
‘It is a truth universally acknowledged….' Jane Austen wrote the most perfect opening line – and we've been spoofing it ever since!
'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'
– Pride and Prejudice (1813), Jane Austen
Few opening lines in literature are as instantly recognisable—or as frequently parodied—as Jane Austen's iconic opening sentence from Pride and Prejudice (1813). At first glance, it reads like a wry social decree, a tongue-in-cheek proclamation of Regency England's marital economics, or, given the universality of the line, India's arranged marriage tradition.
Austen's genius lies in cloaking subversion in propriety. The line's lofty phrasing—'a truth universally acknowledged'—mimics the grand pronouncements of Enlightenment thinkers, only to undercut itself with the absurdity of its claim. Is it really a universal truth that every wealthy bachelor is desperate to marry? Or is this merely what society—particularly mothers with unmarried daughters—desperately wants to believe?
The next sentence confirms the satire: 'However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be… this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.' Here, Austen skewers the entitlement and presumption of a society that treats marriage as both a financial necessity for women and a foregone conclusion for men.
Part of the sentence's staying power is its adaptability. It has been repurposed for everything from zombie parodies ('It is a truth … a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains') to Bridget Jones's self-deprecating diary ('It is a truth … when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces').
Yet its endurance also speaks to uncomfortable continuities. Though women today (theoretically) have more autonomy, the pressure to marry—or to justify not marrying—persists. How many rom-coms still peddle the idea that a successful woman's life is incomplete without a partner? How often are single women asked, 'Why aren't you settled yet?' Austen's line, for all its 19th-century specificity, still resonates because the machinery of societal expectation hasn't fully dismantled.
A perfect first line does more than hook a reader—it sets the tone for everything that follows. Austen's does so masterfully, as she establishes the voice (arch, all-knowing, and observant), introduces theme (marriage, money, and the absurdity of social norms), and invites complicity (readers in on the joke become co-conspirators in Austen's satire), all in a pithy 23 words. Indeed, for a master wordsmith, less is more.
Two centuries later, the line remains a benchmark for writers. It proves that the best openings are capable of meaning new things to each generation. As Austen might say: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a great first line must be in want of endless reinterpretation.
('Drawing a Line' is an eight-column weekly series exploring the stories behind literature's most iconic opening lines. Each column offers interpretation, not definitive analysis—because great lines, like great books, invite many readings.)
Aishwarya Khosla is a journalist currently serving as Deputy Copy Editor at The Indian Express. Her writings examine the interplay of culture, identity, and politics.
She began her career at the Hindustan Times, where she covered books, theatre, culture, and the Punjabi diaspora. Her editorial expertise spans the Jammu and Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, Chandigarh, Punjab and Online desks.
She was the recipient of the The Nehru Fellowship in Politics and Elections, where she studied political campaigns, policy research, political strategy and communications for a year.
She pens The Indian Express newsletter, Meanwhile, Back Home.
Write to her at aishwaryakhosla.ak@gmail.com or aishwarya.khosla@indianexpress.com. You can follow her on Instagram: @ink_and_ideology, and X: @KhoslaAishwarya. ... Read More

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New Indian Express
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It is a truth universally acknowledged that anyone weary of endless scrolling may find far greater delight in a modest volume — even if it's on a Kindle — than in any glowing device designed to distract. From Jane Austen's drawing rooms to Mary Oliver's meadows, readers find peace in words that see them, hold them, and — most wonderfully — ignore their phones. Whether in Murakami's silent cafés or beneath Tolstoy's snowdrifts, the ultimate accomplishment remains: turning pages into peace. For many, a cosy read is less about genre and more about feeling. Sharon Pothigai, a corporate lawyer, calls it a reaffirmation of life's beauty. Architect Subhiksha Thiagarajan links it to nostalgia, now tinged with an appreciation for melancholy. Varshini, a creative strategist, finds comfort in books that make her feel 'held and seen' — even those as quietly unsettling as Murakami's. 'For me, a cosy read is literature rooted in my homeland — Andhra, in Telugu. While I mostly read translations, I'm drawn to short stories that feel domestic and lighthearted, yet offer fresh insights about where I come from,' shares K Samuel Moses Srinivas, an assistant professor. For Salmaa Gafoor, a business professional, it is a retreat into familiar worlds: Jane Austen's wit or JK Rowling's magic (barring the queerphobia). Sam, a social scientist, sees it as any book that rekindles their love for reading — light or heavy.


