I always felt a little sorry for Mary Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. It seemed to me that Mary was isolated in a way her other sisters were not; Lizzie and Jane had each other as confidants, and Lydia and Kitty were partners in crime. Mary’s biggest flaw seemed to be a lack of self-awareness that led to awkward social situations, which lacked the malice or selfishness of other character’s actions, especially Lydia’s.
In The Other Bennet Sister Janice Hadlow reimagines what Mary’s life might have been like and grants her agency and depth that is lacking in the original novel. While there is a romance in this book, it occurs well into the last third of the novel. Much of the novel is Mary’s journey as she breaks free of her toxic parents and learns self-acceptance and self-kindness, which I found to be a positive and uplifting message.
The first part of the novel is a retelling of Pride and Prejudice through Mary’s eyes, but since it’s one of my favorite books ever, I didn’t mind revisiting the events of the novel. It’s established right away that Mary feels like an outsider in her own home. She’s plain and studious, traits that her mother detests. She lacks the charm and humor that her father admires in Elizabeth. With Elizabeth and Jane as close friends, and Lydia and Kitty the same, Mary is left largely to her own devices, which is why she turns to books for escape.
This version of Mary is far more sympathetic than the original. She is painfully shy and does what she can to avoid notice (like dressing plainly). Her anxiety prior to the assembly in Meryton was something I felt as a teen before every school dance. I related to this version of Mary quite a bit. I was also extremely bookish and shy as a pre-teen and teen, and when you add to that glasses, braces and a bad case of eczema, I just wanted to blend into the wallpaper and away from the notice (and teasing) of my peers. Possibly because I related to Mary so much, the first part of the book was at times difficult to read because I felt so much secondhand embarrassment on her behalf.
In the original book, Elizabeth is embarrassed by the actions of her sisters (excluding Jane) and there’s a scene where Mary plays the piano and sings (badly) at a ball at Netherfield, mortifying Lizzie and causing their father to abruptly interrupt Mary, humiliating her. This passage from Mary’s point of view is even more painful. She had practiced diligently for this event and hoped this might be her moment to shine. Mary is an adept piano player, but her singing voice is lacking. Because her family is so absorbed with themselves, no one bothers to kindly tell her that before the ball. And when Mary does sing and embarrass herself, they don’t help her through it with any gentleness or kindness.
This section of the book and others highlight something that never fully registered with me as I read the original Pride and Prejudice–the Bennets are exceptionally shitty people. I mean, I understood that they were meant to be an embarrassment to Elizabeth periodically and that Mrs. Bennet especially was a caricature of an overly-dramatic, matchmaking mother, but The Other Bennet Sister makes it more apparent that the Bennet parents were emotionally neglectful if not outright abusive.
The first section of the book is actually fairly sad, and as I mentioned before, occasionally uncomfortable to read. The set up for how Mary has been treated is important for the rest of the novel though.
The next three sections deal with Mary learning to embrace who she is and treat herself with kindness. After her father’s death, Mary stays with the Gardiners in London, and this is where things really change for her:
Then she arrived at Gracechurch Street and everything changed. There she saw what true happiness looked like; and for the first time in her life, she understood what it felt like to be wrapped in its embrace. At Pemberley she was an observer, watching the contentment of others from the margins, but in the Gardiners’ home, she was included, invited in, and immersed in their kindness. For a while, she had allowed herself simply to bask in such an unfamiliar pleasure; but it had not been long before her enquiring mind awoke, and she began to look around Gracechurch Street with a questioning eye, asking how the Gardiners had achieved their happy state. It was only now that she grasped how it was done; as she saw, with a flash of comprehension, that Aristotle had a far better idea how happiness was to be achieved than Mrs. Bennet.
The happy contentment which defined life at Gracechurch Street was not the product of beauty, wealth, or luck. It was true the Gardiners enjoyed some good fortune–a comfortable income and good health chief amongst them–but none of them was outstandingly handsome, and they possessed no broad acres or rolling parklands. In fact, thought Mary, it might be argued that many of the same advantages from which they benefitted had been equally bestowed upon Longbourn–but without producing a comparably happy state. No, she decided, her ideas solidifying in her mind–the difference was that the Gardiners worked hard at the business of happiness, exerting themselves tirelessly to coax it into being. They did not consider happiness a matter of chance or destiny. Instead they did everything in their power to cultivate it, prizing generosity over petulance, preferring kindness to umbrage, and always encouraging laughter rather than complaint. The results were the happiest home Mary had ever known. If anyone might be said to have made their own happiness, she concluded, it was her uncle and aunt.
