Really? “Universally”? “Must”? “Acknowledged” by whom??

Jane Austen’s most famous sentence is arguably the opener to Pride and Prejudice, our first impression of her masterpiece. (Other contenders are “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” also from P&P, and “I am half agony, half hope,” from Persuasion.)

It’s famous for a reason. What an assertion to start with—no soft language here, just “truth,” “universal,” and “must.” No beating around the bush here: our first impression is that this is going to be a marriage plot story about a rich young man.

But who says this? It’s clearly not Elizabeth, who goes on to be our heroine for the remainder of the book. It certainly isn’t Darcy, who, although in possession of said good fortune, does not seem to be eager for a wife.

Is it Mrs Bennet? This is plausible: the first chapter of the book details her lively discussion with her husband about the newly arrived, wealthy, and single Mr Bingley, who she dearly hopes will marry one of her daughters. But is Mrs Bennet an important enough character to be given the very first line of the book? I don’t think so.

First Impressions

Austen’s original title was not Pride and Prejudice but rather First Impressions. This is a book in which almost everyone’s first impressions of everyone else are wrong and coloured by both pride and prejudice. Darcy and Lizzy get each other completely wrong, which is why this is a marriage plot novel: they can’t get together at the start of the book, even though we know they will eventually, because they have internal and external obstacles to overcome.

The first sentence is our first impression of a book, and in this case, that first impression is multifaceted: it’s our first impression of what the book is about (marriage and money), our first impression of our narrator, and our first impression of what a single man in the neighbourhood is seeking.

(Golly, that sentence says “first impression” a lot.)

What’s delightful about the first impressions given by this opening sentence is that most of them are wrong. Austen is being ironic, as her universal truth is hardly universal. This is not what Lizzy, our protagonist thinks, nor is it true of the important young men of the story. Bingley is perfectly happy to find a wife, but there’s no indication that it’s the most important thing in his mind.

What we do know from the first sentence is that this story is going to be a commentary on all of the above: marriage, money, brash declarations, and single men’s intentions. It also leaves us to consider that while this statement may not be accurate, the flip side of it definitely is: In the early nineteenth-century, it would have been a truth universally acknowledged that a young woman lacking possession of a good fortune must be in want of a husband. (Except, of course, Lizzy, which is why she’s our heroine.)

So whose first impression is this?

As my wonderful professor of nineteenth-century literature suggested, the first sentence is the assertion of the community at large. Society assumes that rich single men must be in want of wives. This is a book that critiques and condemns the stances of society, and thus it makes sense that it opens with a societal viewpoint that Austen intends to challenge.

By opening with a viewpoint from neither her narrator nor her main characters, Austen provides us with a reminder to consider the statements in society that we assume to be universally true. What, in our lives and in our writing, do we accept without questioning? How are our own first impressions coloured by pride or by prejudice? What are we doing to challenge our own biases as writers, editors, and humans?

How can we challenge our own first impressions in our writing?

When we write, we should think about how our descriptions and statements come across to our readers. Where are we presenting subjective opinions as facts? Where are we generalizing or lumping whole groups of people together in a single statement? Where are we assuming that our own experience reflects that of our readers?

When we write, we are responsible for our words, whether readers interpret them as we intended or not. It’s easy to miss things that we assume to be true that may be inaccurate, outdated, or even hurtful to our readers. 

First impressions of characters, settings, and conflicts are crucial. Lizzy, Darcy, and everyone else in Pride and Prejudice make snap judgments that lead to pain and suffering. Consider what your characters’ impressions are of each other, what your impressions of your characters are as their creator, and what your readers’ impressions of your characters will be. Are you presenting an accurate depiction of your character? Are you misleading your readers intentionally to allow for an exciting reveal later? Are you accidentally introducing bias or generalizations in a character description?

Together, we can make your first impressions stand out.

As I’ve discussed, it’s hard to know, as a writer, whether your readers will interpret something in the way you meant. (People have been interpreting Jane Austen as a silly, marriage-obsessed romance novelist for hundreds of years. Sigh.)

By hiring an editor, you can get an outside perspective on how your characters, conflicts, and story appear. You can hear someone else’s first impressions of your work, and you can find out pre-publication if your story is being interpreted the way you want.

If you want to ensure that your first impressions are the best they can be, Rookwood Editing is here to help. Get in touch today!

Molly Rookwood is an editor, reader, tea drinker, and cat mum in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She loves Jane Austen and epic fantasy, and her bookshelves are forever overburdened. When she’s not playing D&D or taking turns about the room, she can be reached at molly@rookwoodediting.com or by following @RookwoodEditing on Twitter.