Austen

I can’t remember where I first heard about All Roads Lead To Austen (2012) by Amy Elizabeth Smart – but it certainly ended up on my wishlist at some point, and my parents kindly gave it to me for Christmas a couple of years ago. What a treat it is. In the apparently unending world of books about Jane Austen, I will always have time for unusual memoirs relating to her books – and this one, in which Smith tours various Latin American countries teaching Austen’s novels, is exactly the sort of hook that reels me in.

What is it about Jane Austen that makes us talk about the characters as if they’re real people? People we recognise in our own lives, two centuries after Austen created them? When my first development leave from the university rolled around, I decided it was time for me to try my own Austen project, just like my students do. Something creative, something fun. So I got to wondering: the special connection that people feel with Austen’s world, this Austen magic – would it happen with people in another country, reading Austen in translation?

And that is exactly the project that Smith undertakes. She is an academic at an American university, so she is approaching the task with a great deal of knowledge – not simply the amateur’s enthusiasm. But along the way she will be mixing the two with the people she meets: some are people studying from a literary background, while others are juggling reading the book with three jobs or full-time childcare. Smith’s book assumes we are already familiar with the plots of all of Austen’s novels – but are ready to question our assumptions about them, and how believable we think the characters and plots could possibly be today.

In the course of Smith’s travels, she goes to Guatemala, Mexico, Ecuador, Chile, Paraguay, and Argentina. Since she is travelling on her own, this does mean we have to get used to a new cast of characters ever time she lands in a new country. She does a very good job at making us feel familiar with the most important people in each location, and I didn’t find that I was confusing the different groups of readers.

While Smith is an academic, this is a book for anyone – and I appreciated that as much time was given to logistics and personal hopes as we get in the actual discussions and reflections on Austen’s novels. That might mean panicking that nobody is going to join the group, or being frustrated that someone dominant has decided they’re going to read a different book altogether, or how to manage her own expectations when the local cultural norm is to accept every invitation even if you have no intention of going. Smith manages to maintain a clear respect for each different culture she visits, never suggesting the American way is superior, while also conveying how comfortable she does or doesn’t feel in each place.

Sometimes she is literally uncomfortable – along the way, Smith has a number of health incidents that are also documented (including her unfortunate experiences with some of the healthcare professionals along the way – and much better experiences with others).

But fear not – we are not short-changed when it comes to Austen chat. Many of the groups of readers want to talk about the characters (and some have only seen an adaptation), whereas other groups are more interested in literary technique. Smith records all the conversations, so is able to reproduce them. Here’s a little bit from Ecuador:

“I like him just the way he is,” Meli insisted, unintentionally echoing Darcy’s literary descendant Mark Darcy of Bridget Jones fame. “I like him from the first moment.”

“But not that Bingley, ugh!” Leti grimaced at the thought of Jane’s gentle suitor.

“He’s a big nothing,” Fernanda agreed.

Wow! I’d never heard Bingley so maligned. I was reminded of the harshness of the women’s judgements in Guatemala on men perceived to be weak.

“The one that’s really the worst,” offered Meli, “is that cousin, Collins.”

Leti rolled her eyes and groaned. “All of his pontificating, his tackiness! Horrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiible!“

A colourful list of insults followed. Collins is un tarado (a cretin), un blando (a coward), un fofo (a wimp) – in short, ridículo.

It’s all great fun to read. And in each country, Smith asks whether they think the events of the novels could happen today – and gets an intriguing range of answers. She also asks for any early women writers in each country, often getting told household names who aren’t well-known outside of the country in question. I certainly came away with a wide range of possible books to try.

Smith is such a likeable narrator and has clear affection and respect for everyone she meets. There is even a little romance along the way for Smith, which lends the book something unexpected and rather delightful to follow. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with this Janeite – an unusual and fun idea for a book carried out beautifully. Jane would have enjoyed it, and you can’t give a greater compliment than that.