Death comes to Pemberley /

In P.D. James's sequel to 'Pride and Prejudice,' Elizabeth Bennet s impossible siblings are still making trouble. A SPIRING writers take heart: one of the most beloved novels of all time was rejected when it was fluttered in front of publishers in 1797 - or so the historical record suggests. Called "First Impressions," it was written by a country girl whose father was so impressed by his daughter's sage and vivacious creation that he sent a letter of inquiry to a publisher, who refused even to look at the manuscript. Never mind. Sixteen years later, the book appeared under a different title. Perhaps you've heard of it: "Pride and Prejudice." Here's a quick recap. A proud, clever girl named Elizabeth Bennet - who has four sisters; a silly, social-climbing mother; a smart but passive father; and no family fortune to speak of - is pursued, reluctantly, by a dashing, arrogant wealthy man named Fitzwilliam Darcy, who loves her but considers her beneath him. "Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?" he rudely asks, grudgingly confessing his love and demanding her hand in marriage. He's stunned when she refuses him. Eventually, Lizzy teaches him more "gentlemanlike" manners and they marry in a double wedding with Darcy's friend Bingley and Lizzy's sister Jane, whom Darcy had initially striven to keep asunder. How did the marriages work out? Almost 200 years later, we have an answer in the form of a satisfying sequel called "Death Comes to Pemberley," a mystery by the ingenious P.D. James. This has been an excellent year for Austen buffs, marking the 200th anniversary of her first appearance in print, with the anonymously published novel "Sense and Sensibility." Austen had begun writing that book years earlier, and its success meant that publication of three other works followed quickly. But so, unfortunately, did her death, in 1817, at the age of 41. Nonetheless, her fame has lived on, magnified in recent decades by films and Web sites inspired by her novels. Indeed, the current Austen vogue has led to a near epidemic of imitation, so much so that HarperCollins recently announced it would enlist six popular authors to invent contemporary versions of her oeuvre. First up is Joanna Trollope, with "Sense and Sensibility." That's quite an audacious undertaking. So far, the most successful modem reincarnation of Austen was Amy Heckerling's 1995 movie "Clueless," a glossy overhaul of "Emma" that clad the ageless bones of Austen's plot in glossy Hollywood flesh and fashion. Meanwhile, the most grotesque reanimation has surely been the 2009 para-literary niche phenomenon "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies." But this bicentennial year has produced a veritable zombie army of wannabe Janeites. The last six months have seen the emergence of such "Pride and Prejudice" tributes as "Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star" (in which Darcy and Bingley play in a rock band called Slurry and team up for a summer tour with Long Borne Suffering, a girl group headed by Lizzy and Jane); "Definitely Not Mr. Darcy" (a divorced single mother auditions for an Austen-inspired TV show); "A Weekend With Mr. Darcy" (an Austen-obsessed professor travels to a conference in the English countryside and meets a man); "Pride and Prejudice: Hidden Lusts" (did Darcy need help in the "manhood" department?); and the smartenough but skippable "original" story collection "Jane Austen Made Me Do It." Reading the productions of this motley crew of Regency-sparked Frankensteins, one remembers the reflection of Lizzy Bennet's sardonic father: "For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?" For that reason, it's surprisingly gratifying, while turning the pages of P.D. James's homage, to find oneself laughing not at the characters but with them. Baroness James, 91, a retired British civil servant, former magistrate, BBC governor and author of 20 previous books (many featuring the poet detective Adam Dalgliesh) is far too wise to overstep her authorial license. Her innovation has been to transplant the dramatis personae from Austen into her own suspenseful universe, preserving their likenesses and life force. James clearly understands that many readers feel as close an attachment to Austen's characters as they do to their own relatives and friends. So she cannily begins by furnishing answers to the natural question: "Where are they now?" How right it feels to learn, as James informs us, that Bingley and Jane moved away from Netherfield soon after their marriage, wanting to put distance between them and the ever-querulous Mrs. Bennet at Longbourn. What a delight to read that tone-deaf, humorless Mary Bennet has married a "thin, melancholy" rector, "given to preaching sermons of inordinate length and complicated theology." How apt that the evil seducer George Wickham, after marrying Lizzy's frivolous sister Lydia, worked as a secretary for the foppish baronet Sir Walter Elliot (a character from Austen's novel "Persuasion") until Lydia's "open flirtation" with the baronet and Wickham's simpering attempts to ingratiate himself with his employer's daughter met "finally with disgust." And what a treat to see Bingley 's snobbish sisters, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, get their comeuppance - and Harriet Smith (of "Emma") her reward. A BOVE all, James will delight Austen's devoted fans by showing Darcy and Lizzy to be (if anything) more in love and better matched than anyone might have hoped, six years into their marriage. But can their union withstand the stress of a murder on the grounds of Pemberley, occasioned by the unwelcome appearance of Lizzy's sister Lydia, who gate-crashes the estate in a careering coach on the eve of the Darcys' annual autumn ball, having left a body or two behind in the Pemberley woodland? "A murder in the family can provide a frisson of excitement at fashionable dinner parties," James's omniscient narrator hopefully remarks, then quickly changes course, concluding, in a perfect Austenlike summation, "But little social credit can be expected from the brutal dispatch of an undistinguished captain of the infantry, without money or breeding to render him interesting." Lizzy's father, who comes to offer moral support to his daughter and son-in-law, assesses the contretemps with characteristic levity: "Lydia's husband seems to have distinguished himself by this latest exploit in managing to combine entertainment for the masses with the maximum embarrassment for his family." But caa these dark doings in Derbyshire be resolved without blotting Pemberley's escutcheon and blighting the Darcys' marital felicity? Soon enough, coroners, magistrates, witnesses, peers and plebeians will all make their way to London . . . and tell it to the judge. The greatest pleasure of this novel is its unforced, effortless, effective voice. James hasn't written in florid codRegency whorls, the overblown language other mimics so often employ. Not infrequently, while reading "Death Comes to Pemberley," one succumbs to the impression that it is Austen herself at the keyboard. When Lizzy observes her girlhood friend Charlotte Lucas deftly wrangling her pompous, tedious husband, Mr. Collins (whose hand Lizzy had spurned), her admiration for Charlotte's artfulness could scarcely be improved upon by the woman who dreamed these characters up: "She consistently congratulated him on qualities he did not possess in the hope that, flattered by her praise and approval, he would acquire them." Note to HarperCollins: If you're still hunting an ideal contemporary ghost writer for Austen's mock-Gothic mystery, "Northanger Abbey," look no further. 'A murder in the family can provide a frisson of excitement at fashionable dinnerparties. . . .' Liesl Schillinger is a regular contributor to the Book Review.

