Stacks of Austen and Some Jam

I went to the university library yesterday because I had some holds in. Even though I'm taking my degree through a distance ed university, I get to use the library of the local uni. That deal is called COPPUL, the Consortium Of Pacific and Prairie Libraries; they have an agreement to let each others' students use their libraries. So I get to take out whatever I want - and boy, do I ever!

I've always said that the library is the one place you can impulse-shop with impunity. Whatever catches your eye and strikes your fancy, grab it and take it home. The worst thing that could happen is that you forget to renew it and get hit with overdue fines, or perhaps that you spill your tea over the book and have to pay for it. But in the latter case, you usually get to keep the book, so if you liked it enough to take home, you might not mind owning a copy, albeit a somewhat tea-stained one.

So I had five holds in yesterday - and I walked out of that library with twenty-seven books altogether. Ahem. Well, they made me take them out! C'mon, wouldn't you grab a copy of Jane Austen's letters, or James Edward Austen-Leigh's memoir of his aunt Jane, or Jane Austen on Screen (with a lovely picture on the cover of Kate Winslet smiling winsomely at Allan Rickman)? You wouldn't? How strange. Well, I did.

The thing is that there's a real head rush about browsing the stacks in the library, something that only real bookworms understand. Collecting books with shameless abandon, and only stopping because you can't carry any more - I haven't done that in quite a long time. In fact, it was having a job at the library that made me stop doing that. When you work in the place, you don't browse the stacks any more. You take out what comes across the desk, and what you've ordered in because you found it in the catalogue. And then when I quit my library job, I never did go back to browsing, at least not in the public library. But now I'm doing it in the uni library, and it's lovely.

So am I actually going to read all twenty-seven of those books I took out? Nope, not on your life. I will flip through them, and pick out the bits that interest me and are useful for my paper. But there are some that'll be keepers. My favourite of this lot is The Sense and Sensibility Screenplay and Diaries by Emma Thompson; I already have a copy on order through ABE books. I've always liked Emma Thompson, ever since I first saw her in that movie (she plays Elinor, as well as having written the screenplay), but reading her diaries of the filming, oh my. She's utterly hilarious. And after reading that, I'll be watching the movie with rather different eyes. For example, when she gets up from Marianne's bedside after her night's vigil and rubs her   stiff neck - that's for real. She really did have a sore neck that day, and put it to good use in her acting.

In other news, we got four pounds of raspberries off our bushes in the garden yesterday, which made me quite happy. I only planted those vines two years ago; they were hand-me-downs from when my sister-in-law was pulling out her raspberries. So this morning I made jam, eight jars worth of lovely ruby sweetness. And being afflicted these days with early-waking insomnia, I was up in time to get it done by 9:00 - that's a record, for me.

Life, the Universe, Browsing the Stacks and Raspberry Jam. The small pleasures of life.

Jane Austenite

summer balcony view

"I am a Jane Austenite, and therefore slightly imbecile about Jane Austen. My fatuous expression and airs of personal immunity - how ill they set on the face, say, of a Stevensonian! But Jane Austen is so different. She is my favorite author! I read and reread, the mouth open and the mind closed. Shut up in measureless content, I greet her by the name of most kind hostess, while criticism slumbers."

That's E. M. Forster said that, not me (see citation below). I feel vindicated. Because he's a famous writer, so he ought to know. Nowadays, we mostly call ourselves Janeites, not Jane Austenites so much, although I believe Forster's the one who invented the term, back when he wrote this in 1936. [Addendum: no, he wasn't. Wikipedia says that the term "Janeite" was coined by George Saintsbury in 1894, and that Kipling wrote a short story called "The Janeites" about a group of WWI soldiers who're fans. Might have to track that one down, sounds intriguing.]

I've thoroughly enjoyed rereading the novels for my course, although it's taken me about four times longer than I had bargained for. Partially that's due to the fact that as soon as I have to do something for school, it becomes work, and therefore something to be avoided; that cuts down on processing speed considerably. And the other part was that really reading, carefully, every word, plus the forewords and afterwords and bonus materials, just takes longer than skipping through to get to your favourite bits (even if you read those three times over because you like them so much). But I'm done the reading, so now I can go into the writing.

On another note, the weather gods suddenly decided to crank up the thermostat, just in time for the beginning of the summer holidays. Today we're supposed to get to 34°C; this morning at 8:00, it was already 32°C in my east-facing kitchen, what with the sun burning through the window and patio doors. Thank God for the new window unit air conditioner in my bedroom/study; my papers would be doomed without it.

Life, the Universe, and Imbecile Jane Austenites. Keep cool!

