Jane Austen’s Use of Satire In Northanger Abbey
by: A.Z.K.R., from Tales of Porcelain Thrones: Middle School Edition
Jane Austen was an author in Regency Era England. She wrote satirical novels and enjoyed mocking the frivolities of English society and “the Novel” itself. Satire as defined by Webster’s New Word Dictionary is a literary work in which vices and follies are held up to ridicule, satire doesn’t have to be funny, but Austen’s work definitely is.
Jane Austen was born nine months after the beginning of The American Revolution, she had several brothers, and one sister (Leithart 1). Austen was an avid reader and loved novels, but she still found them a little ridiculous. Austen wanted her books to reflect the real world, showing real dangers. Instead of writing about bandits and murderers, Jane’s villains included liars and social climbers. Jane Austen was fighting against stereotypical heroines, bizarre and dangerous social expectations, and the problems of treating novels like real life. Yet, ironically, Jane Austen’s novels were realistic, which was sort of the point. Jane Austen wrote about real problems in a funny way. Even for someone who does not live in Regency Era England, Austen’s characters represent real types of people and can help give young women the wherewithal to avoid the Big Bad Wolves (John Thorps) of the world and find their very own Prince Charming (Henry Tilney).
Austen starts her book Northanger Abbey with a mockery of a novel’s heroine. Austen does this by describing her heroine, Catherine Morland, as normal, and “almost pretty,” emphasizing her normality by saying her family was neither rich nor poor, her father was a clergyman, neither of her parents were abusive, and her mother was—unfortunately—alive. Catherine loves reading novels, but not history books. These are all in direct contrast to the kinds of heroines Catherine herself reads about over the course of the book, stories such as Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho where the heroine, Emily St. Aubert, is beautiful, orphaned, and well versed in the arts. Catherine’s neighbors, the Allens, a childless couple of some fortune, decide to take sixteen year old Catherine to Bath. Bath is a tourist destination in England, complete with spas, parties, and shopping centers, which served many as a ‘coming out’ excursion (Cunliffe 41). Austen was able to write about Bath well because she lived there. Even while making fun of novels, Austen used some of their troops to her advantage, such as having a relative or family friend taking a young heroine on a coming out trip.
In English society one couldn’t just walk up to someone and talk to them, you had to be introduced by someone you already knew, forcing everyone to rely on family, family friends, other acquaintances, or the master of ceremonies. At Catherine’s first ball Mrs. Allen laments constantly that they don’t know anyone of consequence, while Catherine wishes they knew anyone at all (Austen 30).
At Catherine’s second ball, the master of ceremonies introduces her to Henry Tilney. Halfway through a conversation that they were having, Tilney interrupts by saying, “I hitherto have been very remiss, madam, in the proper attentions of a partner here; I have not yet asked you how long you have been in Bath.” Jane Austen mocks polite society through Henry Tilney’s comical performance of asking Catherine all the ‘right’ questions, such as ‘how long have you been in Bath,’ ‘do you enjoy Bath,’ ‘Is this your first ball,’ et cetera. Tilney, although he thinks society is silly, still follows its rules, and remains a respectable young man.
Jane Austen uses Catherine’s naivety to point out how unspoken rules can be extremely problematic, and even dangerous. The real dangers of society were people like the Thorps, social climbers and narcissists, who used these unspoken expectations to put other people in sticky situations. The Thorps, through a series of blunders, suppose that the Morlands have lots of money. They had already met Catherine’s older brother, James, at Oxford. Upon meeting Catherine with Mrs. Allen, they supposed that she would receive the Allen’s fortune due to the kind way the childless Allens were treating her. They catch their mistake when Isabella Thorp becomes engaged to James Morland and she receives a letter about James’s future income, one that sounds reasonable to the Morlands, but is disappointing to the gold digging Thorps. Isabella attempts to break off the engagement to run off with Henry Tilney’s older brother, Captain Frederick Tilney, but this proves to be her downfall. Captain Tilney, unlike his brother, is a rake, he doesn’t care about any of societies rules, and breaks the social customs that were actually worth keeping.
Because the Thorps thought Catherine so rich, and John Thorp planned to marry her, and they gossiped about her wealth in order to make themselves look better. At a theater, they brag to General Tilney, Henry’s father, who then wished to have Catherine married to his son. In order to empress her he invites her to stay at his home, Northanger Abbey for a holiday. Catherine is naive and unaware of the Thorps deceptions until she receives a letter from her brother explaining Isabella’s behavior. She is totally unaware that money is the reason General Tilney is interested in her alliance. Henry however is aware that his father cares a great deal about money, and isn’t sure why he is interested in having Catherine for a daughter-in-law. With these events Jane Austen is showing us the true the ‘villains’ of society, and how Catherine was totally oblivious to their presence. She was so caught up in the idea of bandits and mysterious murderers that she could not see the danger at the end of her nose.
‘The Novel’ becomes increasingly important in this part of the story, as it leads to Catherine’s embarrassment several times over the course of her stay at Northanger Abbey. Catherine’s preconceived notions about abbeys, established while reading gothic romances, leads her to disappointment when discovering modern renovations inside the home of her hosts. She fails to find secret passages, or incriminating letters, as the heroine Adeline did in Radcliffe’s Romance of the Forest, in her guest room and, worst of all it leads to a terrible confusion regarding the cause of Henry’s mother’s death. General Tilney is harsh, but not villainous. He takes good care of his servants and his estate, hence the renovations. He wants his children to marry well, thus his interest in Catherine’s supposed inheritance. General Tilney’s stony demeanor, combined with Catherine’s overconfidence in the reality of novels, leads her to make the worst of blunders: she makes assumptions. She speaks briefly to Miss Tilney, Henry’s sister, and finds she was not at home when her mother died, leading Catherine to assume no one was at home when Mrs. Tilney died. Catherine suspects foul play. Her blunder is discovered when she sneaks into Mrs. Tilney’s old room and is discovered by Henry. When she admits her thoughts, he admonishes her. He and his brother had been home when his mother had died, and she had perished of sickness rather than ill treatment. General Tilney’s behavior had nothing to do with skeletons in a closet. Catherine’s gothic fantasies stop here; she has learned and grown. The dangers are not ended, though.
The Thorps, angry due to their hurt pride, speak to General Tilney again and tell him not only that the Morlands are not rich, but that they were exceedingly poor, projecting their own flaws onto Catherine. General Tilney, in a rage, comes home and sends Catherine off in the middle of the night without a chaperone or money. The situation is quite unforgivable, but Catherine doesn’t yet understand and cannot fathom what she has done to displease General Tilney. Henry later comes to her house to explain and offer his hand in marriage, not just because he loves her, but because he feels responsible due to his father’s behavior. General Tilney, of course, does not approve.
Jane Austen, for all her realism, never leaves her stories with sad endings. Henry’s sister, previously forbidden, marries the man she loves, and by a novel twist of fate, now financially outranks her father. She demands that General Tilney allow Catherine and Henry to marry, and her will is done. Jane Austen defends the ending of her own book, at the beginning of the story, while talking about novels in chapter five. “For I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common to with novel-writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are themselves adding— joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such works, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust. Alas!” (Austen 42) Jane Austen is talking about Catherine’s own habit of consuming dramatic stories, but she’s also explaining here, that despite her book calling out the faults in these stories, its still a novel its self.
The story is funny, you can’t help but laugh when Catherine finds not evidence of murder, but instead laundry receipts in the cabinet. This is not was makes it satire however, Jane Austen books are satire because of exactly how it is funny: elements of the story mock society, and express its difficulties, she’s calling to attention problems regarding expectations when they are appropriate and when they are silly. We’re lucky to have Jane Austen doing this is a humorous manner as opposed to long dry articles listing the problems of society like a grocery list. Not all satire is presented in a comical fashion, but a point is better made when it provokes some kind of emotion, either anguish, or in Jane Austen’s case, joy.
Works Cited
Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. Signet Classic, 1996.
Cunliffe, Barry. The Roman Baths at Bath: Authorized Guide Book. Bath Archeological Trust, 1993.
Leithart, Peter. Jane Austen. Thomas Nelson, 2009.
Radcliffe, Ann. The Mysteries of Udolpho. Penguin Books, 2001.
Radcliffe, Ann. The Romance of the Forest. Oxford University Press, 1988.
The Year in Books
We read a lot. We are homeschoolers, so of course we spend a lot of time reading. I was at the pediatrician years ago with my oldest, an old man I didn’t know who didn’t know me… he complimented how articulate and well mannered my child was and then found out we homeschooled and immediately started lecturing me on the dangers of screen time and video games. I said, “Sir, we don’t even own a console.” He would not let up. He was convinced that being homeschooled meant we sat around and did nothing but watch TV and played video games. Funny thing is, now we don’t even own a TV. My teenager will tell you, we don’t have time for TV, because there are so many things to read. We play outside, we hang out with friends, we play musical instruments, we participate in clubs, she flies planes, and we read and read and read.
A lot of our books we read together, some (not not many) I read alone. This year (2025), we read:
- Writing to Learn by William Zinsser
- Napoleon’s Buttons by Le Couteur and Burreson
- Desiring God by John Piper
- The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington
- The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne (I actually read two different editions back to back with notes, as I was teaching it.)
- The Bringer of Fire by Oehler (I did not let my teen read this one)
- Why Read Moby Dick? by Philbrick
- Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen
- The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx
- The Peter Rabbit Library by Beatrix Potter (this is an ongoing favorite and I love having babies to re-read these to)
- Why? by Anne Graham Lotz
- Rapunzel (all the versions, every one we could get our hands on)
- The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain (another one I enjoy teaching to more than my own kids)
- Purgatorio by Dante
- The Great Gatsby by Fitzgerald
- All the Arnold Lobel picture books, including a few new ones I had not owned when my oldest was small.
- Jane Austen by Peter J. Leithart
- Hank the Cowdog by John R. Erickson (my son is obsessed with the books and the podcast, I think we have them memorized now)
- New Essays on The Great Gatsby by Matthew J. Bruccoli
- The Los Angeles Diaries by James Brown
- I Know Many Songs… by Brian Kiteley
- The Parrot’s Lament by Eugene Linden
- On Reading Well by Karen Swallow Prior
- Common Arts Education by Chris Hall
- You’re Not Enough (and That’s Okay) by Allie Beth Stuckey
- The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas
- Everything we could get our hands on by Trina Schart Hyman because we love her.
- Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore by Matthew Sullivan
- The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim (an annual Easter tradition at our house)
- Gatsby’s Girl by Caroline Preston
- Animal Farm by George Orwell
- The Disappearing Spoon by Sam Kean
- The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia by Samuel Johnson
- Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy
- A Hobbit, a Wardrobe, and a Great War by Joseph Loconte
- Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton
- The World of Pooh by A.A. Milne
- Lightfoot the Deer by Thornton W. Burgess
- The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford
- The Geography Behind History by W. Gordon East
- String, Straight-Edge, and Shadow by Julia E. Diggins
- Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
- Dracula by Bram Stoker
- Hamlet by Shakespeare
- World Enough & Time: On Creativity and Slowing Down by McEwen
- The Discarded Image by C. S. Lewis
- Drake Hall by Christina Baehr
- Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery
- The Floating City by Pamela Ball
- Moth and Spark by Anne Leonard
- That Eye, The Sky by Tim Winton
- Socrates Cafe by Christopher Phillips
- The Chemical History of a Candle by Michael Faraday
- Beauty and the Word by Stratford Caldecott
- Under the Wide and Starry Sky by Nancy Horan
- The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis
- Nathaniel’s Nutmeg by Giles Milton
- J.R.R. Tolkien’s Santifying Myth by Bradley J. Birzer
- Engaging the Christian Scriptures by Aterbury and more
- Journey Into Summer by Edwin Way Teale
- Kon Tiki by THor Heyerdahl
- Lethal White by Robert Galbraith
- Be Strong (Joshua) by Warren W. Wiersbe
- A Chant to Soothe Wild Elephants by Jaed Coffin
- Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery
- Sightings by Sam Keen
- Maisie Dobbs by Winspear
- Local Girls by Hoffman
- Early Christian Writings: The Apostolic Fathers
- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead by Stoppard
- How to Teach Kids Theology by Luce and Williams
- Medea and Other Plays by Euripedes
- The Infinities by John Banville
- Climbing Parnassus by Tracy Lee Simmons
- How to Keep From Losing Your Mind by Hudson
- Sharing His Secrets by Vickey Banks
- Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti
- Uglies by Scott Westerfeld
- The Last Rakosh by F. Paul Wilson (straight to the nope pile)
- A History of France by John Julius Norwich (he is one of my favorite historians)
- Book Trails for Baby Feet
- The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury
- Don’t Mom Alone by Heather MacFayden (a gift from my midwife after having baby number four)
- The Fall of the Year by Dallas Lore Sharp
- The Natural History of Selborne by Gilbert White
- Heaven by Jennifer Rothschild (donated this too)
- Cultural Literacy by E.D. Hirsch Jr.
- Bringing Up Boys by James C. Dobson
- Ourselves by Charlotte Mason
- The Story of Holly and Ivy by Rumer Godden (we read this every Christmas)
- One Man’s Christmas by Leon Hale
- The Iliad by Homer (Fagles)
- Hallelujah by Cindy Rollins (another annual tradition)
- Quietly in Their Sleep by Donna Leon
- Easily 300-400 picture books because I have three children under five and that’s what we do for hours on end.
I purged a lot this year, as you can see there’s a lot of chaff in this list. But I found favorites I will re-read with every child as well. We’ve been purging a lot as our shelves are stuffed to the gills (about 22 seven foot units retired from Half Price Books) and then some. I decided I don’t actually need more books, I need to be more conscientious about curating the ones I have, so I’ve been donating hundreds of volumes I’m done with every year… but we still have a packed inventory, because we are homeschoolers and we are readers.
As for this year, I truly enjoyed the chemistry titles. I actually enjoyed teaching high school chemistry, especially with the literature bent, essay writing, and speech giving I required of the students. The kids had more fun with the labs, obviously, but Napoleon’s Buttons, Faraday’s papers, and The Disappearing Spoon are all keepers, for sure.
I got rid of most the contemporary fiction, and kept the classics. I loved The Scarlet Letter when I read it in high school and I loved it even more while teaching it. The book as a whole is so much richer right after reading Dante’s Divine Comedy. “The Custom House” introduction hits so much deeper as an adult.
What did you read this year? Were they re-reads or new reads? A mixture of both? What was your favorite? What will you read again every year?
Traditions! (Hallelujah!)
A few years ago we started the tradition of celebrating Advent using Cindy Rollins’ Hallelujah! study of Handel’s Messiah and I absolutely love it. Celebrating Advent has been a new and gradual practice for me. About eight years ago. the church I was attending was lighting weekly candles at the front of service, but not spending much time explaining it and it provoked me to start doing some research in conjunction with learning about liturgical practices in the home.
As we settle into using Hallelujah! to enrich our family life, we’re adding in some of the things from the appendix slowly. This was our first year doing St. Nick shortbread cookies and I was pretty excited. Despite a few hiccups, we were pleased with our efforts. My oldest has been learning to decorate cakes off and on for the last five years, and she made icing and turned the cookies into little Christmas wreaths for an event the following week as well. We didn’t celebrate St. Lucia’s Feast Day this year, but little by little we’re adding traditions to our holiday season that line up with the Christian calendar.
In order to do that, I’ve been having to learn about the Christian calendar in general. I was not raised in a church that followed it other than Christmas and Easter. I knew nothing of Advent or Lent. I still don’t fully understand Lent, but I used Living the Christian Year by Gross as a starting point. It didn’t answer the questions I had, which as usual are questions I’m not even sure how to articulate yet, so I donated it to our church library hoping it will help someone else. I hoped to find more clarity by adding The Sacred Sacrifice to our Lent and Easter season, I read it last year when it first came out and plan use it again with my children during our morning basket time again this year.
It’s interesting because despite my children all loving classical music, my son used to beg to listen to Mozart as a toddler, they are fairly indifferent about these family traditions surrounding the Christian holidays and classical pieces. I’m curious to see how they feel about it the older we get as it becomes nostalgic and part of their family memories. When we first added the tradition of getting a live Christmas tree at a family owned Christmas tree farm, my oldest was also indifferent. But now they all beg to go to the farm as soon as Thanksgiving passes. They love the petting zoo feature, there are sure to be baby goats and tortoises. They love the outdoors and the bees and hunting down the perfect tree. They love getting subpar hot cocoa in Styrofoam cups (my husband makes amazing hot cocoa from scratch at home) and pumping Christmas themed rubber ducks down the PVC pipe racing shoots… these things have come to mean the beginning of the Christmas season to them and I love that.
Another tradition we have added to our lives is listening to The Dark is Rising BBC World Service production: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/w13xtvp7. The Dark is Rising book (and podcast) starts on the winter solstice, December 20th, and it’s fun to listen to the events of the story alongside the events of our own corresponding days.
What does your family do as a household tradition?
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The Camera My Mother Gave Me
I am buying my childhood home. My mother has passed and my father has remarried a wonderful woman for whom he bought a new place, a place for them to make their own. It is good for him to leave walls saturated with memories of my mother and her influence, but I didn’t want the house my parents built in 1986 gone forever. My dad packed the things that were most important to him and is leaving behind things that were just filler (I’m getting a new comfy couch from my Bonus Mom I’m super excited about). My mom had a lot of filler.
Since I’m the book lady, he left me most of their books as well. I already have well over 5,000 volumes in my house (I quit counting long ago and just focus on making sure they all have a place to live) and I have four children that I will be moving into a home built for a family of four total (it’s the same size as my current home, but actually has one more room, there was a lot of wasted space in these 1995 builds). So as I go through books, determining what to keep and what to purge, I’m stumbling through decades of reading–my mother’s reading, and my own.
The Christian prairie romances went first. I’ve never been interested in that genre, but it was my mother’s primary reading (I added some to the church library and sent some to be sold at Good Oil Days). I’ve gotten rid of most of the Christmas books, she loved anything Christmas. My church does a holiday market every year where they sell Christmas crafts, decor, and gifts to raise money for various things we cannot afford to do as a congregation. This last year we replaced the doors. The old building was desperate for functioning doors with no cracks or blemishes and the Christmas market afforded us beautiful, but simple, wooden doors to invite the public into our home away from home. My mother would be pleased that she contributed to that. I’m excited to keep the antiques, they aren’t valuable but they are titles we will read and share with our children. There’s a set of Mark Twain I remember well that I’ll “inherit.”
With all this sorting and purging going on at my Dad’s house (soon to be my house), I’m sorting and purging from my own home as well. Books I loved in my twenties just don’t mean the same to me now that I am a mother of four. When we first moved to this house my goal was to make sure there were never stacks of books anywhere (I failed), that every book had its own place on the shelf (I failed big time). I spent the last four years donating anything I read that I had no intention of reading again, mostly books I had acquired for free or cheap over the years that upon finally reading didn’t live up to my latest standards. But now, I’m getting rid of books I loved and just don’t need or want lying around for children to encounter.
So this week I donated The Camera My Mother Gave Me and Girl, Interrupted (and four bags of other things I can’t recall). I loved Girl, Interrupted when I first read it. I think I was nineteen at the time. Susanna Kaysen fascinated me with her angst, her institutionalization, her ambivalence, and finally her resolve… to not be crazy. I respected her final conclusion. At forty-one, I just don’t need that affirmation from her anymore… that we can be surrounded by insanity and decide to not allow ourselves to go insane (mental illness is real, but there are also some who drive themselves nuts out of selfishness and conceit, or giving in to their environment).
Later, when I was running the sociology section at Half Price Books, I stumbled across The Camera My Mother Gave Me. It is a bizarre memoir about Kaysen’s vagina. I was shocked, baffled, and completely riveted by the book. I remember being appalled that I couldn’t put it down. I probably would have kept it forever and maybe read it again years from now because I don’t remember much of it, but I don’t want my sons plucking it off the shelf as emerging readers. It would make an interesting story for a stand-up comedy routine–or their future therapist–so off to the Friends of the Library it went.
I have donated nearly 1,000 volumes every time I have moved. Often it’s a simple Marie Kondo moment, happily removing piles of things accumulated that I’m now happy to give away. This move hits different. Instead of just not wasting some box or storage space, I’m more focused on refining my library. I am actively curating a specific environment to nurture my children.
What books do you enjoy that you still choose not to keep?
Colonel Shaw
I’ve been spying these daily writing prompts in the corner of my dashboard the last few days, wondering if they were something I would ever care to utilize. This evening as I was considering what to post for tomorrow, I saw “Have you ever performed on a stage?” and immediately had a flashback to 1995 and my performance as Colonel Shaw in the play Glory. I’m assuming it was severely abridged for fifth graders. I do know it was shortly after we had read the book Shades of Gray by Carolyn Reeder. I remember my costume smelled funny. I do not recall where that costume was acquired or where it went when I was done wearing it. I think it was meant to teach us an important part of history, but I was not thinking about Lincoln’s War Between the States when I was barking out my Colonel Shaw lines, I was thinking about how I was the shortest girl in the class playing a man in charge of stuff. For the record, I’m a terrible actress and I have no idea how or why I was awarded this role in whatever fifth grade extravaganza was occurring.
Fifth grade was an awkward time when the man I thought would be my favorite teacher ever got deported–to Canada–for an expired Visa, and in return we got the “new” lady. She hated me, got in arguments with my mom, and I still (in my 40s) think she was a moron. Time did not grant me more grace for her, although I do credit her for having Tolkien’s The Hobbit and Field’s Hitty, Her First Hundred Years in her classroom library. Both of which I loved. She’s also the teacher who read Bridge to Terabithia out loud every afternoon until she had her entire class bawling. So, she was either awesome for introducing us to a great book, or a little sadistic for emotionally traumatizing us all. Who knows?
My track record with teachers wasn’t great. In sixth grade I got an amazing GT language arts teacher I will adore forever and we got her again for seventh grade GT, and then she died. Once again, our class got the “new” lady. A fresh out of college gal the boys tormented by just calling her Wendy. She looked like Wendy from Peter Pan, her name was Wendy for real, I still don’t remember her last name because no one ever respected her enough to use it. She lived in my neighborhood with her parents, talked about her boyfriend (who couldn’t spell) a lot, and in hindsight I wonder how any twenty-two year olds enter their classrooms for their first year without having a panic attack. I think that was the year I played a dead girl in theatre and laughed through the entire play. My theatre teacher told me she loved me, but she didn’t want me on her stage again. We laughed. We hugged. When I was in Oklahoma! in high school, I was a chorus girl who happily sat in the barn close to the shotgun mic. I’m not a great dancer either, but I love to sing. Too bad Colonel Shaw didn’t have any singing lines. I’d definitely watch Glory as a Broadway musical, they could still use Matthew Broderick and everything.
Beauty in the Math
As a homeschool mom, I’ve been teaching math every day since 2017 when my oldest officially started first grade. We did Math-U-See Alpha through Pre-Algebra with steady diligence. When we finished the curriculum for the school year, we often used another to review. For years we had colorful, used copies of Singapore (1A-6B) to ensure there were no gaps in our learning. It wasn’t necessary, we just liked it. My oldest also loved reading Life of Fred books for fun until about a year ago when she grew as impatient with them as I have always been. We feel they make great supplements if your kid is into them, but they aren’t really a complete curriculum. (My husband and I honestly don’t understand how anyone learns anything from them at all.) With all this math drilling, I have always passionately felt like I needed to have books that kept that spark–the love of the beauty of math–alive in our home. It’s easy to get lost in crunching numbers and forget that it’s fun to play with numbers, to entertain ideas, and to marvel at the patterns.
Books that have helped me maintain that in the younger years were things like Swirl by Swirl, Blockhead, the Sir Cumference series, The Lion’s Share, and many more. I collect math picture books and biographies of mathematicians for kids like Michael Phelps collects Olympic medals. I love them and I love reading them to my kids. We enjoy Penrose the Cat and Bedtime Math: A Fun Excuse to Stay Up Late. I have a more MathStart picture books than I can count. Not really, Anno taught us to count pretty high. But as my oldest got older, I realized I needed to have more than just picture books to keep that love for math alive.
We started in middle school with books on fractals. She had already read Mysterious Patterns: Finding Fractals in Nature by Sarah C. Campbell, but we needed more. A friend recommended Lisle’s Fractals: The Secret Code of Creation and we ate that up. It’s so beautiful. I even bought and read Mandelbrot’s The Fractal Geometry of Nature from the 70’s, for my own personal amusement.
Then I became even more devoted to being purposeful in adding math books to our history and science reading. Zero: the Biography of a Dangerous Idea by Charles Seife was a fun one, and I recommend it for 7th and 8th graders tackling Algebra I for the first time. Learning about the beginnings of things, when the world wasn’t quite sure what to make of a concept, is always exciting. Adding living books to a student’s math studies is what I think is greatly missing from the public school system’s approach to math education in the upper grades. As a society we’re helping elementary students get excited with great picture books like The Boy Who Loved Math and then we leave them hanging once they hit Algebra. Books like Derbyshire’s Unknown Quantity aren’t being touched until college, if at all.
Just this week we finished A History of Pi. Beckmann’s writing isn’t as thrilling as Siefe’s, and he often goes on tangents about governments he doesn’t like, showing some interesting biases that made my 9th grader roll her eyes, but I’ll still take his passionate sometimes wrong hot takes over a boring textbook that never mentions the history of 3.14 and how it came to be what it is today.
Once you dive into the world of living math books, it’s actually more difficult to find someone dispassionate about their topic. Francis Su in Mathematics for Human Flourishing also has several political asides while arguing for math bringing virtue to those who study it. While it wasn’t my favorite of the math books I’ve read and I won’t be assigning it, it helped me identify and articulate some of my goals as a math teacher.
What math or math history books have you read that have inspired you as a teacher or student? Books that made the beauty of math shine for you?
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The Mad Women of the Moors
Re-experiencing The Brontë Sisters, Part One
In 2024 I read Brontë’s Agnes Grey alongside the Literary Life Podcast. I hadn’t read a Brontë novel in years, more than a decade I believe. Though I greatly appreciate the Brontës, I’ve always been more of a Jane Austen girl. It’s a rare reader who loves both equally, I find. The Brontës wrote Gothic revival tales with a flare for romanticism (romanticism the movement, not romanticism featuring a meet-cute and happily ever after), whereas Jane Austen wrote satire. The Brontës make me sad and despair for humanity while Jane Austen makes me laugh at society’s nonsense. All four women had much to say about the world around them, they just said it very differently.
Agnes Grey, written by the youngest Brontë, Anne, is not the most riveting of classic works and I suspect it wouldn’t still be in print if Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre weren’t currently so popular. I love to pair reading experiences, rabbit trail from one book to another, an exercise of associative reading, so I plucked a book I already had on my shelf and read it as well.
The book was The Madwoman Upstairs by Catherine Lowell, a contemporary literary mystery with the meet-cute kind of romance thrown in. The book follows fictional character Samantha Whipple through Oxford as the author fan-girls over Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. In a season when I am aggressively purging subpar books from my collection (we have over 5,000 volumes–I stopped counting long ago–and have legitimately run out of space) The Madwoman Upstairs is one I have chosen to keep, for now. I think my oldest might enjoy it after studying a Brontë book or two, it’s an easy breezy weekend novel.
That time might be coming soon as the trailers for this new Wuthering Heights movie blasts across the internet, appalling most readers I know. Teaching Wuthering Heights just moved up my to-do list as I counter parent pop culture, so that when my teen encounters the story for the first time it is not at the hands of the debaucherous movie industry who is advertising what looks like a Fifty-Shades version of what they are calling the “greatest love story ever told.” I thought it was a cautionary tale of what happens to humanity when we give into the monster of sin instead of slaying it. On a supernatural level, Wuthering Heights brings me back to Beowulf (I might be broken, because everything brings me back to Beowulf, it’s a favorite) and the torment of the wild (sin nature and Satan… Heathcliff has that whole Esau archetype going for him that reminds me of Grendel). On a psychological level, Cathy and Heathcliff remind me that sin nature is to be quashed lest we wander the moors ever after as lost souls unable to reach heaven. Apparently, that is not the popular reading, and Hollywood has turned it into some steamy lip biting panty dropper. Gross. But, I haven’t read the book in a coon’s age, and it’s possible I read it poorly and just saw the message I wanted to see.
Alice Hoffman said, “Read Wuthering Heights when you’re 18 and you think Heathcliff is a romantic hero; when you’re 30, he’s a monster; at 50 you see he’s just human.” When I was in my teens, I definitely read him as a tempting monster. I know I read Jane Eyre and Tenant of Wildfell Hall in my twenties, but I cannot recall if I re-read Emily’s work when I first read her sisters’ and stumbled across Gaskell’s biography. I’m 41 now and I’m curious to know how I read Heathcliff today.
English author Jeanette Winterson wrote on her website in 2011:
I read Wuthering Heights when I was sixteen and had just left home. I did not read it as a love story. I thought it was a loss story. Heathcliff loses Cathy. Cathy loses Heathcliff. Edgar Linton loses Cathy, their daughter, his life, and Thrushcross Grange. Hindley loses Wuthering Heights. His son Hareton is dispossessed, Heathcliff’s revenge on everyone, including himself, is matched by Cathy’s death-wish (Why did you betray your own heart?). Heathcliff is a foundling. As an adopted child I understood his humiliations, his ardour, and his capacity to injure. I also learned the lesson of the novel that property is power. It seemed to me that if you want to fall in love you had better have a house. Whatever Emily Bronte was doing, it was not the sentimental interpretation of this novel of all for love and the world well lost. Cathy is a woman and can’t own property in her own right. Therefore she can’t rescue Heathcliff unless she marries Edgar (and that is part of her plan but Heathcliff has already misunderstood and disappeared). Much later when her daughter marries Heathcliff’s horrible son Linton he gleefully claims that all her property is now his – and when he usefully dies, all that was hers passes to Heathcliff. Heathcliff himself starts with nothing—and so can’t marry Cathy. His gradual gain of every house, horse and heirloom belonging to the Earnshaws and the Lintons is his revenge and his ruin. What’s love got to do with it? (All right, quite a lot, but this is not a love story).
As I begin my journey of rediscovery, I find I agree that it is a story of loss. I also think it is a story of revenge, and possibly a story of ghosts… I’ll get back to you in Part Two of this blog series.
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Burgess, Beatrix, and Our Favorite Bear
One thing I didn’t expect to be doing in my forties was re-reading all the books of early childhood. I was a mom of only one for nearly eleven years and thought surely I wouldn’t revisit Thornton Burgess, Beatrix Potter, and Winnie-the-Pooh until I was a grandmother. But then I had three more babies.
I started reading Thornton Burgess out loud to my oldest and two of my niblings when there was a family crisis and I absorbed a niece and a nephew into my household for two months while my second child was two months old. Thornton Burgess always brings calm to an afternoon when you need it. He’s gentle, like Mr. Rogers, and tells you all about the animals the way Bob Ross tells you all about painting. During this season of chaos, we read The Big Book of Burgess, the pale green front board and back board matched my bedroom walls and put us all in a soothing nap-like mood. We usually read over elevenses or afternoon tea, the sunlight from my east facing living room windows often cascading over my shoulders while the baby kicked in the bouncer and the older kids settled in to watch the oak tree’s leaves dance across the area rug and faux hardwood flooring. What I learned then while the fifth graders sat restfully (the only time of day they were restful) and listened, is that I would never stop reading Burgess ever again. Never. Now, we always have a Burgess book going. I read bits of the Adventures of… series to my toddler, Lightfoot the Deer and Bowser the Hound when I had a teenager, a preschooler, and a toddler, and even now with a highschooler, preschooler, toddler, and newborn, we are reading Blacky the Crow. Burgess writes delightful little chapter books every age can enjoy, but…
Beatrix Potter’s work are picture books. I definitely didn’t expect to be reading The Tales of Peter Rabbit nearly every day for another decade. Even more, I didn’t expect to not get tired of them. Jeremy Fisher doesn’t stop being exciting, if anything I think he’s more exciting now that I have a little boy obsessed with fishing. Two Bad Mice is especially amusing with two precocious little human partners in crime scurrying about my home.
Last, I’ll never forget the first time I picked up the Winnie-the-Pooh collection to read to my second born. He was pudgy and snuggly and the lamplight was low and my voice fell into the patterns that my oldest calls my Winnie-the-Pooh voice and I thought, “Oh I get to do this again. How lovely.” The book smells like vanilla and baby powder, the spine reassuring in my palm. Winnie-the-Pooh of the Hundred Acre Wood, floating up to steal honey like a rain cloud really never gets old. It might be my favorite bedtime book.
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Totalitarian Caste Systems in Dystopian Fantasy
A Guest Blog Post by: A.Z.K.R., author of Tales of Porcelain Thrones: Middle School Edition
Totalitarianism is a system of government that is headed by an absolute dictator who supports themselves with some kind of violent force. In a totalitarian country there is no freedom of the people. One example of totalitarianism can be found in Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn. The Final Empire is headed by the Lord Ruler, who uses emotional manipulation against the populous. They are required to believe only what the Steel Ministry tells them and treat the Lord Ruler as god. The Final Empire is also a caste system. A caste system is a system of government in which people are divided into sections based on race and or job description. The Final Empire is not an exact Caste System sine the Garrison and a few merchants come from the Skaa population.
A better example of a Totalitarian Caste System is Suzanne Collins’s series Hunger Games. In Hunger Games President Snow represents the the absolute ruler and the Hunger Games themselves serve as the violent force. The caste system in Panam is much stricter than the one in the Final Empire. The people are confined to geographically separated districts that are each in charge of one resource that is distributed across the whole country, such as coal lumber, and technology. District Thirteen is the rebel district, their Mistborn counterparts would be the thieving crews. In both dystopian societies the government mostly ignored the rebels, avoiding conflict and keeping the peace. Up until the nineteen forties India was a real life example of a totalitarian caste system. The noblemen and Garrison plus the District two and the capital are equal to the Kshatriyas. Likewise the Chandles are similar to the thieving crews or district thirteen.
Totalitarian caste systems are terrible for everyone except the people on top. Even now as a democracy India is a miserable place still scarred by its past government. On the flip side, the opposite of a totalitarian caste system would be a world with no ruler or government system at all. You may note that in the United States religious freedom only goes as far as it can without infringing on other peoples’ rights. Or it was supposed to anyway. Both extremes are bad. People need guidance, not total dominance. Rules, not oppression.
Hard Roads to Cultural Literacy
In May of 2019, I read a book called Hard Road West: History and Geology Along the Gold Rush Trail by Keith Heyer Meldahl. I remember it being riveting. When I logged it on Goodreads all I wrote was, “Excellent and fascinating.” I was dating my now husband at the time and I remember sharing with him sections I thought he would enjoy, as we both like geology and one of our dates was to the HMNS gemstone exhibit. At one point I laughed out loud at something clever Meldahl wrote (I don’t recall what it was) and my husband commented that it is a rare geology book that causes one to laugh in pleasure.
Naturally, I thought this would make excellent assigned reading for my homeschooled highschooler. But one chapter into it she was struggling. It wasn’t the reading level, she has a collegiate reading level and has had one for a few years now. I was certain it couldn’t be the science as she had been perusing geology books since childhood and had done a whole geology curriculum with a friend as part of their own little science club they created. Nerds. I went over the science with her and she kept reading. It became less of a struggle, but she is not laughing out loud with pleasure from her geology book.
Then I started reading Cultural Literacy by E. D. Hirsch and things became clearer. In Cultural Literacy Hirsch talks about a study done on the results of seven year olds who took a reading assessment test. In the test the children were asked to read a story about a spider. The children who had more prior knowledge about spiders scored higher on the reading comprehension questions about the story (which did not require special knowledge about spiders) than those who did not know much about spiders.
I shared this with my oldest daughter, as we often study together while the younger kids are playing. We discussed it and determined that it makes sense to not get hung up on something being mentioned in passing because you already know a lot on a topic and can picture it in your mind with little effort, but to struggle to retain what something is about if it mentions a lot of things you’re trying to picture because you’re not as familiar with them. Perhaps it is easier to envision Charlotte in Charlotte’s Web if as a child you also have watched a real spider build its web, perhaps it is easier to remember the story if you’ve seen or read about how baby spiders hatch. Or, if you’ve had Charlotte’s Web read to you as a child, maybe a technical book on pig husbandry would be easier to retain as an adult. Hirsch includes an example of college students reading a paragraph about Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee and struggling because they had no prior knowledge of who they were and how they related to the Civil War (shocking because these were college students out of Virginia).
I was reminded about a public schooled girl I was working with who had failed her reading portion on her standardized tests. Her phonics were impeccable, but where she struggled was comprehension. When I worked with her, almost every time she struggled to read something it was because she had never heard the word. She didn’t have the vocabulary to support her phonics skills. I advised the family to listen to audiobooks, read stories together at night, talk to each other more, look words up in the dictionary. Children learn the meanings of words by hearing them, then when they see them on paper for the first time while sounding it out… they have a picture in their mind of what that word means, feels like, or how it can be used in different sentences. Kids should always have access to stories above their reading level, so that they can learn grammar structures and vocabulary words organically. Hirsch drives home the idea that you can know how to read and still be illiterate if you don’t know anything about what you’re reading.
I told my daughter how this was interesting to me because my husband had said he thought she didn’t know enough geology to read Hard Road West smoothly, even though I thought it was a very approachable book and that she had a strong foundation in geology. She and I laughed over the time a volunteer at the museum asked her what a specific rock smelled like and the big reveal fell flat when she answered, “Sulfur.” Poor guy deflated and said, “Yes, it’s Sulfur. You must be homeschooled.” Apparently the public school kids her age on field trips liked to shout “Farts!” She was about seven at the time and it is one of her favorite museum memories. (I’m not going to lie, even if I knew it was sulfur at seven, I’d probably have shouted “Farts!” too, but I went to public school.)
“So, why, if you’ve read all the same geology books we read as children, is this geology book difficult? Because I genuinely don’t think it would have been difficult for me at fifteen.” That is when she confessed that the geology books we owned and had spent hours reading… she hadn’t actually been reading them: “I was looking at the pretty rocks. I could tell you the page numbers where all my favorite rocks are, all the prettiest ones, I didn’t read all the stuff…” We genuinely laughed together, two wildly different personalities approaching children’s geology books in wildly different ways. As Charlotte Mason said, “Children are born persons.” But for every moment, like this geology one where she struggles because maybe she didn’t pay as much attention to what was put before her in the past, she has so many where she shines. She catches every Shakespeare reference. Every time. (Hirsch writes a bit about how Shakespeare allusions used to be quite common in all kinds of writing, including business memos, but as of the publication of his book in 1987, that was no longer the case.)
Hirsch’s argument for cultural literacy was never meant to be for homeschool parents to refine the presentation of their educational feasts, his goal is educational reform in the public sector. There is extensive discussion in his book about the struggle to properly regulate education in that if you mandate that schools teach at least two Shakespeare plays there will always be arguments about which two should be selected and that no two districts will choose the same two, therefore knowing who Shakespeare is might be universal, but catching Shakespeare references will vary. (I vote for all the Shakespeare. Every play! All the sonnets!) But I did feel like Hirsch’s essay very much affirmed the education I am providing. Maybe my oldest gets a little bogged down in this particular geology book, but to be fair, it could easily be assigned in a college course, most high school students wouldn’t be reading it between their Homer and Geometry lessons. The paragraph that boggled the minds of the Virginian community college students in the 1980s didn’t phase her, and for that I have hope.
Additional affirmation came when I realized I had owned other books by Hirsch in the past. He’s the one that wrote the series Everything Your ___Grader Needs to Know. My first two years of formal homeschooling (first and second grade), I had read those books out loud the last month of the traditional school year to see if we were covering everything. What I learned was reading those books out loud was a waste of time because a classical Charlotte Mason education is thorough and she not only knew what she needed, but she knew richer versions than the sad paragraphs presented. That was the final nail in the coffin on us ever relying on textbooks. Cultural literacy can be gained from textbooks, but it’s boring and far less effective. The better road to true literacy, in my opinion, is living books. I donated Hirsch’s other books, but I’m keeping Cultural Literacy.
One whole day after finishing Cultural Literacy, I went to our local library to donate a bag of books I was purging from my collection. There on the shelf next to the library bookstore register was E. D. Hirsch’s Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, a compilation of all the things the average American graduate should know, for $2. Of course I bought it.
“Also unrealistic is the pragmatist emphasis on individuality, at least as the idea has been institutionalized. The best teaching does accommodate itself to individual differences in temperament, but a child’s temperament does not come freighted with content. To learn a culture is natural to human beings. Children can express individuality only in relation to the traditions of their society, which they have to learn. The greatest human individuality is developed in response to a tradition, not in response to disorderly uncertain, and fragmented education. Americans in their teens and twenties who were brought up under individualistic theories are not less conventional than their predecessors, only less literate, less able to express their individuality.” – E. D. Hirsch, Cultural Literacy, pg. 126.






