The other day on Facebook someone — let’s call her X — complained about a (non-Jane Austen) novel that she couldn’t finish, because she couldn’t like the heroine enough to “root” for her.
Some people berated X, but I’m actually a massive believer in not finishing a book. (Sooooooo many books, such little time!)
Also, books need to catch you at the right point in your age/experience. Here are my recommended ages (since absolutely nobody asked me) for when a booklover should first approach Austen:
- Before they’re 20: Pride and Prejudice
- When aged between 20–25: Sense and Sensibility
- Once they’ve reached about 30: Northanger Abbey, Emma, Persuasion, Lady Susan, Mansfield Park
Of course, some people will never appreciate the last few — and the order is significant — but we’re talking intelligent booklovers, so there is hope!
Returning to the Facebook bookworm page, some readers stoutly supported X’s decision to quit a book because she couldn’t empathise with its protagonist.
I didn’t. Instead, I remembered, aged thirteen, arguing with a friend that Scarlett in Gone with the Wind was too great a character to miss, even though she was wicked. In other words, I’ve always been bothered by the view that you have to “root” for a character in order to appreciate a book.
I do, however, understand the thrill of rooting for a heroine. After all, I rooted for Pippa Longstocking. (I loved Pippa Longstocking!!!) I rooted for Anne of Green Gables. (I wanted to be Anne of Green Gables!!!!) And yes, I rooted for every single one of The Little Women, though for some sisters more than others. I was also crazy about Enid Blyton’s school stories, The Secret Garden, The Little Princess, Ballet Shoes and all those horsy books like Jill’s Gymkhana (and yes, I definitely wanted to be Jill, who had not one but two ponies!!!)
But — follow me like a lizard here — I’m a grown-up now and capable of caring about Anna Karenina (the noted adulteress), Maria Bertram of Mansfield Park (ditto) and even the devious Lady Susan. Hey, I’m even capable of caring about Raskolnikov, of Crime and Punishment, the murderer of a harmless old lady.
(Please note: I’m saying that I’m capable of “caring about” these characters. I’m not saying that I’m hoping to model my behaviour on them. I’m certainly not urging my daughter at Harvard to follow Lady Susan ’s lead. Nor am I proposing that admirers of my novels dump their current squeezes in favour of a Henry Crawford — though, were I married to a Mr Rushworth, I can definitely see how that idea might hold some attraction. I’m also against any and all murders.)
I’m simply saying that I can still care about the Anna Kareninas, Maria Bertrams, Lady Susans and even Raskolnikovs. I don’t have to admire them — or to picture myself in their positions — to “get” where they’re coming from or to learn from their remorse (surprisingly often, their lack of it).
This is where I think that those readers who limit themselves to reading about people they like, admire or aspire to be — are missing out. They’re stuck at the same stage where we all were once but have mostly moved on from. As an example, let’s analyse Scarlett O’Hara of Gone with the Wind. Is she an admirable character? Um, no.
Why not?
First, she’s hugely jealous of Melanie because Melanie marries the dishy Ashley (whom Scarlett has a lifelong crush on). She’s every bit as catty about Melanie as Caroline Bingley is about Elizabeth Bennet.
Secondly, her morals are lousy. She’s tries to inveigle Ashley into adultery even more outrageously than Maria Bertram tries with Henry Crawford. If she doesn’t wind up an adulteress like Maria — and she doesn’t — this is through no virtue of her own. Instead, it’s thanks to the strong principles of her crush, Ashley Wilkes.
Thirdly, Scarlett also uses all three of her husbands and both of her sisters infamously, even stealing one sister’s fiancée in order to salvage the family plantation. (The fate of the plantation’s in her hands, the O’Hara’s having drawn the short straw in the Civil War.) She steals her sister’s fiancé by telling him — entirely untruthfully — that said sister was marrying another man. In fact, Scarlett uses loads of people — even Rhett Butler, her third husband, and nobody’s fool — whom she only marries for money.
So, do I admire Scarlett? No way, José. I think she’s immoral, selfish, manipulative, self-centred, thoughtless, untruthful, catty, jealous, money-grubbing, outrageous and wicked.
But is she also a fantastic, vibrant, thrilling, unpredictable, and unforgettable heroine?
You bet. She keeps you reading to the very last page (from memory, page 655. Yeah, a really long book — which reads like a novella.)
And the end of Gone with the Wind is brilliantly ambiguous. Yes, it’s a HEA! — Scarlett knows herself at last! But hang on, um, no, it isn’t — because, just as Scarlett finally recognises that she’s in love with Rhett and not Ashley, she learns that Rhett (famously) no longer “gives a damn”. In the end, the book’s upshot is left open: Scarlett vows she’ll win Rhett back, but we never learn whether or not she succeeds. Margaret Mitchell is treating her readers like the grown-ups we are.
And yes, in a very strange, very complicated, very adult way, I’m “rooting” for Scarlett — to the very end of Gone with the Wind, and even beyond. She awakens a massive range of emotions in me, the average reader. This is why the book is so famous, so long-lasting — and so never-out-of-print. And reading books that arouse such complex feelings is what makes me such a fascinating writer. (Only joking! — I think.) However, and very seriously, any reader and any writer will find themselves enriched by taking on books with complex layers, and by learning to empathise with a character not their own. And frankly, when top scientists did experiments proving that reading literary novels can improve levels of intelligence, it was not Pippi Longstocking they had in mind. (Check out this link, if interested.)
So if you’re still limiting yourself to reading about protagonists you can root for, I recommend you give a more nuanced book a try. Of course, you might very well not finish it… but it might just open up a whole new fictional world!
PS If you enjoyed this short article, please consider checking out the 24-author blog on Always Austen. I also blog here. | 
