Austen is often praised for her deft portrayal of the everyday. Virginia Woolf, no ordinary observer of the ordinary, captures Austen's particular gift in her appreciation:
She knew exactly what her
powers were, and what material they were fitted to deal with as
material should be dealt with by a writer whose standard of
finality was high. There were impressions that lay outside her
province; emotions that by no stretch or artifice could be properly
coated and covered by her own resources. For example, she could not
make a girl talk enthusiastically of banners and chapels. She could
not throw herself whole-heartedly into a romantic moment. She had
all sorts of devices for evading scenes of passion. Nature and its
beauties she approached in a sidelong way of her own. She describes
a beautiful night without once mentioning the moon. Nevertheless,
as we read the few formal phrases about “the brilliancy of an
unclouded night and the contrast of the deep shade of the
woods”, the night is at once as “solemn, and soothing,
and lovely” as she tells us, quite simply, that it was.
The balance of her gifts was singularly perfect.
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And where exactly was "her province"? Why not take a tour of The Austen House Museum?
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Next, an at-a-glance guide to the financial hierarchy of Pride and Prejudice.
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Finally, our new weekly image is a portrait of Austen by her sister, Cassandra.



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