Tuesday is the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth, so today I spoke to John Mullan, professor of English Literature at UCL, author of What Matters in Jane Austen. John and I talked about how Austen’s fiction would have developed if she had not died young, the innovations of Persuasion, wealth inequality in Austen, slavery and theatricals in Mansfield Park, as well as Iris Murdoch, A.S. Byatt, Patricia Beer, the Dunciad, and the Booker Prize. This was an excellent episode. My thanks to John!

Transcript

Henry Oliver (00:00)

Today, I am talking to John Mullen. John is a professor of English literature at University College London, and he is the author of many splendid books, including How Novels Work and the Artful Dickens. I recommend the Artful Dickens to you all. But today we are talking about Jane Austen because it’s going to be her birthday in a couple of days. And John wrote What Matters in Jane Austen, which is another book I recommend to you all. John, welcome.

John Mullan (00:51)

It’s great to be here.

Henry Oliver (00:53)

What do you think would have happened to Austin’s fiction if she had not died young?

John Mullan (00:58)

Ha ha! I’ve been waiting all this year to be asked that question from somebody truly perspicacious. ⁓ Because it’s a question I often answer even though I’m not asked it, because it’s a very interesting one, I think. And also, I think it’s a bit, it’s answerable a little bit because there was a certain trajectory to her career. I think it’s very difficult to imagine what she would have written.

John Mullan (01:28)

But I think there are two things which are almost certain. The first is that she would have gone on writing and that she would have written a deal more novels. And then even the possibility that there has been in the past of her being overlooked or neglected would have been closed. ⁓ And secondly, and perhaps more significantly for her, I think she would have become well known.

in her own lifetime. you know, partly that’s because she was already being outed, as it were, you know, of course, as ⁓ you’ll know, Henry, you know, she published all the novels that were published in her lifetime were published anonymously. So even people who were who were following her career and who bought a novel like Mansfield Park, which said on the title page by the author of Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice, they knew they knew.

John Mullan (02:26)

were getting something by the same author, they wouldn’t necessarily have known the author’s name and I think that would have become, as it did with other authors who began anonymously, that would have disappeared and she would have become something of a literary celebrity I would suggest and then she would have met other authors and she’d have been invited to some London literary parties in effect and I think that would have been very interesting how that might have changed her writing.

John Mullan (02:54)

if it would have changed her writing as well as her life. She, like everybody else, would have met Coleridge. ⁓ I think that would have happened. She would have become a name in her own lifetime and that would have meant that her partial disappearance, I think, from sort of public consciousness in the 19th century wouldn’t have happened.

Henry Oliver (03:17)

It’s interesting to think, you know, if she had been, depending on how old she would have been, could she have read the Pickwick papers? How would she have reacted to that? Yes. Yeah. Nope.

John Mullan (03:24)

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Yes, she would have been in her 60s, but that’s not so old, speaking of somebody in their 60s. ⁓ Yes, it’s a very interesting notion, isn’t it? I mean, there would have been other things which happened after her premature demise, which she might have responded to. I think particularly there was a terrific fashion for before Dickens came along in the 1830s, there was a terrific fashion in the 1820s for what were called silver fork novels, which were novels of sort of high life of kind of the kind of people who knew Byron, but I mean as fictional characters. And we don’t read them anymore, but they were they were quite sort of high quality, glossy products and people loved them. And I’m I like to think she might have reacted to that with her sort of with her disdain, think, her witty disdain for all aristocrats. know, nobody with a title is really any good in her novels, are they? And, you know, the nearest you get is Mr. Darcy, who is an Earl’s nephew. And that’s more of a problem for him than almost anything else. ⁓ She would surely have responded satirically to that fashion.

Henry Oliver (04:28)

Hahaha.

Yes, and then we might have had a Hazlitt essay about her as well, which would have been all these lost gems. Yes. Are there ways in which persuasion was innovative that Emma was not?

John Mullan (04:58)

Yes, yes, yes, yes. I know, I know.

⁓ gosh, all right, you’re homing in on the real tricky ones. Okay, okay. ⁓ That Emma was not. Yes, I think so. I think it took, in its method, it took further what she had done in Emma.

Henry Oliver (05:14)

Ha ha.

This is your exam today,

John Mullan (05:36)

which is that method of kind of we inhabit the consciousness of a character. And I I think of Jane Austen as a writer who is always reacting to her own last novel, as it were. And I think, you know, probably the Beatles were like that or Mozart was like that. think, you know, great artists often are like that, that at a certain stage, if what they’re doing is so different from what everybody else has done before,

they stop being influenced by anybody else. They just influence themselves. And so I think after Emma, Jane Austen had this extraordinary ⁓ method she perfected in that novel, this free indirect style of a third-person narration, which is filtered through the consciousness of a character who in Emma’s case is self-deludedly wrong about almost everything. And it’s...

brilliantly tricksy and mischievous and elaborate use of that device which tricks even the reader quite often, certainly the first time reader. And then she got to persuasion and I think she is at least doing something new and different with that method which is there’s Anne Elliot. Anne Elliot’s a good person. Anne Elliot’s judgment is very good. She’s the most cultured and cultivated of Jane Austen’s heroines. She is, as Jane Austen herself said about Anne Elliot, almost too good for me. And so what she does is she gives her a whole new vein of self-deception, which is the self-deception in the way of a good person who always wants to think things are worse than they are and who always, who, because suspicious of their own desires and motives sort of tamps them down and suppresses them. And we live in this extraordinary mind of this character who’s often ignored, she’s always overhearing conversations. Almost every dialogue in the novel seems to be something Anne overhears rather than takes part in. And the consciousness of a character who

doesn’t want to acknowledge things in themselves which you and I might think were quite natural and reasonable and indeed in our psychotherapeutic age to be expressed from the rooftops. You still fancy this guy? Fine! Admit it to yourself. ⁓ No. So it’s not repression actually, exactly. It’s a sort of virtuous self-control somehow which I think lots of readers find rather masochistic about her.

Henry Oliver (08:38)

I find that book interesting because in Sense and Sensibility she’s sort of opposed self-command with self-expression, but she doesn’t do that in Persuasion. She says, no, no, I’m just going to be the courage of, no, self-command. know, Eleanor becomes the heroine.

