Cover image for First impressions : a novel of old books, unexpected love, and Jane Austen
Title:
First impressions : a novel of old books, unexpected love, and Jane Austen
Author:
Lovett, Charles C.
Personal Author:
Publication Information:
New York : Viking, [2014]
Physical Description:
308 pages ; 24 cm
Summary:
Sophie Collingwood is drawn into a mystery when two people request a copy of the same very rare book from the antiquarian bookshop where she works.
Language:
English
Added Author:
ISBN:
9780525427247
Format :
Book

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Summary

Summary

A thrilling literary mystery costarring Jane Austen from the  New York Times -bestselling author of  The Bookman's Tale

Charlie Lovett's newest book  The Further Adventures of Ebenezer Scrooge  is now available from Viking

Book lover and Austen enthusiast Sophie Collingwood has recently taken a job at an antiquarian bookshop in London when two different customers request a copy of the same obscure book: the second edition of  A Little Book of Allegories  by Richard Mansfield. Their queries draw Sophie into a mystery that will cast doubt on the true authorship of  Pride and Prejudice --and ultimately threaten Sophie's life.

In a dual narrative that alternates between Sophie's quest to uncover the truth--while choosing between two suitors--and a young Jane Austen's touching friendship with the aging cleric Richard Mansfield, Lovett weaves a romantic, suspenseful, and utterly compelling novel about love in all its forms and the joys of a life lived in books.


Author Notes

Charlie Lovett is a former antiquarian bookseller, an avid book collector, and a member of The Grolier Club, the preeminent club for bibliophiles in North America. He and his wife split their time between Winston-Salem, North Carolina and Kingham, Oxfordshire, in England.


Reviews 3

Booklist Review

Alternating chapters across the centuries tell the gradually intertwining stories of contemporary bibliophile Sophie Collingwood and budding author Jane Austen. Oxford graduate Sophie is mourning beloved Uncle Bertram, who introduced her to the world of books, after he suffers an untimely death in a fall, leaving her his flat and personal library. Jane, meanwhile, has a deepening relationship in 1796 with aged cleric Richard Mansfield, who offers encouragement and advice on her writing. Sophie is distressed about Bertram's death, which she thinks was not accidental, and the unexpected sale of his books to cover debts. Working at a used bookstore, she is asked by two different customers to find the same obscure nineteenth-century book, one that raises the question of whether Jane Austen, Sophie's favorite author, was a plagiarist. All of which makes Sophie suspicious of her two suitors, American Eric Hall and Englishman Winston Godfrey. Lovett, author of The Bookman's Tale (2013), has another appealing combination of mystery, romance, and bibliophilism here. An absolute must for Austen fans, a pleasure for others.--Leber, Michele Copyright 2014 Booklist


Publisher's Weekly Review

Lovett (The Bookmans Tale) weaves two plots together in this well-designed, ingenuous novel. One is the story of Jane Austens relationship with the Rev. Richard Mansfield, set in Hamphire, England, in 1796; the other follows Sophie Collingwood, lovingly described by her family as having an overactive imagination, in present-day England. Sophie is shocked to hear that her uncle was found dead with a broken neck at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Willed all his assets, she prepares to settle into his London home only to discover that his extensive library has been sold to pay off debts. She resolves to buy back as many of his books as possible and gains employment in a bookshop. While taking orders for rare books, she encounters two customers obsessively seeking the same edition of an obscure work by Mansfield. She is determined to find out why the book is so valuable to them and why one customer is desperate enough to threaten her-and perhaps even willing to commit murder-to gain possession of it. Ardent fans of Jane Austen and lovers of a gripping stories will enjoy following Sophies pursuit of the truth. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.


