Northanger Abbey

VAL MCDERMID'S "Northanger Abbey" is the second book to emerge from the Austen Project, in which Jane Austen's published oeuvre is reimagined by 21st-century authors. But early on her heroine, Cat Morland, encounters, via audiobook, the Gothic work of another 19th-century novelist - Bram Stoker's "Dracula." "For Cat," we are told, "schooled only in contemporary vampire romance, it was a curious and unsettling experience. It reminded her of the first time she'd tasted an olive. It was unlike everything that had crossed her palate before; strange and not quite pleasant, yet gilded with the promise of sophistication." It's a telling moment. By this point, McDermid's novel has established itself in swift brush strokes that closely follow Austen's. Her protagonist grows up in a secluded rural parish, lacking excitement; then there's the call to adventure - an invitation to a regional watering place - and the story really begins. Austen's "Northanger Abbey" is, in part, a satire of Gothic novels, or, rather, of their credulous consumption at a time when they were phenomenally popular. Catherine Morland, like many children - and like her closest relative in fiction, Don Quixote - has yet to establish a clear dividing line between the imagined world and the real. Catherine isn't actually delusional; she doesn't go tilting at windmills. But because she sees the world through the prism of Gothic novels, her understanding is often wildly off the mark. In Austen's book, the action begins in the hothouse atmosphere of Bath. Encouraged by her new friend, the shallow Isabella Thorpe, Catherine consumes Gothic novels with much more eagerness than she takes the waters. She finds better friends in the Tilneys: lovely, stoical Eleanor and her brother, Henry, a charming young clergyman. Their father, the General, is a dour widower. Invited to their family home, the abbey of the novel's title, Catherine finds herself surrounded by the familiar elements of Gothic romance - a rambling building, forbidden rooms, secret compartments, hidden portraits - and conjures a mystery from them. She imagines that the circumstances of Mrs. Tilney's death must have been as gothic as her surroundings. But this is Austen, not Radcliffe, so there are no abductions, no brushes with murder. The truth is subtle and all too human. The Tilneys' was a quietly unhappy marriage; Mrs. Tilney died of natural causes. Catherine, having suspected the General, risks losing Henry's affection. Mortified by her error, she realizes that she must learn to distinguish between shades of gray. She must, in short, grow up. As one of Britain's most celebrated crime writers, McDermid might be expected to reveal actual skeletons, or even mutilated corpses, in the Tilneys' cupboards. But her "Northanger Abbey" is no darker than Austen's. It's also utterly respectful, marking every major plot point and blending a 21st-century context with neat references to the original text. (I particularly enjoyed the nod to Austen's mention of baseball.) There's an archness and precision to McDermid's prose that beautifully echoes Austen's own. And her handling of time is also knowingly Austenesque - a moment expands and swells with detail, days can be compressed into a subordinate clause - so the story moves briskly while still conveying the longueurs her characters endure. McDermid shifts the action from Bath, no longer the social and cultural hub it once was, to Edinburgh at Festival time, another Georgian town humming with an influx of visitors. It's depicted as similarly giddy and overwhelming, full of disappointments and possibilities. The abbey itself is relocated to the Scottish Borders, which allows for isolation even in the present day. Tilney père is still a general (he served in the Falklands), and Eleanor is still frustrated and lonely - though for rather different reasons. But Henry isn't a clergyman, he's a lawyer. The change of profession makes sense; after all, the church isn't the obvious career choice it used to be. I'm not certain that a present-day lawyer holds a social position equivalent to that of a 19th-century clergyman, but then, who does? Cards on the table here: I'm a nerd for Austen. I may have written a novel in response to "Pride and Prejudice," but I'm nonetheless wary of prequels, sequels and retellings. I'm not against, just wary. There's a lot that can go wrong. But from the very start, McDermid's book engages in a witty conversation with the original. And when I came upon the image of Dracula-as-olive, I realized that this novel is a lot more than just a cover version. McDermid has taken possession of "Northanger Abbey." On a straightforward level, she transposes the Gothic novels of Austen's book with the novels of the "Twilight" series. Where Austen's Catherine Morland anticipated gothic horrors, McDermid's Cat will hope for sparkly vampires. Of course, Cat doesn't really believe that the people she's encountering are vampires, but the evidence - or, rather, the coincidences - keep stacking up. McDermid also seems to be taking a sidelong look at the whole Austen Project here. The attenuated relationship between "Twilight" and "Dracula" isn't the same as that between one "Northanger Abbey" and another, but there are parallels. As a culture, we keep retelling the same stories, reviving the same characters - from folk and fairy tales to accounts of Frankenstein's monster. In some cases, the reimaginings become more familiar than the original. There's an uncanny little shiver when we finally meet, for example, the nameless monster in his first incarnation and find him to be something of a philosopher, a creature who isn't green and doesn't necessarily have a bolt through his neck. This kind of misapprehension is now happening with Austen. It's common enough to see the film (or TV boxed set) and only afterward buy the book (maybe flicking through it first to check for the wet shirt scene). This "Dracula" reference is a sly nod to Austen's current cultural position and McDermid's own undertaking in adapting the work. After all, it's not just "Dracula" that Cat encounters; it's an abridged audiobook version of "Dracula." The olive image also suggests the theme of the novel as a whole. It's a story, after all, about growing up. A taste for olives is a quintessentially adult thing; its acquisition suggests other adult experiences as yet untried. This is a hint of the maturation Cat has yet to achieve, captured in perfect miniature. Austen's "Northanger Abbey" was in part a playful response to what she considered "unnatural" in the novels of her day: Instead of perfect heroes, heroines and villains, she offers flawed, rounded characters who behave naturally and not just according to the demands of the plot. So while everything in Austen is made up, nothing is ever a lie. McDermid's writing has a similar honesty: She doesn't let easy clichés or stereotypes slip by. In her crime fiction, the situations may be extreme, but her characters are human. This is also true of her "Northanger Abbey." It may be an adaptation of someone else's novel, which itself is woven with references to other, earlier books, but nothing feels forced, nothing feels untrue. McDermid makes it very much her own, although any skeletons in the cupboards remain strictly metaphorical. McDermid transposes the Gothic novels of Austen's book with the 'Twilight' series. JO BAKER'S most recent novel is "Longbourn."

