Surprisingly quirky for a classic and very funny. Only my third Austen but seems like the most obvious example of her disdain of the typical romance novel. 

Early on in the novel the 'narrator' has a little rant about how her characters are reading fiction, as they should, because it's a decent pasttime and fiction is no less impressive than nonfic even though it's mainly read by women. It made me laugh and also sort of emotional at the thought that Austen was writing and publishing novels which were thought of as trash at the time and now she is an author that people read to seem impressive.