Miss Austen was a great favourite with her nephews and nieces, and used to hold them spell-bound by delightfully endless stories of fairies and fairyland, which were unlike anything that they had ever read. The art of understanding children was not generally cultivated in those days, and in her case sprang from a sympathetic and unselfish sweetness of nature, which had its basis in genuine religious faith.

It seems to me, however, that in his affectionate loyalty Mr. Austen-Leigh has laid too great a stress on the sweetness of her character as opposed to its strong individuality. Her letters show that she could speak as sarcastically of her acquaintances as of the creatures of her imagination, though she would have scorned to frighten or hurt anyone by her cleverness. Elizabeth Bennet’s remark to Darcy may be accepted as her creator’s apologia. "I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. For her family she loved to point an epigram or improve an anecdote, and she would often raise a laugh by describing her friends in imaginary situations, and then making fun of the actions she had invented for them. In her letters, almost all of which were written to her sister, and therefore should not be judged as if they had been intended for publication, it is not always easy to tell when the sharp sayings are to be taken seriously, though they would never have been misunderstood by her correspondent. These letters have been often, but perhaps too hastily, dismissed as disappointing. They are treated as if—to use her own expression—she had been merely ringing the changes of the glads and sorrys throughout. But, though not revelations like the novels, they are bright and well written, and give very much the same impression that she once formulated to her sister, I have been talking to you as fast as I could through the whole of this letter." They show that in many ways she resembled her heroines, being firmly attached to her family, and given to neighborly charity, but not averse to dancing, flirting, match-making, and forming new acquaintances. It appears further that she was an admirable needle-woman, and had an eye for dress. Like Elizabeth Bennet, she was a fast and energetic walker.

The letters contain many satiric passages as piquant as those in the novels, and only less interesting to us because they refer to persons of whom we know nothing. The effect produced by her writings upon one of her contemporaries is shown by the following passage from the biographical notice prefixed to M. Hyacinthe de F.’s French translation of Northanger Abbey: Son talent pour créer des caractères était naturel et infini. Le style de sa correspondance était le même que celui de ses nouvelles. Tout ce que sa plume traçait était parfait; elle avait des idées claires sur chaque sujet, ses expressions étaient toujours bien choisies, et je crois ne rien hasarder en assurant qu’elle n’a rien écrit, ni lettre, ni billet, qui ne fût digne de l’impression. This is obviously an exaggeration, but, from a French writer, it is a striking tribute to Miss Austen’s powers of style. It was written in 1824, and must therefore, so far as it concerns her correspondence, have been founded on the few letters that were printed in the original preface to Northanger Abbey.

Something of her character has been revealed, but of the events of her life there is little to know. She was born on December 16, 1775, in the pretty little country parsonage of Steventon, in Hampshire, where she spent the first twenty-six years of her life. In 1801 her father gave up his parochial duties to his son, and went with his family to Bath, where they remained till his death in February 1805. The mother and daughters then lived for awhile at Southampton, but in 1809 settled into what her nephew has fitly called Jane’s second home at Chawton, near Winchester, on the estate which her brother Edward inherited from Mr. Knight of Godmersham Park, who had adopted him. It was here that during the year 1816 her last illness laid its hold upon her. She did not quickly give way to it, and, indeed, suffered comparatively little, but those who watched her saw with alarm how steadily her weakness increased, and in May 1817 she was persuaded to move to Winchester to consult a Mr. Lyford—a surgeon of some reputation. In that city she died on July 18th, 1817, having at the end told her attendants that she wanted nothing but death. She was buried in Winchester Cathedral.

Of the persons among whom this quiet life was spent, Mr. Austen-Leigh has told us something. Her father, called at Oxford the handsome proctor, and her mother, the great niece of old Dr. Theophilus Leigh, sometime master of Balliol, were not ordinary people, the former being distinguished for his charm of manner and sanguine temperament, the latter for her strong common-sense and lively imagination. Jane’s five brothers were all upright and agreeable men, apparently sharing her affection in equal proportions, though the fact of the two youngest having been sailors accounts for the enthusiasm for the profession which is shown in some of her novels, and the eldest is said to have directed her early reading. But the member of the family with whom she had the closest bond was her sister Cassandra, the amiable Miss Austen, as she calls her. Being three years Jane’s senior, she was treated as a sort of confessor, and she was eminently fitted for the position by her sympathetic and well-balanced nature, which had been matured by an unembittering disappointment in love. It was to her that Jane’s letters were nearly all written, and they prove her to have been an ideal elder sister. She was probably not an intellectual woman, but she was accomplished according to the standard of her circle, and her portrait of her sister, reproduced at the beginning of Mr. Austen-Leigh’s life, is not without merit.

Cassandra and Jane received their education together, at a school to which the familiar passage in Emma might probably be applied.{1} Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a school—not a seminary, or an establishment, or anything which professed, in long sentences of refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality, upon new principles and new systems—and where young ladies for enormous pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity—but a real, honest, old-fashioned boarding school, where a reasonable quantity of accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price, and where girls might be sent to be out of the way, and scramble themselves into a little education, without any danger of coming back prodigies. They would have been neither able nor anxious to indulge in the Miss Bertrarns’ childish boasts. ‘How long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the chronological order of the Kings of England, with the dates of their accession, and most of the principal events of their reigns.’ ‘Yes,’ added the other, ‘and of the Roman emperors as low as Severus; besides a great deal of the heathen mythology, and all the metals, semi-metals, plants, and distinguished philosophers.’

Jane Austen had, however, a decided talent for music, and shared with her family the taste for reading aloud to which she so often gives expression in her books. She also acquired what was for those days a very good knowledge of the French language from a cousin who came to live with them after her husband, the Comte de Feuillade, had been guillotined, and who ultimately married Henry Austen. This lady had adopted a good many French habits and tastes, and it was this perhaps that led her to take a leading part in the private theatricals, which the family were accustomed to get up when Jane was a girl, and which are supposed to have given her material for the episode in Mansfield Park, when Edmund Bertram forsakes his principles to appear on the boards.