(Forster, E. M. "Jane Austen: the Six Novels". A Truth Universally Acknowledged: 33 Great Writers on Why We Read Jane Austen. New York: Random House, 2009. 22-25.)

On Jane Austen Film Adaptations, Take 2

completely random pretty flower

I've been really busy waffling on about Austen over at quill and qwerty. Latest installation: a post on the Sense and Sensibility movies, which I watched the last couple of evenings. So I've kind of been too occupied to pop in over here and let loose with some of my usual ramblings.

But then it suddenly occurred to me: some time ago, I promised a post on Jane Austen heroines and the actresses who play them, one of them being the girlfriend of Blake Ritson (he who plays such an excellent Edmund Bertram in the 2007 Mansfield Park), so this would be a great time to redeem that promise. And when I looked up that old post, I found that it was written exactly a year and a day ago, May 21 of last year. What is it about May? Must be the season for watching Jane Austen movies. In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to love... (except I ain't all that young. And most definitely not a man.).

So, Blake's girlfriend. Yup. She's my favourite. Hattie Morahan, her name is, and she plays Elinor in the 2007 Sense and Sensibility. Fabulous casting, she's exactly my idea of the sensible Dashwood sister. Oh, but - in the 1995 version of the movie, Elinor is played by Emma Thompson. She's my favourite. Fabulous casting, exactly my idea of... Oh dear. You see my problem. They're all my favourites.

The two Sense and Sensibility movies are especially bad for that; I honestly can't make up my mind which I like better. The older version has a fantastic cast of seasoned actors, and that utterly amazing score by Patrick Doyle (the soundtrack for that movie is still on my wish list. Hard to get a hold of nowadays, though. I've never yet watched a movie with a Paddy Doyle soundtrack I didn't like. The "Non Nobis Domine" from Henry V, oh my goodness...). And there's the wit in Emma Thompson's screenplay and her acting, and Hugh Grant's typical bumbly-but-cute manner, and Kate Winslet just being Marianne and Greg Wise such an attractive Willoughby - I so enjoy that movie.

And then I pop in the disc of the new version, and there's that wonderful cast of actors who are, for the most part, actually about the age the characters are in the book (as opposed to the other movie where they're all ten to fifteen years older than their parts, except for Kate Winslet who is the right age and makes everyone else look old by contrast). They're so fresh, so real - so believable. And they've kept in some of the characters that are cut from the older version, Anne Steele and Lady Middleton, for example, and they act out some of the scenes that the other movie doesn't even mention (like the duel. And the oh-so-awkward dinner party at Mrs Ferrar's.). Such a wonderful movie.

And of course, there's Jennifer Ehle's Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice, and Keira Knightley in the same ten years later. I do prefer the older movie, all told, but I like Keira's Elizabeth. She's got that spunky wit that Lizzie has in the book.

And then there's Anne Elliot, who is next to Elinor Dashwood my favourite Austen heroine, and so convincingly played by Amanda Root in the 1995 version of Persuasion (with Ciaran Hinds as Captain Wentworth - ahh...).

You see what I mean? Too many favourites. But that's okay, I can just keep watching these movies over and over. One after the other. And enjoy them, every time.

Life, the Universe, and Austen Heroines. It is a truth universally acknowledged that movies don't get any better.

Something Old, Something New...

Something Borrowed, Something Blue. Don't worry, I'm not getting married. Nor is anyone else in my immediate family, immediately. No, the Something New I'm talking about is this: http://quillandqwerty.wordpress.com/. It's my new blog, for school. The Something Old is the dip pen I'm using for the cover illustration (which also has Something New, namely my netbook keyboard). And of course the subject of the course I'm in (more on that later). Something Borrowed, or, more accurately, swiped (with permission) is the title. A friend posted a picture on Facebook of her keyboard and a pen, with the caption "The quill and the qwerty", and I thought it was so catchy I promptly went and reserved a blog address under that name. I just parked it for a while - had no idea what to put on it, until my new prof suggested keeping a blog for my research. Bingo!

You see, it's so perfect because the course I'm taking is on Jane Austen (gasps of surprise from the audience - none of you knew I'm an Austen fan, of course. Yes, I hid it well.). She wrote all her books with a quill, as steel nibs weren't invented until 1822 (she died in 1817). And of course, now I, along with countless real scholars, ramble on about her works via QWERTY. Grad school - the excuse to re-read Austen, go rabbit trailing off in all kinds of directions on the topic, and then write big long papers and (hopefully) shorter blog posts on it. What's not to like?

