'O pray, Captain,' cried Mrs. Selwyn, 'don't be angry with the gentleman for thinking whatever be the cause, for I assure you he makes no common practice of offending in that way.'

This is a work that has an obvious place in the authorial chain, for which I am very grateful. Were it not for Burney's 'Evelina', I have a feeling Austen's [b:Pride and Prejudice|1885|Pride and Prejudice|Jane Austen|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320399351l/1885._SY75_.jpg|3060926] would be less magnificent, as much what adds to that later work's luster is a reworking, sometimes wholesale, of various themes and indulgences that the author's predecessor explored with such wit and, it must be said, no small amount of sly cleverness. For yes, the moralizing and the picture perfectness of certain characters contrasted with the obtuse fripperies and downright cruelties of others can get rather tedious, and even I couldn't sympathize with Evelina's consternation when it came to the social niceties of young folks of a certain class corresponding via letter. However, for broad swathes of this narrating of dramatics, some farcical, some harrowing, some gloriously snarky, I was nothing short of delighted, and if it weren't for intermittent moralizing and the historical grounding that I found surprisingly engaging (through the aid of end notes, of course), I'd call Burney a 'modern' writer, or at least one who is able to traverse two and a half centuries her now and mine and extend a hand in welcome.

He seems disposed to think that the alteration in my companions authorizes an alteration in his manners.

I suppose the correct term for that would be a 'classic', no? And how I am satisfied to run across something that wins its rights to the label through humor and satire, as I've trudged through so much bigotry and nonsensical references that claims belonging to one or more of those genres such that I have a hard time believing myself capable of responding to the decent, punch-up sort. Of course, my being able to view 'Evelina' as such is in no small part due to how frequently I subject myself to extremely long bouts of convoluted prose, tedious meanderings, and general obfuscation in lands I have never known and timelines far removed from mine, so I don't blame anyone who starts falling asleep halfway through the first letter of this work, which, yes, did I not mention this is an epistolary novel? Another mark of age against this work for many, I'm sure, but honestly, the distance that separates Burney's duels of words and Austen's free indirect speech is very small indeed, and if one can get past some of the more droning sections that aren't of Evelina's composition, most of the work is very engaging. Indeed, I refuse to believe Burney's introduction of a 'satirical woman', the magnificent Mrs. Selwyn, in the transition between the second and third novel was due to the pure desire to further illustrate perfect society through contrast, as Mrs. Selwyn got so many victorious jabs in the midst of everything that I'm sure the author was rooting along while ensuring her main character remained irreprehensibly vacuum sealed. For the scenes when various odious types being pitted against each other in bouts that usually result in both getting their just deserts are my favorites, and I would have gladly taken more of that over the domestic conspiracies over rightful places in both family and the social hierarchy and the romance that surreptitiously spurred the whole plot altogether. Coming back to Austen, if she didn't take a note out of Burney's book when it come to instigating her own P&P (a certain overheard conversation involving unfavorable first impressions), I'll eat my hat.

Sir Clement is conscious he has acted dishonorably, yet the same unbridled vehemence which urged him to gratify a blameable curiosity, will sooner prompt him to risk his life, than confess his misconduct.

Now, while Austen drastically improved upon the core of the marriage plot by rendering most of the dramatics far more credible and making the moral characters far more interesting than a collection of pristine stock photos, Burney captured the social exchanges of young women and overbearing men in a way that always made apparent the woman's uneasiness over knowing how swiftly the scene could, in her case, fall off a cliff. The term 'nice guy' may seem to not have entered the public lexicon until the 21st century, but trust me, Burney knew their variations on the theme front and back, including the flippant yet weak willed instigator, the egotistical 'have-their-cake-and-eat-it-too', and the viciously conniving rake are all here to be raked (ha) over the analytical coals by a perceptive and women-vindicating author. Depressing as it is to see that, once again, very little has changed in certain respects, it goes to show the value of what one can on occasion learn from seemingly old and withered texts. In Evelina's case, the sooner one puts one's foot down when there is any violation of one's personal boundaries, the better, and this is as true in the 21st century as it was in the 18th. In view of that, I wish I had made my way to this text much sooner, but would I have acquired the know how and, more importantly, stamina required for making one's way through this kind of tome in as enjoyable a manner as I did? Likely not, so I'm glad I waited the six years between my first interest and my final reading, if only to trudge my way through [b:Belinda|31334|Belinda|Anne Rampling|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1442192796l/31334._SY75_.jpg|1006203] before this work and subsequently find 'Evelina' to be remarkably more entertaining, and surprisingly relevant, in comparison.

'It has always been agreed,' said Mrs. Selwyn, looking round her with the utmost contempt, 'that no man ought to be connected with a woman whose understanding is superior to his own. Now I very much fear, that to accommodate all this good company, according to such a rule, would be utterly impracticable, unless we should chuse subjects from Swift's hospital of idiots.'

I'll be honest and say that, so far, 2020 has not been the best year for reading. A combination of intensive long term reading projects, a repeated disconnect between what reviews say and how a work reads, and the general chaos that has plagued the world for the last few months has made for many a nauseating bump in my reading road. However, my average rating for this year is slowly but surely creeping past the three star mark, and recent reads of Goldman, Lispector, and this have proved, to various degrees and sometimes surprisingly, wonderful. The fact that I am also having an extraordinarily engaging time with my current read of [b:Castellanos|536848|The Book of Lamentations|Rosario Castellanos|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1347227796l/536848._SY75_.jpg|524290] isn't hurting either, and with the end of 'Three Kingdoms' due to come either this week or next, I'm feeling increasingly excited about reading again. In addition, the fact that an older work such as this went so well has given me some amount of confidence when it comes to tackling its less popular contemporaneous comrades, as well as Burney's own monumentally longer other works. All in all, certainly not what I expected going into this, and certainly not a universal experience with most readers of this work, but man, did I need it.