On Behalf of Taylor, Thanks Jane: The Novel as a Learning Tool and Act of Resistance

Taylor Swift released her eighth and ninth studio albums in the middle of a global pandemic. These albums received widespread praise in the music industry and were characterized by music experts as ‘ethereal’ and ‘experimental.’ Until about two years ago, the popular media loved to hate Taylor Swift because she made a name for herself writing about the famous men she was in relationships with. Before Taylor Swift became an indie-music sensation, she was an aberration. A deeper understanding of her music reveals the message behind her songs transcends time. Taylor Swift’s music documents the feelings many young women experience: the fear of growing older in a society which praises ingenuity, the despair of being gaslit by men who call you ‘crazy,’ and confronting the disappointment that your life is not a fairytale. Taylor Swift uses her storytelling to give a voice to women by critiquing the societal expectations bestowed upon them, and thus validates listeners’ emotions as they coming of age.

Before Taylor Swift, there was early 19th century writer Jane Austen. And, without Jane Austen, there would be no Taylor Swift. In Jane Austen’s novel Northanger Abbey, published in 1818 following the author’s death, she follows the protagonist Catherine Morland through her seminal experiences with courtship rituals. Catherine leaves home for the first time for Bath, England, a resort town where young ladies and gentlemen go to meet. She later joins one of her suitors at his castle, Northanger Abbey. Like many gothic novels at the time, and some of the stories Taylor Swift dreams up in her music, Catherine Morland is married by the end of the novel at the young age of 18. Like many young women today, Catherine Morland reads a lot of novels, and if she was born in the last couple decades, she imaginably would have listened to a whole lot of Taylor Swift. At first glance, it seems that Austen uses her novel, Northanger Abbey, to suggest that novels lead young women to make foolish decisions because they do not accurately capture the world; a closer look reveals that Austen uses the platform given by her own novel to validate the coming of age experience for young women. Readers of Northanger Abbey from the nineteenth and twenty-first century alike can relate to the feelings of confusion and despair which Austen’s protagonist, Catherine Morland, experiences.

Northanger Abbey seems to be a cautionary tale on the consequences of too much novel-reading, especially as it pertains to adolescent women like Catherine Morland. This is evident initially when Catherine searches her room at Northanger Abbey for mysterious items until she happens upon a “manuscript” in the cabinet which she is “determined to peruse” for something peculiar about the castle which she is staying at and the family which she is staying with (Austen 117). The next morning, Catherine examines the paper she found and the elusive manuscript turns out to be “an inventory of linen.” (118). The dangers of Catherine’s foolishness come to fruition when she develops the idea that General Tilney, Henry’s father, killed his wife. After finding out that the late Mrs.Tilney died in the house and that Miss Tilney, Henry’s sister, was not with her when she died, Catherine comes to this conclusion. Catherine exclaims: “Could it be possible?—Could Henry’s father?—And yet how many were the examples to justify even the blackest suspicions!” (128-9). Catherine draws a parallel between what she supposes to be the general’s action and the villain, Montoni, who murdered his wife, in Mysteries of Udolpho, the 1794 novel she has most recently read. “It was the air and attitude of Montoni,” she remarks, in reference to her suspicions (128-9). It is quite extreme to accuse anyone of murder, no matter the circumstances. The consequences of Catherine’s blasphemous accusations cannot be good for the reputation of the Tilney family, and nearly lead the Tilney’s to abandon Catherine as a suitable wife for the younger son, Henry. Catherine’s troubling experience navigating the fictional worlds she reads about and the real world in which she lives seems to warn against absorptive novel-reading.

To an extent, Austen portrays novels as fostering an imaginary perspective on the world in which young women come to believe their lives will imitate the art they are immersed in. Indeed, in the time in which Austen was writing, there was much anti-novel discourse in the public sphere, and in some moments, Austen’s work seems to be in accordance with these beliefs. In scholar Jodi L. Wyett’s article, “Female Quixotism Refashioned: Northanger Abbey, the Engaged Reader, and the Woman Writer” she argues that “anti-novel discourse was so widespread by the end of the eighteenth century as to be cliché” (Wyett 261). However problematic the genre was viewed by society, “women writers had important stakes in legitimating the act of absorptive reading, the reading of novels, and women's reading in general” (261). It is helpful to understand the act of novel writing at the time under the framework of a business. As Wyett suggests, “professional writers keen to have their books read, whether for fame, profit, or both, were invested in the kind of reader who could both lose herself in the text” (261). Women writers were writing for an audience who would read their books and buy them in order to make a living. In turn, Wyett argues that in recognition of “the novel’s power,” “professional novelists” like Jan Austen herself “created complex quixotic fictions” wherein “the female quixote proved particularly poignant” (261-2). In other words, to attract readership, novelists created heroines whom their novel readers could relate to. In order to entice readership, they probably had to draw on their emotional experiences and create characters and plot lines which aligned with the life experience of their audience.

