Some girlfriends and I recently got together for a girls’ day in which I was initiated fully into the Jane Austen world with the definitive 5-hour production of Pride and Prejudice. I don’t really consider myself a girlie-girl, and I am definitely not fond of anything mushy. But some dear female friends and relations have helped me remember how much fun it can be to occasionally indulge in pure girlishness: attending greeting cards parties, buying nice-smelling lotions, and, appropriately, discovering the pleasure of Jane Austen. What struck me was how many of these girlish events involved women I had not considered, by my unflattering definition, “girlie,” and how many of them loved Miss Austen, who I had, mistakenly, placed in the “girlie” category. I gained a deeper appreciation of the women I knew, and indeed, a richer understanding of their multifaceted romantic minds. Contrary to what I had previously suspected, girlishness did not have to involve frivolous fluff and rude, gossipy nonsense, but rather the sharing of confidences, intelligent and light conversation, and, quite simply, enjoying the pleasant company of fine ladies.
My first encounter with Miss Austen was in college and the book of choice was Mansfield Park, which I later learned was one of her more controversial novels among her devotees. At the time I enjoyed it, as much as one can enjoy a 400-page novel one is forced to choke down within a couple of weeks. Such is college life. What made it enjoyable was the attitude and admiration of my professor toward Miss Austen and her work. I admit, however, that I was confused by my reaction to Mansfield’s ending. I wanted to like Jane Austen, but I wasn’t sure I was satisfied with this story. This was not the witty, romantic tale I had expected from this highly regarded author. Then I attended the lecture. My professor walked in holding his battered edition of Mansfield under his arm, the book twice its size with yellow sticky notes bookmarking his favorite passages. He stood before the class and began with, “Sometimes I think Jane Austen has a way of flipping us off.” At that moment I liked Miss Austen. She knew what she was doing. My professor continued to put things in perspective by saying that people read Jane Austen because they know there is going to be a wedding at the end; the fun is seeing who marries whom and how everybody gets there. And I realized that this was a perfectly legitimate reason, among the many others you discover, to read Miss Austen. I welcomed her to my library.
With Emma I discovered Miss Austen’s humor and revealing social commentary. I loved the much talking and little saying of anything between the characters, and at times I enjoyed, at others rued, the openness our own society has embraced. Carrie Nation, whose literary tastes I admire, then suggested Northanger Abbey, and I was surprised at how intentionally exasperated Miss Austen could make her reader with the bizarre, yet revealing, behavior of her characters. It seemed I was laughing at myself while shouting at these characters, “Yes, you love each other! Get married already!” Then Leaf Child, a romance devotee, surprised me with her admiration of Miss Austen by inviting me to watch the film version of Emma. Later, she brought her friends over to show me new version of Pride and Prejudice. Soon after that I met Lady Meredith, another hopeful romantic, who invited me to watch her Miss Austen favorite, Persuasion, accompanied by fine varieties of chocolate (this latter I have found to be a girlish necessity). That event inspired me to start reading Pride and Prejudice. Lady Meredith was flattered yet dismayed that I had not read the book before, her exact words, as she sighed dramatically, being, “Oh, how have you lived!” Miss Austen’s stories gave me a bit of insight into myself and these fine women whom I admire.
What I have discovered is that there is (like, you know) the ridiculous, mindless girlishness that I refuse to take part in (utter rubbish, that is), and then there is the sophisticated fun of Jane Austen and her readers—readers like the fine women mentioned above who teach the rest of us the pure nature of girlishness. Women who understand that the romantic world is alive and well, and perfectly acceptable to belong to. Women who are intelligent, sweet, witty, and at times slightly irreverent who, like me, occasionally need to surround themselves solely with like-minded women to experience, and indeed, remember, the pure joys of giggling, chattering, and of simply being a girl.
Now, a question for you: What book or author have you read that has given you an unexpected insight into yourself or someone else?
