October 19, 2020
What Givney’s debut lacks in style compared to the works of Jane Austen, its eponymous heroine, it makes up for in its infectious enthusiasm. At 28, Jane is acutely aware that if she does not secure a husband soon, she will face the financial uncertainty and shame of spinsterhood. When her latest marital prospect ends in disaster, Jane turns to a mysterious London matchmaker and abruptly finds herself transported to present-day Bath, landing on the film set of an adaptation of Northanger Abbey. Though bewildered by the technology and customs of this new time, Jane is relieved to find a true friend in the romantically-challenged Sofia Wentworth, the film’s star, and an unexpected affection for Sofia’s kindhearted brother, Fred. But as Jane realizes true love, her books begin to disappear from shelves, forcing her to choose between the past and the present. Givney’s clever plot suffers from awkward pacing and stilted prose, particularly apparent in the lackluster dialogue of Jane herself, but there is no doubt that the real love story here is for Austen’s enduring literary legacy. Readers will come away eager to rediscover Austen’s books.
October 31, 2019
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Jane Austen re-imaginings are an uneven offering. Some are brilliant; some less so. The fundamental challenges of this niche, however, remain constant: that the stories themselves remain relevant to a contemporary audience, and that the language, pace, and writing style of the early 1800s do not. Rachel Givney is the latest writer to step into Jane’s inimitable shoes, and while it is refreshing to read a novel that builds from Persuasion (rather than the ubiquitous Pride and Prejudice) her debut novel Jane in Love relies too heavily on the mannered language of Austen’s novel and not heavily enough on its core emotion and humour. Jane herself is a character who, through some machinations, finds herself in contemporary London. The conflict then becomes whether Jane will return to the past to write the novels that make her famous or stay in the present with a potential lover. There is something perverse about this decision: Jane having to be sad in order to be creatively brilliant leans a bit too heavily on the notion that art only comes from pain (and extending that thought, that artists deserve to suffer). Coupled with extended sequences of Jane reacting to modern conveniences (escalators, for example), in the end this Austen reimagining takes too long to find its heart.