Tag Archives: Bookworm

She speaks to me.

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”

- Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

Don’t panic. If you have no idea what the label above means, you’re not weird or uninformed. In fact, you are probably normal. Pat yourself on the back and be prepared to humor me for the rest of this blog post.

“Janeite” refers to a person (let’s face it… a woman)  who loves and admires Jane Austen’s work. Tendencies or activities of Janeites include (but are not limited to):

1. buying, watching, and re-watching every recent adaption
2. having heated debates about which Austen hero is best*
3. having heated debates about which heroine you aspire to be
4. criticizing horrible movies like Becoming Jane (two hours of my life that I can never get back)
5. posthumously diagnosing Jane Austen with diseases based on symptoms she describes in letters to her sister, Casandra**
6. Watching and passing on funny, Austen-inspired viral videos.

According the scholar Claudia Johnson who coined the term, “Janeites” are the literary equivalent of Trekkies. While I do NOT find this parallel particularly flattering, I see her point. Like Trekkies, extreme Janeites cluster in like-minded communities and sometimes recreate aspects of the stories they love – whether that means dressing up, idolizing characters, or participating in “pilgrimages” to destinations along the English countryside. Though I’ve done none of these things, I still consider myself a Janeite. I think that fact was made pretty clear in my Nostalgic Bookworm post and in the way Lauren described me here.

Someone in Hollywood owes this woman a ton of money.

"I am no longer surprised at you knowing only six accomplished women, Mr. Darcy. I rather wonder at your knowing any." - Ms. Elizabeth Bennet

Like most Janeites, my relationship with Ms. Austen has evolved overtime. I remember swooning over Mr. Darcy during my first reading of Pride & Prejudice in middle school – back when I genuinely didn’t know how the book ended! Oh, those were the days. I also racked up some serious late fees at Blockbuster during my first encounter with Gwenyth Paltrow’s Emma (and Jeremey Northam’s Mr. Knightley, of course). My first serious DVD investment was the complete Pride & Prejudice BBC 1995 mini series. As you can imagine, I was drawn in by the stories and romanticism.

I stayed for the substance.

Each time I reread an Austen novel I discover something new – maybe a snark remark, a pattern, or a shift in perspective that I never noticed before. For example, have you ever counted the pauses in Persuasion? Ever note the free indirect discourse or the omnipresent, god-like authority in each of Austen’s final chapters? Ever notice how the vivacious Emma Woodhouse is established as the heroine during the first sentence of her story, but we can’t conclude the same for timid Anne Elliot until she blushes at the end of chapter three (the same chapter we first hear her voice).  Next time someone tries to tell you that Austen is simple chick lit, do me a favor and pinch them – hard. Yes, it can be read from a middle school perspective, but Austen is an investment; the more you bring to it, the more you take away. It’s very rare that I read a paragraph in an Austen novel when I don’t sense her winking at the reader; whether they notice it or not is up to them. Like the woefully unaware Mr. Colins and Mrs. Elton of Jane Austen’s fictional world, a  judgmental reader might enter a story with assumptions or low expectations and completely miss the subtle jabs directed at their unobservant ways. To the nay-sayers, I cry “Give Austen a try! She might surprise you!” After all, you might be literate (evidence: your eyes are still running over this post), but can you really read? Jane Austen can teach you. *wink*

"She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means just nothing at all." - Mr. Knightley

Obviously, I’m not the same Austen reader I was in middle school. I think every respectable Janeite goes through novel phases with their life phases. When you’re young you love the excitement, plot and banter of Pride & Prejudice. Almost a decade after my first reading, that novel is in the middle of my preference list. The present rough order is as follows: Persuasion, Emma, Mansfield Park, Pride & Prejudice, Northanger Abbey, then Sense & Sensibility. Yes, that’s right. At this moment I find prim and moral Mansfield Park more  interesting than Pride & Prejudice (though I admit, if I had to pick one heroine to keep me company on a desert island, it wouldn’t be Fanny Price). I imagine that as I grow older and reread, my list will continue to shift.

When I turned twenty-two, do you want to know the first thing that came into my head? Like a lightening bolt, it hit me: “Wow. I’m officially older than all of Jane Austen’s heroines.” Of course, the exception to this is Anne Elliot – Austen’s final creation and the heroine of my current favorite. She was considered an “old maid” at twenty-seven. I might have another “wow” moment on that birthday, but I have no intention of feeling like an old maid. I don’t believe Jane would approve of such self-pity.

As a lovely ending note to this very long and obsessive blog post, I’m inserting what I consider to be the greatest acceptance speech of all time. This is when Emma Thompson, a fabulous actress and screenwriter, won for her adaptation of Sense & Sensibility and proceeded to thank her colleagues very eloquently. Lesson learned: smart girls have more fun.

*Mr. Knightley. Duh.