Oh, what's the Something Blue? Me, sometimes. Unfortunately. But we'll deal with that when it arises. And the Caps Lock button on the left of the picture, that's blue too.

I'll still be here on amo vitam, rambling my ramblings, but if you feel like it, come on over to quill and qwerty and take a look. You don't have to stay if you don't want to.

Life, the Universe, the Quill and Qwerty. See you over there!

Three Things Very Dull Indeed

It's a Box Hill kind of day. Oh, not because it's so hot and sticky - quite the opposite: apparently we've just had the coldest and wettest June in forty years here. Which, perhaps, has something to do with my boxhillian state. It's a Miss-Bates-Box-Hill state: I don't have anything clever to say today - not one thing very clever, or even two things moderately clever. I might, however, manage three things very dull indeed.

Actually, talking about the weather might count as the first dull thing for the day.

The second is something that I've been meaning to tell you about for a while: Songs I Can't Stand Hearing Any More. Oh yes. There was, back in my teen years, "Morning Has Broken", which was the theme music of the early morning radio show which I had running on my little transistor radio when I got ready for school at 6:30 AM. And trust me, 6:30 AM is not a time at which much of anything is endearing to me. That song became associated with having to get up when I'd rather be sleeping, having to hurry when I'd rather be leisurely dawdling, having to leave the house when I'd rather be staying snugly inside. "Morning Has Broken", indeed, and nobody would fix it for me.

The next song like that was ca. 1997, "My Heart Will Go On". Eeew. I never watched the Titanic movie, but that year, the song was incessantly blowing out of every single loudspeaker in every single store one might conveivably set foot in. And then in the spring of '98, I took a trip to Germany, thinking I'd escaped the inundation of the syrupy song for a couple of weeks, only to find that the movie had recently been released in German. Aaaack! They don't dub songs, so "My Irritation Will Go On..." Nothing against Céline Dion, oh no. I just couldn't stand the song any more.

And right now, it's a toss-up between about three of them. There's "Rumor Has It" by Adele; there's "The Harbour Boys" by I dunno whom; and there's "Death To My Hometown" by Bruce Springsteen. They're great songs - about the first dozen or so times you hear them. After that, I, for one, have to fight a nearly irresistable urge to scream and pound my head against the nearest horizontal surface whenever I recognize those sounds. And as those sounds are, in my case, coming through the speakers of my car radio as I'm driving down a short stretch of narrow and winding provincial highway at 80km/h, said surface is the steering wheel, and cranial impact not recommended on account of road safety.

So that was dull thing number two: there's songs I can't stand hearing any more.

And dull thing number three - dull thing number three... I can't even think of one, my brain is so dull today. Let me go ask Steve, he might have something to tell you. Oh, he's busy talking to Horatio. We'll get back to you on that.

Life, the Universe, and Three Things Very Dull Indeed. Hope your day's a little more interesting than mine.

Drama

We had some kitten drama this past week. Took Morty to the vet for his SPCA-mandated checkup, and the vet diagnosed a fever. Did you know cats have higher body temperatures than humans? I didn't. Their normal temp is about 38.5; but Morty was at 40.0. None of us could figure out why, as he wasn't showing any symptoms of standard cat illnesses. He still seemed fine that day, just a bit lethargic. Over the next day-and-a-half, he got a lot lethargic - all he wanted to do was sleep. And this is a kitten we're talking about, he's supposed to bounce off the walls and make a right pest of himself! So we were concerned, but still thinking he'd get over it - until Thursday afternoon, when he barfed up all his food, and looked like he had trouble going poo. So back to the vet we went in a hurry! A sizable vet bill later, Morty had some fluids injected into him, and we had a bottle of chalky-white antibiotic stuff to squirt into his mouth every twelve hours. All this fuss over a little less than two pounds of fur and big round eyes...

And it only took a day for him to get back to proper kittenhood. Boing, boing, boing... He's a proper nuisance again, and we're so glad for it. Incidentally, I found out just how hard kittens can clamp their little jaws shut when they don't want to take their medicine. But I'm quite merciless; he gets wrestled to the ground (well, to my lap, anyway), have his teeth prised apart, and the drugs squirted right into the back of his mouth. Blch, yuck, pfui! You can just see it in the expression on his little face, he's NOT impressed. Too-bad-so-sad, little guy; medicine has to be taken. So he shakes his head, and makes a beeline for his food dish to get the nasty taste out of his mouth. And I laugh at him for it, cruel person that I am.