Library Journal Review

Starred Review. This is first and foremost a glorious love story about books, authors, publishers, printing, book collecting, and, best of all, reading! Before Jane Austen was a published author she befriended elderly clergyman and author Richard Mansfield and sought his opinion of her writing. In the present day, Lucy Collingwood, a huge Austen fan, Oxford graduate, and antiquarian bookseller, is approached by two separate customers eager to find Mansfield's A Little Book of Allegories. As she digs, she realizes this book could provide proof that Mansfield-not Austen-wrote Pride and Prejudice. The story moves back and forth between Jane's and Lucy's stories, as the women live somewhat parallel lives nearly 200 years apart. As Lucy works to prove that Austen is innocent of plagiarism, she fears for her life. Narrator Jayne Entwistle deftly voices characters of both sexes and all ages, as well as the very different vocabulary and speech patterns of the periods. She also imbues the story with the right emotional cadence. VERDICT Austen lovers, mystery fans, and romance buffs will thoroughly enjoy. ["While the ending is never in doubt and the formula is the same as Lovett's previous literary mystery (The Bookman's Tale), this is a delightful read that Janeites will love," read the review of the Viking hc, LJ 9/1/14.]-Susan G. Baird, formerly with Oak Lawn P.L., IL (c) Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.


Excerpts

Excerpts

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof*** Copyright © 2014 Charlie Lovett Steventon, Hampshire, 1796 Fond as she was of solitary walks, Jane had been wandering rather longer than she had intended, her mind occupied not so much with the story she had lately been reading as with one she hoped soon to be writing. She was shaken from this reverie by the sight of an unfamiliar figure, sitting on a stile, hunched over a book. Her first impression was that he was the picture of gloom--dressed in shabby clerical garb, a dark look on his crinkled face, doubtless a volume of dusty sermons clutched in his ancient hand. Even the weather seemed to agree with this assessment, for while the sun shone all around him, he sat in the shadow of the single cloud that hung in the Hampshire sky. Realizing how far she had come from home, Jane thought it best to retrace her steps without interrupting the cleric's thoughts as he had unknowingly interrupted hers. During the long walk home, across fields shimmering with the haze of summer heat, she amused herself by sketching out a character of this old man, storing him away, like so many others, for possible inclusion in some novel yet to be conceived. He was, she decided, a natural history enthusiast, but his passion lay not with anything beautiful like butterflies or wildflowers. No, his particular expertise was in the way of garden slugs, of which he could identify twenty-six varieties. By week's end, Jane had filled in the pathetic details of his life. Disappointed in love, he had turned to natural history, where the objects of his pursuit were less likely to spurn his advances. As his passion for his study grew, and as he shared it more enthusiastically with those around him, his invitations to dine gradually declined until he was left alone on most evenings with his books and his slugs. He was a melancholy figure, which made it all the more shocking to find him, on Sunday morning, not only seated in the Austen family pew, but smiling broadly and greeting her by name. Jane had led the family procession from the rectory to the small stone church of St. Nicholas, where her father was rector. The church stood on the far outskirts of the village, flanked by flat, green meadows. After passing through the rectory gates into the narrow lane that led to the church, the Austens had fallen in with several villagers. When she had concluded her pleasantries with these acquaintances, Jane had not a moment to respond to the stranger's greeting before the service began and she found herself separated from him by her mother and her sister Cassandra; of her six brothers, none were currently in residence in Steventon. The man's robust baritone voice, evident in his hymn singing, exuded a spirit that was anything but melancholy. Jane endured a sharp elbow from Cassandra for not attending to the gospel reading; instead, she was trying to watch the man out of the corner of her eye. She failed to follow the thread of her father's sermon, lost as she was in a reevaluation of the stranger's history. By the time the service ended she was thoroughly intrigued and determined to secure a proper introduction to satisfy her curiosity about the true nature of his character. "Go along home and I shall wait for Father," she told her mother and Cassandra as they stood beside the ancient yew tree that clung to the west end