Beyond her family were also many friends and relatives who came and went across the path of her life, stirring her to various degrees of affection. But of acquaintances formed by literary fame she had practically none. Though her books were published anonymously, the secret of their authorship was not very rigorously kept; but no one seems to have sought out the young novelist, and she never thought of trying to enter any society beyond her family circle. It is said that she refused to be introduced as the author of Pride and Prejudice, and she once declared that she was rather frightened by hearing that someone wished to make her acquaintance:—If I am a kind of wild beast I cannot help it. It is not my own fault. In marked contrast to such writers as Miss Burney and George Eliot, she worked all her life without the stimulus of the intellectual companionship and conversation of literary men. It is a most remarkable fact that she never alluded to this want, of which she cannot have been entirely unconscious. She did not regard the possession of genius as any excuse for losing her interest in the passing concerns of those around her, or even allowing it to slacken. Her correspondence shows her to have been one who, among women of letters, was almost alone in her freedom from a lettered vanity{2}—a freedom which has indeed been seldom equaled by authors of her critic’s sex. She wrote to amuse her correspondents, and seldom referred to her books. We should have been disposed to regret the large share of her time and attention which was given to the affairs of everyday life if her work appeared to have suffered from it. But her whole development was thoroughly healthy and well-balanced. The self-respect of true genius led her to take pride and delight in the exercise and perfecting of her powers, and prevented her from yielding to false ideals of self-sacrifice.

She began to write at an early age, and the specimen which Mr. Austen-Leigh gives of her childish compositions is certainly clever. Some idea of its date may be gathered from her letter of advice to a niece, in which she recommends her to cease writing till the age of sixteen on the ground that she had herself often wished she had read more and written less in the corresponding years of her life. These first nonsensical pieces were followed by burlesques of the style of romance which was then fashionable. It seems to me probable that Lady Susan was written soon after these, since it is certainly inferior to her other work, and was generally believed by her family to be a youthful composition. Moreover, it is in the form of letters, like the first draft of Sense and Sensibility.

Her first period of serious composition began early, and was of brief duration. Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Northanger Abbey were all written at Steventon between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-three. During the eight years she spent at Bath and Southampton she produced nothing but the fragment of The Watsons, with which she was evidently dissatisfied, and which she never attempted to finish. When she had settled in Chawton she revised the three former novels for the press, and also wrote Emma, Mansfield Park, and Persuasion between the ages of thirty-six and forty-one. It is generally admitted that she produced one masterpiece during each of the two periods. At the time of her death she was engaged upon a novel, of which a few extracts have been published, but we have not sufficient material to judge even of its promise.

We are told that she wrote always on little slips of paper in the family sitting-room, and never resented interruptions, her friends, indeed, not being generally aware of what she was doing. As Mr. Goldwin Smith has suggested, she was probably enabled to work thus only after a good deal of thought, and much may have been elaborated in her mind before the business of transcribing began. Although she wrote entirely about the class in which she mixed, her characters were never exact portraits. She considered the drawing from individuals to be an invasion of social proprieties, and added that she was too proud of her gentlemen to admit that they were only Mr. A. and Colonel B. She did not find her inspiration in books, though the correctness and finish of her style must have been partly due to her reading. We do not hear that she had any wide acquaintance with literature, but she was familiar with the works of Richardson and Miss Burney, while she loved Dr. Johnson and Crabbe, especially the latter, and declared that if ever she married at all, she could fancy being Mrs. Crabbe. It is fortunate, however, that she did not attempt to imitate any of them in her writings.

A curious correspondence has been published, and often commented upon, between Jane Austen and the Prince Regent’s worthy librarian, Mr. Clarke. The Prince is said to have admired her novels, and, on hearing that she was visiting town, commissioned Mr. Clarke to show her his library, and give her leave to dedicate a future novel to his Royal Highness. She was shown every attention, and the librarian, we presume on his own authority, afterwards proposed to her two subjects on which she might suitably employ her genius—the life of a model and cultivated clergyman, and the history of the House of Coburg. Miss Austen, of course, declined the offer with all the demure propriety of which she was mistress. It was this incident in part, no doubt, that suggested the spirited Plan of a Novel according to Hints from Various Quarters, in which she touches off the conventional British hero of frank and noble masculinity, and the heroine of the sweet ivy type in the midst of a world of irredeemable villains.

With singular self-insight Jane Austen spoke once of the little bit of ivory two inches wide, on which she worked with a brush so fine as to produce little effect after much labor. She gives us a further glimpse of her methods in the following comments on a young relative’s attempts in the art of novel writing:—You are now collecting your people delightfully, getting them exactly into such a spot as is the delight of my life. Three or four families in a country village is the very thing to work on, and I hope you will do a great deal more, and make full use of them, while they are so favorably arranged. On the two-inch bit of ivory of a country village she drew her finished miniatures, and took every advantage of the favorable arrangement. Moreover, there is a sense in which she produced little effect after much labor. Her novels are practically without plot or passion, and treat only of a limited class during a particular period. The country life of the upper middle class at the beginning of the century is her theme, and she makes no effort to vary it. It is moreover in the course of their daily life that her characters betray themselves, on those trivial occasions when humanity does not take the trouble to act a part. With the supreme moments of misery or exaltation she has seldom concerned herself.