Whatever the consequences of absorptive reading evidenced in her novel, Austen takes a moment to defend the act of novel reading and writing in Northanger Abbey. Considering Wyett’s argument this is not too surprising. Northanger Abbey is Austen’s very own novel which she presumably spent a lot of time thinking up and writing down, and it makes sense that she takes a couple pages to pre-emptively defend her own hard-work. Austen interrupts a conversation between Catherine and her friend Isabella and takes a few pages to make her argument in defense of the novel. She writes: “I will not adopt that…custom so common with novel writers, of degrading… the very performances, to the number of which they are themselves adding” (Austen 23). Austen will not play into the trope that novels are silly and stupid. She seems to defend her very own protagonist Catherine who we learn adores novels. “Alas! if the heroine of one novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard? I cannot approve of it,” Austen exclaims (23). Before we have a chance to put Catherine into the box of foolish and naïve for the way in which she assumes her life will take shape like a novel, Austen comes to her very own protagonist’s aid.

Later in this passage, Austen argues that while many people in eighteenth and nineteenth century England may disdain novel reading to the point where they never want to even admit they themselves read them, there are great benefits to the novel. “ ‘I am no novel reader—I seldom look into novels—Do not imagine that I often read novels,” Austen imagines critics saying. Austen stresses that novel-writing is requires time and effort and is serious “labour” (23). She urges readers to understand that those who do not read novels and see them as meaningful works of art are the ones who are missing out. Austen writes that novels are “work[s] in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour are conveyed to the world in the best chosen language” (23). Austen suggests novels capture humanity in a manner in which other forms of writing like histories, or essays, are deficient. As such, we should see her very own novel, Northanger Abbey, as an exploration of humanity. Northanger Abbey makes a cutting and witty commentary on what it is like to come of age as a woman during the early nineteenth century.

A closer look at the dynamics within the book suggests the novel itself can be used as a learning tool. In Northanger Abbey, Austen uses the novel as an index to characterization. In other words, the novel is a lens through which Austen’s characters and her readers can more accurately see the world and the people they encounter. In Austen’s characterization of Catherine’s suitors Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Tilney, the novel serves as a litmus test for whether or not they are good people. While Henry Tilney can appreciate novels, John Thorpe finds them to be intolerable and silly. In an early meeting with Mr.Thorpe, Catherine asks him if he had “ever read Udolpho” (Austen 31). He retorts: “ ‘Udolpho! Oh, Lord! Not I; I never read novels; I have something else to do’” (31). Mr.Thorpe denies having every read Mysteries of Udolpho or any other novels for that matter. Perhaps this is because he is concerned about his reputation. By the end of the exchange, however, he has gone back on what he said twice and made a fool of himself in the eyes of Catherine. First, he exclaims “ ‘novels are so full of nonsense,’” and that he had not enjoyed one since “the Monk,” a very salacious novel written by a man. Then, he says that if he does “read any, it shall be Mrs.Radcliff’s” (31). Catherine, an expert in novels, assures him that “ ‘Udolpho was written by Mrs.Radcliff’” (31). Mr.Thorpe contradicts himself which makes himself seem prone to lying, or at least unreliable. In the eyes of the reader he is not a legitimate suitor for the protagonist who we are coming to know, flaws and all. Austen does not let her protagonist remain silenced in this exchange, and Catherine speaks up to correct him. After all, novels are her domain.

