I've been listening to an audiobook of Northanger Abbey (read by Juliet Stevenson) lately. I haven't had much time to listen, apart from when I'm watering the flowers. But I hope that I'll get to listen more frequently, once I'm able to start running outside again. (There have been terrible wildfires in on the West Coast lately, and Seattle is covered in a thick blanket of smoke. The air quality fluctuates between the Unhealthy, Very Unhealthy, and Hazardous levels. We haven't really gone outside for several days, except to water flowers or get groceries. And it looks like the smoke will last for at least four more days. It's just one more crazy thing to add to the stress and craziness of the Covid-19 pandemic. This year has been unbelievable in terms of hardships and natural disasters.)
Anyhow, the audiobook is quite fun. Stevenson reads the text a little bit faster than I would have liked, but her inflections and delivery capture the silliness of Mrs. Allen and the wittiness of Mr. Tilney. I was so amused by this passage, that I listened to it several times. Mr. Tilney has been dancing with Catherine Morland at a ball, and he had this teasing exchange with her:
“I see what you think of me,” said he gravely — “I shall make but a poor figure in your journal tomorrow.”
“My journal!”
“Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Lower Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings — plain black shoes — appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by a queer, half–witted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me by his nonsense.”
“Indeed I shall say no such thing.”
“Shall I tell you what you ought to say?”
“If you please.”
“I danced with a very agreeable young man, introduced by Mr. King; had a great deal of conversation with him — seems a most extraordinary genius — hope I may know more of him. That, madam, is what I wish you to say.”
“But, perhaps, I keep no journal.”
“Perhaps you are not sitting in this room, and I am not sitting by you. These are points in which a doubt is equally possible. Not keep a journal! How are your absent cousins to understand the tenour of your life in Bath without one? How are the civilities and compliments of every day to be related as they ought to be, unless noted down every evening in a journal? How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal? My dear madam, I am not so ignorant of young ladies’ ways as you wish to believe me; it is this delightful habit of journaling which largely contributes to form the easy style of writing for which ladies are so generally celebrated. Everybody allows that the talent of writing agreeable letters is peculiarly female. Nature may have done something, but I am sure it must be essentially assisted by the practice of keeping a journal" (Northanger Abbey, Chapter 3)
As someone who likes to write in a journal (and blog!), I was amused to think about trivialities of journal writing. I'm sure many of the things that I write down are trivial, and really only important to me. Sometimes I don't even know why I write things down, other than that I want to think about them further in that particular moment as I write. I don't anticipate "constant recourse to a journal" and re-reading my entries at some point, although I do go back to read previous entries occasionally. But I don't really think about chronicling things for personal future amusement and recollection. (At least not in my personal journal. I do put things in my art history blog to have as for future reference.) And I'm not sure if I want others to read my journal in the future. Maybe? Or maybe only some entries that my kids would find meaningful? I'm not sure how much to share or what is worth sharing.
The exchange in the book continues on to think about females and writing, with Mr. Tilney's observation that both men and women can excel in writing, singing, and drawing. He says, "In every power of which taste is the foundation, excellence is pretty fairly divided between the sexes." It seems clear to me that Jane Austen is expressing her own opinion here, and not just Mr. Tilney's!
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