Rather than diving deeply into something esoteric, I will examine the tools writers <should-ought to> use to create Austenesque literature.
I am stressing the word literature: for is not that process a craft, a skill, an offering of an artistic effort? If it is something we are to be proud of, should we not work to create fictional art that is a tribute to the Lady?
I come to this question appreciating the utter originality of Austen’s tales. True, she did have the advantage of being early in the novel’s epoch and, thus, had a leg up in the sweepstakes to describe love lost and won before others.
However, what sets her apart is that she did it so well.
Today, we seek to explore the universe she created by building our own tales bringing (mostly) the Bennet family into more significant relief.
Of course, the best plot in the world cannot survive if the writing style seems adolescent or is rife with anachronisms that distract the reader.
While we can debate the timing of the Elizabeth/Darcy story (I find the 1810-11 window most productive, although I recently time-shifted ODC to 1815 to coincide with Persuasion in my crossover novel The Sailor’s Rest), we cannot ignore that railroads did not exist until the early 1820s. There were no telegrams. Travel to India took about four to six months (ocean route around the Cape of Good Hope) as the Napoleonic Wars barred the shorter passage through the Mediterranean and then on foot across the Suez into the Red Sea. Few prisoners were transported to British Canada—the Americas—(Georgia was lost in 1783), so Australia (Botany Bay) was the only logical choice. Dispatching Wickham to “the Americas” in 1811 would have consigned him to the Spanish colonies.
As I have noted in other posts, I do not seek to replicate the voice of Regency England. I fear it would be somewhat inaccessible to readers—not as bad as Chaucer—but it might make comprehension difficult enough that the story would be lost. Thus, I work to offer my interpretation of how a Twenty-first Century person might think a Nineteenth Century individual would sound.
Knowing a touch of etymology helps here. For instance, contractions were used throughout the Nineteenth Century but did not enter the upper-class lexicon until the 1860s. Colonel Fitzwilliam would not have used can’t when conversing with the Earl and Countess, even though he may have learned it from his soldiers.
Writers need to be curious about the words they choose. I frequently ask: Did this word even exist in 1811? For instance, teenager did not enter English until the 1880s. Closure (used in The Exile: The Countess Visits Longbourn) did not appear in its psychological garb until the mid-1920s. Alright still does not exist as a proper English word (‘all right,’ as Carol S. explained, is the only correct way to compose this).
Tailgate
Sometimes you do not know if the word you seek is appropriate for the Regency. You need a sort of “radar” (an expression of the 1940s) to catch phrases that may not fit. One of my favorites is “tailgate,” a word I wanted to use while writing In Plain Sight. Ellen Pickels of Meryton Press caught it with the note that the word did not enter the lexicon until the 1850s. As I later ascertained, the most appropriate word for the hay wagon Mary and Edward Benton used to spirit Darcy and Elizabeth out of Meryton in Chapter 31 would have likely used a “tailboard.” Of longue duree importance is that until the 1850s, mass-produced iron hinges were not available. A blacksmith could make hinges, but the cost versus the utility was prohibitive for a farmer. In the end, neither term made the book.
Wagon with sideboards, head and tail boards
A copy of the Oxford English Dictionary (mine is print) and Fowler’s Guide to Modern English Usage are two tools I use. I also know the wonders of a Google search using the term ‘(((pick your word))) etymology)))’. Either will deliver the results you need to keep your vocabulary consistent with the times.
Of course, if your characters have lived in the future, but I digress.
However, when words of unique historical origin are misused, they stick out like a sore thumb. For instance, little Maddie Darcy may clutch a teddy bear. That babe must have snuck out of one of my Wardrobe stories, as the stuffed plush toy was not created until after Theodore Roosevelt’s 1902 bear hunt, where he refused to murder a bear his beaters had tied to a tree.
However, something frequently traps #Austenesque writers:
#1 Favorite Word Anachronism: OK or Okay.
This word originated in the 1836 American Presidential campaign which pitted Vice-President Martin van Buren against Henry Clay. Van Buren, whose political machine controlled politics in New York State, was a descendent of the original Dutch patroons who had settled the Hudson River Valley. Van Buren was known as Old Kinderhook. Like a memorable trademark, a good nickname was useful in pre-literacy America.
Politics of the time were very personal as the spoils system ensured that government jobs would be staffed with partisans. Those men could expect a few years of guaranteed employment and salaries (and corruption) if their man won. Thus, it was essential to confirm everyone’s loyalty.
OK grew from the response to being quizzed about preference. One voting for Van Buren would aver that he was “O-K” and would pass the test. The leader rewarded loyalty despite the public interest. For those interested, The Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act of 1883 removed political favoritism from almost all government jobs.
As an author, the selected words are important, even if readers never notice them. They are part of the practice of my craft to provide the best reading experience. I follow the film director Wes Anderson’s model. He often tucks a note, perhaps a shopping list, into an actor’s costume pocket, not because he wants the actor to use it in the scene but because the character would have such an item in that pocket.
Edward Benton’s hay wagon—even though I did not write of it—would have used a tailboard and not a tailgate.