Gold Dagger Award-winning British crime writer McDermid offers a canny new twist on Jane Austen's early novel. Fans of the original will know that Cat Morland is a book lover eager for her own supernatural adventure. In McDermid's tale, when Cat's neighbors offer to bring her to Edinburgh for a festival, she leaps at the opportunity to spread her wings. There, Cat meets two siblings, John and Bella Thorpe. She and Bella become fast friends despite Bella's occasional shallowness, but Cat can't abide John, who only seems to care about driving fast cars and showing off to try to win Cat's affection. Instead, she prefers mysterious Henry Tilney and his delicate sister Eleanor, who bear striking similarities to the vampires in her favorite books. When the Tilneys invite Cat to stay with them at their ancestral home, Northanger Abbey, she feels chills at the thought of both staying with Henry and uncovering a centuries-old macabre mystery. McDermid's brilliant update of the characters' outlooks, philosophies, and attitudes within a modern context makes this a reimagined delight for Austen fans.--Peckham, Amber Copyright 2014 Booklist

Scottish crime writer McDermid (Cross and Burn) adeptly reworks Jane Austen's Gothic satire for the modern audiences. A homeschooled minister's daughter bored by the "narrow confines" of the Dorset countryside and her "deeply average and desperately dull" family, Cat is given her break when her neighbors invite her as their guest to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. There, Cat befriends the needy Bella Thorpe who fancies Cat's brother and meets the captivating Henry Tilney, with his "heroic" face and "luxuriant honey-blond hair." Drama ensues. "When she looked back on that first meeting, Cat would wonder whether she should have been more wary of a man who began their acquaintance with such a blatant lie. For there was nothing gentle about what followed." As Cat gets acquainted with Eleanor, Henry's sister, she secures an invitation to their family home, the enchanting Northanger Abbey, a mansion of possible secrets that stirs the darkest recesses of Cat's overworked imagination. Following Austen's storyline but diverging in distinctive ways of her own, McDermid captures the naivete of the protagonist of Austen's prose, though at times her teenage characters come off as contrived in their language and behavior. Rife with conflicts of love, gossip, misunderstandings, and updates on social media, it is an accessible and enjoyable read, especially rewarding for young readers as a gateway into appreciating the classics. Agent: Jane Gregory, Gregory & Company. (Apr.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.