Death Comes to Pemberley (Book Review)

     P. D. James Death Comes to Pemberley (2011) Austen fans will like this book, P D James fans less so. It’s obvious that James is having fun writing this book, indulging every Austen fan’s weakness and secret desire: to know as much about Elizabeth and Darcy as possible.
     James has an astute eye for character, and reminds us of the darker undertones in Pride & Prejudice, such as lingering memories of misplaced affections. Her extrapolation of Darcy and Elizabeth as a married couple is however rather thin. Darcy and Elizabeth are most of the time too good to be true: James seems to be in awe of Austen’s characters, and doesn’t deepen our understanding much. Her hints at disturbing memories could have led to a more subtle understanding of these two people, whose love has grown out of their characters. Austen is one of the first to insist that character, rather than any combination of social class, convention, or legal and financial expectations, is the basis of a sound marriage. This implies that Darcy and Elizabeth are pioneers in a new model of married happiness. Austen merely assumes happiness; James could have shown it. We don’t see much of them as parents, either; perhaps James didn’t trust herself to this well enough, and hid behind the eighteenth century upper-class habit of banishing children to the nursery. Her reminders of the severe social constraints on Darcy and Elizabeth are salutary, however: we are too prone to assume that 21st century social norms could have been applied two hundred years ago. Still, I would have liked to see Darcy and Elizabeth discuss their doubts and fears more.
     In the secondary characters such as Col. Fitzwilliam she assumes some changes, not all for the best. Georgiana has become a mature young woman, but instead of showing us how this has changed her relationship to her brother, James tells us. The servants are uniformly loyal retainers who know their place; we see and hear no Upstairs, Downstairs bickering (or worse). Wickham has seduced one of the servants, which provides an intersecting plot, the solution to the puzzle, and (finally) revelation of Mrs Younge’s role in the misfortunes of Pemberley.
     The crime plot is pretty simple, and the murder puzzle, such as it is, is resolved by a death-bed confession which exonerates the accused just prior to passing sentence (which annoys the judge). Prime suspect Wickham has apparently been chastened both by the loss of his good friend Denny (the victim) and by his experience as an innocent man found guilty, and will no doubt make good in Virginia, where the prison chaplain has helped him find a place.
     In the final chapters, James ties up a lot of loose ends, many of which feel superfluous to the crime story, but which may satisfy the Austen fan’s longing for more than Austen gave us. They fulfill the desired function of filling in the details of the story of Darcy and Elizabeth. In terms of character, plot, and back story, this pastiche is successful.
     However, a successful Austen pastiche must above all capture her style, and here James fails. Too many of her words are simply not correct usage for the turn of the 19th century. Her syntax, although far more formal than most crime writers’, lacks the diamond hardness of Austen’s prose. The dialogue is serviceable, but we get very little of that ironic revelation of character at which Austen excels. The authorial asides, which in Austen are always light in tone however severe in judgment, often feel heavy-handed. What saves the novel is James' narrative gift, which keeps us turning the page even when we’re given exposition rather than story-telling.
     I enjoyed reading this book, but not as much as I expected, and less than I wanted. **-½