John Mullan (08:48)

Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. But with the odd with the odd burst of Mariannes, I was watching the I thought execrable Netflix ⁓ persuasion done about two or three years ago ⁓ with the luminous Dakota Johnson as as you know, as Anne Elliot. You could not believe her bloom had faded one little bit, I think.

John Mullan (09:23)

And ⁓ I don’t know if you saw it, but the modus operandi rather following the lead set by that film, The Favourite, which was set in Queen Anne’s reign, but adopted the Demotic English of the 21st century. similarly, this adaptation, much influenced by Fleabag, decided to deal with the challenge of Jane Austen’s dialogue by simply not using it, you know, and having her speak in a completely contemporary idiom. But there were just one or two lines, very, very few from the novel, that appeared. And when they appeared, they sort of cried through the screen at you. And one of them, slightly to qualify what you’ve just said, was a line I’d hardly noticed before. as it was one of the few Austin lines in the programme, in the film, I really noticed it.

And it was much more Marianne than Eleanor. And that’s when, I don’t know if you remember, and Captain Wentworth, they’re in Bath. So now they are sort of used to talking to each other. And Louisa Musgrove’s done her recovering from injury and gone off and got engaged to Captain Benwick, Captain Benwick. So Wentworth’s a free man. And Anne is aware, becoming aware that he may be still interested in her. And there’s a card party, an evening party arranged by Sir Walter Elliot. And Captain Wentworth is given an invitation, even though they used to disapprove of him because he’s now a naval hero and a rich man. And Captain Wentworth and Anna making slightly awkward conversation. And Captain Wentworth says, you did not used to like cards.

I mean, he realizes what he said, because what he said is, remember you eight years ago. I remember we didn’t have to do cards. We did snogging and music. That’s what we did. But anyway, he did not used to like cards. And he suddenly realizes what a giveaway that is. And he says something like, but then time brings many changes. And she says, she cries out, I am not so much changed.

Henry Oliver (11:23)

Mm. Mm, yes, yes. Yep.

Yes.

Cries out, yeah.

John Mullan (11:50)

It’s absolutely electric line and that’s not Eleanor is it? That’s not an Eleanor-ish line. ⁓ Eleanor would say indeed time evinces such dispositions in most extraordinary ways. She would say some Johnsonian thing wouldn’t she? so I don’t think it’s quite a return to the same territory or the same kind of psychology.

Henry Oliver (12:05)

That’s right. Yes, yes, yeah.

No, that’s interesting, yeah. One of the things that happens in Persuasion is that you get this impressionistic writing. So a bit like Mrs. Elliot talking while she picks strawberries. When Lady Russell comes into Bath, you get that wonderful scene of the noises and the sounds. Is this a sort of step forward in a way? And you can think of Austen as not an evolutionary missing link as such, but she’s sort of halfway between Humphrey Clinker and Mr. Jangle.

Is that something that she would have sort of developed?

John Mullan (12:49)

I think that’s quite possible. haven’t really thought about it before, but you’re right. think there are these, ⁓ there are especially, they’re impressionistic ⁓ passages which are tied up with Anne’s emotions. And there’s an absolutely, I think, short, simple, but extraordinarily original one when she meets him again after eight years. And it says something like, the room was full, full of people. Mary said something and you’re in the blur of it. He said all that was right, you know, and she can’t hear the words, she can’t hear the words and you can’t hear the words and you’re inside and she’s even, you’re even sort of looking at the floor because she’s looking at the floor and in Anne’s sort of consciousness, often slightly fevered despite itself, you do exactly get this sort of, ⁓ for want of a better word, blur of impressions, which is entirely unlike, isn’t it, Emma’s sort of ⁓ drama of inner thought, which is always assertive, argumentative, perhaps self-correcting sometimes, but nothing if not confidently articulate.

John Mullan (14:17)

And with Anne, it’s a blur of stuff. there is a sort of perhaps a kind of inklings of a stream of consciousness method there.

Henry Oliver (14:27)

I think so, yeah. Why is it that Flaubert and other writers get all the credit for what Jane Austen invented?

John Mullan (14:35)

Join my campaign, Henry. It is so vexing. It is vexing. sometimes thought, I sometimes have thought, but perhaps this is a little xenophobic of me, that the reason that Jane Austen is too little appreciated and read in France is because then they would have to admit that Flaubertdidn’t do it first, you know. ⁓

Henry Oliver (14:40)

It’s vexing, isn’t it?

John Mullan (15:04)

I mean, I suppose there’s an answer from literary history, which is simply for various reasons, ⁓ some of them to do with what became fashionable in literary fiction, as we would now call it. Jane Austen was not very widely read or known in the 19th century. So it wasn’t as if, as it were, Tolstoy was reading Jane Austen and saying, this is not up to much. He wasn’t. He was reading Elizabeth Gaskell.

Jane Eyre ⁓ and tons of Dickens, tons, every single word Dickens published, of course. ⁓ So Jane Austen, know, to cite an example I’ve just referred to, I Charlotte Bronte knew nothing of Jane Austen until George Henry Lewis, George Eliot’s partner, who is carrying the torch for Jane Austen, said, you really should read some. And that’s why we have her famous letter saying, it’s, you know, it’s commonplace and foolish things she said. But so I think the first thing to establish is she was really not very widely read. So it wasn’t that people were reading it and not getting it. It was which, you know, I think there’s a little bit of that with Dickens. He was very widely read and people because of that almost didn’t see how innovative he was, how extraordinarily experimental. It was too weird. But they still loved it as comic or melodramatic fiction. But I think Jane Austen simply wasn’t very widely read until the late 19th century. So I don’t know if Flaubert read her. I would say almost certainly not. Dickens owned a set of Jane Austen, but that was amongst 350 selecting volumes of the select British novelists. Probably he never read Jane Austen. Tolstoy and you know never did, you know I bet Dostoevsky didn’t, any number of great writers didn’t.

Henry Oliver (17:09)

I find it hard to believe that Dickens didn’t read her.

John Mullan (17:12)

Well, I don’t actually, I’m afraid, because I mean the one occasion that I know of in his surviving correspondence when she’s mentioned is after the publication of Little Dorrit when ⁓ his great bosom friend Forster writes to him and says, Flora Finching, that must be Miss Bates. Yes. You must have been thinking of Miss Bates.

