Jane Austen was born just over 250 years ago, but her works live on, adapted countless times for the screen and inspiring many retellings. Jane is no doubt one of the world’s most beloved authors. But how did she do it? Why do her works endure? Below are just a few of the ways that I think her writing is exemplary. She can still teach us something today about the art of writing!

The Art of the Love Triangle

When asked to name a trope I dislike, I instinctively want to cry out, “The love triangle!” But not all love triangles are bad. The issue, I believe, is rather that so many of them are so badly written. A common depiction of a love triangle in a contemporary book might look like this: Female Protagonist is in love with both Male Interest A and Male Interest B. Male Interest A is–quite obviously–not even a contender as the ultimate choice, however. Because Male Interest A is typically so unlikable and immoral that all the writer can do is assure readers that Female Protagonist is quite carried away by his hot looks. Male Interest B, meanwhile, is kind, caring, and morally upright. But, how on earth could Female Protagonist ever choose?? ‘Tis such misfortune to be so heavily pursued by all these gorgeous men! These types of love triangles seemingly became popular probably around 15 years ago and have been the scourge of literature ever since.

In contrast, Jane Austen writes many love triangles (or love squares, even), but they all seem so much more believable. And a reader unfamiliar with the stories might be forgiven for guessing the final pairings incorrectly. She employs several strategies to this end. Austen might, for instance, introduce one of the male love interests as initially very acceptable: he is rich, young, handsome, and approved of by general society or even warmly recommended by close acquaintances. Only later is his real character revealed. He is not, however, simply introduced as Evil Vampire Who Has Burned Down a Thousand Villages and Drunk The Blood of the Victims and presented like readers are supposed to think the protagonist might actually marry him, with her knowing all this about him from the start.

Or, Austen might depict a young man as a flirt or as unreliable–but she makes him charming enough that his prospects seem good, and she holds out the chance for redemption. Readers can probably see why an inconstant man might be chosen as a partner, if he is also amiable and lively. They can, at least, understand why the women around him might fall for his good looks and magnetic personality, convincing themselves to hope that he will amend some of his bad ways in time. After all, a man who flirts is more likely to settle down than a contemporary Bad Boy protagonist who is just outright evil or cruel.

Perhaps toning down the immorality of the Bad Boy protagonist and making him seem more human and less evil would make many a contemporary love triangle more palatable.

Not All Protagonists Need to Fit a Type–Or Even Be Likable

Recently, I seem to reading similar types of female protagonists. The intent seems to be to depict them as “strong,” which often means a combination of factors. For instance, our protagonist must absolutely not be “like the other girls.” She is assertive, independent, and perhaps wary of men. She announces having all the “correct” attitudes towards social issues, even if her opinions seem anachronistic to whatever time period she is living in. She might be sassy or simply have a quick wit. However she is described, readers must, at all costs, understand that she is not a doormat. But, I admit, these techniques make me feel like many of these characters are mere variations on each other.

In contrast, Jane Austen is not afraid to write a protagonist who might be unlikable. Yes, everyone loves Elizabeth Bennet. However, it does not follow that Austen should write Elizabeth into all of her books under a different name. I might not connect with all of Austen’s protagonists in the same way, but I do appreciate that I can differentiate them from each other. Anne is mature, steady, and kind. Emma is high-spirited, generous, meddlesome, and bit inflated with herself. Fanny is quiet, constant, and humble. Catherine is naive and vulnerable. They each have their own strengths and weaknesses that drive the plot and determine their fates. And this is a testament to Austen’s great skill, that she does not attach herself to one personality so forcefully that she keeps on writing it.

I would like to see some contemporary writers branch out more with their protagonists. Make them seem “weak” or unlikable. See where it leads. It just makes them more human. For we cannot all be Elizabeth Bennet, even if we wish.

Nuanced Characters and Situations

Today, it seems trendy to delineate the Moral of the Story very clearly in black and white. The Good Characters make speeches to let everyone know how good they are. The Bad are roundly condemned. Yes, this also happens in older books, too. But there it is criticized as didactic, while today some readers almost seem afraid to pick up a book that does not repeatedly state how reading it makes them the Right Sort of Person. Some writers seem afraid that, if they do not add a page explaining why the Bad Characters are Wrong, readers will be led astray to think the writer is secretly the Bad Character in disguise. This is, sadly, not very good storytelling.

What I like about Jane Austen is both that her characters are nuanced and that sometimes one does not quite know what she is trying to say. For instance, she periodically writes a villain of a character, only to suggest at the end that he might have been different, or to state that he felt some remorse later on. Or she will give readers an imperfect hero. Yes, Mr. Darcy is generous and rich. But he really is also arrogant and rude; he needs Elizabeth to help him see that. And, sure, Henry Tilney is kind to Catherine. But he is also judgy and kind of annoying as her “mentor” figure. And the same goes for the heroines. Everyone wants to be Elizabeth Bennet–but she has imperfect judgment of character and she is easily swayed by her own prejudices. No one in Austen is really fully “good” or “bad.” Many of them make mistakes or hold opinions that turn out to be incorrect or unwarranted.

This nuance extends to the full text, too. For instance, the infamous Mansfield Park scene is roundly criticized by many who do not understand Austen’s condemnation of theatre. But…is she condemning it? Fanny is eager to see a play, as she has not seen one before–though it seems her cousins have. Austen herself went to the theatre. So what is happening here? Is the play the problem? Or the content? Or the actors passionately making love speeches onstage? Or is just wrong because the actors know the owner of the house would not approve, but they do it anyway? Readers have to interpret it; Austen does not write a few neat paragraphs explaining what readers are to think.

Additionally, because Austen’s characters are nuanced and flawed, they often cannot be wholly trusted to tell readers what they ought to think. Fanny and Edmund, for instance, both say in Mansfield Park that they do not believe their family and friends should put on the infamous play. Yet both end up participating in various ways to produce it. They are sort of the moral compass of the story, but they are sometimes contradictory. And sometimes they get it wrong. Edmund, for instance, is blinded by his love for Mary Crawford; only Fanny sees her clearly. So, when Fanny thinks no good of Henry Crawford, readers support her refusal of him. Yet Austen later suggests he might have reformed, given time and Fanny’s influence. Neither Fanny nor Edmund can be said to be Austen’s mouthpieces, imparting the moral of the story. They are too confusing for that.

I would even suggest that inherent contradictions are embedded in pretty much all of Austen’s major heroes and heroines. For, though Austen’s books and protagonists so often insist that marrying for money rather than love is wrong, all of her protagonists are also keenly aware that they must have some sort of “decent” income, however they define it. None of them rushes off to marry into poverty, no matter how attractive the individual might seem. In Austen’s world, marrying for money is wrong. But marrying without money is also wrong, or at least deeply imprudent. Sense and sensibility must go together!

Part of what keeps me coming back to Austen is that I see something new every time. I have to work to try to interpret the text. What is Austen trying to say? And why is it that sometimes she seems to be saying two very different things? That sort of complexity is, I believe, what keeps her works feeling so relevant.

Conclusion

Readers today still enjoy Jane Austen’s books for many reasons. Her tight plots, engaging characters, and lively social commentary are all exemplary. But contemporary readers also, I believe, enjoy her books because her books are not afraid to be complex and, at times, seemingly contradictory. Austen does not always tell readers exactly what to think. Readers have to keep coming back to the story to uncover more clues and look for evidence they may have overlooked. That kind of nuance is certainly what makes a reread rewarding to me.