The well-known entry in Sir Walter Scott’s journal, under March 14, 1826, contains an allusion to the same characteristics. "Read again, and for the third time at least, Miss Austen’s very finely written novel, Pride and Prejudice. That young lady had a talent for describing the involvements and feelings and characters of ordinary life, which is to me the most wonderful I ever met with. The big Bow-Wow strain I can do myself like any now going; but the exquisite touch, which renders ordinary commonplace things and characters interesting from the truth of the description and the sentiment, is denied to me. What a pity such a gifted creature died so early." This is a genial appreciation, more judicious perhaps than his article in the Quarterly for 1818. Not even the authority of Sir Walter Scott can convince us that Elizabeth Bennet was induced to accept Darcy by the sight of his fine estate, or that Mr. Woodhouse and Miss Bates are too often brought forward, and too long dwelt upon. His conclusion is interesting, however. Upon the whole, the tone of this author’s novels bears the same relation to that of the sentimental and romantic cast, that cornfields and cottages and meadows bear to the highly adorned grounds of a show mansion or the rugged sublimities of a mountain landscape. It is neither so captivating as the one, nor so grand as the other, but it affords to those who frequent it a pleasure nearly allied with the experience of their own social habits.

In 1821 Archbishop Whately reviewed her novels for the Quarterly in a more enthusiastic style, pronouncing Persuasion to be one of the most elegant fictions of common life we ever remember to have met with.

There is abundant internal evidence of Miss Austen’s keen interest in her work, which is also disclosed in her letters. Northanger Abbey contains a protest against the conventional abuse of novels, in which she describes incidentally her own ideal. She complains that novelists join the public in slighting the performances which have only genius, wit, and taste to recommend them, and will not suffer their heroines to degrade themselves by the perusal of "some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humor, are conveyed to the world in the best chosen language."

Such was Miss Austen’s notion of what her art should be, and the application of the words to her own writings would hardly be an exaggeration.

She had not perhaps the most complete knowledge of human nature, but within her range she succeeded in producing a marvelous variety. Lord Macaulay has emphasized this point with his accustomed generosity of treatment in his essay on Fanny Burney. Highest of those who have exhibited human nature by means of dialogue stands Shakespeare. His variety is like the variety of nature, endless diversity, scarcely any monstrosity. . . . Shakespeare has neither equal nor second. But among the writers who, in the point which we have noticed, have approached nearest to the manner of the great master, we have no hesitation in placing Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. She has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a certain sense, commonplace, all such as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they were the most eccentric of human beings. There are, for example, four clergymen, none of whom we should be surprised to find in any parsonage in the kingdom—Mr. Edward Ferrars, Mr. Henry Tilney, Mr. Edmund Bertram, and Mr. Elton. They are all specimens of the upper part of the middle class. They have all been liberally educated. They all lie under the restraints of the same sacred profession. They are all young. They are all in love. Not one of them has any hobby-horse, to use the phrase of Sterne. Not one has a ruling passion, such as we read of in Pope. Who would not have expected them to be insipid likenesses of each other? No such thing. Harpagon is not more unlike to Jourdain, Joseph Surface is not more unlike to Sir Lucius O’ Trigger, than every one of Miss Austen’s young divines is to all his reverend brethren. And almost all this is done by touches so delicate that they elude analysis, that they defy the powers of description, and that we know them to exist only by the general effect to which they have contributed.

Lord Macaulay might, perhaps, have chosen a more fortunate set of examples, for it would scarcely be rash to say that the first three young clergymen could often have changed places without doing much violence to their characters. But it would be difficult to find any other persons in Miss Austen’s novels to whom the process could be applied, and the truth of his general statement remains unshaken. Where he has hesitated to analyze the touches of differentiation, we may safely say that they are almost indescribable.

Individuality is naturally most marked in her heroines, in whom she took an especial pride. Elizabeth Bennet was her own favourite, and merits the distinction. She had the feminine capacity for making up her mind at once on any subject, and was generally in the right. She expressed her opinions, moreover, with wit and decision. But when reason and a clearer knowledge of the facts proved her to be in the wrong, she was magnanimous enough to acknowledge her mistake, and conquered her own prejudices while she disarmed her lover’s pride. To a critical and independent mind, and a strong sense of justice, she united an affectionate and sympathetic heart. Her good sense deserted her but once in her life, when she let Lydia go to Brighton without telling her father something of Wickham’s character. The exigencies of the plot may require the blunder to be made, but cannot really excuse it. And we must feel that—with the exception of a few exaggerations, perhaps allowable in satiric sketches such as Lady Catherine or Mr. Collins, and a few ungentlemanly exhibitions of Darcy’s arrogance—it is the only blot on this most brilliant novel of character.

There are many of Miss Austen’s admirers who find Emma more attractive than Elizabeth:—Such an eye!—the true hazel eye—and so brilliant! regular features, open countenance, with a complexion! oh, what a bloom of full health, and such a pretty height and size! such a firm and upright figure! There is health not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head, her glance. One hears something of a child being the ‘picture of health’; now, Emma always gives me the idea of being the complete picture of grown-up health. She is loveliness itself. Mr. Knightley, is not she? cries Mrs. Weston, and the reader is carried away by her enthusiasm. Emma is impulsive also, but her ruling passion is a love of making plans and managing people. Ah! my dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for whatever you say always comes to pass, remarks her old father, with the most unintentional sarcasm.

Emma, however, learns wisdom by the failure of her schemes while she loses none of the courageous vivacity which led her to disregard the possible criticisms of her neighbors. In this story Miss Austen seems to advocate the theory that a man and woman may venture to judge of each other’s susceptibilities, and may cultivate a friendship without the danger of raising expectations which they are not prepared to fulfill. Emma has sufficient acuteness to measure the extent of Frank Churchill’s interest in her. She deliberately chooses his society without wishing to attach him, and permits his marked gallantry without yielding her heart. They understand each other perfectly well, and are only put into a false position by his unjustifiable manner of keeping the secret of his engagement, for which his temporary discomfiture is scarcely a sufficient punishment.

