Austen played a leading part in the transition from the novels of sensibility of the eighteenth century to the literary realism that came to be characteristic of nineteenth century fiction. The place of women was held subservient to the superiority of men in the world of the time, and the froth that was literature is deprecated in savage, but always genteel, commentary. Topics such as the dependence of women on marriage if any sort of favourable social regard or even economic security were to be had, are grist for Austen’s biting irony. People, who read reviews, will certainly be aware that the real Jane Austen has become famous over the centuries for six novels that held the landed gentry of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries up to scrutiny. Of course I am referring to Jane Austen who, living out her life on her own terms, died without an inkling that she would one day become one of the most famous novelists on several continents. She compounded her objectionability with her preference for reading and walking, and became the cynosure of all eyes by her preference for writing over the empty-headed chit-chat that was customary among her fellows.
People remain fascinated by a spinster with no apparent redeeming qualities who failed to fit in with her society’s Number One requirement of any woman of the time viz that she find herself a husband.
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