John Mullan (17:41)

And he didn’t write it in a sort of, you plagiarist type way, I he was saying you’ve varied, it’s a variation upon that character and Dickens we wrote back and we have his reply absolutely denying this. Unfortunately his denial doesn’t make it clear whether he knew who Miss Bates was but hadn’t it been influenced or whether he simply didn’t know but what he doesn’t… It’s the one opportunity where he could have said, well, of course I’ve read Emma, but that’s not my sort of thing. ⁓ of course I delight in Miss Bates, but I had no idea of thinking of her when I... He has every opportunity to say something about Jane Austen and he doesn’t say anything about her. He just says, no.

Henry Oliver (18:29)

But doesn’t he elsewhere deny having read Jane Eyre? And that’s just like, no one believes you, Charles.

John Mullan (18:32)

Yes.

Well, he may deny it, but he also elsewhere admits to it. Yeah.

Henry Oliver (18:39)

Okay, but you know, just because he doesn’t come out with it.

John Mullan (18:43)

No, no, it’s true, but he wouldn’t have been singular and not reading Jane Austen. That’s what I’m saying. Yes. So it’s possible to ignore her innovativeness simply by not having read her. But I do think, I mean, briefly, that there is another thing as well, which is that really until the late 20th century almost, even though she’d become a wide, hugely famous, hugely widely read and staple of sort of A levels and undergraduate courses author, her real, ⁓ her sort of experiments with form were still very rarely acknowledged. And I mean, it was only really, I think in the sort of almost 1980s, really a lot in my working lifetime that people have started saying the kind of thing you were asking about now but hang on free and direct style no forget flow bear forget Henry James I mean they’re terrific but actually this woman who never met an accomplished author in her life who had no literary exchanges with fellow writers

She did it at a little table in a house in Hampshire. Just did it.

Henry Oliver (20:14)

Was she a Tory or an Enlightenment Liberal or something else?

John Mullan (20:19)

⁓ well I think the likeliest, if I had to pin my colours to a mast, I think she would be a combination of the two things you said. I think she would have been an enlightenment Tory, as it were. So I think there is some evidence that ⁓ perhaps because also I think she was probably quite reasonably devout Anglican. So there is some evidence that… She might have been conservative with a small C, but I think she was also an enlightenment person. I think she and her, especially her father and at least a couple of her brothers, you know, would have sat around reading 18th century texts and having enlightened discussions and clearly they were, you know, and they had, it’s perfect, you know, absolutely hard and fast evidence, for instance, that they would have been that they were sympathetic to the abolition of slavery, that they were ⁓ sceptics about the virtues of monarchical power and clear-eyed about its corruption, that they had no, Jane Austen, as I said at the beginning of this exchange, had no great respect or admiration for the aristocratic ruling class at all. ⁓ So there’s aspects of her politics which aren’t conservative with a big C anyway, but I think enlightened, think, I mean I, you know, I got into all this because I loved her novels, I’ve almost found out about her family inadvertently because you meet scary J-Night experts at Jane Austen Society of North America conferences and if you don’t know about it, they look at scants. But it is all interesting and I think her family were rather terrific actually, her immediate family. I think they were enlightened, bookish, optimistic, optimistic people who didn’t sit around moaning about the state of the country or their own, you know, not having been left enough money in exes will. And...

I think that they were in the broadest sense enlightened people by the standard of their times and perhaps by any standards.

Henry Oliver (22:42)

Is Mansfield Park about slavery?

John Mullan (22:45)

Not at all, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think so. And I think, you know, the famous little passage, for it is only a passage in which Edmund and Fanny talk about the fact it’s not a direct dialogue. They are having a dialogue about the fact that they had, but Fanny had this conversation or attempt at conversation ⁓ a day or two before. And until relatively recently, nobody much commented on that passage. It doesn’t mean they didn’t read it or understand it, but now I have not had an interview, a conversation, a dialogue involving Mansfield Park in the last, in living memory, which hasn’t mentioned it, because it’s so apparently responsive to our priorities, our needs and our interests. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But I think it’s a it’s a parenthetic part of the novel. ⁓ And of course, there was this Edward Said article some decades ago, which became very widely known and widely read. And although I think Edward Said, you know, was a was a wonderful writer in many ways. ⁓

I think he just completely misunderstands it ⁓ in a way that’s rather strange for a literary critic because he says it sort of represents, you know, author’s and a whole society’s silence about this issue, the source of wealth for these people in provincial England being the enslavement of people the other side of the Atlantic. But of course, Jane Auster didn’t have to put that bit in her novel, if she’d wanted really to remain silent, she wouldn’t have put it in, would she? And the conversation is one where Edmund says, know, ⁓ you know, my father would have liked you to continue when you were asking about, yeah, and she says, but there was such terrible silence. And she’s referring to the other Bertram siblings who indeed are, of course, heedless, selfish ⁓ young people who certainly will not want to know that their affluence is underwritten by, you know, the employment of slaves on a sugar plantation. But the implication, I think, of that passage is very clearly that Fanny would have, the reader of the time would have been expected to infer that Fanny shares the sympathies that Jane Austen, with her admiration, her love, she says, of Thomas Clarkson. The countries leading abolitionists would have had and that Edmund would also share them. And I think Edmund is saying something rather surprising, which I’ve always sort of wondered about, which is he’s saying, my father would have liked to talk about it more. And what does that mean? Does that mean, my father’s actually, he’s one of these enlightened ones who’s kind of, you know, freeing the slaves or does it mean, my father actually knows how to defend his corner? He would have been

You know, he doesn’t he doesn’t feel threatened or worried about discussing it. It’s not at all clear where Sir Thomas is in this, but I think it’s pretty clear where Edmund and Fanny are.

Henry Oliver (26:08)

How seriously do you take the idea that we are supposed to disapprove of the family theatricals and that young ladies putting on plays at home is immoral?

John Mullan (26:31)

Well, I would, mean, perhaps I could quote what two students who were discussing exactly this issue said quite some time ago in a class where a seminar was running on Mansfield Park. And one of the students can’t remember their names, I’m afraid. I can’t remember their identities, so I’m safe to quote them. ⁓ They’re now probably running PR companies or commercial solicitors. And one of them I would say a less perceptive student said, why the big deal about the amateur dramatics? I mean, what’s Jane Austen’s problem? And there was a pause and another student in the room who I would suggest was a bit more of an alpha student said, really, I’m surprised you asked that. I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel in which I’ve seen characters behaving so badly as this.