Speaking of drama, and of weather, I've been noticing (once again) how movie dramas tend to use weather almost like background music. Main character is happy: all is sunshine and roses; MC is sad: cue rain. I wouldn't mind seeing a movie which either completely ignores weather, or reverses it, so that the sun shines brilliantly for the funeral and the wedding takes place in a rain storm.

There is, of course, another option, one that Jane Austen utilizes brilliantly in her writing, and that is to make the weather a character in its own right. Or perhaps not a character, but a very important plot point. If it wasn't raining the day that Jane sets out for her visit to Netherfield, Mrs Bennet wouldn't make her go on horseback on purpose to get wet, and Jane wouldn't catch a horrible cold and have to be visited by her sister, thereby precipitating (get it? Precipitating. Hah, I'm so witty.) precipitating the furtherance of Elizabeth's acquaintance with Mr Darcy. And without the summer heat on the day of the strawberry-picking excursion to Donwell Abbey, and the even worse heat on the day of the Box Hill Picnic, Frank Churchill wouldn't have an argument with Jane Fairfax, wouldn't behave like a jerk and inspire Emma to do the same, and Mr Knightley would have no reason to tell off Emma so severely it makes her cry (and finally see the light). And so on and so forth. But I don't think you ever find out in the books just what the weather is like during any of the weddings - because Austen knew full well that it really doesn't matter if the sun shines when you say "I do", as long as you mean the "for better or for worse" bit. And I suppose that includes better or worse weather, as well.

Incidentally, it was pouring rain the day kitty made his recovery. Which just goes to show, I'm sure.

Life, the Universe, Drama and Weather. Today it's sunny, and there's no deep meaning to that at all.

Talking of the Weather

I've learned something in my twenty-five years of living in Canada: when in doubt, talk of the weather. It's a legacy of Canada's English ancestry. Apparently in England, that's what you do; and the early Brits, after they kicked the French out of Ottawa - wait, the seat of government wasn't Ottawa then. I can't remember what it was, but the Brits kicked the French out of it. And first they made them sing "God save the King" (it was a king then, George III, not the Queen, may-her-diamond-jubileed-head-be-blessed), and then they taught them how to talk of the weather. Except it probably ended up being talk of ze vezzer, instead.

I realized the importance of English weather-speak the other day, while reading "Emma". Just to give you a bit of background, at this point in the story Emma is in the middle of a huge knock-down drag-out argument with Mr Knightley (except they're of course being genteel and refined about it), which is all about Emma's airheaded interference in her friend's love life. She's just persuaded Harriet to refuse an offer of marriage from the guy Harriet has a massive crush on and who would be the perfect husband for her, and all because Emma thinks that he's not refined enough for her. Which is, as Mr Knightley says, "Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!" but of course Emma doesn't see it that way; she thinks she's doing her friend this big favour. (This is the part of the story where I most want to slap Emma upside the head, but that's beside the point at the moment.) Mr Knightley is furious with Emma (the guy in question is a friend of his), and Emma is - well, see for yourself:

"Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone. She did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a better judge of such a point of female right and refinement than he could be; but yet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment in general, which made her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him sitting just opposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable. Some minutes passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt on Emma's side to talk of the weather, but he made no answer."

Are you getting this? They're sitting there, fuming at each other - so mad they could spit - he thinks she's a conceited featherwit (which she is), and she thinks he's an interfering, preachy bossyboots (which he is) - and Emma tries to talk of the weather. It must be some kind of knee-jerk reaction in refined Brits: there's silence in the room? "It looks like it might be cloudy today!" Haven't seen someone in three years? "Think it's going to rain?" Drop a rock on your foot? "Lovely sunshine we're having!"

And it works around here, too. I don't know how many times I've used the phrase"Looks like it'll be a nice day," or, conversely ,"It's just a bit chilly out today!" (that one works best if it's about 10 degrees below freezing). The thing about weather-talk is that it provides a friendly atmosphere - talking about the chill in the air can take the chill out of human interaction (even though Emma has to work a bit harder at it that time). And the general atmospheric conditions in weather-talking nations seems to be favourable to politeness. Sunny with a chance of friendliness. It's one of the things I like about Canada.

Life, the Universe, and Weather Talk. Looks like it'll be cloudy again today; we might get to see a nice rainbow.

On the Fine Art of Creating Titles Which Are More Than Two Words in Length, and on Jane Austen Film Adaptations

I've noticed an alarming tendency in my posts lately: they've all got single-word or single-phrase titles. You know: Tantrum, Superhero, Blue, Mansfield Park... While there is something to be said for telegraphic language, it can, undoubtedly, be overdone. So I sought to rectify the situation with today's title. I hope you appreciate it.

