I am one of those humans who has mixed feelings about Jane Austen… don’t kill me. Ironically, Catherine, the protagonist of Austen’s first written though last published novel puts the reason for this best:

‘If people like to read their books, it is all very well, but to be at so much trouble in filling great volumes, which, as I used to think, nobody would willingly ever look into, to be labouring only for the torment of little boys and girls, always struck me as hard fate’ (Austen, 79).

Like Catherine was forced to read history books, at school I was forced to read Austen. As much as I loved Pride and Prejudice the first time I read it, after two years of analysing the narratology and the stress of having to retake the exam, Austen became a ‘torment’ rather than a joy.

However…

I absolutely love Northanger Abbey. Not only is it hilarious, it is perceptive, subtle and hard to put down. To me, this is Austen at her best. Catherine has to be one of my favourite literary characters. Here is why…

‘… for they were in general very plain, and Catherine, for many years of her life, as plain as any… She could never learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid’ (Austen, 3).

Cutting perhaps, but I love this description. Catherine is just normal. She sounds just like me, or you, or anyone. She’s not the strong willed, bright eyed Elizabeth, or the forthright, out spoken Emma. She’s plain old Catherine, and I love that.

Northanger Abbey follows Catherine’s adventures on her first trip to Bath. With her nose in Ann Radcliffe’s gothic romance, The Mysteries of Udolpho, she meets lots of different people on her trip, including eligible bachelor Henry Tilney. When she is invited to stay at his family’s abbey, she cannot contain her excitement. A real abbey! Just like the ones she reads about! What follows are events that neither Catherine, nor the reader could have predicted…

Austen supplies many different ways to interpret this book. Is it a critique of reading for pleasure? Is it a critique of gothic romance? Is it a critique of readers? Or is it a critique of society?

Who knows? But by looking more closely at Catherine Morland’s character, I hope to get a little closer to answering these questions.

Catherine – the ultimate fan girl?

I read Catherine as the ultimate fan girl. Urban Dictionary defines a ‘fan girl’ as follows:

‘A rabid breed of human female who is obsessed with either a fictional character or an actor. Similar to the breed of fanboy. Fangirls congregate at anime conventions and livejournal. Have been known to glomp, grope, and tackle when encountering said obsessions.

Hugh Jackman: ‘ello.

Fangirl: SQUEEEEEE! *immediately attaches to Jackman’s leg*

Jackman: Security!’

I don’t think Catherine’s preconceptions of Northanger Abbey or her actions when she arrives are much less extreme than the above definition illustrates. Rather than ‘SQUEEEEEE’ at Hugh Jackman, she follows in the footsteps of her gothic heroines, echoing their language and actions almost precisely, as if she is following a set of instructions.

‘This is strange indeed! I did not expect such a sight as this! – An immense heavy chest! – What can it hold? – Why should it be placed here? – Pushed back too, as if meant to be out of sight! – I will look into it – cost me what it may, I will look into it – and directly too – by daylight. – If I stay till evening my candle may go out.’ (Austen, 118).

Catherine’s actions here are very funny, and we laugh at her even more when all she discovers is ‘a white cotton counterpane, properly folded’ (Austen 119). But why are we laughing at her? Are her actions embarrassing, or even dangerous and deluded?

During these moments, the narrative voice seems to drastically change. Austen is known for her cutting authorial intrusion, yet in Catherine’s little gothic fantasy, Austen seems to hide her authoritative voice, giving the impression that Catherine is now leading the plot, the heroine in her own story. The reader becomes deeply aligned to Catherine, and is given an insight into her imagination, with Austen only obviously critiquing Catherine’s naivety when Catherine herself has realised her folly. This allows us to become as deeply immersed in Catherine’s narrative as she is, even when we begin to distrust Catherine’s deductions, we are still engaged and wanting to know what the anti-climax will be this time!

Perhaps as she progresses deeper and deeper into her gothic fantasy, blames General Tilney of murder and takes it upon herself to explore the private sections of the abbey, we do become angry at Catherine’s naivety. Certainly, as I was reading the novel, I began to become frustrated as Catherine began to fixate on her goal to uncover ‘the truth’ about General Tilney the murderer at the expense of her friendship with Eleanor Tilney and respect for the family. When asking Eleanor about her mother, rather than support her clearly dejected, upset and lonely friend, Catherine instead invasively enquires ‘Was she a very charming woman? Was she handsome? Was there a picture of her in the Abbey? And why had she been so partial to that grove? Was it from dejection from spirits?’ (Austen, 131). Furthermore, her confidence that the General must have been cruel to his wife just because he has not hung her picture up in the house is immature and naïve; I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps the General is still grieving and therefore cannot face looking at his dead wife’s picture.

Despite this, I find it very hard to be too critical of Catherine’s actions. I think really a lot of the reason I find her character amusing and warm to her so quickly is because I see myself in her.

Even now, when I visit somewhere new I want to explore. I remember the first time I visited my Granny and Papa’s new house; they have loads of cupboards that connect behind the walls, and in those cupboards are loads of their old clothes, books, and other random items. I used to explore there all the time with my cousin, making up stories, playing hide and seek, and trying to find Papa’s secret stash of fudge. Still, this Christmas, I played these exact same games with my little cousins at Granny and Papa’s house. I don’t think you ever really grow out of this want to explore, or this ability to create a fiction out of what is around you, just because it is fun and exciting. I can hardly blame Catherine for her false deductions when I did the same.

So is what Catherine is doing really that bad? She is so fascinated by the books she reads she gets excited about visiting places in those books, just like I get super excited about travelling in London now I have watched the BBC series of Sherlock…

I don’t think, therefore, that Austen is critiquing Catherine the reader, or the books that she is reading. If anything, Catherine’s imagination helps her to learn to be happy in the ‘real world’. I suppose, in a way, books for Catherine are a bit like Instagram or vlogs for us. Sometimes it can be difficult to separate yourself from what you see online, or what you read in books. Perhaps, it is only through learning about how to separate yourself from this and find happiness in your own life that we can go on Instagram or read the magazines and be positively, rather than negatively influenced by them. This is the lesson that Catherine learns – to be happy with what she has.