And I think that’s the answer. The answer isn’t that the amateur dramatics themselves are sort of wrong, because of course Jane Austen and her family did them. They indulged in them. ⁓ It’s that it gives the opportunity, the license for appalling, mean truly appalling behaviour. I mean, Henry Crawford, you know, to cut to the chase on this, Henry Crawford is seducing a woman in front of her fiance and he enjoys it not just because he enjoys seducing women, that’s what he does, but because it’s in front of him and he gets an extra kick out of it. You know, he has himself after all already said earlier in the novel, oh, I much prefer an engaged woman, he has said to his sister and Mrs. Grant. Yes, of course he does. So he’s doing that. Mariah and Julia are fighting over him. Mr. Rushworth, he’s not behaving badly, he’s just behaving like a silly arse. Mary Crawford, my goodness, what is she up to? She’s up to using the amateur dramatics for her own kind of seductions whilst pretending to be sort of doing it almost unwillingly. I mean, it seems to me an elaborate, beautifully choreographed elaboration of the selfishness, sensuality and hypocrisy of almost everybody involved. And it’s not because it’s amateur dramatics, but amateur dramatics gives them the chance to behave so badly.

Henry Oliver (29:26)

Someone told me that Thomas Piketty says that Jane Austen depicts a society in which inequality of wealth is natural and morally justified. Is that true?

John Mullan (29:29)

Ha

⁓

Well, again, Thomas Piketty, I wish we had him here for a good old mud wrestle. ⁓ I would say that the problem with his analysis is the coupling of the two adjectives, natural and morally right. I think there is a strong argument that inequality is depicted as natural or at least inevitable, inescapable in Jane Austen’s novels.

but not morally right, as it were. In fact, not at all morally right. There is a certain, I think you could be exaggerated little and call it almost fatalism about that such inequalities. Do you remember Mr. Knightley says to Emma, in Emma, when he’s admonishing her for her, you know, again, a different way, terribly bad behavior.

Henry Oliver (30:38)

At the picnic.

John Mullan (30:39)

At the picnic when she’s humiliated

Miss Bates really and Mr Knightley says something like if she’d been your equal you know then it wouldn’t have been so bad because she could have retaliated she could have come back but she’s not and she says and he says something like I won’t get the words exactly right but I can get quite close he says since

her youth, she has sunk. And if she lives much longer, will sink further. And he doesn’t say, ⁓ well, we must have a collection to do something about it, or we must have a revolution to do something about it, or if only the government would bring in better pensions, you know, he doesn’t, he doesn’t sort of rail against it as we feel obliged to. ⁓ He just accepts it as an inevitable part of what happens because of the bad luck of her birth, of the career that her father followed, of the fact that he died too early probably, of the fact that she herself never married and so on. That’s the way it is. And Mr Knightley is, I think, a remarkably kind character, he’s one of the kindest people in Jane Austen and he’s always doing surreptitious kindnesses to people and you know he gives the Bates’s stuff, things to eat and so on. He arranges for his carriage to carry them places but he accepts that that is the order of things. ⁓ But I, you know Henry, I don’t know what you think, I think reading novels or literature perhaps more generally, but especially novels from the past, is when you’re responding to your question to Mr. Piketty’s quote, is quite a sort of, can be quite an interesting corrective to our own vanities, I think, because we, I mean, I’m not saying, you know, the poor are always with us, as it were, like Jesus, but... ⁓ You know, we are so ⁓ used to speaking and arguing as if any degree of poverty is in principle politically remediable, you know, and should be. And characters in Jane Austen don’t think that way. And I don’t think Jane Austen thought that way.

Henry Oliver (33:16)

Yes, yes. Yeah.

The other thing I would say is that ⁓ the people who discuss Jane Austen publicly and write about her are usually middle class or on middle class incomes. And there’s a kind of collective blindness to the fact that what we call Miss Bates poverty simply means that she’s slipping out of the upper middle class and she will no longer have her maid.

⁓ It doesn’t actually mean, she’ll still be living on a lot more than a factory worker, who at that time would have been living on a lot more than an agricultural worker, and who would have been living on a lot more than someone in what we would think of as destitution, or someone who was necessitous or whatever. So there’s a certain extent to which I actually think what Austin is very good at showing is the... ⁓ the dynamics of a newly commercial society. So at the same time that Miss Bates is sinking, ⁓ I forget his name, but the farmer, the nice farmer, Robert Martin, he’s rising. And they all, all classes meet at the drapier and class distinctions are slightly blurred by the presence of nice fabric.

John Mullan (34:24)

Mr. Robert Martin.

Henry Oliver (34:37)

And if your income comes from turnips, that’s fine. You can have the same material that Emma has. And Jane Austen knows that she lives in this world of buttons and bonnets and muslins and all these new ⁓ imports and innovations. And, you know, I think Persuasion is a very good novel. ⁓ to say to Piketty, well, there’s nothing natural about wealth inequality and persuasion. And it’s not Miss Bates who’s sinking, it’s the baronet. And all these admirals are coming up and he has that very funny line, doesn’t he? You’re at terrible risk in the Navy that you’d be cut by a man who your father would have cut his father. And so I think actually she’s not a Piketty person, but she’s very clear-eyed about... quote unquote, what capitalism is doing to wealth inequality. Yeah, yeah.

John Mullan (35:26)

Yes, she is indeed. Indeed.

Clear-eyed, I think, is just the adjective. I mean, I suppose the nearest she gets to a description. Yeah, she writes about the classes that she knows from the inside, as it were. So one could complain, people have complained. She doesn’t represent what it’s like to be an agricultural worker, even though agricultural labour is going on all around the communities in which her novels are set.

And I mean, I think that that’s a sort of rather banal objection, but there’s no denying it in a way. If you think a novelist has a duty, as it were, to cover the classes and to cover the occupations, then it’s not a duty that Jane Austen at all perceived. However, there is quite, there is something like, not a representation of destitution as you get in Dickens.

but a representation of something inching towards poverty in Mansfield Park, which is the famous, as if Jane Austen was showing you she could do this sort of thing, which is the whole Portsmouth episode, which describes with a degree of domestic detail she never uses anywhere else in her fiction. When she’s with the more affluent people, the living conditions, the food, the sheer disgustingness and tawdryness of life in the lodgings in Portsmouth where the Price family live. And of course, in a way, it’s not natural because ⁓ in their particular circumstances, Lieutenant Price is an alcoholic.

