Theatre Review: Being Mr. Wickham, 59E59 Theaters, New York City

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Austenites never tire of new takes on Pride and Prejudice (1813), so last month I joined JASNA NY’s outing to 59E59 Theaters to watch a one-man play about one of the novel’s most infamous characters. 

Being Mr. Wickham brings us George Wickham on his sixtieth birthday, still married to Lydia (nee Bennet) and reminiscing about the dramas of his youth. The play was co-written and performed by Adrian Lukis, who was the young Wickham in the beloved 1995 BBC adaptation of Austen’s novel, so it really did feel like we were all watching a familiar character age before our eyes. 

Revisitations of Pride and Prejudice range from the canonical (see, for example, my review of Janice Hadlow’s 2020 The Other Bennet Sister) to the more daring (check out my review of Katherine J. Chen’s 2018 Mary B), and this one-act play was firmly in the former camp. Audience knowledge of the source material was assumed as Lukis regaled us with updates on what has become of the other characters from the book, but there were no shocking revelations about the original story gained from entering the villain’s perspective. 

The set and sound design were smart, keeping the play visually interesting and giving us musical interludes between parts of the play respectively, and this helped keep the crowd engaged throughout—no small feat in what’s essentially a lengthy monologue. Lydia’s off-stage voice and a side plot about a drama Wickham is watching through the window gave the impression of a world beyond the stage, and I appreciated parts of the script that spoke to the wider historical context around Austen’s novel (e.g., war and politics). 

This is linked to what I found most interesting about the play, which was otherwise merely an entertaining trip down memory lane. Lukis and his co-writer Catherine Curzon turn Wickham into the poster child for the Regency period itself—a lover of romance and Romance, who models himself on Byron, and approaches life with a total dedication to having fun. The character’s frustration at the prudishness of the Victorian age he now finds himself living in was well-done and Lukis’s comments during the after-show conversation suggested he found parallels between Wickham’s reaction to a period of increased sincerity and his own responses to society and the direction the arts is taking today.

Have you watched Being Mr. Wickham, whether in New York or elsewhere? I’d love to know what you thought of it! Let me know what plays with a nineteenth-century connection you’d like to read me review next—in the comments, via Instagram, on Facebook, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. Want monthly updates about my blog and other writing straight to your email inbox? Sign up for my newsletter here.

Review: Queen Victoria: Twenty-Four Days That Changed Her Life, Lucy Worsley (2018)

Despite being “the Secret Victorianist” and running a blog dedicated to all things nineteenth-century literature and culture, I’ve not spent much time reading about Queen Victoria herself. So I was excited to read Lucy Worlsey’s unconventional biography, which looks at the life of this influential monarch through the lens of twenty-four specific days.

Worsley examines Victoria as a daughter—the winner of the so-called “baby race,” which saw the children of George III scrambling to produce a royal heir. Next, she focuses on Victoria as a wife, from her first impressions of her cousin Albert to the early years of their marriage, to its tragic end. And, finally, she turns to Victoria as she is now best remembered—as the dour and unsmiling widow, who has come to symbolise the age she in some ways defined. 

In her introduction, Worlsey writes that popular culture has given us “two Victorias, bearing no clear relationship to each other”—the young and the old. She tries to draw the through-line between the two, although the biography’s premise naturally leads to jumps through time, especially following Albert’s death.

What I enjoyed most about the book was its readable prose (this isn’t the sort of non-fiction read you have to slog through!) and the wide appeal I think it would have. There are enough tantalising details in here to please a dedicated Victorianist, but knowledge of the period, or the British Royal Family, is not a prerequisite. 

I also appreciated Worsley’s candour in her introduction where she answers the question biographers must get tired of hearing. Does she like her human subject? She writes: “The answer is yes, initially hesitant, but ultimately resounding.” 