In contrast to John Thorpe, Henry Tilney enjoys novels which, at first, makes him adorable in the eyes of Catherine who adores novels, and makes him seem like a good match for Catherine in the eyes of readers. Because of her experience with Mr.Thorpe, Catherine assumes that Mr.Tilney must not enjoy novels: “But you never read novels…‘Because they are not clever enough for you—gentlemen read better books” (Austen 72-3). Catherine thinks very highly of Mr.Tilney and assumes that he must not associate with the silly novels with which she does. Catherine does not seem to think highly of herself and how she chooses to spend her time. Henry Tilney confirms that actually, contrary to her assumptions, he enjoys novels. “The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid,” he says (72-3). After all, if she spends so much of her time reading them, there must be something about novels which makes her reading worthwhile. He says to Catherine in jest, “ ‘The Mysteries of Udolpho, when I had once begun it, I could not lay down again;—I remember finishing it in two days—my hair standing on end the whole time.’” (72-3). In Mr.Tilney’s eyes, novels are something which should be read for “pleasure,” and he mocks the thrill he imagines Catherine to experience while reading. His mocking alludes to his belief that novels do not hold the same purpose or legitimacy as other genres.

The way Henry Tilney looks down upon novels as frivolous is perhaps a clue that he does not have entirely good intentions when it comes to Catherine. A closer look at Henry’s actions reveals that he is not the gentleman we think he might be. He knowingly leads Catherine into dangerous assumptions about her surroundings at Northanger Abbey. Prior to their arrival at the Abbey, Henry asks Catherine,

“ ‘Is not it a fine old place, just like what one reads about?’… ‘And are you prepared to encounter all the horrors that a building such as ‘what one reads about’ may produce?’ ”(Austen 107-8) Henry has no restraint and encourages her imagination further. Henry goes on: “will not your mind misgive you, when you find yourself in this gloomy chamber—… ‘How fearfully will you examine the furniture of your apartment!—And what will you discern?’ ” (107-8) Henry’s comments practically foreshadow Catherine’s confusion of some random papers for a mysterious manuscript and her assumption that his father is a murderer! The novel might be dangerous because it encourages a wild imagination, but the men who take advantage of young women’s gullibility are more dangerous. And, a society which condones this behavior is perhaps, even more dangerous.

Henry Tilney’s bad intentions come through when he blames Catherine for coming to the conclusion his father killed his mother. Henry reprimands Catherine and takes an entire paragraph to point out how deluded she is:

Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are English, that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you—Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such footing; where every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay every thing open? Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?’ (Austen 136).

Henry’s speech is hyper-critical of Catherine, especially considering that he can be implicated in leading her down the rabbit hole of looking for aspects of her life that might imitate the novels she reads. While her “education” may not have “prepare[d]” her for “such atrocities,” he set her up to expect them. Henry’s speech drives Catherine to tears and brings her immense shame and self-loathing. Austen writes in the following paragraph: “Henry’s address, short as it had been, had more thoroughly opened her eyes to the extravagance of her late fancies than all their several disappointments had done. Most grievously was she humbled. Most bitterly did she cry” (136-7). Catherine has made a faulty assumption, but instead of blaming her for thinking the way she does, it is worth exploring why she comes to this conclusion in the first place.

In this moment, we should sympathize with Catherine instead of blaming her for her foolishness. The shame she feels is probably not foreign to readers of Austen, which harkens back to Wyett’s argument that novelists like Austen must create characters with their audience in mind. Catherine is forced to contemplate the consequences of her mis-judgements, which in her view, could lead to the end of her relationship with one of her potential suitors. This is tragic considering the ultimate goal of a woman of her class in England at the time was to marry into a suitable family. Austen writes: “it was not only with herself that she was sunk—but with Henry. Her folly, which now seemed even criminal, was all exposed to him, and he must despise her for ever…She hated herself more than she could express” (Austen 136-7). Austen uses her novel to reassure readers who have been similarly foolish to Catherine that they are not alone. Readers’ “education” has not “prepare[d]” them for “such atrocities” like being completely shamed and humiliated like Catherine, but Northanger Abbey certainly does! Austen uses her novel as an opportunity to push back against blaming young women for their mistakes.

We should find fault in Henry Tilney and society at large as opposed to innocent Catherine who just did not know any better. This view of Henry Tilney’s character as problematic in Northanger Abbey is corroborated by scholars Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gabar in their formative 1979 piece “Shut up in Prose: Gender and Genre in Austen’s Juvenilia.” Gilbert and Gabar confirm that these “alien visions” which Catherine experiences “are more understandable” if we put them in the context of the environment in which she is coming of age (290). A such, Gilbert and Gabar argue Northanger Abbey provides evidence of a “natural consequence of a young lady’s sentimental education in preening, reading, shopping, and dreaming” (290). We cannot expect more from Catherine; after all, she is doing the best she can with the information she has. Catherine’s experience is not unlike those of women characters in literature and women in general who have been humiliated by men and made to feel shameful and dumb. Gilbert and Gabar confirm that “Northanger Abbey is…a gothic story as frightening as any told by Mrs. Radcliffe, for the evil it describes is …the terror and self-loathing that results when a woman is made to disregard her personal sense of danger, to accept as real what contradicts her perception of her own situation” (292). Like the woman trapped by her own mind in Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s 1981 short story, “The Yellow Wallpaper,” Catherine can be viewed as crazy and delusional, but she is just confused, and has not been taught to know better.

