A slightly misleading post title, but I hope I will be forgiven. I was excited to come across a discussion about Jane Austen's novels in an 1829 novel by Mary Jane Mackenzie and I shared it with Jane Austen's Regency World magazine. My article appears in the November/December 2022 issue. 
   I became very interested in researching the life of the author, Mary Jane Mackenzie, and made some interesting finds which I hope to share in the near future. It's always fun to discover a completely forgotten author. 
    Mary Jane Mackenzie wrote two novels and an unknown number of short stories, but I don't predict a resurgence of popularity for her work because her writing is highly didactic and overtly Christian. Modern academia will not be interested in this writer unless they decide that she was queer, on account of the fact that she lived the latter part of her life with her "intimate friend" Harriet Auber. 
    Mackenzie was obviously well read. I've never seen a writer, female or not, drop so many literary and classical allusions into her characters' dialogue as she does. Her 1820 novel Geraldine opens with a conversation between a husband and wife. Over a few pages, the wife refers to a ‘veiled prophet,’ Horne Tooke, Johnson, Lowth, Mrs. Shandy, Griselda, ‘two stars kept their motion in one sphere,’ ‘bestow her tediousness,’ Glumdalclitch, and ‘sonnet to his mistress’s eyebrows.’  (How many did you recognize? I only got 5 out of 10).  Mary Jane Mackenzie, whatever her merits as a writer, wasn’t shy about sharing her erudition. She presumes her readers will understand what a reference to the "Cave of Trophonius" is about.
     The characters in Geraldine also debate about the theatre, poetry, music, whether French cuisine and music is better than English, and religion. 
      Whether or not she ever gets an entry in a reference guide to British writers, Miss Mackenzie had the good taste and discernment to be an early Austen fan, and in her novel Private Life the heroine tries to set an addled clergyman's widow straight on which of Austen's novels had a character named Mr. Knightley. The passage is delightful (perhaps the best part of the novel) and you can read it here.

Previous post: Jane Austen and religion
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    Often we describe an engrossing book as being "unputdownable." But sometimes you come across a book that you put down so you can think about what you just read. Then you pick it up again, and again. That's the way I enjoyed and lingered over Brenda S. Cox's new book Fashionable Goodness: Christianity in Jane Austen's England. And I know I will return to this book again in the future.
   Cox has thoughtfully, even ingeniously, designed her book for maximum clarity and ease of reference. It begins with a basic overview of the nuts and bolts, shall we say, of the Church of England in Austen's time. Don't know a rector from a vicar? Don't know what a curate does? What's an "advowson"? Cox explains these and other church-related terms in engaging and clear prose. (She also provides a handy glossary).
    Cox explains things that Austen's contemporary readers would have known all about: how a clergyman might get a "living," the role he played in society, and the basics of the Anglican church service. 
  Cox moves on to discuss the influence of the church more broadly, with frequent references to how Austen's Christian faith is reflected in her novels and in her private letters...

​    Elinor Dashwood might forgive the man she loves for not telling her he's already engaged to Lucy Steele, but modern academics are not prepared to let Edward Ferrars off the hook. They think he’s weak at best, deceitful at worst, and Dr. Helena Kelly thinks there is a Freudian connotation to his destruction of the “sheath” and the scissors in Chapter 48. 
   Like it or not, Edward Ferrars occupies the post of the hero for Sense and Sensibility. Flatly declaring that he is not a hero confuses and muddles the entire novel. Plenty of people are “meh” about the Colonel Brandon/Marianne pairing, and if we conclude that the guy who marries Elinor at the end is a wimp, a liar and a pervert, where does that leave the message of the book and where does that leave the reader?
    I thought you might be interested in knowing about Coraly, an 1819 novel whose hero is a blend of Edward Ferrars and Colonel Brandon. The heroine in this novel unquestionably is stronger than the hero, especially in her Spartan adherence to a rigid moral code. Yet, she loves the hero, he’s her guy, and they get married. So maybe our expectations for heroes are not quite the same as long 18th century expectations. Something to ponder...