Writer's Library: Married Women’s Property in England

Married Women’s Separate Property in England, 1660 – 1833 

by Susan Staves. 1990, Harvard University Press, 290 pages

Reviewed by Alice VonKannon

I really struck gold when I found this book. It was a topic that had always confused me, women’s property rights, but one you’ll get into in just about any Regency that touches on marriage contracts, widowhood, dowries or related subjects. And what Regency romance never touches on any of these?

 Yes, there’s some legalese in the writing, but it’s not unintelligible. The author jokes about this herself in the preface, that historians are not lawyers, and may have difficulty with some of the concepts. To illustrate this, she quotes from a Cambridge monograph on the subject: In attempting to explain the invalidity of a gift over of a remainder for the life of the tenant in tail in the conveyance of an entail, Coke argued that the remainder must be void.

Little wonder, as Staves says, that women of the period hated getting into the whole messy subject of their property settlement, and often, perhaps foolishly, left it to their father’s lawyers. You, however, don’t have to be a lawyer to understand it as explained in this book, though it’s not a popular history, and you may want to keep your dictionary at hand. Usually, with the avalanche of period money terms, from “pin money” to “jointure,” the author will explain the term before using it for the first time. And though you may wish to, it’s not really necessary to read the book in its entirety to get the info you need, since it’s arranged mostly by time period, and has an excellent index. Also, Ms. Staves often highlights attitudes from literature and plays of the period to make her point, making it more accessible.

It’s out of print, of course, which can be tougher when it’s an academic rather than a popular history. However, at the moment there are twenty-four copies of it on ABE Books, a good sign of general availability, and most are reasonably priced.

These are very confusing waters, choppy and changeable – what was true in 1780 might not be true at all in your story that takes place in 1812, and blithe blogs speaking in general can get it wrong. When I wrote a scene for my last book about dowry rights, with a character protecting a young girl from a potential intemperate husband, I felt much more confident having read this. A keeper.

Writer's Library: Learning Austenese

 

The Annotated 'Pride and Prejudice' 

by Jane Austen, Annotated by David M. Shapard

Reviewed by Alice VonKannon

Were you confused when Miss Bingley recommended to Elizabeth an express be sent to town for a doctor? Wonder what Austen meant when she said that, at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley had a good house and the liberty of a manor? Ever wonder what a coppice-wood is, or a mews, for that matter? Historian and Austen expert David M. Shapard explains it all, quickly and clearly in The Annotated Pride and Prejudice. He offers valuable insights into the subtleties of the language of the period, while giving delightful details on clothes, homes, food, shopping, money, travel, war, politics, social status and just about anything you can think of, all of it illuminated by wonderful, well-chosen period engravings and artwork.

Actually, there are five more of these annotated versions of Austen: Persuasion, Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park and Northanger Abbey, hitting all her major novels. And they’re not out of print! All are still available in oversize paperback editions on Amazon, for between fifteen and twenty dollars.

For an Austen newbie, these books might be a necessity. For a researcher into Regency life, they’re pure joy. Open the book and you’ll find the complete text on the left side, and on the right a treasure trove of notes, definitions, and helpful general information. I’m probably like a lot of people in that, the first time I read Pride and Prejudice, I was sixteen and tended to just skim over any term I didn’t understand, trying to judge its meaning by context in order to simply enjoy the story. Now, so many years later, I know a great deal about the period, but with Shapard, there’s always something new to learn.

Is there a downside? Okay, I’ll be honest; I prefer to read the book itself in a normal edition. It can drive you a little crazy, stopping every minute or so to look to the right and read the comments. And trust me, the comments are so good, they can’t be resisted. Me, I’ll read a few chapters, and while they’re still fresh, pull out the annotated version and scan the notes. That way you still have the proper rhythm of the read without its being interrupted, but you’ll get the insights, as well.