Mrs. Gardiner treats Mary with the kindness she missed from her own mother. She encourages Mary to sleep late, do some shopping, enjoy her time in the ways that are relaxing to her (namely reading). She doesn’t criticize, but rather she encourages. This is the section of the book that worked so beautifully for me because the message is that Mary doesn’t have to transform into anyone other than who she is already because there is nothing wrong with her. Studious, serious, with her glasses and plain dress, this version of Mary is worth loving and celebrating.
I loved this message. Mary’s journey isn’t about changing who she is; it’s about untangling herself from toxic family members and realizing that there is nothing wrong with her. She’s allowed past trauma to inform her view of herself, and the work she needs to do to change that viewpoint isn’t always easy. Sometimes she takes a step backward, but by the end of the book she is in a much different place.
There is a romance in this book, but if you’re reading purely for that you will likely be disappointed since it doesn’t emerge until the last third of the book. The Gardiners are friends with a young lawyer named Tom Hayward, also a diligent reader, who Mary becomes friends with. Initially still shy, she and Tom begin their friendship by exchanging books, which made me all swoony. After their initial meeting Mary tells Tom:
“You are very kind. But the offense, such as it is, is not all on your side. I too have a case to answer, for I prodded and poked you about so many things–poetry and the law–and you bore it all with the utmost patience.”
“Well,” replied Mr. Hayward, his cheerfulness restored, “if we are both equally at fault, can I suggest a plan of restitution? You shall recommend a book for me to read that you believe will improve me in some way, and I will do the same for you. The terms are these; the work must be read in its entirety–no skipping–and a full account of the sensations it produced is to be given by the reader to the recommender before a period of not more than fourteen days has expired. What do you say?”
Mary was delighted. There was nothing she would enjoy more.
Tom isn’t Mary’s only potential love interest. There is also his friend Will Ryder who is a handsome man of means. He admires Mary for her intelligence and her lack of artifice and a sort of love triangle develops between the three.
There was one part of this I didn’t understand and it is EXTREMELY spoilery:
Will is interested in Mary romantically. He is also the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and after her daughter runs off with a doctor, Lady Catherine names him her heir. She is also providing the allowance that permits him to basically be a man of leisure. She deliberately overlooks the Darcys as she still hates Elizabeth, and after a meeting with Mary earlier in the book, doesn’t like her much either.
I found it hard to understand that Will, whose finances are dependent on Lady Catherine, never addresses the fact that being with Mary would likely lead to him being cut off.
If my assumption that Lady Catherine would cut him off is valid, and I think it is, it seems out of character to Will to propose to Mary anyway. He repeatedly states in the book that he’s not suited to work.
I had a hard time wrapping my head around why this was never addressed and how out of character Will’s behavior was. It was enough to make me go back and reread to see if I missed anything.
I was also disappointed in the reappearance of Caroline Bingley. She shows up frequently in this book, but while the author takes the time to give us a kinder version of Mary, Caroline is a two-dimensional villain. She bullies Mary and is clearly trying to win Will’s affections. She comes across the “other woman” that was a frequent character in 1980’s and 1990’s romances–spiteful and mean, worldly and flirtatious compared to the innocent heroine.
Caroline wasn’t a likeable character in the original novel so I didn’t expect her to be redeemed here, but I thought her character could have been better developed rather than just a two-dimensional foil for Mary.
I did love that Mary’s journey wasn’t one of change, but of self-kindness and self-acceptance, and I love that she had to achieve that before any romance was introduced. She doesn’t change for or because of a man, and it isn’t until she learns to appreciate and respect herself that she enters into any kind of courtship.
I think fans of Pride and Prejudice will enjoy this novel, although it may not be very enjoyable for anyone who hasn’t read the original as we are expected to know this characters. The significant plot hole and the treatment of Caroline Bingley lowered my opinion of the book overall, and marred an otherwise pleasant reading experience. And I had a difficult time reading the first section as I experienced Mary’s pain and embarrassment acutely along with her. Once I was through part one, my enjoyment of the novel increased with each section and I did love it’s message of self-empowerment. Overall my reading experience with this book was a bit uneven, but ended on a positive note.