Hindustan Times
23-05-2025
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Sam Leith: ‘Read what you enjoy'
What was your way into the book? It struck me that children's literature was a slightly neglected field. I look back and think I'd made my whole career about writing, reading and thinking about books, including interviewing authors. All of that started because it rested on my own childhood reading. It also struck me that children's literature is seen in many ways. It's dismissed as less important than the grown-up stuff, 'simple, unsophisticated and marginally important'. I felt strongly that the opposite was the case. These stories are foundational. Every reading career begins with children's reading. That's also because, as I argue, children's stories are closely connected to myths and folk tales, the most primal forms of storytelling. The quest narratives, the heroes and villains, the magical transformations, the talking animals, and all the things we see in children's literature right up to this day tell us something quite fundamental about the roots of storytelling. Your book's scope is vast. It goes beyond just encapsulating children's bookshelves and tries to understand why these books struck a chord. If you write about the history of children's literature, you realise there is a social history to be told here. You're writing about the story of childhood itself because adults write children's stories and tell you something about what adults thought children needed or wanted or imagined what childhoods were. Also, every adult who writes about children starts from their childhood memory, which tells you how adults felt about their own childhoods. I thought it seemed such a rich subject, and, of course, what a pleasure to research. My jumping-off point was that there aren't that many, or there didn't seem to be a kind of narrative history for the general public on this subject because my book doesn't pretend to be academic. It's a work of love and enthusiasm aimed at the interested general reader rather than the specialist. Popular books on children's literature exist, too, but most are now outdated or have narrow narratives. I wanted to update and produce something that would hopefully delight readers and send them back to the books of their own childhood or books they've missed the first time around. 'Children's Literature' is a slippery term. Is it books by children, for children, of children? What is it according to you? I slightly dodged the question by calling it A History of Childhood Reading. I wanted to open at least the possibility of many children's literatures. Children read pretty voraciously and quite widely. They don't stay within boundaries and set texts. I will add, two very impressive young school children came up to me in a signing queue just after my event (at JLF 2025) saying, what do you think of Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility for childhood? They must have been like 10 or 11, which made me think, my gosh, fantastic that they're so advanced at that age. 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We know that what you read in childhood does have a strong impression on you. Adults won't like scatological folks. Some parents will be worried about any sort of sexual content or hints or some parents will be religiously narrow. I tend to take a liberal view on allowing children to read as freely as possible and take from those books what they want. I tend to disapprove of, say, the American 'banners'. They're always trying to get books removed from schools. They wouldn't have Harry Potter. They thought it was devilish, or wouldn't have Judy Blume because they felt it wasn't suitable for teenage girls to read about puberty. I tend to believe that we should let children read what they can handle. But of course, every parent has the right and prerogative while their children are still young to decide what they think is suitable. You say this is more of a canon of the British nursery even though you include American works like Maurice Sendak, EB White and Dr Seuss. I had to narrow it down because I'm inadequate at doing a book on the world history of children's literature. I wanted to look at the world through a British nursery bookshelf. So, if writers from the States or Europe or anywhere else were read in the UK, I could mention them. There is a strong tradition that Britain has children's literature that is exported for various reasons, including its colonial reach. In British literature, some genres, including boarding school stories and stories of imperial adventure, problematic, though many of those now are, originated in British writing. In terms of deciding the canon, I read as much as I possibly could of the writers I thought were important or good. I enjoyed watching how writers borrowed from each other, like how Enid Blyton effectively borrows from Edith Nesbit, and you get Harry Potter borrowing from JRR Tolkien. These traditions are wonderfully fluid and self-renewing as they connect to the past. 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I kind of beat the drum for TH White's The Once and Future King series, which is a luminously wonderful work. It's incredibly funny and sad and serious and it's so beautifully written. I always try and push that one forward because I think that's more in danger of going out of print than Watership Down, which is equally wonderful, or Philippa Pierce's Tom's Midnight Garden, which I can't read without gasping with tears. Books like The Secret Garden and The Railway Children, both equally extraordinary, will be in print for as long as children's books exist. You write that video games cannot match that unique experience of constructing something from the black marks on a white page. What is your take on video games? I love video games myself and always have. I spend a lot of time playing them. That said, I worry a bit because screens, video games and social media are engineered to be addictive and are a bit of a threat. Still, I hold faith optimistically with the idea that there is something you can get from a book that you can't get from them. And that as long as children are introduced early to the idea and are shown an experience of realising there's something here that you can't get anywhere else, it will become part of their entertainment diet and I hope will remain so lifelong. Kanika Sharma is an independent journalist.