It seems to me that these are Miss Austen’s great conceptions. Her other heroines but play their part, though it be a leading one, in the stories they adorn, and cannot stand alone. They were created to fill the centre of a preconceived plot, as Emma and Pride and Prejudice were written to illustrate the characters of their heroines. Elinor and Marianne Dashwood exist only to draw out each other; Fanny Price preserves her innocence amidst worldly frivolity; Anne Elliot’s sweet temper and resignation is contrasted with the selfish pride of her family; and Catherine Morland stands for young enthusiasm, steeped in romance and destined to learn that life is different from Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels. Each possesses an individual character carefully maintained, but she does not by any means absorb the reader’s interest and attention.

Miss Austen’s agreeable women do not transgress the limits of a somewhat narrow ideal of feminine excellence, in which the main ingredients are strong affections, constancy, a love of nature and books, good looks, good temper, and good breeding. Greater laxity is allowed the men. Darcy is without the openness of disposition that charms in Wickham and Willoughby; while Bingley, Wentworth, and Edward Ferrars have none of that proper masculine obstinacy and self-confidence which compel our respect for Darcy and Mr. Knightley, and Edmund Bertram and Henry Tilney are prigs, respectively solemn and vivacious.

And while the conception of a gentleman is less definite, the women are sometimes unable to distinguish between the reality and the imitation. One is surprised to find Mr. Knightley and Wickham, Darcy and Mr. Elton, included by their acquaintances in the same category. Miss Austen is, of course, aware of the differences, and lets her reader into the secret; but she does not scruple to describe her heroines as partially deceived, in spite of their natural refinement. This assumption of an uncritical attitude on the part of women belongs to her unaggressive conventionalism and conservatism. Mr. Goldwin Smith has detected a flash of Radical sympathy with the oppressed governess, in the treatment of poor Miss Taylor; but on the subject of marriage, with which her novels are mainly concerned, she adopted the principles of the more rational and high-minded portion of her conservative contemporaries, only applying them with an unusual width of judgment.

She has held up to ridicule the follies and evils of matchmaking in Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Norris, and Emma, but, in her own refined way, she was herself a match-maker at heart. She had a personal affection for the daughters of her pen, and delighted in getting them good husbands; regarding marriage as woman’s vocation, and a second attachment as the only thoroughly natural, happy, and sufficient cure for an early disappointment in love, though theoretically, as Emma tells the wondering Harriet, it is poverty only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A single woman with a very narrow income must be a ridiculous, disagreeable old maid! the proper sport of boys and girls; but a single woman of good fortune is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant as anybody else! And the distinction is not quite so much against the candor and common sense of the world as appears at first; for a very narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper. Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross.

This firm and not unreasonable belief in the desirableness of a competency tinges the matrimonial views of Miss Austen’s heroines, who, it must be admitted, have a tendency to fall in love very suitably. But apart from her treatment of Willoughby and Lucy Steele, she has shown her contempt for mercenary marriages in the caustic sentence passed on Maria Bertram—In all the important preparations of the mind she was complete: being prepared for matrimony by a hatred of home, restraint, and tranquility; by the misery of disappointed affection, and contempt of the man she was to marry; as well as in the whole story of Charlotte Lucas’s marriage. She named an early day because the stupidity with which [Mr. Collins] was favored by nature must guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its continuance, and when they were married she encouraged his taste for gardening and chose for herself a back sitting-room that he might be less often tempted to disturb her. Elizabeth visited her friend and found that Charlotte—

Like a well-conducted person,

Went on cutting bread and butter

and filling her mind entirely with domestic concerns. She had to acknowledge that it was all done very well, but there was a heavy price to pay, and Charlotte’s life must have been a poor one.

Miss Austen’s heroines expect to derive instruction, as well as a competency, from their husbands. Here, again, she ridicules the extreme form of a convention, while tacitly assuming its correctness in moderation. The commonplace masculine attitude towards women has seldom been so severely handled as in the following passage from the description of one of Catherine Morland’s early conversations with Henry Tilney—"She was heartily ashamed of her ignorance—a misplaced shame. Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. To come with a well-informed mind is to come with an inability of administering to the vanity of others, which a sensible person would always wish to avoid. A woman, especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can.

"The advantages of natural folly in a beautiful girl have been already set forth by the capital pen of a sister author, and to her treatment of the subject I will only add, in justice to men, that though, to the larger and more trifling part of the sex, imbecility in females is a great enhancement of their personal charms, there is a portion of them too reasonable, and too well-informed themselves, to desire anything more in a woman than ignorance."

Even Mr. Knightley and Darcy, however, cannot entirely avoid a didactic tone towards the women they admire, who are indeed comparatively uninformed, not having the patience to perfect themselves in any accomplishments, but yet are characterized intellectually by quick intuitions, sympathetic receptivity, and a power of apt expression. The Miss Dashwoods and Fanny Price take more interest in literary pursuits, but they also illustrate the familiar truth on the acceptance of which the novelist’s popularity must ordinarily depend: that the proper study of mankind is man.

The preponderance of human interest in her novels is shown also in the strong family affections she depicts. It was the unity of her own family, and especially her affection for her only sister, which led her to make this feature so prominent and produced the two delightful pairs of sisters that adorn her earliest novels. But though Jane and Elinor, and Elizabeth and Marianne may slightly resemble Cassandra and Jane Austen respectively, it is obvious that they are not portraits.

Such are some of the characteristics of Miss Austen’s heroes and heroines, and of the society in which they move. But this by no means exhausts the interest of her novels, in which the minor characters play an important part. Though she had a strong natural distaste for pictures of guilt and misery, she has drawn us some villains who wear sheep’s clothing for a considerable period, and seriously interfere with the course of true love. Wickham belongs to a somewhat commonplace type, being cool, selfish, and calculating, pleasing in his address and a skillful liar. Willoughby’s unaffected sensibility is a more original conception, which is well sustained. But the superior members of this class are the Crawfords. They must be called villains, inasmuch as they play the part of evil genius to hero and heroine respectively; but they are the cleverest and most attractive people in Mansfield Park. Miss Austen seems to have yielded to a sort of retributive conscientiousness, when she allowed Henry Crawford to come to a bad end after permitting him so much regeneration. It is the only one of her novels in which one regrets the climax of the plot. Henry’s tactful geniality and self-confidence would have developed Fanny, as much as Mary’s spirits and good sense would have awakened Edmund; and the actual Edmund Bertrams must have been a prodigiously dull couple.

