Rating: 2.5/5 stars
Man, am I glad that’s over. And I feel terrible for saying that.
I don’t know what my problem with the book was. I’ve really enjoyed everything I’ve read by Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion, and Lady Susan were all immersive for me, and left me feeling satisfied when I finished the last page of each. But Sense and Sensibility just let me down.
Not that it was a bad story. It really wasn’t. It even had a healthier dose of complexity and depth than many of her other works. The plot and the characters and the settings were all well crafted, and the writing was lovely as always. It’s a classic for a reason; so what was my problem here?
The humor. Or, the lack thereof. When I read Austen, what keeps me enthralled is her wit and sarcasm. Her leading ladies tend to have wonderful senses of humor, as do the majority of their love interests. But in this story we have a more stoic heroine and, though she’s an interesting character, she’s not quite as compelling as many of her fellow heroines. There were moments of humor, of course; Mrs. Jennings can be incredibly amusing, and it’s hard not to laugh at the elder Miss Steele. But the humor in this story took a distant back seat to the relationship drama, which left me feeling discontented. I struggled reading this.
Was the book terrible? Of course not. I doubt that anything Jane Austen wrote can be fairly considered awful. And I know there are people who hold this as their favorite Austen novel, and I respect their opinions. It just didn’t do it for me, unfortunately.