This should clue you in that this biography isn’t going to deliver a critique of monarchy, or Britain’s colonial activity under Victoria’s rule. Worsley approaches this book with scholarship, but also with the reverence dedicated royal watchers accord to The Firm today. Page time is given to wedding dresses, pageantry, and Christmas traditions, as well as to British and global politics. And, whatever you might think of them, Worsley gives us a convincing argument that these trappings form an important part of Victoria’s most enduring legacy.

If you’ve enjoyed Netflix’s The Crown and want to understand the woman who set the stage for the current queen the century before, this could be a good read for you. And, if you know the broad strokes of Victoria’s life, this will offer new, very human insights. But, be warned, if you lean more republican than monarchist, you might want to stay away. 

Do you have any recommendations of books for me to read and review next? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. Want to read my (Victorian-set) novel? Bronte’s Mistress, the story of the “bad woman who corrupted Branwell Bronte” is available in hardcover, ebook, or audiobook now. And make sure you sign up for my monthly email newsletter below. 

Get updates on my novel - Bronte's Mistress

* indicates required

Email Address * 

TV Review: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (1996)

I’m a huge lover of all things related to the Brontes. In fact, my debut novel, Bronte’s Mistress, which comes out in under two months (!), prominently features several members of literature’s most famous family. However, somehow it still took a pandemic in the year of Anne Bronte’s bicentenary to make me wonder if either of her novels had been adapted for film.

Turning to IMBD, I discovered that Anne, the youngest of the three novel-writing sisters, had been overlooked on the big screen, as much as elsewhere. There are a slew of adaptations of Charlotte’s Jane Eyre and Emily’s Wuthering Heights, but Anne’s Agnes Grey and Charlotte’s other novels have yet to been given the Hollywood treatment. There is just one lone TV adaptation of Anne’s second, more controversial, novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. This was made by the BBC in 1996. Thankfully for those of us in quarantine, it’s currently available via Amazon Prime Video.

The miniseries, which is three episodes long, was directed by Mike Barker and stars Tara Fitzgerald as runaway wife Helen Graham, Rupert Graves as her abusive husband, and Toby Stephens as Gilbert Markham, the farmer who falls for the mysterious “widow” renting nearby mansion Wildfell Hall.

I was initially sceptical about how the book would translate to film, comprised as the novel is of letters and a diary but, reader, I loved it.

There are minor plot alterations, especially related to the more streamlined cast of secondary characters, but the TV adaptation remains true to the spirit of Anne’s novel. We are closer to Gilbert’s perspective in the first and third episodes, but, when he is handed Helen’s diary, it is her voice that details her unhappy marriage.

The adaptation also does a great job of editing down some of Anne’s most didactic passages, leaving us with the best of Helen as she begs her husband to prepare for heaven, or argues that boys should be protected from vice as much as girls, directly calling out gendered double standards in Victorian childrearing.

I especially enjoyed the shots of the Yorkshire landscape and the original soundtrack (composed by Richard G. Mitchell). The Tenant of Wildfell Hall certainly has its dramatic moments but, as in Agnes Grey, Anne favours a quieter romance, and the music and setting enhanced this. Charlotte found her youngest sister’s second novel shocking because of its depictions of alcoholism and debauchery, but today we might look at the book as a heart-warming second chance romance.

If you’re a lover of costume dramas, consider checking out this lesser known adaptation. I hope that eventually Anne’s Agnes Grey makes it onto our screens (and Bronte’s Mistress, of course!).

Bronte’s Mistress is available for pre-order now. Order today and you’ll have it in your hands on release day in August. And join my mailing list for updates on events and more.

Get updates on my novel - Bronte's Mistress

* indicates required

Email Address *

Theatre Review: Cheer From Chawton, 14th Street Y, New York City

Another post for Jane Austen fans! 

Last month I wrote about attending a marathon reading of Jane Austen’s 1818 Persuasion in the beautiful setting of the King Manor Museum in Queens. This month it was time for another event perfect for so-called Janeites—a one-woman play at the 14th Street Y in Manhattan.

Cheer From Chawton is a play that playwright and actor Karen Eterovich has been performing for over ten years. She’s taken it to museums and theatres, played for British and American audiences, and answered lots of questions from crowds along the way.