Northanger Abbey is fruitful as a learning tool precisely because of the way it puts Catherine’s confusion on display. Not only is Catherine presumably able to learn from her actions in the novel, but readers are able to learn from her actions and her experience with people who seem to lead her astray or do not have entirely good intentions for her well-being. As such, Austen’s novel pushes a conversation about women’s manipulation by men and the blame they put upon themselves for their lack of awareness. Hitherto the 1980s, this was a process which went entirely unnamed. As Gilbert and Gabar explain, “the process of being brainwashed that almost fatally confused Catherine has painfully humiliated women subjected to the maddening process” (292). The process they describe had been “termed ‘gaslighting’ ” the year they published their article, and is quite familiar in 2021 (292). Austen’s exploration of Catherine’s experiences with men and her reconciliation with the ways in which her life does not imitate art transcends time.

By writing a novel which puts Catherine’s experience of adolescent confusion and gaslighting on display, she gives voice to it. Jane Austen seemingly constructs a novel which plays into anti-novel discourse, but by giving a platform to the struggle between Catherine’s imagination and her reality, Austen actively dismantles this societal vision of the novel. And, she does this in the early nineteenth century, before we even had a feminist movement, before the term ‘gaslighting’ was even coined! In other words, Austen uses the novel as a learning tool in Northanger Abbey itself as an index to characterization, but also on a meta-level as a learning tool for her readers. Such is the brilliant genius of Taylor Swift’s music. And, this brilliant genius proceeds the past two years in which it has become uncool to hate her. Taylor Swift constructs a fairytale dreamscape in her music in which prince charming comes to soothe the subjects of her songs, but she dismantles this trope by confronting her disappointment with the fact that her life is not a fairytale. She puts it ‘on stage’ so listeners may understand it is merely a trope. So, thanks Taylor. And, on behalf of Taylor, thanks Jane.

Works Cited

Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. Ed. Susan Fraiman, New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2004.

Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gabar “Shut up in Prose: Gender and Genre in Austen’s Juvenilia” The

Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination. New Haven: Yale UP, 1979,

pp. 127-45.

Wyett, Jodi L. “Female Quixotism Refashioned: ‘Northanger Abbey’, the Engaged Reader, and the

Woman Writer.” The Eighteenth Century, vol. 56, no. 2, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015, pp. 261–76, http://www.jstor.org/stable/24575169.

References

Brankin, Tara. “Brankin: It's Not Cool to Hate Taylor Swift Anymore.” The Minnesota Daily, The Minnesota Daily, 19 Jan. 2021, https://mndaily.com/264740/opinion/brankin-its-not-cool-to-hate-taylor-swift-anymore/.

Clevinger, Nina. “How Many Albums Does Taylor Swift Have?” The US Sun, The US Sun, 25 Oct. 2021, https://www.the-sun.com/entertainment/3924768/how-many-albums-taylor-swift-discography/.

Gilman, Charlotte Perkins. The Yellow Wallpaper. Virago Press, 1981.

Leach, Maddison. “The Era of Hating Taylor Swift for Fun Is over - and She Deserves an Apology.” Girlfriend, Girlfriend, 19 Nov. 2021, https://www.girlfriend.com.au/taylor-swift-hate-sexism-misogyny.

Lock, Maddie. “It Was Never about the Music: Why the Patriarchy Made Us Hate Taylor Swift.” The Edge, 22 Aug. 2020, https://www.theedgesusu.co.uk/records/2020/08/22/it-was-never-about-the-music-why-the-patriarchy-made-us-hate-taylor-swift/.

Rosenthal, Abigail. “Why Did I Hate Taylor Swift so Much?” Chron, Chron, 27 Apr. 2021, https://www.chron.com/culture/music/article/taylor-swift-fearless-rerelease-16088984.php.