The development of the story often depends in part on the singular stupidity of the parents and guardians. With the exception of the Gardiners, the Westons, and Lady Russell, they are either too feeble-minded or too eccentric to guide the young people under their charge, and seldom show any uneasiness on account of the fact. The inefficiency of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and of Lady Bertram is described with peculiar humor, while at the head of Miss Austen’s marvelous gallery of satiric portraits, surpassing even Mr. Collins and Miss Bates, looms the pompous person of Lady Catherine de Burgh, who constitutes herself director-general to humanity, and effects no more than the annihilation of her daughter’s individuality. Mrs. Norris has something of the same spirit, but, being without Lady Catherine’s supreme self-satisfaction, is altogether a less successful conception.

In these characters Miss Austen realizes another part of her definition of the perfect novel which should contain the liveliest effusions of wit and humor,—two qualities which are not in fact generally found together. There is wit in her compact, pithy style and spirited conversations, humor in many a subtle suggestion, situation, and delicate piece of character drawing. Elizabeth Bennet, for instance, is witty, her father humorous. Again, Mrs. Norris is a creation of wit. Lady Bertram of humor, and other examples of both might be given. But the laugh is never bitter, the gaiety rings true. The cheerfulness and even high spirits of her tone seem the more remarkable when we consider the somewhat monotonous tenor of her own life, and the same temperament is conspicuous in her heroines.

And finally, says the definition, the knowledge and skill of the novelist should be conveyed to the world in the best chosen language. It is clear that Miss Austen took great pains to perfect her style, and no one will quarrel with the result. Her phrases are evidently polished with care, and words are chosen both for their sound and sense. One may almost say that the most effective word is always found. And yet, apart from the grammatical inaccuracies which belonged to her period, she was sometimes reckless about details, such as the use of pronouns, and, if she could express an idea clearly and satisfy herself as to the balance of a sentence, she did not always take much trouble over its construction. She says of Pride and Prejudice:—There are a few typical errors. A ‘said he’ or ‘said she’ would sometimes make the dialogue more immediately clear; but ‘I do not write for such dull elves’ as have not a great deal of ingenuity in themselves. Familiarity with her books, as well as a certain delicacy of perception, is necessary for their full enjoyment, but her phrases, when once appreciated, remain in the memory from their exquisite appropriateness. She can touch off a character in a sentence, or fill in the first sketch by a marvelously minute elaboration of that which the reader had supposed already perfect.

Her favourite device of giving the full gist of conversations without actually retailing them, may perhaps be mentioned here. She omits no detail, however

Reviews for Sense and Sensibility (with and Introduction by Reginald Brimley Johnson)

[meyben_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Two sisters find love and are heartbroken by the lies and deciet that are made. Society forbids them to marry above while another is engaged.

[ritaer_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The quiet pleasure of a rereading of a well-known work.

[pwaites_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

With Jane Austen, I think there’s always a lot that I don’t understand but that hasn’t stopped me from enjoying her books.Unlike when I read Pride and Prejudice, I had no idea what happened in Sense and Sensibility or even what it was about. I’m glad this was the case – knowing that happy endings weren’t assured for the characters made it more suspenseful.“Suspenseful?” I hear you say, “How can a book about the marriage prospects of two Regency era women be suspenseful?”The answer: It’s all about the characters. Jane Austen does characters fabulously. Marianne and Elinor Dashwood, the two sisters at the heart of the novel, are fully developed characters who could walk right off the page. And what’s more, they’re likable.I became deeply involved in these characters lives even if their concerns and problems are so utterly different from my life in the 21st century.Oh, and did I mention that Jane Austen’s funny? It’s a subtle sort of wit that’s more likely to make you grin than laugh out loud, but it makes her books wonderfully enjoyable.I’m not going to bother recommending Sense and Sensibility to anyone in particular; chances are, if you live in the Western world, you’re bound to read Jane Austen at some point in your education.Originally posted on The Illustrated Page.

[doingdewey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Originally titled Elinor and Marianne, in a way the book was still named after it’s two main characters. Elinor is eminently sensible, always putting her own feelings second to looking out for her mother and sister. Elinor is the exact opposite, entirely focused on her own sensibility and feelings with a complete lack of concern for the practical. Despite their dissimilarity, both sisters will face similar challenges as they navigate society trying to find love.

This was a reread for me and the first thing I noticed was that I didn’t remember just how funny Jane Austen can be. The humor is very dry and understated, but I thought that made it even better. She rarely outright tells you anything about a character, instead giving you snapshots of their lives that show their personality. As one of the critics quoted in the book pointed out, although the book isn’t overly predictable, the characters always act self-consistently enough that their actions don’t surprise you.

Although I personally relate much more to Elinor than to Marianne, I liked that the two heroines were so different. It added interest and should give everyone a character to empathize with. The plot was strangely engaging. Events move fairly slowly and what happens is all gossip and romance; not a description that I would expect for such an enthralling book! Despite the apparently unexciting contents, I couldn’t put the book down and always wanted to know what happened next.

In addition to liking the story, I also liked the edition I picked up. It was a Barnes & Noble classics edition and it included the best extras. The introduction was less spoiler-y than many but still thought-provoking. I also liked that at the end of the book there was some extra discussion, some book club discussion questions, and a few quotes from critics across the ages. It gave some great context to the story and I’ll definitely be picking up more classics from this series.

This review first published on Doing Dewey.

