Emma: Cringy but Charming
“Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.”
The world revolves, as is fitting and proper, around Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich. At least, according to Emma. To Emma, reading the desires of and knowing what is best for others is as easy and effortless as her existence in Hartfield. A dilettante in all aspects of life, she dabbles in portraiture, piano, and matchmaking, all to great initial success. Emma takes exclusive credit for the marriage of Miss Taylor, her indulgent governess and closest friend, to Mr.Weston, thought to be forever a widower. The whole world clearly transparent to her at just twenty-one, Emma enacts further schemes, only for them to go inevitably, charmingly, and disastrously wrong. Even when the twists and turns of the narrative are expected, the journey and destination are well worth the anticipation.
While in London, I was surprised to learn that the American remake of the NBC sitcom the Office had as much cultural weight in Britain as it does in the States. Despite all the claims of the dissolving monoculture, the Office is seemingly universally beloved, and watched on repeat by people under thirty. Which is strange given how often the Office is painful to watch. The hopes and expectations of one character are dashed against the rocks of what another character believes and expects time after time. From the expectation of Michael Scott as a great philanthropist against the reality of him breaking the promise of free college for all in Scott's Tots, to Michael trying to kiss Pam after Diwali, being summarily rejected, and then needing a ride home, to Toby putting his hand on Pam’s knee and then declaring he’s going to Costa Rica and fleeing the building in Night Out, much of the Office centers around the humiliating gulf that opens between people when what they assume about others is deeply wrong.
Emma is constantly confronted with a similar yawning chasm. After her wild success of matching Mr. and Mrs. Weston, the first part of the novel follows Emma as she takes it upon herself to match her young protegee, Harriet, with the gentlemanly vicar, Mr. Elton. Emma’s brother-in-law and close friend Mr. Knightly, the only person to ever question Emma’s acumen, warns Emma against such a scheme due to the unworthiness of both parties, but undeterred, Emma orchestrates, once more, a dazzling connection between Harriet and Mr. Elton. Except she hasn’t. Emma convinces herself and Harriet that Mr. Elton is madly in love with Harriet. Meanwhile, Mr. Elton is convinced that the constant attention from Emma is a clear indication that she is in love with him, and Emma takes even glaringly obvious signs of Mr. Elton’s infatuation with her as evidence of his infatuation with Harriet. All this comes to a head in a scene that could be transplanted directly into the Office. On the way home from a Christmas party, the countryside blanketed in a beautiful dusting of freshly fallen snow, Mr. Elton proposes to Emma in a carriage. Emma, shocked and horribly affronted, refuses the vicar, and then in awkward, petulant silence the two ride the remainder of the way back to Emma’s home.
Jane Austen writes that “seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.” Emma learns to realize this over the course of the novel, and the message is delivered to us with all of Jane Austen’s typical charm and wit. In reading Emma, I could not help but think that Emma would be amazing at Twitter, boldly asserting her view of the world with clarity and cleverness, while dismissing all arguments to the contrary. Most of our interactions, especially with strangers, rely on assumptions. I assume, for instance, that when I asked people how they’re doing they won’t start crying and pouring out their life story to me. Michael assumed he’d be a millionaire by forty, and that Pam would kiss him back. Emma assumes she knows what’s best for Harriet and what Mr. Elton is feeling. Mr. Elton assumes he knows what Emma is thinking. I could never spell assume until eleventh grade when someone told me the pneumonic, “assuming makes an ass of you and me.” It certainly does in Emma, and it certainly does on Twitter
What makes Emma so readable, and the Office so watchable, is that it seasons it’s cringe humor with sincerity and truth. If she could have at the beginning of the novel, Emma would have made it so that all her wishes for the world and for the people in it came true. And if Emma had had her way, everyone one would be the worse for it. In coming to recognize the failures of her own perceptions, Emma comes to the full truth of who she is and the realization of her true desires. The stark confrontation with, and the palpable awkwardness of, her own fallibility leads her to fuller understanding. Only when pretext and assumptions are dropped, and Emma and Harriet speak plainly and truthfully to one another do either of them come to any knowledge of themselves and of each other. Emma is also very cute.
I chose to read Emma because I wanted to read a fun book, and fortunately it is remarkably fun. But I always want things to be more than fun and Emma delivers on that, too. Emma shows us the folly of assuming we know everything, and the embarrassment of being wrong about other people. At the present, where discourse seems predominantly sweeping generalizations and certain assertions, Emma is a gentle rebuttal, inviting us to acknowledge that we are often wrong, that we make mistakes, but still caring deeply for us when we are mistaken. I hope we can see as Mr. Knightly, “does not everything serve to prove more and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with each other?” I can think of no better way to prove this than through the humor, grace, and fun of Emma.