They’ve got far too many children. ⁓ He’s a useless, sweary-mouthed boozer ⁓ and also had the misfortune to be wounded. ⁓ And she, his wife, Fanny’s mother, is a slattern. We get told she’s a slattern. And it’s not quite clear if that’s a word in Fanny’s head or if that’s Jane Austen’s word. And Jane Austen...

Fanny even goes so far as to think if Mrs. Norris were in charge here, and Mrs. Norris is as it were, she’s the biggest sadist in all Jane Austen’s fiction. She’s like sort Gestapo guard monquet. If Mrs. Norris were in charge, it wouldn’t be so bad here, but it’s terrible. And Jane Austen even, know, she describes the color of the milk, doesn’t she? The blue moats floating in the milk.

She dis- and it’s all through Fanny’s perception. And Fanny’s lived in this rather loveless grand place. And now it’s a great sort of, ⁓ it’s a coup d’etat. She now makes Fanny yearn for the loveless grand place, you know, because of what you were saying really, Henry, because as I would say, she’s such an unsentimental writer, you know, and

you sort of think, you know, there’s going to be no temptation for her to say, to show Fanny back in the loving bosom of her family, realising what hollow hearted people those Bertrams are. You know, she even describes the mark, doesn’t she, that Mr Price’s head, his greasy hair is left on the wall. It’s terrific. And it’s not destitution, but it’s something like a life which must be led by a great sort of rank of British people at the time and Jane Austen can give you that, she can.

Henry Oliver (39:26)

Yeah, yeah. That’s another very Dickensian moment. I’m not going to push this little thesis of mine too far, but the grease on the chair. It’s like Mr. Jaggers in his horse hair. Yes. That’s right, that’s right. ⁓ Virginia Woolf said that Jane Austen is the most difficult novelist to catch in the act of greatness. Is that true?

John Mullan (39:34)

Yes, yes, yes, it is these details that Dickens would have noticed of course. Yes.

Yes.

⁓ I think it is so true. think that Virginia Woolf, she was such a true, well, I think she was a wonderful critic, actually, generally. Yeah, I think she was a wonderful critic. you know, when I’ve had a couple of glasses of Rioja, I’ve been known to say, to shocked students, ⁓ because you don’t drink Rioja with students very often nowadays, but it can happen. ⁓ But she was a greater critic than novelist, you know.

Henry Oliver (39:54)

Yeah.

Best critic of the 20th century. Yes, yes. Yeah. And also greater than Emson and all these people who get the airtime. Yes, yes.

John Mullan (40:20)

You know.

I know, I know, but that’s perhaps because she didn’t have a theory or an argument, you know, and the Seven Types, I know that’s to her credit, but you know, the Seven Types of Ambiguity thing is a very strong sort of argument, even if...

Henry Oliver (40:31)

Much to her credit.

But look, if the last library was on fire and I could only save one of them, I’d let all the other critics in the 20th century burn and I’d take the common reader, wouldn’t you?

John Mullan (40:47)

Okay. Yes, I, well, I think I agree. think she’s a wonderful critic and both stringent and open. I mean, it’s an extraordinary way, you know, doesn’t let anybody get away with anything, but on the other hand is genuinely ready to, to find something new to, to anyway. ⁓ the thing she said about Austin, she said lots of good things about Austin and most of them are good because they’re true. And the thing about… Yes, so what I would, I think what she meant was something like this, that amongst the very greatest writers, so I don’t know, Shakespeare or Milton or, you know, something like that, you could take almost a line, yes? You can take a line and it’s already glowing with sort of radioactive brilliance, know, and ⁓ Jane Austen, the line itself, there are wonderful sentences.)

Mr. Bennett was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve and caprice that the experience of three and 20 years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. I mean, that’s as good as anything in Hamlet, isn’t it? So odd a mixture and there he is, the oddest mixture there’s ever been. And you think he must exist, he must exist. But anyway, most lines in Jane Austen probably aren’t like that and it’s as if in order to ⁓ explain how brilliant she is and this is something you can do when you teach Jane Austen, makes her terrific to teach I think, you can look at any bit and if everybody’s read the novel and remembers it you can look at any paragraph or almost any line of dialogue and see how wonderful it is because it will connect to so many other things. But out of context, if you see what I mean, it doesn’t always have that glow of significance. And sometimes, you know, the sort of almost most innocuous phrases and lines actually have extraordinary dramatic complexity. but you’ve got to know what’s gone on before, probably what goes on after, who’s in the room listening, and so on. And so you can’t just catch it, you have to explain it. ⁓ You can’t just, as it were, it, as you might quote, you know, a sort of a great line of Wordsworth or something.

Henry Oliver (43:49)

Even the quotable bits, you know, the bit that gets used to explain free and direct style in Pride and Prejudice where she says ⁓ living in sight of their own warehouses. Even a line like that is just so much better when you’ve been reading the book and you know who is being ventriloquized.

John Mullan (43:59)

Well, my favourite one is from Pride and Prejudice is after she’s read the letter Mr Darcy gives her explaining what Wickham is really like, really, for truth of their relationship and their history. And she interrogates herself. And then at the end, there’s ⁓ a passage which is in a passage of narration, but which is certainly in going through Elizabeth’s thoughts. And it ends, she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd. And I just think it’s, if you’ve got to know Elizabeth, you just know that that payoff adjective, absurd, that’s the coup de grace. Because of course, finding other people absurd is her occupation. It’s what makes her so delightful. And it’s what makes us complicit with her.

Henry Oliver (44:48)

Yeah.

That’s right.

John Mullan (45:05)

She sees how ridiculous Sir William Lucas and her sister Mary, all these people, and now she has absurded herself, as it were. So blind partial prejudice, these are all repetitions of the same thought. But only Elizabeth would end the list absurd. I think it’s just terrific. But you have to have read the book just to get that. That’s a whole sentence.

You have to have read the book to get the sentence, don’t you?