Really, gentle reader, there are limits. When mystery grande dame P. D. James felt the mantle of Jane Austen fall on her shoulders, why didn't she simply shrug it off? Instead, she has produced a straight-faced mystery no zombies in which a murdered body is found on the grounds of Darcy and Elizabeth's stately home, Pemberley. James places a template of Austen characters and Austen-like language over a traditional mystery plot and even takes on the role of the omniscient Austen narrator herself. The mystery is set in 1803, six years after the wedding of Elizabeth and Darcy, with ample space given to catching us up on the recent doings of the Bennet family. On the mystery side, there's plenty of action, from the discovery of Captain Denny's body, through a trial, assorted deceptions and mix-ups, and love affairs. Unfortunately, though, if this is meant as an homage, it's a pretty weak cup of tea, starting with a greatly diluted version of Austen's famous truth universally acknowledged opening. James' many fans will be pleased to see any kind of new book from the 91-year-old author, but discriminating Austen devotees are unlikely to appreciate the move from social comedy to murder. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: This late addition to Knopf's winter list will require some last-minute marketing, but it has two very bankable Englishwomen on its side: Austen and James.--Fletcher, Connie Copyright 2010 Booklist

James's latest mystery is set in 1803 and picks up where Jane Austen's beloved Pride and Prejudice left off: Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet are married and have twin boys. The family lives at Pemberley, an elegant old mansion where they often entertain people of consequence and hold lavish balls. But a murder in the woods on the property interferes with their otherwise idyllic lives and shrouds Pemberley in mystery and fear. Rosalyn Landor turns in an excellent performance, with well-paced narration that captures the posh atmosphere of James's (and Austen's) world. Landor also creates unique voices for the books many characters, modulating her voice for males and lending working-class dialect to servants. Highly recommended for fans of both Austen and James. A Knopf hardcover. (Dec.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Ladieeees and gentlemen, in this corner, in Empire-waist trunks, is Miss Jane Austen (aka the Chawton Nonpareil); and in the opposite corner, in the tiara, Miss P.D. James (aka the Duchess James of Holland Park). Initially, the contestants are evenly matched in this sequel to Pride and Prejudice that starts off with the briskly told story of Lydia Wickham's melodramatic, unexpected, and totally characteristic arrival at the stately doors of Pemberley; this alerts residents to the discovery of her husband on the grounds kneeling over a dead body. Thus death comes to a richly detailed Pemberley, and thus is set in motion the investigation and trial that propel the remainder of the book. When there is an autopsy (and at Pemberley!), it seems clear that this is definitely James's fight to win or to lose. Before it's all over, a gaggle of Janeites have to be forcibly ejected from the arena. Verdict A draw. Both Austen and James survive the affray to be able to fight again. Nonrabid fans of both will find enjoyment in this heartfelt, idiosyncratic valentine from the one writer to the other, although they might also be able to agree that it shows neither author at the very top of her game. [See Prepub Alert, 11/3/11; 300,000-copy first printing.]-Bob Lunn, Kansas City, MO (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

The Private Patient, 2008, etc.), Baroness James has turned to a Jane Austen sequel. Six years after the marriage that ended Pride and Prejudice, Fitzwilliam Darcy and his wife, the former Elizabeth Bennet, are on the eve of giving their annual Lady Anne's Ball when their preparations are complicated first by intimations that Darcy's sister Georgiana is being courted by both her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and rising young lawyer Henry Alveston, then by the Colonel's sudden decision to take his horse for a solitary late-night ride and finally and most disastrously by the unexpected, unwanted arrival of Lizzy's sister Lydia. Bursting from her coach, Lydia shrieks her fears that her husband, Lt. George Wickham, has been murdered by his friend Capt. Martin Denny, whom he followed into the wood when Denny abruptly insisted on abandoning the coach carrying them to Pemberley. In fact it looks very much the other way around: Denny is the one who's dead, and Wickham, bending over his body, blurts out that he killed him. Readers of Pride and Prejudice know that Wickham is a thorough scoundrel, but can he really have murdered his only friend? His averrals that he meant only that his quarrel with Denny sent him out into the wood, where he met his death at unknown hands, don't impress the jurors at the coroner's inquest or the trial that follows. Most of these developments, cloaked in a pitch-perfect likeness of Austen's prose, are ceremonious but pedestrian. The final working-out, however, shows all James' customary ingenuity. The murder story allows only flashes of Austenian wit, and Lizzy is sadly eclipsed by Darcy. But the stylistic pastiche is remarkably accomplished, and it's nice to get brief updates on certain cast members of Persuasion and Emma as a bonus.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.