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I’m torn whether or not to get this book because I’m very interested in Mary’s journey after reading this review but I just can’t get on board with love triangles (unless it’s clear that Mary is only interested in one of the suitors). The only thing worse than a love triangle is a surprise love triangle halfway through the book though so I’m glad you mentioned it.
I am interested in Mary’s story, especially as I felt she was rather there to be made fun of by the other characters. However, I can’t stand love triangles (up there with any story set in a school or academy) and can barely tolerate a two dimensional mean girl. So I’ll skip.
Excellent review. You even captured why I so dislike Austen. As you wrote, in the original Pride and Prejudice, “the Bennets are exceptionally shitty people. [and] … the Bennet parents were emotionally neglectful if not outright abusive.” Having been raised by parents whose values were directly inherited from the Georgian and Victorian eras, I find Austen’s books too invested in those values to be comfortable with any of the characters. It sounds as if this book does some good redemptive work by focusing on the Gardiners, but the inclusion of an unrepentant Caroline Bingley and Will Ryder is a reminder that unless there are structural changes, the underlying society will win out. As we see today, those values are still abusive to those not of the proper class, color, gender, religion, economic, other abled, physical appearance, demeanor, and [insert any of myriad social norms here] situation.
The problem I have with books like this (such as the book from a few weeks ago about Lizzie’s friend Charlotte who marries Mr. Collins in P&P) is I always ask myself, would I want to read this book if there wasn’t a pre-existing tie-in with P&P? Along with, what makes this book stand out other than it’s connection to P&P? While I have no issue with the story of a young woman from an emotionally-abusive family finally finding her voice and her place with kinder, more nurturing people (which, in a way, could be an outline for JANE EYRE), I have to wonder how many people would read this book if it wasn’t an outgrowth of P&P.
Totally agree with @DiscoDollyDeb (as usual). Sounds like this is fanfic, which is fine if you are craving it, but it makes it a different experience that is really partially carried by Austen’s Previous work.
I feel the same about the different Sherlock Holmes books (Sherlock as an old man, as a woman, as a black woman in the future, etc.). They build on an existing foundation, which limits them, but also gives them a weird in with fans.
In some situations, like some of the Sherlock Holmes stuff, there is enough of a reimagining that I love it. Many times, though, I feel the author would be better served to start fresh with their own world and characters.
Thanks for the thoughtful review!
For those concerned about the love triangle
:: jumping up and down screaming with excitement ::
I always wanted to like Mary–if only she weren’t so preachy and annoying. It sounds as if this book makes it possible.
… Is it bad that I already feel that Mary is a complex enough character in the original? I totally get how people could read her as this more sympathetic character, but I’ve always felt that she’s a relatable character, in the “I understand how you got to be like this” sense, while still being a rather unpleasant person. Maybe I’m too influenced by the brilliant actor who played her in the ’90s BBC adaptation, but I do think that oblivious selfishness is a big aspect of her character, just like it is with her mother and Lydia, though it manifests differently. I haven’t read Colleen McCollough’s take on Mary, but I kind of wonder if it’s a better written version of this book. Anyway, I haven’t gotten enough sleep, sorry I’m rambling. I’m also not sure I would call both parents emotionally abusive, probably just Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Bennet is emotionally distant toward everyone except Jane and Lizzie, but his set-down of Lydia and Catherine early on in the book is pretty weak sauce for a parental scolding, in my opinion.
@Emma, the Colleen McCullough fix fic turned me off JAFF for many years and, after reading chunks of The Thorn Birds, I saw that it was a total rehash in some ways. Specifically the ways in which she elevated Mary by lowering others. I’m no pro-natalist myself, but…
(McCullough btw lived on Norfolk Island when it was a weird not-so-authorised Aussie tax haven. She is roundly despised for it by compatriots.)
Austen’s Mary got on my nerves, as I don’t believe it’s much better to quote authors at your contemporaries than to quote the older generations you know personally like little kids do. I don’t like that this fanfic fails to acknowledge that Mary already had that much distance in Austen though,… that is until Austen consigns her to a semi-Sartrean Hell of backup to Mrs Bennett. That is a horrible position for an introvert to be in vis-à-vis an extrovert, let alone a toxic narcissist one; I understand why it prompts fix fics better now. (Still don’t forgive McCullough. That book was one awkward gift to receive.)