[alanteder · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Review of the Audible Audio edition narrated by Rosamund PikeI'm not the audience for Jane Austen, but as this was offered in an Audible Daily Deal it was an easy pick to cross off my 1001 Books list and to try to hear what all the fuss is about.This isn't an ideal book for long travel commutes as I found my mind wandering constantly and it would only snap back to attention when Pike affected an especially entertaining upper-class voice for Mrs. Jennings or during the drama of the confrontations between Elinor and Willoughby. The scoundrel Willoughby was probably the only character of any dramatic interest.One main distraction was my constantly thinking about how these people knew each other's incomes on an annual basis? It seemed like a regular refrain throughout but the source of the information is never discussed. It is almost as if there was some sort of public domain registry for this sort of information. I began to wonder if there is any sort of annotated Jane Austen that explains these sorts of cultural nuances that will become even more inexplicable as the years pass.These are only reactions based on listening to an audio version under less than ideal circumstances. I should still try to give it a read in hardcopy format.

[wordsampersand · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.75 stars. This feels like a trial-run for later books.

[bookomaniac-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Vroeg werk van Austen. Nog vol onvolkomendheden: weinig actie, eerder confrontatie van personen, geen humor.De personages zijn eerder karikaturen, maar wel subliem, en een heel aantal van hen ondergaan een behoorlijke evolutie. Gevoelens staan centraal: tussen containment en spontaniteitMilieu: burgerlijk, bezit en vast inkomen zijn centrale referenties, alleen vriendschap en liefde als tegengif. Religie afwezig.

[adilinaria · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I never did add this! This is one of my favorite's of Jane Austen's. Everyone loves P&P, but I think this one is just a strong a contender. I love the girls in this one, the dynamic relationship of the two opposite sisters and their struggles both against each other in small ways and with their situations. If the book itself is intimidating this is one I would highly recommend the adaptation of with Kate Winslet and Alan Rickman. I adore the movie and having recently just rewatched it while ill I have to say it's done the best so far for me of adapting a novel. It cut and trim in just the right way and does the story justice.

[neckarhex · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Gelesen bisher nur auf Deutsch bzw. als Hörbuch auf Englisch (ungekürzt). All time favourite.

[karl6steel · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Given what I'm sure is below, my review's wholly unnecessary, although I'd like to complain about the precipitous marriage of Lucy Steele to Robert Ferrars. If she was going to go this way with the central conflict of the second half of the book, Austen could have resolved it even more suddenly: why not knock Lucy down with a carriage? Why not drown her in the Thames? Why not let loose a localized horde of zombies?

I'll say this to complainers about Mr Edward Ferrars: his woodenness is simply Elinor's, seen from the outside. Had we watched the novel from within Marianne's head, Edward and Elinor would have been indistinguishable.

[kimmr_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It's been quite a while since I last read Sense and Sensibility and this is the first time I've listened to it on audiobook. As I listened to Nadia May's excellent narration, I realised that there was much I'd forgotten about the book since I last read it.

I had certainly forgotten the flashes of humour and the sharpness of the satire. For example, Austen is particularly pointed in her descriptions of the indulgence with which the less satisfactory mothers amongst her characters (Fanny Dashwood, Lady Middleton) treat the misbehaviour of their offspring. These scenes are laugh-out-loud funny. However, they also made me think how often Austen must have been exposed to the ill-disciplined children of her acquaintances!

There is arguably more social commentary in Sense and Sensibility than in Austen's other novels. While the dependence of single women and the devastating potential effect of inheritance laws is also central to the plot of Pride and Prejudice, it is in Sense and Sensibility that the actual effect is felt most keenly in the situation of the Mrs Dashwood and her daughters.

Primarily, though, Sense and Sensibility is about relationships - relationships between sisters, between mothers and children, between friends. It is these relationships, good and bad, positive and negative which form the core of the novel. They are more important than the ultimate romantic pairings and just as important as the theme suggested by the title, that is, the different approaches to life of those with contrasting temperaments.

Indeed, in my view, the romantic pairings form the least satisfactory element of the novel. The resolution of the relationship between Elinor and Edward is brought about by the somewhat unsatisfactory deus ex machina of Lucy Steele's decision to exchange one brother for another. And to my mind the union of Marianne and Colonel Brandon is problematic, notwithstanding Austen's explanation that Marianne grew to love her husband. . While expected in such a novel, the romantic relationships do not have the same impact as those of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy, of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth or even of Emma Woodhouse and Mr Knightley.

Overall, I've appreciated Sense and Sensibility much more this time around than I have on previous readings. While it does not have the same emotional effect on me as my favourite Austen novel - Persuasion - it remains a masterpiece.

[m_k_m_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I'm sorry Jane, it's not you it's me. You're really very witty and you're great with the twists but blimey I find your prose a drag. It seems to push my eyes away, deliberately through sub-clause and deviation make me think about the commute and the shopping list and everything except the romantic intrigue actually being discussed. This is my noble confession, disinherit me if you must.

[chrisblocker · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I'm familiar with many Jane Austen stories, but this is the first time I've successfully read one of her novels. Years ago, surely eight or nine years now, I made a very lackluster attempt to read Mansfield Park, but I gave up within a mere ten pages. My heart just wasn't in it at the time. More so than that of many of her contemporaries, the language Austen uses can be a chore to get through and I struggled to understand what I was reading (and why). The time has come, however, to give Austen another try.Judging by the stories that have survived and remain in our hearts—from Shakespeare to Austen to Dickens to...—there really wasn't much difference in British drama for three hundreds years. Through the quirky interactions of memorable characters, these authors provide entertaining romps through sentimentality with a satirical edge. And yet, I would argue that Austen's stories were more realistic than those of her contemporaries. Certainly, Austen dwelt a bit heavily on the “woes” of the higher class, but the characters' wants and needs transcend status. Unlike many of the two-dimensional characters in the stories of the time, Austen's primary characters are individuals with ever-changing perspectives (secondary characters, not so much). Of course realism from a much more humble point-of-view was just a generation away with authors such as Anne Bronte being born in this era, but clearly Austen had her finger on the pulse of humanity.And yet these stories lack realism. How anyone can be so oblivious is beyond me. Can two people carry on a conversation for so long without realizing they're talking about two very different things? Sure, it's humorous, but it's not believable. So are these stories meant to be believable, or not? Does love ever come so easily in the end? How is it that the destitute daughters of these tales always find the one descent human in the aristocracy? I think that's the magic of Austen and it certainly works well in Sense and Sensibility. These are characters that are human and though their situations may be very different from our own, they are very much like us. Through struggles and the embrace of all that is “good” and “right,” they enter the fairy tale that so many of us envy. These are the stories that capture the heart of the romantic.Sense and Sensibility is double the romance. The characters are engaging. The wit is on point. The story is entertaining. And it's all so clever—there's an excellent word for the work of Jane Austen: clever.

