[Pride and Prejudice is an] accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a commonplace face; a carefully fenced, highly cultivated garden, with neat borders and delicate flowers; but no glance of a bright, vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh air, no blue hill, no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but confined houses. – Charlotte Bronte (Tanner 368).

In a letter written to G H Lewes in 1848, [i]Bronte expressed her dissatisfaction with Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (P&P). While some have mistaken Bronte’s words as an expression of dislike for Austen, [ii]it is a sentiment that Grahame-Smith also shares. In retaliation, the strong base of [iii]Janeites is ready to take up cudgels with anyone who dares challenge this beloved classic. It is perhaps no wonder that Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (P&P&Z, Grahame-Smith and Austen) has [iv]incited some furor in the Janeite community. Ironically, this outrage is the same “prejudice” that Austen herself warns against in her novel. And many have argued its “absurd[ity]” (Austen 201) because a “zombie”-fied P&P is anathema to the “carefully fenced, highly cultivated” world of Austen.

This is consistent with Lady Catherine’s comment near the end of P&P, “Are the shades of Pemberley [Austen’s novels] to be thus polluted?” (338). Lady Catherine’s comment carries several important implications. On the surface, it expresses her shock at the possible matrimony between Elizabeth and Darcy. However, it also implies the perceived unnaturalness their union, a “[pollution]” of the aristocratic family. Similarly, P&P&Z breaches the original novel’s “carefully fenced, highly cultivated garden” by unnaturally breaching boundaries, and (literally) re-writes the “neat borders” and trampling on the “delicate flowers”.

Set in a wasteland, the “zombies” trope is often employed in apocalyptic literature, spelling certain doom for its characters that need to fight for their lives. Thus, zombies are synonymous with the death of humanity and destruction of nature. By introducing this element of fantasy (zombies) into P&P, P&P&Z posits the “lifelessness” or “wasted”-ness that Austen endeavoured to portray – primarily that of stiff social boundaries and the mechanical motions of looking for a marriage partner. This essay will argue that the inclusion of zombies into the narrative is not one of intrusion, but rather, this seemingly unnatural subversion is native to the social critique that Austen enacts in P&P. Just as zombies are enslaved to their “want of [ ] brains” (Grahame-Smith and Austen 17), the characters in P&P (and P&P&Z) are equally shackled to their desire for upward social mobility. At the same time, the critique is not solely confined to the “zombie” trope, but the loose suturing to the original text also makes the form of P&P&Z unstable. This instability thus finds its equilibrium by searching for a cure to the wasteland that the world of P&P has plunged into.

As a variation on P&P, [v]P&P&Z is eighty percent Austen and twenty percent Grahame-Smith (zombies). However, it is important to note that P&P&Z is indebted to P&P and is thus still ‘enslaved’ to the original narrative. Thus, the employment of the “zombies” trope is an effective means in which to portray enslavement – in and of the novel. In P&P&Z, we do not just see zombies enslaved to their “want of more brains”, but characters that are equally enslaved to their material needs (survival, wealth, rank). Mrs. Bennet is depicted as a mother determined to get her daughters married (9), Mr. Bennet is equally devoted to “keep his daughters alive” (ibid), while Lady Catherine (a member of the aristocratic class) is determined to prevent any perversion of the aristocracy. These examples present a universal concern of the text, that despite their means (wealth or rank) and positions, the characters are still privy to the human theme of enslavement.

More importantly, however, is that enslavement also implies a master-servant relationship. According to Nardin, she says that Austen “[divides the] rules of propriety into two classes” (8). Thus, the theme of social class and boundaries are native to the original text. Through the fantastic mode, Grahame-Smith could be making a point about society as a site of terror; the careful treading around the rules of propriety is tantamount to the feeling of “awful apprehension” that Varma describes in The Gothic Flame:

The difference between Terror and Horror is the difference between awful apprehension and sickening realization: between the smell of death and stumbling against a corpse. (Varma 130)

The inclusion of zombies enhances their sense of dread, the fear that they too will likewise succumb to the plague. The added element of fantasy thus highlights how the lower classes are enslaved to the whims of the upper classes. Mr. Collins’s patronizing of Lady Catherine takes on another dimension, one of enslavement to her every whim. In several ways, P&P is a site of terror. However, the inclusion of zombies transforms P&P into a site of horror (P&P&Z). In accordance with Varma’s definition of “terror” and “horror”, we quite literally “[stumble] against a corpse in P&P&Z. The novel details many instances of the characters touching death, as the zombies are a physical embodiment of living death. More significantly, Lady Catherine represents the vampiric figure who exercises little qualms in taking away life. In learning about the possible marriage between Elizabeth and Darcy (“sickening realization”), her horror provokes her to ‘kill’ Elizabeth. When Lady Catherine challenges Elizabeth to a duel, there is a tension between them that is manifested through Lady Catherine’s bloodlust. Training in the deadly arts, while necessary in killing zombies in the text, also makes more apparent the division between classes in P&P&Z. It illustrates the notion of one feeding off another. The society as a site of horror and enslavement (to self-preservation) perhaps brings across the idea that this fear of the "unmentionables" is also equivalent to the anxious need to get married (a self-preservation attempt); this is inextricably linked to their inability to escape their fates, as governed and strictly enforced by social boundaries.

