What would Jane say?, or Jane fix part I

Let's first off say what Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict is not. It is not serious literature. It is not for those readers who cannot abide serious holes in a plot, or even a plot thicker than a razor's edge. It will not appeal to anyone with a deep aversion to ballroom scenes, clandestine meetings in shrubberies, and polite conversation complimented by meaningful glances over tea and scones. It will make little sense if you haven't read Jane Austen's novels.

Wanting something to read over my own version of tea and scones, I picked up Laurie Viera Rigler's chick lit homage to Jane Austen. Given the current mania for anything Austen, Rigler's slight novel joins a crowded field, and other than is gimmicky plot device, there's really not a whole lot to set it apart from the pack. The premise, in short, consists of dropping current day Angelino and self-described Austen addict Courtney Stone into the realm of one Jane Mansfield, spinster, and inhabitant of 1813 Regency England. Or rather, Courtney is dropped into the body of Jane, automatically taking on some of Jane's memories and abilities. Courtney, not surprisingly, objects to the situation, as much due to the rather lax standards in bodily cleanliness as to the pushy mother who decides Courtney/Jane must marry the local catch. But something in a previous life tells her that this Mr. Edgeworth is not to be trusted. And some portions of Jane's exisance seem beyond Courtney's grasp--such as the odd behavior towards her of a young footman.

For anyone who has read an Austen novel (or likelier, seen a movie), the ending probably won't come as a surprise. But the whole plot comes off as preposterous--it is never explained why Courtney ended up where she did or how, or even more intriguing, what became of the original Jane Mansfield. There are some many places where Rigler could have added more tension to the plot, but she entirely foregoes any deviation from bland formula (even down to the obligatory mention of Colin Firth in knee breeches). Rigler does take a stab at deeper meaning by bringing up the tensions between serving class and ruling class (something never brought up in the novels and largely glossed over in the films). But even this promising lead is dropped.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. Bottom line, Confessions is meant to be fun for dedicated Janeites. It's not too hard convince the addict to indulge in more of their favored drug, but there won't be much to remember after this particular little binge.