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The Shores of Sanditon: A Must-Read for All Jane Austen and Sanditon Fans
If you’re a fan of Jane Austen and the mesmerizing world of Sanditon, you won’t want to miss The Shores of Sanditon by Caroline Malcom Boulton, a newly published collection of 24 short stories that beautifully blend the timeless charm of Austen’s characters with the creative vision of modern storytellers. Released in 2024 through Amazon KDP, this book offers a unique glimpse into the lives of Charlotte Heywood, Alexander Colbourne and other beloved characters from the Sanditon television series, expanding their stories in ways that are sure to captivate your heart.
A Celebration of Austen’s Legacy and Modern Creativity
The Shores of Sanditon is not just a continuation of Austen’s unfinished work, it’s a loving tribute to her legacy. While the book honors Sidney Parker, who was Charlotte Heywood’s love interest in Austen's plans and in season 1 of the TV series, it’s truly a Heybourne - based book. The collection brings Charlotte, Austen’s last heroine, together with Alexander Colbourne, a character who was brought to life by the show’s talented screenwriters after the actor portraying Sidney Parker exited after Season 1.
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| Rose Williams and Ben Lloyd-Hughes as Charlotte Heywood and Alexander Coulborne in Sanditon season 2 |
This collection is rich with references to all of Austen’s novels, with quotes seamlessly woven into the narrative, paying homage to the wit, wisdom, and warmth that have made her works beloved for generations. Whether you’re a fan of prose or poetry, you’ll find something to love in these pages. There’s even a special story where many of Austen’s heroes and heroines make an appearance, a delightful treat for any true Austen aficionado.
A Book with Heart
Not only is The Shores of Sanditon a delightful read, but it’s also a charitable endeavor. 100% of the royalties from this book are being donated to causes close to the hearts of many—80% will go to The Ocean Conservation Trust, supporting vital work to protect our oceans, and 20% will be donated to The British Heart Foundation, funding life-saving research.
Available Now!
Whether you prefer the convenience of an e-book or the tangible comfort of a paperback, The Shores of Sanditon is available in both formats. At 347 pages for the e-book and 444 pages for the paperback, it’s a substantial read that’s sure to keep you engaged. Plus, it’s available on Kindle Unlimited, so subscribers can dive in at no extra cost.
With permission granted by Red Planet Pictures and the talented writers of the series, this book is not just an unofficial fan creation, but an authorized companion to the Sanditon universe.
Sanditon on PBS Masterpiece
Sanditon on Prime Video
The Shores of Sanditon offers a beautiful exploration of what might have been, had Austen’s Sanditon been completed, and what is, in the world of the modern television adaptation. It’s a must-read for anyone who loves Jane Austen, Sanditon, or simply enjoys well-crafted short stories.
Don’t miss out on this opportunity to revisit Sanditon, reconnect with your favorite characters, and support two incredible causes in the process. Grab your copy on Amazon today and immerse yourself in the continued adventures of Charlotte, Alexander, and all the key players from Sanditon—you won’t be disappointed!
Read a Few Snippets
From “I See the Sea”
My arrival in Sanditon was heralded by the vigorous clatter of horses' hooves upon the road, their pace quickening as the carriage approached the sea. With every turn of the wheel, anticipation fluttered within my chest like a delicate bird taking flight. With Jane Austen’s last unfinished novel clasped in my gloved hands, I clutched it close to my heart. The heroine had the same name as me, but I knew not what her fate would be, for the author had died before she could pen it. But I longed to see the place she had written about, to feel it and grow fond of it as my namesake had, so here I was.
‘Oh! I am delighted with the book! I should like to spend
my whole life in reading it,’ I whispered to myself.
It was as if the book had been written for me. After all,
I am a farmer’s daughter who reads books, that is how my family would describe
me.
As the conveyance crested the final hill, the vista
before me unfolded like a painter’s grand masterpiece. The sea, vast and
endless, stretched to meet the horizon, its sapphire expanse flecked with
white-tipped froth. The sight took my breath away, each wave a brushstroke in
nature’s most majestic painting, alive with the promise of infinite opportunities.
Stepping out of the carriage onto the gravelled path
leading to the seaside town, a sense of eagerness flooded me and rushed through
my veins with the same restless energy as the water’s current. The brackish
tang of the marine-kissed air stroked my senses. The scent of the sea, briny
and invigorating, filled my lungs with each breath, leaving a taste of salt
upon my lips—a flavour both unfamiliar and pleasing.
The suthering wind, playful and persistent, tugged at my
bonnet ribbons and tousled my wild chestnut curls, yet I welcomed its touch. It
was like the caress of an old, dear friend. The sea itself appeared a living
being, its shifting blues and greens glistening under the sun's golden gaze.
The waves lapped gently at the shoreline, creating a soothing cadence that
seemed to match the beat of my own heart.
Sea air was healing, softening, relaxing, fortifying and
bracing.
‘The ocean is everything I want to be. Beautiful,
mysterious, wild, and free,’ I whispered to myself, recalling Jane Austen. Her
words resonated deeply within me, echoing my own innate yearning for change and
self-government.
From “You Must Allow Me to Tell You”
His typically serious face broke into a rare, heartfelt smile, a warmth in his eyes that melted the last of her doubts. Her breath caught, and she felt a surge of emotion that made her want to step closer, to close the distance between them, and to trust in the explicit promise of his smile.
Taking her hand, he led her
gently towards the shoreline. Bending down, he sketched their names in the wet
sand: ‘Alexander & Charlotte,’ encircled by a simple, yet profound, heart.
