Book Review: Austenland

I’ll admit it. I was sucked in by the cover (the one you see above and not the horrible chick lit version used for the paperback). The dust jacket reads, “Jane Hayes is a seemingly normal young New Yorker, but she has a secret. Her obsession with Mr. Darcy, as played by Colin Firth in the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, is ruining her life. No real man can compare.” Hmm, that sounds familiar (minus the ruined life. Miss Osborne thinks she has a fine life despite her spinsterhood). How could I not buy this book?

Sadly, Austenland did not live up to expectations. The first red flag was in Chapter 1, when the main character hides her Pride and Prejudice DVDs in a plant during a visit from her aunt. Sure, there are many people who don’t understand how someone can be content watching the same movie over and over again. I am not ashamed to admit that certain movies, TV shows, and books beckon me repeatedly. So I’m perplexed that a woman who loves the Colin Firth P&P would be embarrassed by anyone seeing her DVDs. (For the record, my DVDs sit comfortably next to the TV, ready at any moment for viewing.)

Another thing that rubbed me the wrong way was the Fantasy Island quality of Jane’s Regency vacation. I have to admit that my aversion to playing dress-up is probably outweighing my ability to go with the flow of the novel. See, if you go to enough Star Trek conventions (as I have been known to do) and you’re not into dressing up (as I am not), you start to worry that people might think everyone who goes to cons either likes to dress up as a Klingon or hang out at Ren Faires in wench attire. While I love the Regency-era dresses, I don’t want to dress up in them every day and prance around reading sonnets and drinking tea. Even more importantly, my aversion to play-acting is a hundred times stronger than not wanting to dress the part. Granted, Jane didn’t choose a Regency vacation, so my problem is less about the character’s choices than about being a little weirded out at the idea that anyone would spend their vacation that way.

Mostly, though, I’m offended by the idea that failed relationships are caused by a woman’s desire to have her Mr. Darcy. It’s bad enough hearing from my family that I’m single because I’m too picky. (Note: They don’t specifically cite my love of Colin-Firth-as-Darcy, but they may as well.) But to have a humorous book about relationships and Jane Austen support the idea, well, that cheeses me off. Clearly, there’s more to relationships than being able to check off the following attributes:

• Tall, dark, and handsome (and looks doubly good when fencing or drenched in pond water)
• Witty and good at letter-writing
• Desirable income
• Reserved in crowds but charming once he opens up
• Dedicated to family
• Pissy at douchebag former childhood friends with tendencies toward bedding minors

But there’s also nothing wrong with having high expectations about a potential mate’s basic moral fiber.

I can’t wholeheartedly recommend this book, but I vaguely recall the main character redeeming herself, and I had some laughs at the little bits that reminded me of myself and my girlfriends. So read, if you must. Or, better yet, rent Lost in Austen if you want to experience the wacky hijinks of a modern-day gal stuck in a Regency environment.