This book was filled with poop. Animal poop coating the streets of London, pig poop on the protagonist's skirts, horse poop to be cleaned out of stables, baby poop to be cleaned from nappies, people poop to be cleaned from chamber pots and out of the "necessary house." It seemed like a page couldn't go by without a mention of poop. Or, if not poop, some other bodily excretion: the menstrual blood from the Bennet sisters, urine, blood from a wound, etc. Or something like Elizabeth Bennet's underarm hair or public urination or pedophilia or prostitutes or venereal disease. I understand that the author was trying to go for a gritty, realistic version of Pride and Prejudice, but...GROSS. 
 I think part of the allure of Pride and Prejudice is that it offers an escape from life's gritty realities. There is a joy in dances and letters and romance. And even though there is some scandal in P & P, it serves the plot and leaves something to the imagination. I was hoping for a book along the lines of Pride and Prejudice, with its loveliness, quaintness, and travel back to a time that seemed more simple and elegant, but that is not what I found. Instead, I found myself with a book filled with literal crap and abject misery. 
 Some of the other things I took issue with: 
 --Some of the characters' actions were so modern that they completely took me out of the story. I don't think I can say much without spoiling anything, but it seemed like the sexual mores of the time period were disregarded. 
 --A scene in the novel that makes no sense no matter what time period you are in is a scene where a servant looks at the lives of the people she serves and decides that she'd rather have her life instead. Really, now? The choice between a life of servitude and hard labor and a life of leisure and romance with rich bachelors seems like an obvious one. 
 --Several of the main characters in Pride and Prejudice seemed like different people entirely. Mr. Bennet is the most obvious of them all, but even Elizabeth was painted in a way that rang false and was unfavorable. 
 --And, the worst crime of all, the romance was entirely unromantic. I think I could have forgiven nearly all of this novel's other faults if there had at least been a swoon-worthy romance, but the romance was bland and didn't make me feel anything except irritation. 
 I bought this book from a bookstore/restaurant on the Oregon coast that I have loved since high school (I love books, I love food, and the marriage of the two is basically my paradise). The owner recommended I Capture the Castle to me when I visited this past summer, and I adored that book, so when I visited more recently, I asked her for another recommendation. I wanted a lovely, romantic book to read on my honeymoon, so I asked her for a book with romance that was not dark, and this novel was one of the ones she recommended. I think perhaps my opinion of Longbourn was clouded from my expectations of what it would be. It was not a bad book, the writing was quite good, but it wasn't the book that I wanted, and it isn't the kind of book that I am interested in. I think there are people who would enjoy this book, so I may gift it to one of them.