March 6, 2008 at 1:28 pm
Well, there’s so many to choose from, but of the week? Charles Dickens. I don’t know why, but I always come back to Dickens. So much there, so much passion, deception, silliness, hilarity, villainy, and always someone completely normal in completely un-normal circumstances. I often feel like I am living in a Dickens novel surrounded by Dickens characters. He really had a way with people. But, then, you are well acquainted with the collection of Dickens that I’ve had on my shelf back home since high school. I was first introduced to Dickens through Tale of Two Cities, but so far (and I’m looking forward to reading more Dickens) my absolute favorite is Our Mutual Friend by far. But, I must end this here. Maybe I’ll have to write my own blog on Dickens!
March 6, 2008 at 5:59 pm
Jeeves approves of Miss Austen. My girls used to watch TV and do handwork at the same time.
Which prompted Jeeves to say on entering the room “Are we expecting Mr. Darcy?” In recent years Jeeves has been attracted to John Steinbeck, in particular Cannery Row and Sweet Thursday. Jeeves
March 7, 2008 at 7:22 am
Kafka. I first read Kafka in German as a freshman in college (somehow I had escaped high school without reading Metamorphosis). Reading “A Country Doctor” explained my roommates. They were like the patient in the story – you think everything’s fine with them and then you realize they have this gaping wound with worms coming out and they want you to come lie next to the wound.
Then Kafka opened a door to me on how my husband’s mind works. Sometime when we were engaged or married Matt (who hadn’t read Metamorphosis recently) said to me “Do you think it is significant that Gregor Samsa was a soldier”? I replied that he wasn’t a soldier, but some sort of salesman. But he insisted, “There’s a picture of him in his army uniform in his bedroom.” So I reread the opening of Metamorphosis, and sure enough, Matt was right. I asked all of my colleagues in the masters program, and none of them remember that detail. I learned from Kafka that Matt remembers an incredible amount of detail from the works he reads.
March 7, 2008 at 10:51 am
I LOVE Dickens. I never had to read him in high school – sad – but my future students might read Nicholas Nickleby in somewhat edited form (it’s long and time is short) so they are introduced to his world as I was not. Same with Kafka. I have yet to figure out how, after studying German for 6 years, I had the misfortune to miss out on Kafka. I’ve had to glean my knowledge of him from the Magzmeister. I’d like my students to at least understand the origin and meaning of “kafkaesque.”
I am highly pleased to know that my choice of reading material meets the approval of Jeeves. I am rediscovering the fine writing of Steinbeck (who I DID read in school). Another lady and I talked our book group into reading The Moon is Down, and I love it. Hope the rest of them do.
March 7, 2008 at 8:17 pm
I know you’ve already heard from me, but I wish my local book club (of course from church) would read real literature. The only real literature they’ve read since I moved here was Wuthering Heights. I’ve never read Emily Bronte, and since I’ve been “too busy with school,” I have not gone to book club. I used to be on the mailing list, but apparently I’m not anymore. Maybe I’ll have to form my own book club. Hmmm. I seem to be a trouble maker these days at church, like when I suggested we should have an Easter program with real music and not just one musical number from the choir (which would have been “Come Ye Disconsolate” had I not intervened). Anyway, I’ve already written too much here…
March 9, 2008 at 11:56 pm
A work of nonfiction I read recently that gave me an unexpected insight into others is The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls.
BTW I never read anything by Austen, the three Bronte sisters (even all of Emily’s poetry), or George Eliot (aka Mary Ann Evans) that I didn’t like.
–Laura
March 10, 2008 at 8:21 pm
I haven’t yet found that “one book (or author) to rule them all . . . and in the darkness bind them.” But I do think that Terry Pratchett’s The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents taught me a lot about myself. Oh, and I really liked Bernhard Schlink’s Der Vorleser.
March 10, 2008 at 8:25 pm
Oh the books I have read and re-read! I am a loyal follower of Charlotte Bronte and never fail to get that queasy feeling inside when I find Mr. Rochester toying with Miss Jane Eyre’s emotions. Does anyone remember the part where he dresses up as an old woman so he can discern her feelings and then finally avows his love for her? (I didn’t like him for dating Miss Bland…er…Blanche but I always forgave him for falling in love with someone other than his wife). This story captivates me and I am an absolute sucker for a happy ending (see also redemption!)! Reading this book I am an adolescent all over again, wondering what possibilities life holds.