[jjaylynny · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Seems cooler than P&P, but I've read P&P so many times that I may attribute to it more because I love it so. I think I should read the books before I watch the movies. I love the movie too much and the book suffered. But still-- sly humor, sneaky social commentary, great characters.

[arelenriel · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is always one of my favorite book.

[nx74defiant · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I found myself disliking Marianne. She was a bit of a selfish brat.

[atimco-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Sense and Sensibility was my first Jane Austen novel, for the simple reason that it leads off the one-volume edition of her works that I was able to snag for about 30 cents at a library booksale. I had no idea it would be the gateway to an immersive new world I had not previously imagined (and when I say immersive, I mean it; I finished this one-volume edition of Austen's six novels plus Lady Susan over the course of the following two weeks). The plot is well known and tells the story of the Dashwood family, a mother and three daughters left nearly destitute by the death of Mr. Dashwood and the laws that precluded their inheriting any significant portion of his fortune. The two elder Miss Dashwoods, Elinor and Marianne, must find a way to live in a world that afforded women very few options. The two sisters could not be more different: Elinor orders her life and behavior according to common sense, while Marianne is ruled by her sensibilities and emotions. Their adventures and misadventures in love and the world of fashion during the Regency is beautifully rendered, with layers of meaning and thought and humor under even the smallest interactions and conversations. I never knew someone could write like this. Pride and Prejudice seems the obligatory favorite of Austen's novels and I do love it very much, but Sense and Sensibility will always vie for first place in my Austenian affections. Imagine reading Austen with no background knowledge, no movie versions in your head, no knowing what the characters are going to do or where the plot is going to go. It was an amazing literary experience and one that cannot be manufactured. Five stars isn't enough to express my love for this novel. I will simply say: thank you, Jane Austen.

[virago77 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Better than I expected!

I am completely in love with the movie version. It is one of my all-time favorites and was worried that in reading the book, it would ruin the movie for me. This was not the case at all.

While it was not exactly an easy read, it was not tedious as I assumed it would be. Even though the language is not as modern as I am used to, it wasn't so difficult that I found myself confused by what I was reading. I only had to look up a few words that I was unsure of their meaning/usage.

The story itself is a beautiful one of love, family, relationships and propriety. The title makes so much sense now (duh)! This was just lovely and reading it not only made me love the movie all the more, it has given me confidence that I will enjoy other works by Ms. Austen, such as Emma, which may be next on my classics to-do list.

[frozenplums · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was the first Jane Austen book I ever read, and I was really surprised by how much I liked it. It definitely had a dated sense to it, but it was a portrayal of that era, and it was a spectacular portrayal at that. And considering its age, I found it remarkably easy to identify with. There were plot twists I didn't see coming, thoughts and actions I sympathized with, decisions I yelled at the characters for. It was wonderful, plain and simple. Two thumbs up.

[sumik_18 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Re-reading. My reread was inspired by the recent Masterpiece Classic adaptation.

[schmerguls · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Today (May 2, 1965) I have just finished this book an I have much the same feeling of enjoyment I rememer so distinctly feeling in 1954--to my then surprise--after reading Pride and Prejudice. I found Sense and sensibility so deft, so well-done, so believeable, that my admiration is extreme. Of what moment? True, but nevertheless the craft of the author: that she can create such interest with such non-melodramatic effort seems fantastic. Elinor and Marianne Dashwood are sisters, and the book is merely an account of their progress to matrimony. Yet how absorbing it all seems. And the delicious humor! E.g.: "Many were the tears shed by them in their last adieux to a place so much beloved. 'Dear, dear Norland!" said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house, on the last evening of their being there; 'when shall I cease to regret you? when learn to feel at home elsewhwere? O happy house! could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I may view you no more! and you, ye well-known trees! but you will continue the same. No leaf will decay because we are removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer! No; you will continue the same..."'

[elaineruss · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I have to admit to having almost forgotten what a joy it is to read Austen.

Having read a couple of her other novels, somehow I'd always overlooked Sense & Sensibility. It turns out to be just as sparking and cutting as the others and i'm so glad I picked it up.

The one negative is it has made me want to pick up her other books to read/reread!

[mldavis2 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I read this book for a library discussion group and it is, admittedly, somewhat outside of my normal genres. Keeping in mind the age of the work, I found the extended, paragraph length sentences tolerable and well crafted. There are lessons to be learned here, and the narration remained interesting with exemplary prose. I realize this is a classic work by a highly respected author, but at the end, I couldn't help feeling that I had just read a Victorian soap opera.