**Joceline actually did this. I forced her poor pre-med soul to take an English seminar with me entitled “Jane Austen in Print and Film.” She definitely rose to the occasion and did so without compromising her medical focus. I’ll never forget the look on our professor’s face when Joceline stood in front of the class and started her medical presentation for a group of English majors. Citing letters and and physical descriptions of bruising and yellowing of the skin, she diagnosed Jane Austen with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. See? Jane Austen is for everyone.

I learned long ago to reject the pack rat life style. In the past five years I’ve had seven addresses and have therefore gotten very good at packing, traveling light, and throwing things away.* I’ve learned to only buy things I absolutely love and know I will get good use out of. This is all well and good, however there were always certain things I could never throw away no matter how much my practicality protested.

Books.

I hoard books to the point where someone from TLC should come to my home and embarrass me. I keep books that I never read. I keep text books I never intend on using again. I keep paperbacks with broken bindings. My copies of The Diary of Anne Frank and Harry Potter and Sorcerer’s Stone are literally in two pieces, but I will never let go of either. It also doesn’t help that I inherited my older siblings’ books or, like Lori, was an English major in college. By the way, here’s something they don’t tell you before you declare: due to finicky policies about specific editions and introductions, most English majors will end up wasting their money and life space on duplicates. By graduation, I somehow ended up with multiple copies of Shakespeare’s complete works, Dubliners, Portrait of the Artist, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park (3 copies = too much Fanny Price), Emma, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Lolita (When you own multiple copies of that particular novel, people start to think you’re creepy – and rightfully so.), Yeats’ complete collection of poetry, As I Lay Dying…the list goes on, but I’ll spare you.

Clearly, I have a problem.

Behold, my childhood between bindings. Keep in mind that these are not all the books. These are just the ones I was willing to part with...

I attempted to lighten my literary load when I returned to my parents’ house this Christmas. As a dug through boxes of books I stumbled across one genre that tugged at my heart strings…children’s literature. After that, I swear I lost all focus on my greater goal and, instead, hunkered down in my parents’ basement and proceeded to sift through each copy as if I were looking through a photo album. Some of the prized gems included…

• The Giver – like a hybrid of Farhenheit 451 or 1984, but with training wheels
• Random fantasy books by Tamora Pierce – Lauren and I loved this author so much in 5th/6th grade, I’m pretty sure we started a club. It’s hard to remember since I try my best to block out my lamest memories…
• Almost everything Judy Blume ever wrote – You can laugh all you want, but even now I think Judy Blume kicks some serious you-know-what. She’s one of the authors most listed on ALA’s top 100 commonly challenged books in the U.S. (beating more predictable choices like Twain) because she candidly wrote about the real problems young girls face with topics like religion, divorce, and puberty. She was pretty much the first person to touch those subjects in books specifically for children. Give respect where respect is due, people.
• The American Girl Books – They should burn the modern dolls and force the girls to read the historical books instead. I had complete sets for Molly, Addy, and Felicity.
• Anne of Green Gables (and all subsequent sequels) – Even now, at twenty-two, I still think this character talks too much. I used to skim over her random tangents about the Lake of Shinning Water and what not. Still loved it, though.
• Little House on the Prairie – staple to any young girl’s literary experience. It’s also practical because it teaches you how to shoot a bear and smoke the meat. Obviously, I put this knowledge to good use later in life.
• All things Roald Dahl – The BFG, Boy, The Twits, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach were all there. After reading Matilda in elementary school I remember sitting down in my room and attempting to move things with my mind. I was unsuccessful.

Before I throw away, sell, or donate any book, I go through a series of questions in my mind that make it nearly impossible for me to let it go: Is it possible that I will want to reread this even one more time? Does this have useful information I will need to reference on a later date (see above: Little House on the Prairie)? Even if I hated this book with the passion of 1,000 suns, will it look good on the future book shelf in my imaginary, sophisticated home? Will my hypothetical children want to read this? Even if they don’t, will I read this to my hypothetical children (using dramatic voices, etc.)? Usually, the answer to at least one of those questions is yes and the vicious cycle continues. Oh well. I guess there are worst things I could collect…

As time goes  by, I’m hoping to become less emotionally attached to some of the misfit stories and authors in my childhood collection. Of course, there are some books that I am confident will never be thrown away. These are the children’s books that all adults should read and learn from:**

If you think this is a hat, then you are lame.

• Le Petit Prince – see picture to the right for a test of character
• Chronicles of Narnia – Always and forever…
• Peter and Wendy – So you can remember how to get to Neverland: “If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkness; then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and the colours become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire. But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon…”

*In the process of getting my BA, I also earned a PHD in packing and moving (Disertation entitled How to Guilt Sprightly Young Men into Carrying Heavy Items from your Car to your Dorm).

**Harry Potter is a given. I shouldn’t even have to mention it.