Jane and the Twelve Days of Christmas by Stephanie Barron (Being a Jane Austen Mystery)

It may have been simply the timing – there couldn’t be a better set up for a mystery lover at Christmastime – but Jane and the Twelve Days of Christmas brought Stephanie Barron’s “Being a Jane Austen Mystery” series back into my rotation after a fairly lengthy hiatus.

After two slightly disappointing previous installments, I found myself thoroughly engrossed in a mystery that had all the classic elements of a good mystery: Jane and her family trapped in a snowbound country estate, a nefarious murder that leaves a household full of suspects, geopolitical intrigue, a pleasant subplot of a hand-made doll’s wardrobe and an as-ever observant but slightly more snarky (and hilarious) Jane Austen.

So again, it may have been the timing. It was Christmas, I was determined to get into the Christmas spirit and it was bitterly cold in both Phoenix and Las Vegas (by Phoenix and Las Vegas standards, mind you) where I started and finished the book. I’m a great believer in literary ambiance and if there were ever a book written to be enjoyed while drinking spendy tea and wearing Christmas fuzzy socks this is it.

Yet perhaps this particular installment achieves its aim so well because Barron fleshes out Austen and her family in a way I don’t think she ever has before.

In this book we glimpse Austen’s deep yearning for her deceased father. The complexities of her relationship with her sister Cassandra elevate “Cass” from a background character to a much more appealing player. Likewise, even Austen’s brother Henry and his wife, Mary, unlikeable though they may be, feel like those family members we all have in one iteration or another. That's not to say there's an excessive amount of naval gazing, mind you. But Jane felt more like a woman and less like just a detective-cum-authoress than ever before. 

It’s clear Barron conducts an extraordinary amount of research into every book and is meticulous about incorporating actual facts from Austen’s life into the mystery. Or rather, she takes Austen's life and puts a mystery into that time period. If Austen was in Bath in December of 18__, that’s where that mystery will take place. If her brothers were deployed during the first Napoleonic war, then Barron will be certain to work in Jane’s justifiable fretting about them. The books are set up as journal entries for chapters, but the dates are not made up in the slightest. In terms of sheer chronological detail, this series may be as close to nonfiction as a pastiche can ever hope to get.

And maybe that’s why Barron always seemed a bit reticent to develop her Jane Austen’s character. In the other books, I always felt like Austen was almost too objective, her astuteness the product of an impartiality that made her a touch less, well, human. 

Not so in Twelve Days, however. It feels as though Barron has made whatever peace she needed to in order to allow this iteration of Austen blossom into a full-fledged heroine, complete with an internal life that goes beyond eagle-eyed observation of others and an intellect softened by wit.

There’s even the slightest whiff of romance, which I for one was happy to see, but in true Austen style this in no way interferes with or subtracts from the very serious business of murder, family secrets and – huzzah! – plausible secret passages.

In addition to a wonderful atmosphere and well-developed characters (there are quite a few, actually), this particular Jane Austen mystery sheds light on Edwardian Christmas celebrations and traditions, which nerds like me always enjoy. From the actual boughs of holly decorating the table to the literal Yule log burning in the hall, I learned quite a bit in the best way possible, by being told a story. Not being religious, I found the days honoring various saints was especially fascinating.

Finally, as a political junkie, the addition of a crucial geopolitical facet to the mystery left me falling asleep only because I couldn’t keep my eyes open and waking up eager to get to reading again. I wish that had been developed a bit more, but respect that it really couldn’t be without stretching the boundary of plausibility too far.

Death Comes to Pemberly by P.D. James

Death Comes to Pemberley was my introduction to the world-renown Baroness of Holland Park P.D. James, and so I am crushed to report I did not enjoy this book at all.

I was so excited to read it, too.

First, I would finally be introduced to P.D. James and, given the subject of this blog, I'm well aware of how ridiculous it is I haven't read anything else by her.

Secondly, although not a cosplaying, fanfiction-writing, convention-attending fangirl, I do so love Jane Austen. Aside from the Sherlock Holmes canon, which I re-read when I was younger every November for about six years straight, I am not, as a general rule, one for re-reading books. But I have read Northanger Abbey, Pride and Prejudice, and Sense and Sensibility twice each, and suspect at some point down the road I will certainly revisit Emma.

The premise of the mystery is a wonderful one, too. A dark and stormy night, a carriage carrying Elizabeth's infamous sister Lydia (yes, that Lydia, now Mrs. Wickham) to the Darcys' door, a brutally murdered body found in a moonlit field -- the perfect recipe to stay up cataclysmically late reading. In fact, the book jacket's synopsis made save this book for a weekend because I was certain I'd lose track of time and look up from it to see silver clouds and the sun flirting with the skyline.

Which makes this review all the more difficult to write. So I will start on a positive note, and work my way through from there.

The book does succeed in a few notable ways well worth mentioning.

Undeniably, P.D. James captured the tone, syntax and rhythm of Austen's narrative style masterfully. It is obvious James loved Austen and James certainly treated Austen's sparse but piercing writing style with respect, if not reverence. Achieving that level of authenticity is not easily done and James deserves high praise for it.

