I have long been a great admirer of the cozy side of British crime and horror fiction. It has been my intention to explore the romantic origins in the classics that inform the warm and welcoming aspects cherished by modern readers of otherwise dark genre fiction.

Yet, the works of writers like Jane Austen or the Brontë sisters have confirmed their standing in the literary canon by their thematically immensely rich narratives often described in the most detailed prose. This means that it can be overwhelmingly difficult to ease your way into their complex works. That is, until the magic sets in.

Pride and Prejudice circumnavigates all the common tropes (nowadays) associated with romance in literature and on screen. The crucial events are very well plotted out over the course of many months and, at least to me, it was often virtually impossible to tell where things would be going next. It's full of big reveals that struck you with all the effectiveness of a well-placed climax, yet the length of the novel makes it evident that many more surprises are awaiting the already charmed reader.

We are today accustomed to the idea that book titles are of only minor significance and are in fact often the result of last minute suggestions on the part of publishers or editors. So it only gradually dawned on me that, at least in some sense, Pride and Prejudice are the actual subjects of the novel. Don't get me wrong, unlike more pretentious classics this is not about the meaning of abstract ideas. The two personality flaws figure prominently in the plot as the motives for actions and attitudes of the widest consequence.

Naturally, they are the driving forces of characters, and I was delighted to find what is likely the most memorable and lively set of characters I ever came across. It hardly needs mention that the book gained the most passionate following and I'm sure this fact is due to its highly recognizable cast.

It usually takes Austen only a single paragraph to establish a very firm acquaintance with the protagonists variously situated in England of the Regency era. Especially the less central characters are introduced into the story by their most distinguishing features. It's difficult to imagine how you would ever forget the likes of Mrs. Bennet, the simple-minded mother dedicated to see her daughters married; Mr. Collins, the silly yet somewhat likable fool oblivious to the impressions he gives; Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the imposing and quite intimidating patroness; or Mrs. Gardiner, the highly observing well-meaning favorite of her nieces who is secretly pulling the strings in the quests for their happiness. It was difficult to resist the urge to quote the wonderful descriptions that the author is giving of her creations.

Yet, Pride and Prejudice are to wield their fateful influence because of the elusive nature of what makes us who we are. What is worse, due to some curious fact of human psychology we are prone to make up our minds about others in the instant of our first impression and with too little to go on to warrant any judgement at all. We expect to know the other based on subconscious cues like clothing, exterior demeanor, or the manner of speaking. In one word, the importance of prejudice in human affairs cannot be overstated.

Mr. Darcy is the subject of many such unfounded opinions. To him Elizabeth quickly comes to ascribe an overarching sense of pride. At an earlier occasion she even explains her understanding of this concept: "By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that (pride) is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves ; vanity to what we would have others think of us."

It's only much later that she recognizes her own vice of prejudice and injustice. But it's not only the lack of evidence available to her from her own observation. More important still is the influence of public opinion upon our own ideas, and we are all too familiar with the dynamics by which public opinion manifests itself. Reason and argument are often peculiarly absent in these fast-paced processes. Many events hint at the more communal surroundings of the aristocracy of early nineteenth century Britain that are operating in the background.

Of course, we also like to define others by simple catchwords that inform our behavior and reactions to them. It's a strength of the story – one that so evidently distinguishes it from modern rom-coms or works of romance – is that it fully embraces the fact that real characters cannot so be reduced. In her relationship with others Elizabeth perpetually reevaluates her acquaintances in the light of new information. This willingness makes her a more likable protagonist than perhaps she would otherwise have been.

This is not the only way in which ambiguity figures in our most reflective moments. Identities refuse to be conclusively determined as they are the result of ongoing interpersonal negotiations. Similarly, emotions can be hard to define. Interestingly, while everyone has privileged first-hand experience of her or his own emotional states, it's often the most difficult to come to terms with what they actually mean. Another reason why it's so easy to emphasize with Elizabeth is because of how the narrator relates to us her inner struggles.

I was genuinely moved especially in those moments when Elizabeth has to accept her own misperceptions. This was the case not necessarily because of the laudable attitude represented by the willingness to admit one's faults. Her discoveries gradually unveil the true person hitherto concealed by obstinate prejudice. Romance is about love and by the end Elizabeth will have realized she fell in love with Mr. Darcy. The events are so brilliantly construed that, by that time, the reader too will share in her love for him.

In one of my favorite chapters, Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle are the guests at Mr. Darcy's most impressive estate. The landlord is absence, though, so his housekeeper is free to express her every admiration for her master. She, who has known him ever since he was a little boy, describes him in so fond words that something in you changes. Elizabeth sees him through her eyes and it becomes inevitable for her to draw a much more favorable picture of him.