The conceit is that Jane Austen has been tricked by her family at their home in Chawton. They’ve left her to tackle an unrehearsed solo performance, rather than engaging in their normal amateur theatricals. ‘Jane’ relates the story of her life and changing fortunes as a novelist, giving us occasional cameos of her most memorable characters. There are even roles for unwitting members of the audience, as Eterovich pulls spectators onstage, or, in the guise of Miss Bates from Austen’s 1815 Emma, moves through the crowd, addressing us by different names.

The play is good fun, if a little chaotic. I did wonder what those who’ve never read Austen, or seen adaptations of her works, would have made of it! But, more than ten years on, the show is still finding its audience—diehard fans, who are so familiar with Austen’s oeuvre that they can move from scene to scene, and even from novel to novel, with ease.

At the close of the show, Eterovich held a brief Q&A session, fielding enquiries about her process and the places she’s taken the play. I asked her what question was the most common on her tours. She told me that she’s often asked about the feat of memory involved in learning lines of early-nineteenth-century prose. Her answer? Memorising Austen is a great way to realise how word-perfect the writing is.

I can well believe it. In an era when many first encounter Austen on-screen, in period dramas complete with lavish costumes, brilliant ball scenes, and the occasional nudity (hello Johnny Flynn in the opening scene of the 2020 film adaptation of Emma!), Cheer From Chawton still delights with few props, no visual effects and no dashing male lead. How extraordinary that Jane’s words are still echoing through the centuries.

Do you know of any other NYC-based shows the Secret Victorianist may want to review next? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. And, if you’re on Team Bronte vs. Team Austen, or just love all things nineteenth-century, check out the details about my upcoming novel, Bronte’s Mistress, here.

Writers’ Questions: Should I write an outline (plotters vs. pantsers)?

In the last two posts in my Writers’ Questions series I dived into the business side of being an author with posts on finding literary agents and how to query them. Today, I’m returning to craft, with a discussion of how writers approach plotting out lengthy and complex novels.

G.R.R. Martin (1948- )

First, let’s start with some definitions:

The plotter: The writer who prefers to plan their novel meticulously before typing “Chapter One”. They may follow a specific novel planning method (you’ll find many for free online) or their feeling for plot may be instinctual, but either way they create their own map to take them from beginning to end of the writing process.

An outline: The plotter’s map and their secret weapon. This can vary in length and structure but it’s usually a document that sketches out the events of the novel, chapter by chapter, hitting all major plot points. Other plotters may eschew written outlines and plan using post-it notes or whiteboards (think: the murder detective’s office in a TV drama).

The pantser: The writer who prefers to fly by their seat of their proverbial pants. They make up their story as they write and may have little to no idea about where or how their novel will end at the outset.

Discovery writing: What the pantser engages in. Writing is an act of exploration where the writer is “surprised” by the events of their own novel.

Architects and Gardeners: Game of Thrones author G.R.R. Martin’s preferred terms for plotters and pantsers respectively. The only key difference here is that Martin sees gardeners as planting seeds, which bloom later on in their stories. This suggests a little more forethought than simply “pantsing” it.

The ARCs (advance reader copies) of Bronte's Mistress

The plotter vs. pantser debate is one that divides writers—and not along neat lines of success. Some swear by outlines, others feel they’d limit their creativity. But, if you’ve never outlined before and any of the following statements are true for you, I’d advise giving it a go:

You’re super organised in other areas of your life

Your calendar is colour-coded, your inbox is empty, you keep lists of birthdays and set reminders on your phone? If so, outlining isn’t just something that might be helpful for you—you might even enjoy it!

You’ve been writing the same novel for YEARS

Maybe an outline will help you see the finish line.

Your novels are never long enough

If you’re making the transition from shorter fiction to works of a novel length, outlining in advance could help you see if your plot is really complex enough to stretch across 70,000-110,000 words.