Instead of open spaces, we encounter many walls in P&P&Z instead, representing strict boundaries and defenses against attacks:

Though she had once walked upon China’s Great Wall, Elizabeth was nonetheless impressed whenever she had occasion to lay eyes upon Britain’s Barrier… The wall was similar in height and appearance to that of many older castles, and punctuated by the occasional gorge tower or cannon port. But considered as a whole, the wall was so massive as to defy the notions of what was possible with human hands. (Grahame-Smith and Austen 117, underline mine)

More importantly, this plays significantly in the spatial extension of boundaries; zombies and society, upper class and lower class. Ironically, the barriers are futile against the in-breeding of zombies. The reference to an Eastern infrastructure (“China’s Great Wall”) is consistent with the recurring mention of Eastern weaponry. While the English can only resort to their muskets and other mechanical weaponry (rendered relatively ineffective against the zombies), this deference to the East seems to indicate an intense desperation to cling onto survival. Going deeper into this empirical observation of “Britain’s Barrier”, it also reflects an impenetrable mechanical defense that keeps out the zombies but also keeps them within the boundaries of England.

When once the earth was still and dead were silent,

And London-town was for but living men,

Came the plague upon us swift and violent,

And so our dearest England we defend. (51)

The ABAB structure of the song reminds us of their adherence to order, though the subject matter suggests passionate violence. Hence, one can infer that defending “dearest England” is a mode of self-preservation. At the same time, it also articulates a struggle against death. And hence, this Eastern structure is meant to secure the grounds as well. Again, this indicates some degree of desperation. The comparison to Eastern structures is equally replicated in

[Pemberley] was a large, handsome stone building, made to resemble the grandest palaces of Kyoto, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into a natural defense against frontal assault, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned. (194, underline mine).

This description of Pemberley reiterates the desperate need for defense against zombies but also corresponds with the philosophical notion of subliminal grandeur explored in Burke’s A Philosophical Enquiry into the Sublime and Beautiful:

“I am apt to imagine likewise, that height is less grand than depth; and that we are more struck at looking down from a precipice, than at looking up at an object of equal height, but of that I am not very positive. A perpendicular has more force in forming the sublime, than an inclined plane; and the effects of a rugged and broken surface seem stronger than where it is smooth and polished.” (Burke 114)

Grahame-Smith replicates this same effect in P&P&Z. It seems that the form of the novel itself also emulates Burke’s notion of “looking down from a precipice” because as readers, we are perhaps compelled to look down the bottomless pit that P&P has plunged into. It is perhaps no wonder that the “rugged… surface” of Pemberley is more attractive to Elizabeth than Rosings Park (Grahame-Smith and Austen 129).

Furthermore, dojos are training grounds for the “deadly arts”. The loose suturing to other spaces in P&P&Z disrupts P&P’s cohesive whole. From a macro perspective, the strong forts are “made to resemble the grandest palaces of Kyoto” (Grahame-Smith and Austen 194), another Asian construct. This deference to the East is also buttressed by Lady Catherine’s boasting of “a grand dojo”, “private guard of ninjas” (61) and a Kyoto education in the deadly arts (126). This, however, does not detract from the fact that the “deadly arts” is also dead in itself. Training in the (Asian) deadly arts is merely an agent of defense, a necessity to exercise combat; that remains futile in providing a cure to the wasteland that P&P has plunged into.

Interestingly, even as gardens are seen as a feature of the English landscape in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (Eyler 5); they are not merely “life-giving forces”. Gardens in England were first “influenced by Protestant refugees from the Continent… long skilled in gardening, introduced new vegetables, new flowers, and new methods of cultivation…” (2). In other words, English gardens were actually made up of “herbs, plants, and annual fruits… from the Indies, Americas, Taprobane [Ceylon], Canary Isles, and all parts of the world…” (5). The pluralistic nature of gardens enriched the English landscape (“life-giving”). In the same way, this also ties in with the overlapping of social boundaries as Elizabeth (of the gentry class) later marries Darcy (of the aristocratic class). More than that, gardens are composed of multiple spaces (“the Indies, Americas, Taprobane, Canary Isles, and all parts of the world”). It can then be argued that the garden functions as a heterotopia. In Foucalt’s essay “Of Other Spaces”, he argues that “[t]he heterotopia is capable of juxtaposing in a single real place several spaces, several sites that are in themselves incompatible” (Foucalt 25). This corresponds with the earlier Eyler reference where English gardens are composed of plants not native to England, “incompatible” but yet are able to co-exist within the same space.