There was quite a bit of detail on the British legal system, which was at the advent of some pretty exciting and revolutionary changes at the time, and James does a nice job incorporating these. As a former law student and just a nerd in general, I thought these were some of the most interesting parts of the book, but I wouldn't be shocked if others found it to be a bit too much.

There was, of course, some rehashing of Pride of Prejudice, and even though at times I thought it tedious I can forgive it -- not everyone who picks up this book with be familiar with its basis and they deserve a full story arc, too. So for me, that wasn't the issue.

The problem was the book never seemed to really to gain momentum of any kind until the very end and, even then, one subplot was tied up in a way that I can only describe as deus ex machina at best and lazy at worst.

The dialogue felt forced and wooden, turning all of the characters into beige, blurry splotches of their beloved roots, at times nearly interchangeable.

Now, I understand that this is, after all, a pastiche; I think it's unreasonable to expect the characters in any pastiche to be exactly the same as the ones in an original work. And, given that this story takes place a good length of time after Pride and Prejudice, it can be easily argued that the characters, like real people, will have grown and changed from their experiences.

Yet all of the characters sounded like the same person was speaking, particularly the men.

Granted, there was a tone and style to speech in Regency England that reflected one's class and upbringing, and any writing tackling Austen has to be aware of this because Austen herself used that as a narrative tool so well.

So Wickham would have the same speech pattern as Darcy because it would underscore their common upbringing, and serve as a subtle way to remind the reader that despite speaking the same as Darcy they are not, and never were or will be, in the same class caste.

However, that does not mean characters would give up any and all sense of personality. The fact that Austen's characters are still beloved today proves this. But unfortunately, that is exactly what happens in Death Comes to Pemberley. 

If Lydia was being melodramatic, or Darcy frustrated, or Wickham cagey, the reader never knows this by how they act or what they say but because they are told that is the case. This may come down to personal preference but that level of expository writing in fiction simply bores me to tears.

This made a pretty decent twist ending (those who read mysteries frequently will likely figure it out pretty early on) fall flat.

Even the settings have the two-dimensional feel of a cutout for a stage play, like something James had to get through before she could go back to explaining things. The characters didn't so much interact with the places they are in so much as get put there.

Which I suppose, for me, is the best way to sum up why I couldn't get lost in this story. It felt rushed and mechanical, the fiction equivalent of reading a grocery list.

Of course, every well-plotted story has an attendant checklist -- introduce characters, give full context, describe/incorporate settings, etc. etc., and what is a plot if not map? But the reader should never see that process or even know it is happening.

Whereas while slogging my way through this book I couldn't shake the feeling I was reading a detailed basic outline of a proposed story. Had James taken the time to flesh it out a bit more, this could have been a really great pastiche.

Jane and Cantebury Tale by Stephanie Barron (A Jane Austen mystery)

I have to be careful when reviewing installments in this series. The truth is ever since a major development involving a certain major character occurred, the books simply haven’t been the same.

Don’t get me wrong – Stephanie Barron’s command of Austen’s syntax and narrative style, not to mention her ability to plausibly tie every mystery into where Austen actually was at the time in real life, continues to be nothing short of incredible.

That said, this installment was oddly easy to figure out. Admittedly, this could be because I primarily read historical fiction mysteries (hence this blog), particularly character series. But I’ve always counted on Barron for her ability to genuinely stump and surprise.

Barron’s plots, like Austen’s, are generally subtle without being opaque. The puzzle in Jane Austen mysteries is usually pieced together through the quiet but crucial tells of the different characters. A stutter here, an unexplained absence there, strange behavior or a tiny inconsistency in aspect or dress.

To be sure, there is some of that in this book. But one of the main events – the delivery of a sachet of seeds to a bride on the eve of her second wedding – fizzles out a bit and was rather disappointing. I suppose it could have been a peacock feather meant to distract, but all the same, that tantalizing plot point was still something of a letdown.

Likewise, one of the characters, a sketchy, world-traveled sailor, is marvelously compelling. Austen and her brother’s visit to that character in gaol is Barron at her best. But here, too, the final reveal was not very surprising and rather anticlimactic.

Again, I have to be careful here. I may simply be getting over the series; I wasn’t a huge fan of the last installment, either. I’ll admit that for about six months now my tastes have leaned towards more contemporary mystery series. 

Still, normally I when I read a Jane Austen mystery it is an elegant experience during which the reader is given plenty of time and room to savor character development. Though the events are rarely hurried, the undercurrent thread of suspense is always taut. This installment, though not unenjoyable, simply didn’t seem as good as the others. 

Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor: Being the First Jane Austen Mystery by Stephanie Barron

Stephanie Barron has taken a gem of information that only literary scholars are usually privvy to and brought it, perfectly and charmingly, to the masses. 


Through Barron's well-researched books, filled with details for Austin fans to gobble up (her brother's Navy career, her time in Bath, her lonliness and constant bordering on poverty) we meet the Jane Austen that loved to write, was sharply intelligent and had an acerbic wit thinly veiled in the simple prose of time. 


But you dont' have to love or know a lot about Jane Austen to appreciate these books. For anyone who simply loves a good mystery and appreciates a constrained protagonist (it's fascinating how Jane uses her lower social standing to advantage to get information), these are thoroughly enjoyable books.