of the church. Jane felt certain that a visiting clergyman with leave to occupy the Austen pew must be known to her father, and she expected Mr. Austen to make the necessary introduction, so it came as a surprise when she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to face the stranger, who addressed her in a cheerful voice. "Miss Jane Austen, if I am not mistaken." "You are at an advantage, sir," said Jane. "You know my name, but I do not know yours." "Mansfield. Reverend Richard Mansfield at your service," he said with a slight bow. "But we have nearly met already." "What can you mean, sir?" "Only that two days ago you emerged from the waving grain of Lord Wintringham's field and stopped in your tracks when you spotted me reading on a stile just outside Busbury Park. At the time I conceived the idea that you were a rather dull and impetuous young lady, but I already begin to suspect that I may have been mistaken." His eyes twinkled in the morning sun as he said this, and his smile transformed from one meant for the general public to one that seemed to be reserved solely for Jane. "I hope you will come to believe so, Mr. Mansfield. I have been accused of having many faults by those who know me well, but neither dullness nor impetuousness has been among them." "And of what faults do they accuse you?" "My worst, or so I am told, are a too highly developed interest in fictionalizing my acquaintances and a tendency to form opinions of others hastily." "Opinions such as the one you formed of me when you saw me alone with my book?" "You do me wrong, sir. You assume first that I saw you, second that I gave your appearance sufficient thought to form an opinion, and third that my opinion was ill considered." "In the first case," said Mr. Mansfield, "I observed you myself, for though your mind may have been elsewhere, your eyes were certainly on me; in the second case, your father tells me, somewhat to my surprise, that you aspire to write novels, so I can only assume that anyone you meet may become a victim of your imagination; and in the third case it seems impossible that you would have guessed the extent to which our interests overlap." "I confess that shared interests did not occur to me. I imagined you a student of natural history, reading . . . but you will laugh when I tell you." "I enjoy a good laugh," said Mr. Mansfield. "I imagined you reading a book on garden slugs." Mr. Mansfield did laugh, long and heartily, before confessing the true nature of his reading. "It may shock you, Miss Austen, but in fact I was reading a novel." "A novel! You do shock me, sir. Do you not find novels full of nonsense? I myself find them the stupidest things in creation." "Then you read novels?" "Novels! I'm surprised at you, Mr. Mansfield, suggesting that a young lady such as myself, the daughter of a clergyman, no less, could occupy her time with such horrid things as novels." "You tease me, Miss Austen." "Indeed I do not, Mr. Mansfield, for though you know that I aspire to write novels, you cannot expect that I would take my interest in the form so far as to actually read them." Because Mr. Mansfield was old enough to be her grandfather, Jane took the bold step of adding a wink to this statement and turned toward the rectory. The congregation had dispersed and only the sounds of birdsong and the breeze in the yew tree disturbed the silence of the morning. Jane was pleased when Mr. Mansfield fell into step beside her as she made her way up the tree-lined lane. With the summer sun now high in the sky, she was grateful for the cooling shade. "Surely, Mr. Mansfield, your shortest route to Busbury Park lies in the opposite direction," said Jane. "Indeed it does, but you are assuming again, Miss Austen. First that I am staying at the park, and second that I am taking my luncheon there." "And my novelist's imagination has deceived me again?" "Not entirely," said Mr. Mansfield. "For I am a guest at Busbury Park, but though he can offer me only cold mutton, your father has asked me to take my luncheon at the rectory." "I confess, Mr. Mansfield, I am sorry to hear it." "And why is that? Are you so embarrassed to be seen in the company of a novel reader?" "On the contrary, it is because you are a novel reader that I had rather hoped to keep you to myself. Once you enter the doors of the rectory, you will become a friend to my mother and my sister Cassandra, and you will no doubt retire after lunch to the study with my father and abandon the rest of us." "Surely, Miss Austen," said Mr. Mansfield, "I can be both a visitor at the rectory and a special friend of the rector's younger daughter." "I believe, Mr. Mansfield," said Jane as she took the clergyman's arm, "that I should like that very much indeed." Excerpted from First Impressions by Charlie Lovett All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.