It is thus worth noting that by replacing the garden with a dojo, Grahame-Smith conjures a more complex landscape, one that overtly integrates the Oriental into the West. As an Asian construct, the dojo in the world of P&P is potentially jarring. At the same time, the overlapping of spaces also corresponds with the overlap of social boundaries. As alternative fiction, P&P&Z also functions as a heterotopia as it mirrors the original text (P&P) but is also “unreal” at the same time. It can be argued that the dojo is not “a sort of happy, universalizing heterotopia” (26). To reiterate my earlier point, the inclusion of dojos into the English landscape is disruptive in the typical verisimilitude of gardens and high hedges (Austen 153), but is not inconsistent with the idea of the heterotopia. As Foucalt puts it, Grahame-Smith presents a “society turned upside down” as he posits a space that would seem ridiculous in P&P’s fictional world. The dojo can thus be referred to as a heterotopia, a medley of reappropriated codes. Like the garden, the dojo is reserved for the inflection of societal values. At the same time, it also conflates private spaces. Lady Catherine’s duel with Elizabeth is a private affair, however, the nature of Lady Catherine’s confrontation addresses societal concerns. Hence, the dojo is not just a training ground. It is also a place where the private and public spaces converge. More significantly, the text’s potential for different alternatives suggests flexibility and instability. Just as the garden was a female space (of reflection) in the original text, the dojo has been reappropriated to be a domestic space of (physical) confrontation as well. Also, the heterotopia also contains within itself a strange world that has inverted P&P. This potential for different possibilities makes the text unstable and also points to a need to resolve this instability.

Marriage is often a symbol of love and procreation. The latter, however, ranks next in priority to a “[title] and fortune” (Grahame-Smith and Austen 67). Similarly, the act of procreation is also a possible cure for the lifelessness of the land. This essay has hitherto argued that the novel presents different possibilities of a cure, none of which harkens hope. At the beginning of the novel, Grahame-Smith seems to draw equivalence between the want of a “single man in possession of a fortune” and the zombies’ “want for more brains”. In the same manner, by going through the mechanical motions of looking for a marriage partner, this sole focus on pragmatism only points to futility, as the novel implies. We are first given a glimpse of this when Mr. Bennet calls Mrs. Bennet a “senseless old cur” (50), which is an indirect reference to a zombie’s lack of consciousness (and brains). Their unhappy marriage is no stranger to readers of Austen.

However, marriage takes on a new dimension with the presence of zombies. Charlotte Lucas’s pragmatism is understandable, especially in light of her slow turning into a zombie during her marriage to Mr. Collins. Also, Charlotte’s pragmatism also reflects the necessity for women to marry up or equal to their social situation. This pragmatism is illustrated in the following passage:

[Colonel Fitzwilliam]was beyond comparison the most pleasant man; he certainly admired [Elizabeth], and his situation in life was most eligible; but, to counter balance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had a considerably larger head [and wealth], and thus, more brains to feast upon. (142).

“[B]rains” are interchangeable with wealth and status, hence assuming the new currency of P&P&Z. This consistency in Charlotte’s nature similarly reflects the women’s practicality in Austen’s time. While comical, it does not undermine the fact a woman’s priorities are perpetually shackled (hence the metaphor of the zombie) to social mobility. Although she is afflicted before her marriage to Collins, the portrayal of their marriage is still one of lifelessness. At the same time, it also incites disgust. No doubt, their marriage will end in infertility as Charlotte is required to go for beheading when she turns. Her physical and mental consciousness (body and mind) are loosely sutured, lying between death and life (121). Again, we are confronted with the image of hanging onto a precipice; something that Elizabeth herself remarks with disgust as well.

It is important to note that it is not just zombies who go through unhappy marriages. Similarly, Ann De Bourgh’s infirmity parallels Charlotte and Collins’s marriage. The initial betrothal between Ann and Darcy would perhaps have also ended in infertility, given her “sickly and cross” condition (122). Its literal significance also parallels the gross in-breeding of the zombies. While Austen has already made a comment about it in the original text, the idea of in-breeding is made more grotesque in P&P&Z. The foregrounding of the wasteland in the text also serves to emphasise the futility of Wickham and Lydia’s marriage at the end of the novel:

That they should marry, small is their chance of happiness, and wretched as is his broken body… (244)

Wickham’s figure is one of wickedness and is perceived as one who receives his comeuppance, but perhaps Grahame-Smith is making a more important comment about the mechanical motion of looking for a marriage partner, as one inextricably linked to survival. Marriages predicated on convenience and wealth are still tied to necessity, and headed towards unhappiness and “wretched”-ness.