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katbancroft 's review for:
Persuasion
by Jane Austen
emotional
hopeful
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Undoubtedly Jane Austen’s most mature, melancholy work. The emotions are heavier here than in her other books, and consequently carry a greater depth of feeling. The way Anne suffers under the weight of her mistakes, feels unworthy of Captain Wentworth’s regard, rekindles hope for his affections, and ultimately grows into a stronger version of herself was a beautiful but sometimes rather uncomfortable mirror to look into — and it certainly hit different on a reread, now that I’m the same age as Anne Elliot.
Like I’ve noted in my reviews of other Austen books, I sometimes struggled with the formality of the language, and at key moments wished for more “showing” than “telling.” But damn, “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you” has nothing on “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.” There’s a truer, deeper love in “Persuasion” than in Austen’s other books, a love that’s survived heartbreak and separation, anger and resentment. I don’t think it will ever stop hurting my heart a little, that Austen could so exquisitely articulate the kind of love she must have desired but never experienced for herself. It’s hopeful to me, though, that to the end of her life, she never stopped believing that love like this exists, that ordinary men and women can create something powerful and devoted and sublime. It makes me want to believe in that, too, and I’ll always cherish the ache of “Persuasion” for breathing some life into my most painful wants.
Like I’ve noted in my reviews of other Austen books, I sometimes struggled with the formality of the language, and at key moments wished for more “showing” than “telling.” But damn, “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you” has nothing on “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.” There’s a truer, deeper love in “Persuasion” than in Austen’s other books, a love that’s survived heartbreak and separation, anger and resentment. I don’t think it will ever stop hurting my heart a little, that Austen could so exquisitely articulate the kind of love she must have desired but never experienced for herself. It’s hopeful to me, though, that to the end of her life, she never stopped believing that love like this exists, that ordinary men and women can create something powerful and devoted and sublime. It makes me want to believe in that, too, and I’ll always cherish the ache of “Persuasion” for breathing some life into my most painful wants.