HARRIET

Two of Jane Austen’s supporting characters tell their own stories in McVeigh’s latest novelistic homage.

 In Austen’s classic 1815 novel, Emma, the eponymous Emma Woodhouse provides obstacles to her own happiness as she turns her attention solely to those around her. Harriet Smith, Emma’s penniless friend, becomes her unrefined protégé, and village neighbor Jane Fairfax comes off as an aloof object of envy amid Emma’s romantic scheming. In this new novel, McVeigh, whose previous work, Susan: A Jane Austen Prequel(2021), also delved into Austen’s literary canon, attempts to fill in what Harriet and Jane are thinking as Emma deals with the many consequences of her own actions. Their first-person accounts alternate every few chapters, staying on the fringes of Emma’s well-known story and imbue Harriet with a compelling self-awareness; she displays a cunning desire to rise above her station, using the expectations of others against them to befriend Emma and those in her circle: “I believed there to be a vacancy—not for another governess, but for someone youthful and doe-eyed, submissive and easily led, to give the young mistress of Hartfield an object. And though supremely unqualified for the post…I had faith in my powers to appear so.” Jane is not shaded as deeply as a character, but she shows a vulnerability while navigating various suitors’ affections and keeping her engagement to Frank Churchill secret.

McVeigh deviates from the source material by interpolating characters from other Austen novels and changing Harriet’s parentage, and purist fans may object to such alterations. Over the course of the work, the two girls’ stories occasionally intertwine, and the pair appear to have much in common; both are outsiders in the Highbury community by birth and class, for example. However, one may wonder what might have happened if they’d ever had a conversation about Emma rather than with her. Whenever the characters adhere to Austen’s plot points, Emma’s plotline simply becomes a distraction. Harriet’s protracted naïveté and obsession with rising from her station and Jane’s clandestine and imperfect love with Frank allow for some of McVeigh’s strongest prose: “I could not deny the ache in my heart when I remembered Frank’s kisses on the bridlepath—that terrifying temptation to yield—my breaking away—and the desolation I felt, on turning around, to find that he had gone,” reflects Jane at one point. That said, although the setting and tone are certainly era-appropriate, the expansive cast of supporting characters has a tendency to muddle some of the bigger scenes. Harriet is the stronger of the two main players here and exploits the potential for creative liberties; indeed, some readers may feel that she could have led this novel alone, allowing McVeigh to more deeply explore her origins and her ambitions for a life in which she has agency. Jane’s romantic encounters with Frank are sweet respites from all the gossip and social maneuvering, but they do little to make her more dynamic.

An earnest tribute to immortal characters that doesn’t quite offer enough novelty.