Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, 1815 

The first novel in James Wood’s course on consciousness in fiction, this is the second Jane Austen book I’ve read in the last month, and who would have guessed how absolutely delightful they’ve been.  While given over to wordy asides, Austen’s insights into the mores and customs of her time, her deep understanding of character and characters, her delicious irony and fine comedy all combine to account for why we are still reading her 200 years later.  The Bennets are a terrifically funny family—the clueless and flighty mother, the cynical and sarcastic father, the empty-headed Lydia (eventually to be wed to the wicked Wickham), the fairly invisible Catherine, the studious Mary, the good Jane (married to Bingley eventually), and the star of the novel, the irrepressible, witty, smart, and beautiful Elizabeth who is finally and happily united with Darcy despite the attempts of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Burgh, Bingley’s terrible sister, and most of society.  A fine, funny, and surprisingly suspenseful novel.  Coming so quickly on the heels of its predecessor, Sense and Sensibility, it is somewhat difficult to keep the parallel characters in their appropriate volumes, but great fun—Wickham and Willoughby, Darcy and Colonel Boland, Bingley and Villars, Elinor and Elizabeth.  One worries that Austen may be a one-trick pony, but the many novels that followed these two make that unlikely.  Delicious reading from 200 years ago!