Henry Oliver (45:34)

Yep, indeed. ⁓ Do we love Jane Austen too much so that her contemporaries are overshadowed and they’re actually these other great writers knocking around at the same time and we don’t give them their due? Or is she in fact, you know, the Shakespeare to their Christopher Marlowe or however you want to.

John Mullan (45:55)

I think she’s the Shakespeare to their Thomas Kidd or no even that’s the... Yes, okay, I’m afraid that you know there are two contradictory answers to that. Yes, it does lead us to be unfair to her contemporaries certainly because they’re so much less good than her. So because they’re so much less good than her in a way we’re not being unfair. know, I mean... because I have the profession I have, I have read a lot of novels by her immediate predecessors. I mean, people like Fanny Burnie, for instance, and her contemporaries, people like Mariah Edgeworth. And ⁓ if Jane Austen hadn’t existed, they would get more airtime, I think, yes? And some of them are both Burnie and Edgeworth, for instance. ⁓ highly intelligent women who had a much more sophisticated sort of intellectual and social life than Jane Austen ⁓ and conversed with men and women of ideas and put some of those ideas in their fiction and they both wrote quite sophisticated novels and they were both more popular than Jane Austen and they both, having them for the sort of carpers and complainers, they’ve got all sorts of things like Mariah Regworth has some working-class people and they have political stuff in their novels and they have feminist or anti-feminist stuff in their novels and they’re much more satisfying to the person who’s got an essay to write in a way because they’ve got the social issues of the day in there a bit, certainly Mariah Regworth a lot. ⁓ So if Jane Austen hadn’t come along we would show them I think more, give them more time. However, you know, I don’t want to say this in a destructive way, but in a certain way, all that they wrote isn’t worth one paragraph of Jane Austen, you know, in a way. So we’re not wrong. I suppose the interesting case is the case of a man actually, which is Walter Scott, who sort of does overlap with Jane Austen a bit, you know, and who has published what I can’t remember, two, three, even four novels by the time she dies, and I think three, and she’s aware of him as a poet and I think beginning to be aware of him as a novelist. And he’s the prime example of somebody who was in his own day, but for a long time afterwards, regarded as a great novelist of his day. And he’s just gone. He’s really, you know, you can get his books in know, Penguin and Oxford classics in the shops. I mean, it’s at least in good big book shops. And it’s not that he’s not available, but it’s a very rare person who’s read more than one or even read one. I don’t know if you read lots of Scott, Henry.

Henry Oliver (49:07)

Well, I’ve read some Scott and I quite like it, but I was a reactionary in my youth and I have a little flame for the Jacobite cause deep in my heart. This cannot be said of almost anyone who is alive today. 1745 means nothing to most people. The problem is that he was writing about something that has just been sort of forgotten. And so the novels, know, when Waverly takes the knee in front of the old young old pretender, whichever it is, who cares anymore? you know?

John Mullan (49:40)

Well, yes, but it can’t just be that because he also wrote novels about Elizabeth I and Robin Hood and, you know... ⁓

Henry Oliver (49:46)

I do think Ivanhoe could be more popular, yeah.

John Mullan (49:49)

Yeah, so it’s not just that this and when he wrote, for instance, when he published Old Mortality, which I think is one of his finest novels, I mean, I’ve read probably 10 Scott novels at nine or 10, you know, so that’s only half or something of his of his output. And I haven’t read one for a long time, actually. Sorry, probably seven or eight years. He wrote about some things, which even when he wrote about and published about, readers of the time couldn’t have much known or cared about. mean, old mortalities about the Covenant as wars in the borderlands of Scotland in the 17th century. I mean, all those people in London who were buying it, they couldn’t give a damn about that. Really, really, they couldn’t. I mean, they might have recognized the postures of religious fanaticism that he describes rather well.

But even then only rather distantly, I think. So I think it’s not quite that. I think it’s not so much ignorance now of the particular bits of history he was drawn to. I think it’s that in the 19th century, historical fiction had a huge status. And it was widely believed that history was the most dignified topic for fiction and so dignified, it’s what made fiction serious. So all 19th century authors had a go at it. Dickens had a go at it a couple of times, didn’t he? I think it’s no, yes, yes, think even Barnaby Rudge is actually, it’s not just a tale of two cities. Yes, a terrific book. But generally speaking, ⁓ most Victorian novelists who did it, ⁓ they are amongst, you know, nobody

Henry Oliver (51:22)

Very successfully. ⁓ a great book, great book.

John Mullan (51:43)

I think reads Trollope’s La Vendée, you know, people who love Hardy as I do, do not rush to the trumpet major. it was a genre everybody thought was the big thing, know, war and peace after all. And then it’s prestige faded. I mean, it’s...

returned a little bit in some ways in a sort of Hillary man, Tellish sort of way, but it had a hugely inflated status, I think, in the 19th century and that helped Scott. And Scott did, know, Scott is good at history, he’s good at battles, he’s terrific at landscapes, you know, the big bow wow strain as he himself described it.

Henry Oliver (52:32)

Are you up for a sort of quick fire round about other things than Jane Austen?

John Mullan (52:43)

Yes, sure, try me.

Henry Oliver (52:44)

Have you used any LLMs and are they good at talking about literature?

John Mullan (52:49)

I don’t even know what an LLM is. What is it?

Henry Oliver (52:51)

Chat GPT. ⁓

John Mullan (53:17)

⁓ God, goodness gracious, it’s the work of Satan.Absolutely, I’ve never used one in my life. And indeed, have colleagues who’ve used them just to sort of see what it’s like so that might help us recognise it if students are using them. And I can’t even bring myself to do that, I’m afraid. But we do as a...As a department in my university, we have made some use of them purely in order to give us an idea of what they’re like, so to help us sort of...

Henry Oliver (53:28)

You personally don’t feel professionally obliged to see what it can tell you. Okay, no, that’s fine.

John Mullan (53:32)

No, sorry.

Henry Oliver (53:33)

What was it like being a Booker Prize judge?

heady. It was actually rather heady. Everybody talks about how it’s such a slog, all those books, which is true. But when you’re the Booker Prize judge, at least when I did it, you were treated as if you were somebody who was rather important. And then as you know, and that lasts for about six months. And you’re sort of sent around in taxes and give nice meals and that sort of thing. And sort of have to give press conferences when you choose the shortlist. and I’m afraid my vanity was tickled by all that. And then at the moment after you’ve made the decision, you disappear. And the person who wins becomes important. It’s a natural thing, it’s good. And you realize you’re not important at all.

