Pallo: Jane Austen and seamonsters so wrong and yet so hilarious

This week’s review is of “Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters.” The very short version is: I liked it. The somewhat longer version involves a little bit of explanation.

To start with, it should be known that this book is exactly what the title sounds like. Ben Winters, cited as “co-author” with Jane Austen, took the text of “Sense and Sensibility,” applied a significant amount of creative editing to the setting and situation, and patched up all of the resulting gaps with giant squid, man-eating lobsters, and a backdrop of terrifying oceanic wilderness.

The result is weird, horrifying, irreverent, and (if you’re as bad of a person as I am) really funny.

The book is actually the second Austen/pulp-horror mash-up of a pair, following “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies,” which I haven’t read, but which created quite a bit of critical stir in a lot of literary circles. In addition to a lot of devoted fans, there are several different camps of disapproval and dislike for these books, which I feel I should probably explain in case my generally glowing review should lead anyone astray.

There are two main reasons to not like these books. First, “Seamonsters” wavered between being a fun-loving homage to Austen’s style and humor and open criticism of many aspects of her portrayal of society. There are some facets of the books that Austen devotees will love wholeheartedly, and an approximately equal number of places that will offer shocking offense to the same audience.

The second giant potential issue I see with “Seamonsters,” (and can extrapolate to “Zombies”) is that the books draw heavily on B-horror film aesthetics and storytelling tactics. They’re crude and excessively gory and no life or sense of propriety is sacred, which, amazingly enough, isn’t everybody’s cup of tea.

Before I convince everybody that this book is the metaphorical ax murder of Jane Austen, though, I want to get back to the reasons why I liked it. Namely: it was weird, and the humor was outlandish and unexpected and usually a little bit wrong, and I have a deep appreciation for the bizarre in literature.

The essential genius of this idea is in the contrast between the very highbrow, dryly humorous social analysis that may be Austen’s greatest skill, and the decidedly low-brow, low-budget, slimy horror of the seamonsters gimmick, which seems to be one that Winters wields with exceptionally successful effect.

I loved the juxtaposition of prim, polite Austen dialogue with giant squid attacks and undersea habitats and intelligently malicious sharks. Another particular source of amusement came from the fact that the dainty, proper protagonists would frequently pause mid-conversation to successfully defend themselves against the horrors of the deep which, while played as outlandish and unlikely, made for a refreshing contrast to the standard helpless vixen-victims that tend to overpopulate horror flicks.

All in all, “Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters” probably isn’t fit for polite society, but I can’t help but think that a modern-day Austen wouldn’t quite mind.