Visitors to Jane Austen Country
The Hindu has a charming article (despite some slightly tortured syntax) about traveling to Jane Austen’s House Museum in Chawton, Hampshire.
At a cursory level Chawton house represents just the home of a simple writer. A deeper exploration reveals an insightful peak into the private world the author resided in. Viewing all the mementoes, the memorabilia, the flotsam and jetsam of the writer made the narrative theme of her stories come alive. I could almost imagine Emma or Elizabeth (two of Austen’s liveliest heroines) come bounding down the steps or airing their point of view.
We were bemused by the discussion of lunch at the pub across the road:
What could be termed as Chawton High Street had six or seven shops and a bar incongruously named “Gray Fares Bull”. Most from the museum gravitated there. There was raucous cacophony inside the bar. It was clear that the talks centred on Jane Austen. Somebody was reading aloud from Emma. Another argumentative voice lamented why Mansfield Park did not get its due. Yet another voice aggressively dismissed all the movies based on Austen’s books as candyfloss where the wit and irony of the writer were completely lost.
Inevitably, we got drawn into the vigour of the infectious moment. Fortunately, I had my slim folder of favoured readings. One of our group members read an extract from Pico Iyer’s lyrical essay titled “Jane Austen in Calcutta” (The essay was a review of Vikram Seth’s A Suitable Boy). An elderly English teacher remarked that words of writers do not need visas and immigration stamps; they travel ever so effortlessly.
We almost had lunch at the pub; we will definitely have to stop in there next time! (There’s also a tea room, Cassandra’s Cup, but sadly it was closed the day we visited.)