Henry Oliver (54:24)

You’ve been teaching in universities, I think, since the 1990s.

John Mullan (54:29)

Yes, no earlier I fear, even earlier.

Henry Oliver (54:32)

What are the big changes? Is the sort of media narrative correct or is it more complicated than that?

John Mullan (54:38)

Well, it is more complicated, but sometimes things are true even though the Daily Telegraph says they’re true, to quote George Orwell. ⁓ you know, I mean, I think in Britain, are you asking about Britain or are you asking more generally? Because I have a much more depressing view of what’s happened in America in humanities departments.

Henry Oliver (54:45)

Well, tell us about Britain, because I think one problem is that the American story becomes the British story in a way. So what’s the British story?

John Mullan (55:07)

Yes, yes, think that’s true.

Well, I think the British story is that we were in danger of falling in with the American story. The main thing that has happened, that has had a clear effect, was the introduction in a serious way, however long ago it was, 13 years or something, of tuition fees. And that’s really, in my department, in my subject, that’s had a major change.

and it wasn’t clear at first, but it’s become very clear now. So ⁓ it means that the, as it were, the stance of the teachers to the taught and the taught to the teachers, both of those have changed considerably. Not just in bad ways, that’s the thing. It is complicated. So for instance, I mean, you could concentrate on the good side of things, which is, think, I don’t know, were you a student of English literature once?

Henry Oliver (55:49)

Mm-hmm.

I was, I was. 2005, long time ago.

John Mullan (56:07)

Yes. OK.

Well, I think that’s not that long ago. mean, probably the change is less extreme since your day than it is since my day. But compared to when I was a student, which was the end of the 70s, beginning of the 80s, I was an undergraduate. The degree of sort of professionalism and sobriety, responsibility and diligence amongst English literature academics has improved so much.

You know, you generally speaking, literature academics, they are not a load of ⁓ drunken wastrels or sort of predatory seducers or lazy, work shy, ⁓ even if they love their own research, negligent teachers or a lot of the sort of the things which even at the time I recognise as the sort of bad behaviour aspects of some academics. Most of that’s just gone. It’s just gone. You cannot be like that because you’ve got everybody’s your institution is totally geared up to sort of consumer feedback and and the students, especially if you’re not in Oxford or Cambridge, the students are essentially paying your salaries in a very direct way. So there have been improvements actually. ⁓ those improvements were sort of by the advocates of tuition fees, I think, and they weren’t completely wrong. However, there have also been some real downsides as well. ⁓ One is simply that the students complain all the time, you know, and in our day we had lots to complain about and we never complained. Now they have much less to complain about and they complain all the time. ⁓ So, and that seems to me to have sort of weakened the relationship of trust that there should be between academics and students. But also I would say more if not optimistically, at least stoically. I’ve been in this game for a long time and the waves of student fashion and indignation break on the shore and then another one comes along a few years later. And as a sort of manager in my department, because I’m head of my department, I’ve learned to sort of play the long game.

And what everybody’s hysterical about one moment, one year, they will have forgotten about two or three years later. So there has been a certain, you know, there was a, you know, what, what, you know, some conservative journalists would call kind of wokery. There has been some of that. But in a way, there’s always been waves of that. And the job of academics is sort of to stand up to it. and in a of calm way. Tuition fees have made it more difficult to do that I think.

Henry Oliver (59:40)

Yeah. Did you know A.S. Byatt? What was she like?

John Mullan (59:43)

I did.

⁓ Well...

When you got to know her, you recognized that the rather sort of haughty almost and sometimes condescending apparently, ⁓ intellectual auteur was of course a bit of a front. Well, it wasn’t a front, but actually she was quite a vulnerable person, quite a sensitive and easily upset person.

I mean that as a sort of compliment, not easily upset in the sense that sort of her vanity, but actually she was quite a humanly sensitive person and quite woundable. And when I sort of got to know that aspect of her, know, unsurprisingly, I found myself liking her very much more and actually not worrying so much about the apparent sort of put downs of some other writers and things and also, you know, one could never have said this while she was alive even though she often talked about it. I think she was absolutely permanently scarred by the death of her son and I think that was a, you know, who was run over when he was what 11 years old or something. He may have been 10, he may have been 12, I’ve forgotten, but that sort of age. I just think she was I just think she was permanently lacerated by that. And whenever I met her, she always mentioned it somehow, if we were together for any length of time.

Henry Oliver (1:01:27)

What’s your favourite Iris Murdoch novel?

John Mullan (1:01:33)

I was hoping you were going to say which is the most absurd Aris Murdoch novel. ⁓ No, you’re an Aris Murdoch fan, are you?

Henry Oliver (1:01:38)

Very much so. You don’t like her work?

John Mullan (1:01:59)

Okay. ⁓ no, it’s, as you would say, Henry, more complicated than that. I sort of like it and find it absurd. It’s true. I’ve only read, re-read in both cases, two in the last 10 years. And that’s

That’s not to my credit. And both times I thought, this is so silly. I reread the C to C and I reread a severed head. And I just found them both so silly. ⁓ I was almost, you know, I almost lost my patience with them. But I should try another. What did I used to like? Did I rather like an accidental man? I fear I did.

Did I rather like the bell, which is surely ridiculous. I fear I did. Which one should I like the most?

Henry Oliver (1:02:38)

I like The Sea, the Sea very much. ⁓ I think The Good Apprentice is a great book. There are these, so after The Sea, the Sea, she moves into her quote unquote late phase and people don’t like it, but I do like it. So The Good Apprentice and The Philosopher’s Pupil I think are good books, very good books.

John Mullan (1:02:40)

I’ve not read that one, I’m afraid. Yes, I stopped at the sea to sea. I, you know, once upon a time, I’m a bit wary of it and my experience of rereading A Severed Head rather confirmed me in my wariness because rereading, if I were to reread Myris Murdoch, I’m essentially returning to my 18 year old self because I read lots of Myris Murdoch when I was 17, 18, 19 and I thought she was deep as anything. and to me she was the deep living British novelist. And I think I wasn’t alone ⁓ and I feel a little bit chastened by your advocacy of her because I’ve also gone along with the ⁓ general readership who’ve slightly decided to ditch Irish Murdoch. her stock market price has sunk hugely ⁓ since her death. But perhaps that’s unfair to her, I don’t know. I’ve gone a bit, I’ll try again, because I recently have reread two or three early Margaret Drabble novels and found them excellent, really excellent. And thought, ⁓ actually, I wasn’t wrong to like these when I was a teenager. ⁓

Henry Oliver (1:04:11)

The Millstone is a great book.