And really, Aristotle? Isn’t that the guy who thought women inferior and deaf people stupid?
@Qualisign, Austen flies in the face of conventional wisdom plenty. That’s why Mansfield Park got no reviews in her lifetime.
She was even biting the hand that fed her with that novel. Her family lived off clerical positions, inc tithes, being nepotistically allocated to junior family members of gentry, as well as more straightforward forms of inherited wealth. You don’t really expect an Anglican insider like Austen to point out that (a) the job is handed to younger sons and nephews and cousins on a plate, (b) many a time, ministers are given more ground than they can cover, and they do nothing or the bare minimum, farming out the work to underpaid curates, (c) this does not make for great pastoral care.
More importantly, Helena Kelly is probably right about the broader ‘j’accuse’, ie Austen using a framework of references in MP to attack the church for getting funding off slave labour.
I thought some of it – the objets – was rather a long bow to draw until I read Paula Byrne on the theatre refs, read The Clandestine Marriage, and found a direct marriage mart-slavery comparison and a piece of jewellery called an ‘esclavage’ (French for slavery).
The *shape* of a (collier d’) esclavage was also two-tiered, very similar to the two necklaces worn together by Fanny Price.
There is also the school of thought that holds that narcissistic abuse overlaps strongly with systemic injustice, enough that an understanding or experience of the first can be used to help extrapolate towards expanding empathy with the second, especially in combination with direct testimony.
If the mechanism works, then the ‘pain into power’ solidarity multiplier factor would be high. Adding in the selfish-neglectful form of abuse alone takes the poorly parented population near 40%, and that’s just personally experienced narcissism. I can only say it works for me.
Which reminds me, @Emma, I totally disagree that ‘the silliest girls in the country’ is a weaksauce insult from dad. Even when country really meant county. Bearing in mind that the girls are ‘out’ and the Bennett parents are suppose to be talking them up, trying to get them off their hands, it rather reminds me of the ugly put-down in my maternal line: ‘pity the man who marries you’.
Though I guess it’s accurate. You’re going to end on DWIL with in-laws who’d say THAT to their daughters.
I think based on a reread of your overall positive review, you should have given the book a B…the minus might shoo away readers who would enjoy this very well written book.
For my part, it’s at least a B+ to an A-.
You subtract points for making Caroline Bingley a 2 dimensional bad girl…but don’t we all have those bad actors scattered throughout our own social histories? Frankly, I am not interested in hearing about mitigating circumstances that might humanize my past tormentors. Those bad apples remain rotten…even decades later.
Read this book if you love P&P! You won’t regret it.
I have tried several Austen pastiches, and have mostly been disappointed by them – but not this one. I enjoyed it very much, and while I understand the quibbles with the triangle(s), it did not change my pleasure in the book. I would rate this an A, because it was so respectful to P&P and Austen’s writing style, and because it gave me such pleasure to see Mary finally treated well -and grow up. Not a perfect book, but it’s also a first novel, and by that standard it’s extraordinary.
I often felt that with Jane and Lizzy being so much a duo, (and Lydia and Kitty the same, without the common sense), Mary was pretty much ignored.
And I know that Lizzy and Jane were not responsible for their younger sisters, but really, how could they not see how useless their parents were until it was too late? (Lydia’s elopement). I always thought Jane and Lizzy were a little too smug about the younger girls and their silliness. You’d think it would occur to them – “Hey! We might have trouble finding husbands if they think they’ll be responsible for those idiots!”
Can anyone tell me in which chapter towards the end of the book Mary tells Miss Bingley she does not want/love Ryder because she loves Haywood. This leads Miss B to write her letter to Tom and brings him forward, a clear parallel to when Lady Catherine de Bourgh tells Darcy that Elizabeth refused to say she would not marry Darcy. I so want to find that passage.
I disagree with parts of the blog because I find in Austen’s novel genuine abuse of Mary which does not bother Austen and it makes perfect sense to me that Mary (modeled on a kind of combination of Catherine Morland, Fanny Price and Elizabeth P) would not accept Mr Ryder when he says he is really drawn because she will better him. I agree with her he’d soon be bored once he had her firm yes.