Your story loses its way

Your middle is slow or you’re getting feedback that your ending doesn’t quite map back to your opening. An outline could be an answer to your woes.

For my upcoming novel, Bronte’s Mistress, I acted more as a plotter than a pantser, although I’ve played with both approaches to writing. Because my novel is historical, and about real people, I started with a spreadsheet of all known events, categorised by whether they were important to my protagonist, the men in her life, her children or the Bronte family. I used this list to determine the best opening, climax and ending of my novel and then played the fun game of “fill in the blanks”, inventing the imagined events that would fall between those history had recorded.

A sneak peek at my early planning spreadsheet for Bronte's Mistress

Using Scrivener, I then noted the (real or made up) events I was sure would be scenes in the text sections where I’d go on to write them. I also inserted any snatches of prose (usually dialogue) that had come into my head during this plotting process to ensure I didn’t lose them.

My outline then was less of a standalone document than the sketch an artist applies paint over or bones later clothed with flesh. There was still so much I “discovered” along the way (especially related to flashbacks about events before the novel started and the characterisation of more minor characters), but my map kept my ship on course, not dashed against the rocks.

I’d love to hear from you about your experiences. Do you have a favourite outlining technique? Or do you love to invent as you go? As ever, if there are any other topics you’d love me to cover in my Writers’ Questions series, let me know—here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

Don’t forget you can follow me on Instagram too or sign up for updates on the publication of Bronte’s Mistress below.

Get updates on my novel - Bronte's Mistress

* indicates required

Email Address *

Neo-Victorian Voices: Longbourn, Jo Baker (2013)

There are two reasons we love retellings of our favourite novels, and they often act in opposition. First, we delight in discovering a new perspective on a familiar story. Second, we wish to recapture the feeling a beloved book gave us on our first reading.

Jo Baker’s 2013 Longbourn, a reimagining of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (1813) from the Bennets’ servants’ viewpoints, falls firmly in the former camp. The usual cast of characters is there—Jane, Lizzie, et al., Darcy and Bingley, the tedious Mr Collins—but they aren’t in the foreground. Instead we follow the inner lives of Sarah, a housemaid, and her fellow servants. For these characters too there is romance, reversal and villainy, but with a hefty dose of realistic drudgery.

Reading Longbourn can make you feel guilty about the questions you didn’t consider before. What will the effects of the house’s entail be on the servants who live and work there? Who must get the mud out of Lizzie’s petticoats? Or the blood out of the sisters’ menstrual rags? There are also darker questions about the source of the Bingleys’ wealth (slave-worked sugar plantations) or Lydia’s relative privilege compared to ‘ruined’ girls without Darcy-level financial backing.

Baker writes great prose. She moves between her point-of-view characters masterfully, giving us access to their emotions with equal doses of empathy and irony. I particularly enjoyed her descriptions of Hertfordshire and the beauty she finds in the mundane, e.g. laundry and dishwashing. Throughout, she’s respectful of her source material, keeping consistent with the events and characterisations in Pride and Prejudice, even where she adds extra colour.

Jo Baker

But if you’re looking to feel as you do when reading Pride and Prejudice, this novel might not satisfy. Longbourn hits some of the notes of the marriage plot on a structural level but, overall, the melody and mood is sadder. Baker’s book isn’t about Austenian wit and charm. It’s an answer to the sanitised escapism of some contemporary historical fiction and much of the Jane Austen fandom. Her ‘hero’, for example, is a former soldier, but not one of the swashbuckling redcoats we know from Meryton. In a section dedicated to him we confront the harsh realities of military combat, a world away from gowns and bonnets and shoe roses.

Longbourn is the best Austen-inspired novel I’ve reviewed in my Neo-Victorian Voices series (see, for instance, my review of Katherine J. Chen’s Mary B). Read it if you’re ready for something new. But if you’re just looking to indulge in nostalgia, reread Pride and Prejudice itself, or curl up in front of the BBC box set.

Which novel would you like the Secret Victorianist to review next as part of my Neo-Victorian Voices series? Let me know—here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist.