It's a story that comes up every few years. A frustrated (rejected) writer types up a classic work of some kind, for instance the script of Casablanca, gives it a different title and maybe gives the main characters different names, and submits it to agents and publishers or producers.
Sure enough, it's not long before the rejections come rolling in. Usually one or two people recognize it and send back a sarcastic comment, but the vast majority don't recognize it and reject it, if they answer at all.
This time around, it was Jane Austen's turn. David Lassman retyped the opening chapters of three Austen classics: Pride and Prejudice, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion.
The submissions were rejected with only one of 18 publishers and literary agents recognising the work. Penguin admitted that Lassman's submission may not actually have been read. Neil Blair at Christopher Little said Lassman had received a standard response.
So what do we learn from this? One: people who review material in the slush pile may not be all that well-read. Two: they work fast and give manuscripts no more than a quick glance to see whether they may be of interest.
You may say that even if they don't recognize it as Austen's work, shouldn't they see how brilliant it is? Not necessarily. They're looking for books that appeal to today's readers. When we know that a book is by Austen or Dickens or Shakespeare, we put it into a special category, we allow for the literary conventions of the time. Someone writing a historical novel today would not write in exactly the style of Austen or Dickens even if they could, and if they did it might well not appeal.
Still, if this stunt gives frustrated writers (that's most of us) a laugh and the chance to cry, "I knew it!" then it's a good thing. Now here's a little test for you. Below is the opening of one of the three Austen novels he sent out (but keeping the original names). Would you have recognized it? If not, would you have thought it deserved to be published now?
No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though his name was Richard - and he had never been handsome. He had a considerable independence besides two good livings - and he was not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as anybody might expect, she still lived on - lived to have six children more - to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy excellent health herself.