Indian Express
23-05-2025
- Indian Express
‘It is a truth universally acknowledged….' Jane Austen wrote the most perfect opening line – and we've been spoofing it ever since!
'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.' – Pride and Prejudice (1813), Jane Austen Few opening lines in literature are as instantly recognisable—or as frequently parodied—as Jane Austen's iconic opening sentence from Pride and Prejudice (1813). At first glance, it reads like a wry social decree, a tongue-in-cheek proclamation of Regency England's marital economics, or, given the universality of the line, India's arranged marriage tradition. Austen's genius lies in cloaking subversion in propriety. The line's lofty phrasing—'a truth universally acknowledged'—mimics the grand pronouncements of Enlightenment thinkers, only to undercut itself with the absurdity of its claim. Is it really a universal truth that every wealthy bachelor is desperate to marry? Or is this merely what society—particularly mothers with unmarried daughters—desperately wants to believe? The next sentence confirms the satire: 'However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be… this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.' Here, Austen skewers the entitlement and presumption of a society that treats marriage as both a financial necessity for women and a foregone conclusion for men. Part of the sentence's staying power is its adaptability. It has been repurposed for everything from zombie parodies ('It is a truth … a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains') to Bridget Jones's self-deprecating diary ('It is a truth … when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces'). Yet its endurance also speaks to uncomfortable continuities. Though women today (theoretically) have more autonomy, the pressure to marry—or to justify not marrying—persists. How many rom-coms still peddle the idea that a successful woman's life is incomplete without a partner? How often are single women asked, 'Why aren't you settled yet?' Austen's line, for all its 19th-century specificity, still resonates because the machinery of societal expectation hasn't fully dismantled. A perfect first line does more than hook a reader—it sets the tone for everything that follows. Austen's does so masterfully, as she establishes the voice (arch, all-knowing, and observant), introduces theme (marriage, money, and the absurdity of social norms), and invites complicity (readers in on the joke become co-conspirators in Austen's satire), all in a pithy 23 words. Indeed, for a master wordsmith, less is more. Two centuries later, the line remains a benchmark for writers. It proves that the best openings are capable of meaning new things to each generation. As Austen might say: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a great first line must be in want of endless reinterpretation. ('Drawing a Line' is an eight-column weekly series exploring the stories behind literature's most iconic opening lines. Each column offers interpretation, not definitive analysis—because great lines, like great books, invite many readings.) Aishwarya Khosla is a journalist currently serving as Deputy Copy Editor at The Indian Express. Her writings examine the interplay of culture, identity, and politics. She began her career at the Hindustan Times, where she covered books, theatre, culture, and the Punjabi diaspora. Her editorial expertise spans the Jammu and Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, Chandigarh, Punjab and Online desks. She was the recipient of the The Nehru Fellowship in Politics and Elections, where she studied political campaigns, policy research, political strategy and communications for a year. She pens The Indian Express newsletter, Meanwhile, Back Home. Write to her at or You can follow her on Instagram: @ink_and_ideology, and X: @KhoslaAishwarya. ... Read More