[the_hibernator · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is the story of two very different sisters: Elinor is a sensible (yet secretly passionate) young woman who must continuously reign in the wild passions of her mother and sisters - especially Marianne whose head is filled with romantic notions of one-true-love and tragedy. When their father suddenly dies with their newly-acquired estate entailed away to their half-brother John, the sisters are left destitute. John and his wife Fanny descend upon the mourning family within a fortnight and make the sisters and mother feel like unwelcome guests in their beloved home. Elinor soon forms an attachment with Fanny's brother Edward, but Fanny doesn't approve of Elinor's lack-of-fortune-or-name. So the family moves away to a cottage, leaving Edward behind. Poor Elinor must struggle with her own worries about Edward while at the same time monitoring the expensive of the house and trying to reign in the wild, all-consuming attachment of Marianne to the dashing young Willoughby. The romantic hopes of both girls spiral downwards as more and more obstacles appear. I love this story because I've always admired Elinor for both her passion and her ability to handle all problems that come her way. I also admire Colonel Brandon for his devotion to Marianne despite her ecstatic preference for the younger, handsomer, and less reserved Willoughby. This time around, I also really appreciated Marianne's character. Her youthful ideas about love were cute - and realistic for many girls of 16. :) Her development throughout the story was extraordinary. I loved the way she slowly, cluelessly, began to understand the world around her. I don't admire her, but I think she's cute and very funny. And, frankly, a more interesting character than Elinor (due to her development-of-character).To be honest, this book is just as much a favorite as Pride and Prejudice. Yes. That is right. I ADMIT that I like this book just as much (possibly a little more) than the beloved P&P.

[hopingforchange · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book would have been perfect for my M.A. research on sensibility, and I wish that I had read it then. I don't know what I can say that would do Austen justice. This novel has the social commentary we are used to in Austen novels, plus an exploration of the inner life of the mind and its manifestions in the body. I also like what she does with gender in the novel. Men, we see, are less physically affected by a degenerate mind than are women. Fascinating. You have to read this book!

[teaswirls · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I found the characters to somewhat self-absorbed and a bit silly. I couldn't empathise or feel any real emotion for their situations nor did I really care what happened to them.

And not even the gentlemen could sway me on this one! Just a bit disappointing.

[shanaqui_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I liked Sense and Sensibility quite a lot, but at the same time it seemed to drag rather. Once I hit about chapter forty, I started wondering if things would ever get resolved. There were a lot of rather silly misunderstandings and assumptions. It makes sense, with the silly characters and the rather tangled love lives they have, but it dragged more for me than Pride and Prejudice did.

I also kind of forgot about the point of the novel, the ideas of sense and sensibility and which one is better. Obviously sense triumphs, given that Elinor marries the man she wants, and Marianne marries the sensible match. Sensibility doesn't come off too badly, though. Elinor gets to marry the man she loves, despite all the obstacles, and Marianne is still a sympathetic character despite her dramatics.

There were some especially fun passages and commentaries in and amongst the story, too. Some of the observations made me giggle rather. I do see what people mean about Austen's wit.

Still, I think I'm rather Austen'd out at the moment. I still have Mansfield Park and Emma to read, but I might wait for a while.

[murphy4jacobs · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Once I overcame my false ideas about what Jane Austen wrote -- that she was some obscure author whosed by the sweater-set-and-pearls English majors at Ivy league women's colleges -- I fell all over myself to catch up. This was my second excursion, following up Pride & Prejudice. (It helped that the Emma Thompson movie came out about the same time).

This story of two sisters with opposing views on love and life seems ubiquitous to me now, although there are likely some few people ignorant of the trials of Marianne and Elinor, so I won't go into the details of the plot. However, it is safe enough, I think, to talk about the ideas that roam under the skin of the story, the ideas Austen wanted to present to the reader -- that one's personal experience is not the be-all and end-all of one's life, that we live in an interconnected world with rules and expectations we defy at our own risk, that we need not be dead leaves blown by the winds of passion. In the guise of a domestic romance, Austen details these ideas because she saw them affecting the lives of people she knew and she could imagine beyond her own circle.

Of course, even without all that rather weighty philosophy and moralizing, we have a romantic tale with highs and lows, long periods of suspense and uncertainty, and rather well drawn characters and situations. Austen's ability to create comic scenes and use wry ironic humor to underline her points makes the book a lot more fun than the now unfamiliar and complicated language of the time might make apparent to modern eyes.

If you are not familiar with the period of the novel, or if the language and culture seem obscure to you, I very much recommend reading [The Annotated Sense and Sensibility].

[abigailadams26 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I have always loved Sense and Sensibility best out of all of Jane Austen's novels, no doubt partly because it features the three Dashwood sisters (however invisible young Margaret may be), and I am one of three sisters myself. This tale of sensible Elinor and romantic Marianne, whose differing approaches to life and love are tested throughout the book, features the same sort of contest between desire and duty that gives Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre such power. It is a fitting tribute to Austen's powers as a writer, that although Elinor's "sense" is clearly meant to triumph, Marianne's "sensibility" is portrayed with such loving fondness.The story of a family of dependent women, whose fate is entirely in the hands of their male relatives, I have always found Sense and Sensibility to contain some of Austen's sharpest social criticism. The Dashwood women find themselves unwelcome guests in their own home when John Dashwood inherits the estate at Norland, and are only saved from the unpleasantness of the horrible Fanny by the kindness of Mrs. Dashwood's (male) cousin, Sir John Middleton. I have always found it fascinating that while Austen clearly endorses the more passive role that Elinor stakes out for herself, vis-a-vis romance, she simultaneously offers a very pointed critique of the enforced passivity of women, when it comes to economic activities and inheritance law.In the end though, for all its philosophical framework and subtle social commentary, Sense an Sensibility is most successful because Austen understands the complicated relations between women, particularly the bond between sisters.

[daye-26 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A romantic story. I love my sisters, but certainly Elinor and Marianne would be fantastic part of the family. Jane Austen shows how often our perceptions are wrong. Her prose style is wonderful. The times and fashions may change but people remain much the same. It is almost sure some of the characters will remind of someone you know. A lesson from this novel is that sometimes is better to wait a little bit for Mr. o Mrs. Right that get Mr. or Mrs. Wrong in a hurry.