I read this one ages ago, and the one-line summation that currently exists on my blog is this: “I didn’t particularly like this story. Perhaps I ought to re-read it sometime.”

I don’t remember my motivations behind that statement; I went through an Austen phase about five years back, where I read all of her works in quick succession over the winter. Perhaps I was just worn out: too much Austen too fast. Perhaps I was put off by the Gothic novel parody; I hadn’t (and still haven’t) read one of them, so I couldn’t appreciate the joke inherent in Northanger Abbey‘s plot.

Whatever the reason, I’ve been staunchly in the camp that mocks this book, calling it boring and insipid, and not nearly as brilliant as her other works.

I’m here to eat some crow and admit that I was wrong: I like Northanger Abbey.

Why, you may ask? What changed my mind? I think a lot of my change of heart came about because I started this challenge with this one. I was dubious — starting with my least favorite Austen didn’t seem like a good way to begin things — but, being a dutiful reader (and one who is willing to stick with her plan), I decided just to go for it. I came to this book fresh — I haven’t read an Austen book in a long time — and decided to give up my prejudices. The other thing that helped, however, was a very informative and interesting introduction by Claudia L. Johnson. In it, she explains the origins of Northanger Abbey (including Austen’s irritation at the manuscript being bought in 1803, but never published) as well as the jokes inherent in the novel. Because I read the introduction, I was able to more fully enjoy the novel.

And I did enjoy it. I don’t think that it’ll be my favorite Austen novel, but it is a charming little book, a quintessential Austen novel. There’s Catherine, the silly girl, completely oblivious to society around her. Isabella, her “beloved” friend, is the social climber, exchanging both Catherine’s friendship and Catherine’s brother’s honest affections for something more lavish. Eleanor is the perfect, true, honest friend. Henry is charming in his role as the perfect Austen hero: knowledgeable, but not overbearing, falling in love with Catherine for her imperfections rather than in spite of them. The “bad” elements are there, too: there’s John the boor, who went so far as to “kidnap” Catherine for an afternoon, and then became infuriated that she doesn’t return his affections. And General Tilney in the role of the overbearing, disapproving parent who attempts to keep the lovers from happiness. Still, it wouldn’t be an Austen novel without the happy ending, though in this case, it’s incredibly, almost unbelievably, contrived. Maybe it’s more accurate to call this Austen-lite. She became a better writer, delving more deeply into characters and motivations and relationships as she went on, which is why her later books are the ones that are truly the classics. Still, this one is worth digging out and reading every once in a while, if only for the last line:

To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen, is to do pretty well; and professing myself moreover convinced, that the General’s unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend the parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience.