I really enjoyed JS&MN, but then I hadn’t been led to expect anything from it. I bought it because of the cover (being one who frequently judges books by their jackets) and was pleasantly surprised. I can definitely see how her style could be more easily appreciated in more digestible chunks though, as JS&MN was rather drawn out.

@Valerie – One day, perhaps. Hey, did you ever finish watching Rozema’s version? If I remember rightly, you only saw about 15 minutes of it at last count. I’d be interested in what you thought of the film, approaching it with the knowledge that it’s a different kind of interpretation than your own and, with that knowledge, being perhaps able to divorce the film from its source.

Besides, at least one fan here who isn’t me didn’t find the change to be that great an alteration of Miss Price’s character.

Either…because in 1811, Jane Austen’s readers didn’t need a whack-upside-the-head picture of how wrong fornication is, and in 2008, we do.

Or…because in 1811, nice clergyman’s daughters like Miss A. didn’t major on the salacious details of fornication, and in 2008, not-so-nice filmmakers consider it de rigueur.

Not having seen the adaptation and not knowing anything about it, I’m not sure whether the hopeful or the cynical guess is closer to the mark.

“And to the second, more abstract question: Whether or not Elinor offers Willoughby forgiveness, is it important—or even possible—for readers and viewers to forgive a fictional character?”

I don’t think it’s technically possible to forgive a fictional person, because there’s no actual sin to forgive. And if there were actual sin, it wasn’t actual sin against you or me. But that doesn’t mean we can harbor resentment against him, either, as if he’d done us some personal harm. What we can do is to be warned by his example not to engage in similar behavior, to refuse to consider ourselves immune to that category of sin, and to be willing to forgive real people who have committed real immorality.

A more difficult question, of course, is whether I can ever forgive The Dane for the heinous crime of liking Rozema’s MP. ;-)

Valerie (Kyriosity)’s last blog post..‘Tell Me the Gospel’

I may have to abstain from that particular Mansfield Park question, since, according to a “Which Jane Austen Heroine Are You?” quiz, I AM Fanny Price.

Seriously, though, I’ve never seen the novel’s Fanny and the movie’s Fanny as incompatible. I think part of the brilliance of the novel is that Fanny’s inner strength is partially hidden from the reader, as well as from the other characters. That technique isn’t going to work as well in a movie, so more of her internal character has to be revealed. I’d also say that I don’t have a problem with the alterations in the story and characters because it does say, at the very beginning of the film, “based on Mansfield Park and Jane Austen’s letters and juvenilia” (or something to that effect).

It is interesting that we’ve arrived on the topic of Mansfield Park, because I remember that the experience of reading it the first time led me to feel more charitably towards someone I disliked. I began trying to see this person as Fanny Price rather than as Mary Crawford (my natural instinct), and it helped. In my experience, anyway, identifying people with fictional characters I already like does help me to forgive them. That’s a little different from my original question, but related.

So you enjoyed Mansfield Park. I actually enjoyed your reasoning there, with the exploration of British colonialism and its place in society. (Apropos of last week’s podcast as well, I found Mansfield Park’s uses of nudity worthwhile and helpful to the story.)

Did you take as kindly to the alteration of Fanny Price’s character from one wholly meek (as I understand it—I haven’t read the original in this case) to one who is rather introverted but contains an inner strength and fire? Some time ago, I was involved in discussion with a couple avid fans of the author who took to Patricia Rozema’s version not at all (see comments for discussion). I was wondering how this fits in with your desire for the adaptation to represent accurately the theme of its source despite the acceptable change of particulars. (Or was that more Ben’s perspective than your own…) Or do you see the alteration of Fanny Price as being less consequential to the tale’s theme than those who are horrified by the film?

p.s. sorry to take this away from Willoughby (as handsome as he is…).

I’m extremely fond of that Mansfield Park adaptation, in part because it addresses those questions that so many people have upon first encountering Austen characters (i.e., “Don’t these people do anything for a living?” “Where does their money come from?). Answer: no, they don’t do anything for a living (except the occasional parson), and their society’s economy is based on colonialism and slavery. The film shows you that–it doesn’t dwell upon it, because it’s not knowledge that would have been accessible to Fanny Price–but at least shows you that. And it does so without implying that there’s somehow a lack in Austen’s novel or that she should have addressed these issues herself. I think it does go a little too far in comparing enslavement of Africans to oppression of women, but that’s just my own belief that it’s usually a bad idea to compare different sorts of suffering.

Also, I think this was an interesting follow-up to the discussion about adaptations, as Austen is pretty variously adapted. One of my favourites of tail end of the ’90s crop was one of the least faithful: Mansfield Park. Purists tend to hate it, but I always find it rather enjoyable.

In our current age, Willoughby’s actions may be seen more gravely, betraying in him a deep-seated misogyny. No longer is the seducer of the young merely seen as someone who uses others for his own ends. Now we add, and probably rightly, the accusation of hatred of his victim. Whereas before, identifying one as a cad would garner perhaps some finger-waggling, Tsk-tsking, and maybe a little quiet admiration (e.g., the mythos of Errol Flynn), today’s cad is seen to actively hate women, showing nothing but contempt for them as people, preferring to see them solely as tools for gratification and reputation.

To your second question, I think that yes, we should be willing to forgive fictional characters so long as they seem repentant. In this case, Willoughby shows some degree of repentance in Marianne’s regard, but brushes Eliza under the rug.

So, I suppose, we forgive him for Marianne but not for Eliza.

Part of the difficulty of stories is that we rarely get to see the end of the matter and we do not get to communicate our concerns to the party of interest. Strictly speaking, I wonder if it is even our place to forgive. Case in point, is it my place to forgive Brad Pitt for divorcing his wife for Angelina Jolie? After all, the only affect his action has on me is that I sometimes see things about it at the newsstand. Should I forgive King David? I don’t know. I tend to think not. And if not them, then probably not Willoughby either.

Still, I think it always pays to see things from the other person’s side, to engage their perspective and attempt a little empathy. In the end, I think we’ll see how little different we really are in the end.