The New Jane Austen

Ooh, readers, pressing question alert! The press at large—or at least the publicity machine for one (Mr.) AR Grundy, which is surely the same thing, right?—poses a stunning (…or something) dilemma to the world: Could the new Jane Austen be a man? Inquiring minds want—nay, demand!—to know!

Now. First of all, to paraphrase one Dana Scully, please explain to me the scientific nature of “the new Jane Austen.”

The new Jane Austen is…well, a novelist,  one hopes. A novelist, perhaps, whose work concerns the social and emotional relationships of families? Families and small towns? Love and betrayal? Friendship? Death and taxes? Marriage and all its predecessors? Or, as one might call it, life?

Does the new Jane Austen use characters? Well-drawn ones, with flaws and favorites and intentions, both good and ill?

Does the new Jane Austen sprinkle his or her prose with sharp, appealing little moments of wit? What about truth? Is there truth in there, either emotional or spiritual or social, hidden among the plot and the characters and everything else that we’ve already established as part of the new Jane Austen’s milieu?

If so, it sure is a good thing this new Jane Austen’s coming up through the ranks—because surely, after two hundred years of international literary history, the only possible choices are the original Jane and this guy.

Mystery: solved.