This is a well-written but not-very-good book. Stay with me here. Of the various Austen Project books, I'd say it's the least awful, which is, I suppose, praising with faint damnation.
Alexander McCall Smith writes very well. That isn't the problem. There's a brief section in the backstory of John and George Knightley where we learn that the parents divorced and the mother, who stayed on at Donwell, eventually met a man with whom she traveled, and the paragraph is intriguing, as if it could have been a story all of its own:
It was on one of these trips, a visit to an international bridge tournament in Kerala, that she was hit by a car -- an old Hindustan Ambassador with minimal brakes -- and died. Her last memories were of the sun above her -- so brilliant, so unrelenting--and concerned faces looking down on her: a boy wearing a blue shirt, a man in a khaki uniform who was shouting at the others; and then the sun again, and darkness.
And yet this has nothing to do with Emma Woodhouse or Emma, nor even much to do with the backstory of George Knightley, whom McCall Smith seems to make into a drudge and then forget even more so than Austen might have. He has a brief scene with Mr. Woodhouse, then a few more, and perhaps one argument with Emma, and then one other, and then the ending is eventually sprung on the reader, who wondered if perhaps McCall Smith might part ways and make Emma a lesbian (as hinted at a few times earlier in the book). George Knightley has always been my favorite Austen hero because he's gentle but not infantile, strong but not annoying. Here, he's just Mr. Woodhouse without the anxiety.
McCall Smith makes a few interesting choices. We get a much stronger backstory of Mr. Woodhouse. (Indeed, I was left chagrined to realize that he's significantly younger than I.) I always felt that Austen laughed a bit too much at Mr. Woodhouse, believing that something must have made him so fearful, and that it couldn't have merely been the death of his wife. McCall Smith treats him with more respect than Austen, herself, and for that, I'm appreciative. But the rest of this book is a mess.
Poor Miss Taylor comes off, not as a gentle and lovely woman who falls sweetly for Weston, but a kooky and pushy Mary Poppins. Weston himself gets a brief description and nary anything else. We learn the why of Miss and Mrs Bates' financial ruination (not that an American is likely to understand the ins and outs of it), but so much more could have been done to modernize both characters and give this texture.
Isobel and John Knightley are two-dimensional characters; sure enough, we heard little of them from Austen, herself, so that wouldn't be a problem. Instead, the early bit of the book makes us dislike both of them (and John Knightly of McCall Smith's making is an asshat, something I believe Austen never intended).
Frank's weird way of flirting is, perhaps, a bit better than most of the modernization, and Philip Elton is less oozingly awful, but Jane Fairfax doesn't intrigue at all, and in the end, she turns out to be a pain.
Some bits are played up, like Mrs. Goddard, but the jokes are odd. Pot brownies foisted on the unsuspecting? This is funny? Harriet's naivete makes sense in the early 1800s, but she's mere caricature here as a dumb lump eager to please Emma. And the oft-repeated railway jokes? Why? Why?
And Emma. What is she? Austen's Emma is young, and has been spoiled, but has a good heart and if my feminist sisters fear that Knightley too old at 34 and is "icky" in his attempts to gently mold her, I'm afraid I don't share that fear, given the era in which it was written. Here, Emma is older and college-educated, but none-the-wiser (and no more self-aware), selfish, sneaky, unrelentingly manipulative even in a tale about that very thing, and apparently asexual. The only erotic interest she shows is in Harriet, and she isn't even sure of herself in that regard.
All this said, Austen's Emma weren't so beloved, I might have endured all that, because unlike the prior Austen Project updates, this story was amusing and the writing, in and of itself, was professional and never plodding. But Alexander McCall Smith being a good writer was not enough to save this update, and his lack of awareness of modernity actually hurt it. Technology barely appears in this book. Texting, apps, smart phones, computers -- there's scant reference to something that has basically taken over the lives of teens, 20-somethings and the other people populating this book.
I wanted to love this book, and I liked the first half well enough, but by the time we join the "present" time, and Emma as an adult, the book ceases to be enjoyable. I believe there must be a way to modernize Austen, but as yet, outside of "Clueless," I've not seen it done well. Bah.