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Before moving on to the excerpt from In Plain Sight, please take a moment to consider my fundraising appeal. I have decided to participate in the 2023 Death Valley Climate Ride (November 2023). To do so, I must raise $2,800. Any contribution helps. I do have some premiums available for assistance over $50. If you want to drop a quick $2,000, I will figure out something spectacular (grin). Please visit my Page. There you will find news and a donation link.
https://support.climateride.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donordrive.participant&participantID=11503
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This excerpt from “In Plain Sight” is © 2020 by Donald P. Jacobson. Any reproduction in any form without the expressed written consent of the creator is prohibited.
Chapter 31
…
The dray horses’ tack jangled as the wagon made its way along the Meryton-St. Albans Turnpike. A man and a woman, likely a farmer and his wife, sat on the box. Behind them, nestled in the mounds of hay, another young woman lounged, her alert eyes scanning the darkened fields through which the freighter rolled. A man, apparently sound asleep, lay on the opposite side of the bed.
As the vehicle moved through the darkest hour dampness, the couple on the seat softly murmured to each other.
“I hope you are not disappointed with our wedding day…or night…my love,” Edward whispered.
“How could I be unhappy, dearest? I am sharing it with you. My family and friends surrounded me: all making a joyous noise. Even though I have never been overly fond of dancing, I know that such activity is tolerable with the right partner.
“And I realized how much your love has changed me. The old Mary would have snorted that ‘any savage can dance’ and retreated to bury her nose in a fusty old tome.
“No, Edward my love, we must remember that even old King David danced from pure happiness when he celebrated the Lord’s favor for the people of Israel.”
Edward chuckled. “And although some of our parishioners and patrons might want to disagree, even our Lord and Savior loved a good party. I seem to recollect something to do with another wedding and wine…”
Then he cut short his light reply. He nudged Mary’s leg with his. His wife leaned forward, her eyes straining to part the gloom ahead before straightening. She quietly called over her shoulder, “Annie…Mr. Wilson. Get ready! Lizzy…Mr. Smith…there are men in the road up ahead. Do not move.”
Wilson collapsed onto the silage and began to snore loudly; his hat pulled over his face. Annie leaned onto the hay, throwing her arms out to the side.
Buried beneath a scratchy stack three feet thick, a strong hand slid along the floorboards to caress trembling fingers.
The flickering torches parted the night as the wagon came up to three men on horseback. Unseen by all were two ghosts who had earlier slipped off the loading gate at the back and into the sedge on either side of the road. James Footman and Sergeant Tomlinson were invisible in their darkened clothing. Each man bore a brace of pistols and short blades against the possibility that their charges would be threatened.
“You there,” one of the heavies challenged, “why’re ye about this time ’o th’ mornin’?”
Benton’s voice had lost its cultured cant. “Blamed brother, me sister’s ’usband, decided to bury ’is snout deep inta way too many tankards o’ ale. Would’a gotten shut o’ Meryton hours ago, but ’ad’ta pour ’im inta th’ back o’ th’ cart fust.”
He thumbed a hand over his shoulder in the general direction of Wilson. Annie affected a suitably disgusted look.
His interrogator demanded, “Whur ye be ’eaded?”
“’Ertford,” was the one-word response.
“Then ye be goin’ th’ wrong way.” The riders edged closer in increasing suspicion.
Benton bristled back. “An’ ’oo be ye ta question whur any Englishm’n be travelin’?” Then he paused and looked at the man’s weapons before continuing. “But ta satisfy ye curios’ty, there be an escapee in th’ area. I ’eard ’e ’ad laid out two o’ ’is ward’rs. Dinna wan’ta put me wife an’ kin in danger.
“We go north afore we loop back south. Need ta git this ’ay back ta me milch-cows. Lost a pasture ta fire afore ’arvest.”
The three men took in his explanation while they circulated around the wagon. Annie glowered at them, the image of a furious wife who could not take out her ire upon its object and had to settle for substitutes.
Finally, the leader of the pack grunted and waved the wagon forward. Benton snapped the reins and clucked his tongue. The three watched as the conveyance passed out of the guttering circle and into the mists slowly obscuring the landscape as cold air sought its level and collided with the warm soils of Hertfordshire.
Very interesting! I love etymology and often look up words to see when they originated.
That said, I have to complain about some of your books not being available on Kindle anymore, such as In Plain Sight and Longbourn Quarantine. I realize they are available as Audible books, but you should understand that not everyone can make use of Audible recordings. I am unable to listen to a story and maintain my concentration; I can't help but look around, and soon my attention is distracted and suddenly I'm not listening anymore. I've been this way all my life - remember Books On Tape? Yeah, that didn't work on long drives in the 80s, so not much hope for Audible books, even at home.
I hope you will reconsider and make all your books available on Kindle.
Don, I appreciate the history lesson on various words. I have often wondered when certain words originated in the English language. I laughed when you mentioned Chaucher. If I had to read him now, I would fail miserably! Your use of the local dialog in the excerpt was very creative. It took two readings before I was able to figure "translate" it!