A review by mimikyu
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

4.25

"Marianne was silent; it was impossible for her to say what she did not feel, however trivial the occasion; and upon Elinor therefore the whole task of telling lies when politeness required it, always fell."

. . .

"Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition."

Pride and Prejudice was so singularly influential in the shaping of my young mind, read and re-read over and over so obsessively from about the age of eight years old, that stepping into the pages of any other work of Jane Austen's for the first time in my life at 25 still somehow feels like coming home. Her razor-sharp power of observation, her ability to cut right to the core of everything absurd and hilarious and true about humanity, no different 200 years later, still takes my breath away. The dynamic between the sisters, especially, is something so touching and honest, so painful and lovely. Austen's writing so masterfully recognizes and reflects something I simply don't find anywhere else.

The only thing that soured me here was

Marianne's ending

. Despite her modern pop culture presence, I know well and good Austen was no romantic. Her interest was not in love, but in people and society, and how love interacts with them. I understand that. I would be willing to accept

such a cold, depressing fate for Marianne

, if I believed the story truly understood it to be so. But as it stands, along with some insights from the scholarly introduction of the edition I read, the ending comes across to me as some sort of moral tale, a just retribution for correcting character flaws. I had been enjoying the complex interplaying elements for the whole reading journey, but this here at the end was a stumble for me.

Still, what an absolute treat to return to the familiar, competent, brilliant hands of the Mistress of Satirical Wit. Such strong characters, instantly understood through such dryly hilarious dialogue, such a dissection of this charade of society we put ourselves through. I can't wait to make my way through the rest of her work.