In fact, it was a literal picture of his that marks the occasion when Elizabeth falls in love with him: "There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had ever felt in the height of their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship! How much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow! How much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character; and as she stood before the canvas, on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before: she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression."

The plot provides suspense in many different guises. In the beginning, we share the thrill of whether the lovely and well-meaning Jane, Elizabeth's elder sister, would gather the heart of the nobleman who moved into an impressive mansion in the Bennet's neighborhood. There are social gatherings and balls and our heart already prepares for their marriage – when this Mr. Bingley (as he is called) suddenly moves to London never to return. It's easy to find fault in his jealous sisters who presumably wanted for their brother (and themselves) a richer estate than Jane's family would have been able to afford. We genuinely hate them with a passion.

We later find out that it was Mr. Darcy who was behind the change of mind. However, at that point he already long fallen from grace. There is one occasion in particular that gives Elizabeth cause to suspect Mr. Darcy. She makes the acquaintance with an officer called Mr. Wickham who tells her of how Darcy insidiously deprived him of the inheritance that would have allowed him to follow his calling and join the clergy. In regard to his advice for Mr. Bingley, though, what pains Elizabeth the most is that she herself sees the shameful faults of her family that (among other things) gave Darcy reason for his council.

Pride and Prejudice are not the only vices that play a crucial role in the turn of events. I think it's a fair observation that many adolescents are guilty of self-importance and the desire to be admired. Elizabeth's two younger sisters, Lydia and Kitty, represent very familiar character types. In a moment that shows Elizabeth uncharacteristically affectionate she cries out to her father how Lydia would make a laughingstock of herself and her family if she was given permission to accept the invitation to some Colonel's ball. She would be flirting with everyone and give herself to the very first officer that would ask for her hand. Just when we came to despise the man that Mr. Wickham turned out to be, he reemerges as the villain of a new subplot that has Lydia running away with him and disappearing in London.

I absolutely loved the worrying thrills that accompanied these new developments. Even the usually very calm Mr. Bennet is agitated. Is Wickham really planning to marry her, and if not, what perfidious agenda might he be following? Most importantly, where are they? The family is looking at Mrs. Bennet's brother, Mr. Gardiner, whose connections in the capital seem to be the last chance of saving their public face. In the end he is able to find the fugitives and it's suspected that he must have offered Wickham a very significant amount of money to agree to marriage. I was genuinely moved by this devotion to his family as well as by Mr. Bennet's determination to pay him back. Stupidly – though hopefully not as stupid as the mesmerizing ignorance of Mrs. Wickham after the marriage – I was most delightfully surprised to find that it was Mr. Darcy who arranged the whole affair.

It all ends on a wonderful happy end. Who would have thought in the beginning that this would turn out to be the story of numerous threads that would lead to the marriage of three of Mrs. Bennet's five daughters. People like to rave about how romantic this story was, and though for a long time I would have liked to roll my eyes at this focus of what must be only one superfluous aspect of the story, I now fully share the sentiments. I also highly enjoyed how many big reveals are repeated at the end to other characters and to the same effect.

At the end, Elizabeth asks her now fiancé what made him fall in love with him, but upon him humming and howing she answers her question herself – her utter impertinence. This was brilliantly exemplified when courageously she opposed Mr. Darcy's aunt, the all-powerful Lady Catherine, when she came to demand of her to reject his proposal for the sake of his public honor.

While reading you see every moment vividly in front of you. To some extent this might be due to how well established the works of Austen are now in pop culture. More importantly, though, it's because of the vibrantly colorful prose that is so perfectly observing of the subtleties and nuances of sentiment and wit of the protagonists as well as drawing the surroundings. The description of their arrival at the awe-inspiring mansion of Pemberley is a case in point. Here as in other places the excess and grandeur serves a purpose to the story, though, as it perfectly conveys Elizabeth's understanding that she could have been mistress to these halls had she decided differently.

The story takes seriously many seemingly all too mundane matters of everyday life. For instance, it's a common theme that we often feel ashamed for our relations, especially adolescents of their parents, but could this be the substance for great literature? It portrays with honesty the hopes for love or the pretenses of vanity. At the beginning of the story, a group of interlocutors explicitly asks what personalities and actions could be turned into the subject of humor. The novel shows that with sufficient elegance and understanding, everyone and every situation could be rendered so as to reveal their amusing qualities. Austen succeeds without turning her characters into these caricatures that dominate the plainer attempts at comedy.

In the beginning I have said that Pride and Prejudice is not easy to get into, and I stand by what I said. Nonetheless, due to its wonderful characters, beautiful writing, and heart-warming reveals it turned out to be a most satisfying and fun experience. Not only is this a classic in the most deserving sense, I now see why so many regard it as their favorite novel. It's now one of my favorites, too.

Rating: 5/5