Because it seems that I'm unable to let a subject go and instead worry at it like a dog with a bone, I want to refer to something I said a few columns back about the evils of pastiches, those novels or stories in which a writer takes someone else's set of characters and continues their adventures. Sometimes this can be very well done, as in Alan Moore's The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (the excellent comic, not the terrible movie) or Gregory Maguire's alternative takes on the Oz stories. Most of the time, however, such borrowing seems like a cheat, a way for an author to get around the hardsell of his or her wares to the reader by piggybacking on an already beloved story. Nowhere has this been more evident than in the recent flood of pretenders writing "sequels" to Jane Austen's immortal Pride and Prejudice. I did a keyword search on Amazon for all novels claiming to be a sequel (or in several cases the sequel) to Pride and Prejudice and stopped counting at 20.

It's not surprising that so many authors try to jump Austen's claim. The story of Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy and their assorted relatives of varying degrees of quality in the English countryside is the ur-romance novel, the prototype for thousands of inferior romances written ever since, and to this day it holds up. Austen was a hell of a writer—a keen observer of manners and foibles, a fine prose stylist even in the sentence-torturing idiom of her day, and damn funny when she chose to be. Though assigning her books to foot-dragging high-schoolers does a disservice to both parties, all adults should try to take in at least a couple of Austen's books before they die. They'll find themselves the better for it.

Not so the various sequels. It is the height of presumption and disrespect for anyone to consider him- or herself enough of a writer to pick up where Jane Austen chose to leave off, and to attempt to do justice to Austen's style and formidable characterizations. If you're that good, write your own novels. If not, you're just embarrassing us all. The bottom line is that it's impossible to write Pride and Prejudice better than Jane Austen did.

Fortunately, Seth Grahame-Smith did the smart thing when producing Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (Quirk Publishing, 2009). He takes Jane Austen's story and prose and leaves them intact except where the subject turns to zombies and the killing of same. The result is still the timeless story of Elizabeth and Darcy, their mutual dislike turned eventually to love, and the manners of the Regency period, only now set amongst the ravages of an undead plague—and with more ninjas.

A couple of generations into the mysterious epidemic that swept across England and caused the living dead to burst from their graves and shamble forth in search of juicy brains, the Bennet family live their lives on their down-at-heel estate, awaiting the next fancy-dress ball where Mrs. Bennet hopes her five daughters— goodhearted Jane, cynical Elizabeth, plain and studious Mary, and the boy-crazy Kitty and Lydia—will hopefully meet the men they are to marry and give up their lives of Shaolin kung-fu and itinerant zombie-slaying. As Jane meets the charming Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth is introduced to his less-charming friend, the recalcitrant Mr. Darcy, who appears to have nothing but disdain for the ways of country people. A renowned fighter trained in Japan (as all the best people are), he has some grudging respect for Elizabeth's skills with blade and musket but for both of them it is dislike at first sight. As the seasons progress, the two of them find their lives intertwining through meetings and misadventures, and both are surprised and horrified to find that their feelings for each other may be softening and transforming into something far deeper.

Readers familiar with the original will find all of that book's scenes intact, albeit altered, particularly the infamy and final disposition of Mr. Wickham and the climactic confrontation between Elizabeth and Darcy's aunt, the haughty Lady Catherine, legendary for her martial-arts prowess and her unequaled private army of ninjas (readers who have no idea what I'm talking about will enjoy the book anyway). The interesting thing is that, with all of its Kill Bill posturing and at-times grotesque horror, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies never descends into parody. Grahame-Smith never once betrays Austen's spirit—the deep emotional lives of her characters remain intact and true, and even with the brain-munching, the novel shines and resonates.

The University of Georgia Press will be holding a "Dirty Book Sale" on the Tate Student Center Plaza on Thursday, Oct. 1, 9 a.m.–4:30 p.m., and Friday, Oct. 2, 9 a.m.–3 p.m. The Press is looking to clear its warehouse of dented, distressed and slightly damaged books and is letting most of them go for under five dollars. Given the breadth of UGA Press's subject matter and the quality of their academic works, this is a helluva deal.

This item is just tragic. Jim Carroll, called by Patti Smith "the best poet of his generation," suffered a heart attack and died at his home in Manhattan on Sept. 11. He was 60. Though a truly talented poet, Carroll was best known for his harrowing memoir The Basketball Diaries, which chronicled his teenage years and his fall from promising student-athlete to heroin addict and Times Square hustler (the film version is hands-down the best movie to star Leonardo DiCaprio and his stunted pubescence), and for his career as a musician, one of the last and best of New York punk's first wave. His 1980 album Catholic Boy is a classic, and the single, "People Who Died," remains one of rock's most enduring nihilist anthems. If you're unfamiliar with Carroll's work, it's definitely worth checking out, especially for fans of Rimbaud and the Beats. He will be greatly missed.

John G. Nettles