I gather that John Halperin’s Life of Jane Austen (2nd ed., 1996) is a somewhat controversial work. In his preface to the first edition, he seems to expect it to be so—but to my mind, for the wrong reason. It is his belief that people want to see Jane Austen as a sweet, cozy woman writing sweet, cozy books, and his version of the author and her work is more tart and unfeeling. Personally, I know few if any people who consider Jane Austen either sweet or cozy; she is a realist, no purveyor of comfortable fantasy; so this feels like a paper tiger argument.
As far as the facts of Jane Austen’s life went, I found little to quarrel with in this book. The state of JA scholarship has considerably advanced since I last gave it my full attention, so I learned many details that were not previously known to me. Halperin’s focused, chronological approach was helpful. Unfortunately, he does not stop with the facts. He lasers in on all sorts of trivial details—especially in the letters—to paint a portrait of a bitter, angry, antisocial spinster, often placing the most uncharitable interpretation possible on her words. Yes, Jane Austen was a spinster, and yes, marriage was important for women of her class in her day, and no, she did not suffer fools gladly; but it seems to me an overreach to conclude that marriage (and her lack of it) was the obsessive focus of her life. (Regardless of the fact that all her novels end in a proposal accepted—that is no more than a formal convention of the genre in which she wrote.) Even his own quotations of her correspondence undermine this view. I cannot see her as primarily disappointed and embittered; her books have too much of grace and forgiveness in them. And she invariably values her craft more highly than domestic activities.
The other thing I did not especially appreciate about this book was the rather simplistic way in which Halperin draws connections between JA’s life and the characters and scenes in her novels. It can be fun as a novelist to slip in little portraits of people and places one knows, and references to real events and opinions; but in an artist of JA’s caliber, these are not ends in themselves. She slips them in not gratuitously, to reveal something about herself, but to further the development of her themes and stories. There is an alchemical process that transforms such personal details into something greater and more universal. Halperin’s interpretive approach seems over and over again to minimize her genius. One example: speaking of Sense and Sensibility, Halperin says, “When Marianne says that she ‘could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us both,’ she is also speaking with the author’s voice.” I couldn’t disagree more! I think Jane Austen is inviting us to laugh at such an adolescent point of view, not to embrace it. The recurrence of such reductive interpretations throughout greatly reduced this book’s value for me.
In short, I wish this had really been a Life of Jane Austen, as the title promises, and not a life with lit crit lite grafted onto it. And with less of the pop psychologizing from a man who appears to have a somewhat trite view of what goes on in women’s minds.