John Mullan (1:04:22)

⁓ yes and actually yes I reread that, I reread the Garrick year, the Millstone’s terrific I agree, the the Garrick year is also excellent and Jerusalem the Golden, I reread all three of them and and and thought they were very good. So so you’re recommending the Philosopher’s Apprentice. I’m yeah I’m conflating yes okay.

Henry Oliver (1:04:31)

first rate. The Good Apprentice and the Philosopher’s Pupil. Yeah, yeah. I do agree with you about A Severed Head. I think that book’s crazy. What do you like about Patricia Beer’s poetry?

John Mullan (1:04:56)

⁓ I’m not sure I am a great fan of Patricia Beer’s poetry really. I got the job of right, what? Yes, yes, because I was asked to and I said, I’ve read some of her poetry, but you know, why me? And the editor said, because we can’t find anybody else to do it. So that’s why I did it. And it’s true that I came.

Henry Oliver (1:05:02)

Well, you wrote her... You wrote her dictionary of national... Yes.

John Mullan (1:05:23)

I came to quite like it and admire some of it because in order to write the article I read everything she’d ever published. But that was a while ago now, Henry, and I’m not sure it puts me in a position to recommend her.

Henry Oliver (1:05:35)

Fair enough.

Why is the Dunciad the greatest unread poem in English?

John Mullan (1:05:41)

Is it the greatest unread one? Yes, probably, yes, yes, I think it is. Okay, it’s great because, first of all, great, then unread. It’s great because, well, Alexander Poet is one of the handful of poetic geniuses ever, in my opinion, in the writing in English. Absolutely genius, top shelf. ⁓

Henry Oliver (1:05:46)

Well, you said that once, yes.

Mm-hmm. Yes, yes, yes. Top shelf, yeah.

John Mullan (1:06:09)

And even his most accessible poetry, however, is relatively inaccessible to today’s readers, sort of needs to be taught, or at least you have to introduce people to. Even the Rape of the Lock, which is a pure delight and the nearest thing to an ABBA song he ever wrote, is pretty scary with its just densely packed elusiveness and...

Henry Oliver (1:06:27)

You

John Mullan (1:06:38)

You know, and as an A level examiner once said to me, we don’t set Pope for A level because it’s full of irony and irony is unfair to candidates. ⁓ Which is true enough. ⁓ So Pope’s already difficult. ⁓ Poetry of another age, poetry which all depends on ideas of word choice and as I said, literary allusion and The Dunciad is his most compacted, elusive, dense, complicated and bookish poems of a writer who’s already dense and compact and bookish and elusive. And the Dunceyad delights in parodying, as I’m sure you know, all the sort of habits of scholarly emendation and encrustation, which turn what should be easy to approach works of literature into sort of, you know, heaps of pedantic commentary. And he parodies all that with delight. But I mean, that’s quite a hard ask, isn’t it? And ⁓ yeah, and I just and I think everything about the poem means that it’s something you can only ever imagine coming to it through an English literature course, actually. I think it is possible to do that. I came to it through being taught it very well and, you know, through because I was committed for three years to study English literature, but it’s almost inconceivable that somebody could just sort of pick it up in a bookshop and think, ⁓ this is rather good fun. I’ll buy this.

Henry Oliver (1:08:26)

Can we end with one quick question about Jane Austen since it’s her birthday? A lot of people come to her books later. A lot of people love it when they’re young, but a lot of people start to love it in their 20s or 30s. And yet these novels are about being young. What’s going on there?

John Mullan (1:08:29)

Sure, sure.

Yes.

I fear, no not I fear, I think that what you describe is true of many things, not just Jane Austen. You know, that there’s a wonderful passage in J.M. Coetzee’s novel Disgrace where the reprehensible protagonist is teaching Wordsworth’s Prelude.

to a group of 19 and 20 year olds. And he adores it. He’s in his mid fifties. And he, whilst he’s talking, is thinking different things. And what he’s thinking is something that I often think actually about certain works I teach, particularly Jane Austen, which is this book is all about being young, but the young find it tedious. Only the aging.

You know, youth is wasted on the young, as it were. Only the aging really get its brilliance about the experience of being young. And I think that’s a sort of pattern in quite a lot of literature. So, you know, take Northanger Abbey. That seems to me to be a sort of disly teenage book in a way.

It’s everything and everybody’s in a hurry. Everybody’s in a whirl. Catherine’s in a whirl all the time. She’s 17 years old. And it seems to me a delightfully teenage-like book. And if you’ve read lots of earlier novels, mostly by women, about girls in their, you know, nice girls in their teens trying to find a husband, you know, you realize that sort of

extraordinary magical gift of sort Jane Austen’s speed and sprightliness. You know, somebody said to me recently, ⁓ when Elizabeth Bennet sort of walks, but she doesn’t walk, she sort of half runs across the fields. You know, not only is it socially speaking, no heroine before her would have done it, but the sort of the sprightliness with which it’s described puts

the sort of ploddingness of all fiction before her to shame. And there’s something like that in Northanger Abbey. It’s about youthfulness and it takes on some of the qualities of the youthfulness of its heroine. know, her wonderful oscillations between folly and real insight. You know, how much she says this thing. I think to marry for money is wicked. Whoa. And you think,

Well, Jane Austen doesn’t exactly think that. She doesn’t think Charlotte Lucas is wicked, surely. But when Catherine says that, there’s something wonderful about it. There is something wonderful. You know, only a 17 year old could say it, but she does. And but I appreciate that now in my 60s. I don’t think I appreciated it when I was in my teens.

Henry Oliver (1:11:55)

That’s a lovely place to end. John Mullen, thank you very much.

John Mullan (1:11:58)

Thanks, it’s been a delight, a delight.

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John Mullan. What makes Jane Austen great?

The Common Reader