Charlotte by Helen Moffett

Anyone who knows me will have a pretty good idea that Regency-era novels are possibly not quite on my radar, but I'm a firm believer of reading widely and reading outside of my chosen genres, so here goes. Charlotte by Helen Moffett is the sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice you didn't know you needed to read. But truth be told, I'd heard so much about darling Charlotte that I went and read Pride and Prejudice so that I'd be suitably prepared with all the back story in place.

I'll start by saying that P&P is an important book to read, and a clever one, because it sneakily delivers biting social critique for its time, and in that sense exists as a capsule reminding us how far we've come in terms of women's rights. Moffett takes up where Austen has left off, and instead of doing the expected, rather continues the story from the point of view of Charlotte Lucas, who is so easy to overlook otherwise yet who nevertheless also has a compelling story. While Mr Collins is the opinionated, somewhat buffoonish, brown-nosed idiot I absolutely loathed in P&P, Moffett does the last thing I expected – she redeems him.

The underlying theme of Charlotte is clear: it's about women not meekly accepting the conventions and expectations laid down by society, but bit by bit finding ways to subvert them and overcome them. This may be seen in how Charlotte deftly handles a matter of inheritance or how an absolutely delightful secondary character goes haring off on a most unsuitable adventure for gently bred women. Even if Moffett does, I feel, take a few more liberties with characters' actions than I think Austen would back in the day, the end result is still plausible and satisfying.

Not only has Moffett continue the storyline with her own, signature twist, but she's also preserved Austen's style of writing, which in itself is no mean feat. And while Moffett's own particular brand of poetry creeps out in key scenes this is in no way jarring. Moffett takes this opportunity to display her rare talent for evocative imagery that had me feel as though I were walking right there on the grounds of Pemberley.

I won't spoil anything further, but I'll urge anyone who's ever loved Pride and Prejudice to go and track down a copy of Charlotte. Moffett has certainly left enough tantalising breadcrumbs that may lead to further stories to follow on from this one.

Charlotte was exactly the comfort reading I needed to read the moment I tucked into it, and I savoured every page.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I'll admit, the thing that made this novel easier for me to figure out was that I'd watched Pride and Prejudice (2005) starring Keira Knightley. I'd put off reading the actual Jane Austen novel for most of my life. This is not my usual fare, at all, but because a good friend of mine, Helen Moffett, is seeing the release of her P&P sequel Charlotte, I figured I'd better get reading so that I could have the background.

Historical fiction written during contemporary times is one thing, but actual fiction from more than hundred years ago is quite another. Austen writes for an audience that would take conventions in clothing and the environment for granted, focusing instead of dialogue and mannerisms. So we're left with a kind of shallow, limited third person that doesn't feed readers who're used to a deeper point of view. So it helps immensely for folks like me, who honestly don't have a clue, to have watched that film. It gave me useful context. Don't be ashamed to watch the film before reading the novel.

I believe it does the book a disservice to evaluate it using contemporary standards. Authors these days have a deep well of literary conventions to draw from, so applying those to Austen will rob the book of much of its character. For me, P&P exists as a time capsule, offering a glimpse into particular cultural and social mores prevalent within English society at the time. We step into a world where characters are trapped by their status within society, and while it can be argued that many of Austen's characters are shallow (um, hello, Mr Collins much), I feel that Austen is taking stabs at society. And it makes me also realise how much society has changed, and what we, as women, take for granted in terms of our liberties and empowerment in contemporary times.

While I didn't gain the same sort of enjoyment from Pride and Prejudice as I would from the usual titles I'll slide onto my Kindle, I nonetheless walked away from this novel feeling as if I'd gained a better understanding as to why Regency-era stories have carved themselves such a beloved niche among readers. It's easy to loathe some of the characters, and at a glance, people like Mrs Bennett seem facile and annoying, but if you dig a little deeper, the social commentary becomes crystal clear. Sure, Mrs Bennett's obsession with marrying off her daughters seems exhausting, but if you understand her very real fears that she would not be able to care for them if they never got married – for there were no prospects for a woman in those days to have a career – then it's possible to be more sympathetic towards her. Despite each character having perceived privileges, they themselves are trapped by their social standing. And don't get me started on Mr Collins, and especially his appalling commentary when one of Elizabeth's sisters elopes.

It took me some time to get used to Austen's style, and now that I'm done with the novel, I also realise it's a story that begs being reread at some point. The beauty of the telling lies in what the characters have to say to each other, and how they respond to circumstances, and I feel on the first read through there were many subtleties that I may have missed.