‘Life,’ he said, still
kneeling beside his creation, ‘is like this sand—shifting and changing with
each tide that brings and takes away. But my love for you, Charlotte, will be
as steadfast as the deepest part of the ocean, unchanging and eternal. All I
ask is that you be with me, that you come on this journey with me. We will work
everything else out as we go along, but God!—what a love story it will be.’
She knelt beside him, her
hand covering his, feeling the warmth and strength of his conviction. This gave
him hope. Her heart, once tired from the burdens of the past, began to lighten.
She could see a future where love was not just a fleeting feeling, but a
stalwart anchor in their lives. As she gazed at him, a soft smile curved her
lips, and she realised that the walls she had so carefully built around her
heart were beginning to crumble. In his eyes,
she saw a promise of
constancy, of a love that would weather any storm.
For the first time in so long, she thought, I am not afraid to believe in forever.
From “The Greatest Title of Them All”
History.
Monarchy.
Wealth.
To name a few.
Parliament.
Architecture.
Culture.
Power.
The centre of the world.
For some.
The beating heart of God’s
own country.
For a restricted fraction.
The nucleus of society.
That had once been true for
her.
But no more.
…
At last, they paused
outside a room she knew well, and as two footmen in bright red regalia opened
the doors, she saw a form at the other side, a person, standing by a mirror,
admiring their reflection, their portly outline swallowed up and made pitifully
small by the magnificence of the vast room. He cut a sad figure. But she no
longer felt sad on his behalf.
King George IV.
Her former friend.
Her current sovereign.
Her former lover.
She walked towards him.
Slowly. Keeping her distance.
His eyes, which had once
shone with the vim of youth, lit by the fire of a thousand ambitions, now held
a wistful sorrow. He had won the crown, so the chase was over, the game was
finished. His former oomph, which had rendered him appealing, was eroded.
Gluttony of food and lust of the flesh had taken its toll on this weak man. He
had grown large and weary. The weight of the kingdom and the burdens of his
reign were engraved deeply into his lined face, one that was not weathered with
wisdom, but fattened by excess. Behind him, the grandeur of the throne room
only served to accentuate the loneliness that seemed to envelop him. For all
his prosperity, for all his prominence, he was just a man, and a tragic one at
that.
‘Susan,’ he began, her name
marred by his self-seeking snivel, ‘I have missed you,’ he admitted, his
immodest gawk roaming across her in a way that made her feel rather sick.
Still, he was not a patient man, nor one of words, so his speech was short.
‘I know we have grown
estranged in recent months, but I can no longer do without you. You are not an
ordinary woman,’ he conceded, and biting his plump lip nervously, he grunted,
the noise sounding most unfortunately like a hog.
‘You are clever, for a
woman,’ he accepted with a sneer. ‘You must know why I asked you here.’
‘You did not ask me,’ she
replied, her voice cold but perfectly calm, ‘you told me.’
He waved his hand
dismissively at her pedantic quibble, frustration evident in his gesture.
‘Do not you see?’ he
bristled, spitting as he spoke, and some grease, evidence of his breakfast
grizzle, flicked on her shoe. ‘I want you back by my side.’
With eyes that sketched the scene,
Charlotte stopped and permitted herself a small gasp. She saw it. Just sitting
there. So unassumingly. A simple wooden writing desk stood near the window,
bathed in soft natural light, where six and a half novels had been crafted. It
was surreal to consider that such profound words were scribbled upon this
modest surface, a table of mere inches, yet their inestimable messages have
since surpassed time and space, the etched words reaching far and wide,
resonating with readers across the globe.
‘Charlotte Heywood… Charlotte Colbourne, we bid you the warmest of welcomes,’ Elizabeth hailed. ‘Your presence has been eagerly anticipated.’
‘Indeed, welcome,’ Marianne
said amiably, setting aside her music sheets. ‘We have all been most impatient
to make your acquaintance.’
‘It is a privilege beyond
measure to find myself amidst such esteemed company,’ Charlotte humbly
expressed, her words a melody of sincerity that struck a chord within the
hearts of her newfound sisters.
‘You are amongst friends
here, Charlotte,’ Elinor assured her with a comforting pat on the arm. ‘We
understand the pressures and uncertainties you have faced. None of us reached
our destination by a straight road.’
‘Quite,’ Anne agreed. ‘We
have experienced our own ups and downs, twists and bends, wrong turns, delays
and dead ends.’
‘But we all reached our happy ending… in the end,’ reassured Emma.
Charlotte nodded. ‘I know,’
she replied, ‘I just… my story was never finished,’ she explained.
‘We perceive your yearning
for closure, dear Charlotte,’ Fanny recognised sagely. ‘Though our dear Jane
may have left your tale unfinished, in the journey you have crafted for
yourself, you have encouraged us all. Despite the odds, you have emerged as the
heroine of your own narrative.’
They all agreed in chorus.
‘You have charted your own
path, a feat that many can only dream of accomplishing. In this, you represent
the true essence of womanhood,’ Catherine applauded.
‘Welcome to Heyrick,’ she began, her voice soaring amongst them all, imbued as it was with emotion. ‘We are all here today because we love Sanditon. Some of us love the unfinished novel, one which would surely have been a classic if Austen had managed to complete it. Some of us love the television drama. Some of us wanted Sidloette. Some wanted Heybourne. And others did not mind. But one thing unites us, and that is our love of Charlotte, Austen’s last heroine, and we are here today because we want to celebrate and commemorate her life, and the stories she gave us.’
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