My mind is still running on the subject of Austen. Specifically, Austen film adaptations. Okay, confession time: I have a major crush on Mr Darcy. Well, no, actually, I have a crush on Colin Firth playing Mr Darcy. Not Colin Firth, the man (although he's probably cute enough when you get to know him), and not Mr Darcy, the man (a bit too stiff for me, really; although he's probably alright once Elizabeth teaches him to laugh at himself), but Colin Firth being Mr Darcy. Oh, but - I also have a crush on Hugh Grant playing Edward Ferrars. And Dan Stevens playing Edward Ferrars. And Ciaran Hinds playing Captain Wentworth. And Jeremy Northam playing Mr Knightley, and Jonny Lee Miller doing the same. And Kenneth Branagh playing Benedick. (Oh, wait, that's Shakespeare. Never mind.)

So, in case you've missed the point: I like Austen movies. They're my comfort films when I feel bad, and my pleasure when I feel good. After a hard day, pour a glass of wine, pop in Pride & Prejudice, sink back into the couch cushions, and let yourself get lost in the English landscape. Two riders galloping over the field - "A fair prospect!" "It's pretty enough, I grant you." "Oh, it's nothing to Pemberley, I know, but I must settle somewhere..." It is a truth universally acknowledged that a tired woman in possession of an overdeveloped sense of romance must be in want of an Austen movie.

And after this latest reading of Mansfield Park, I pulled out the VHS of the movie I'd recorded off the TV four years ago, and popped it into the machine (yes, I still own a VCR. Long may it live, because if it doesn't, I won't be able to replace it. You can't buy those things any more). I hadn't watched it since then, because I wasn't terribly impressed with the film at that point. Oh, sure, it's an improvement on the 1999 version, but that's no great feat. (That movie is terrible. I'll spare you the rant; just two words will suffice: sex & violence. In Austen. Yup.)

So, I started watching the 2007 version. And right off the bat, I was complaining. The costumes! The hairdo! Fanny is played by Billie Piper, who, while still a bit too lively for my taste, does a good job on the role. But her hair is all wrong. A Regency woman should wear her hair up, not in shoulder-length ringlets like a school girl. The way Billie looks, you'd expect, at any moment, to hear the sounds of "WOOoooo-eeeee-ooo", and see the Tardis landing in Mansfield Park (Billie is best known for playing Rose Tyler in Doctor Who). And the dresses? I'm not sure exactly what time period this is meant to convey; Fanny's outfits, in particular, have a quasi-Victorian feel to them that's not from any part of the nineteenth century I'm familiar with, instead of the proper Regency style with the waistlines just below the bust.

So there I was, waffling on about how wrong the clothes are (although, mind you, they're nothing like as bad as the costumes in the Laurence Olivier version of Pride & Prejudice, which somehow seems to have got muddled with Gone With the Wind. Yikes.). But then- but then- I got pulled into the story.

You know how I got to liking Edmund as a character in the book this time round? This version of Mansfield, he's played by Blake Ritson. And I tell you, that man is a revelation. You see, I'd only ever seen him play Mr Elton, the highly annoying and self-absorbed clergyman, in the 2010 Emma. And he really plays Mr Elton to perfection; you just want to smack him, or dump something cold and slimy down his shirt (as Mr Knightley says: "That man is so full of himself, it's a wonder he can stay on his horse!"). So I thought Blake Ritson, himself, was annoying and unlikeable. But here, as Edmund Bertram - it's like he's a different man entirely. Same outfit, same hairstyle, but it's like he's got a different face! As Mr Elton, he's got this pinched, pursed mouth that at best can produce a self-satisfied smirk. But his Edmund, he's just like he is in the book. Well, I had pictured Edmund a bit different physically - taller, maybe fair, not smallish and dark with a pointy nose - but I forget all that when I watch how he brings to life all those emotions that made me like Edmund so much in the book (this time). I don't even mind the changes they made to the story, because Edmund is so well played.

So as of the day before yesterday, I'm adding "Blake Ritson as Edmund Bertram" to my list of crushes. Never mind the fact that he's short, and more than ten years younger than me. It's my inner Fanny Price that has a crush on him, anyway, and she's perpetually eighteen, and probably only a little over five feet tall. (That's him in the picture, at the moment the penny finally drops and he realizes that it's Fanny who's the girl for him. Awww...)

And as it is a truth universally acknowledged that this post has already become too long, I'll tell you about my favourite Austen heroines and the actresses who play them some other time. Just one hint: one of them is Blake Ritson's girlfriend! Be still my heart...

And that, for today, is Life, the Universe, and Truths Universally Acknowledged.

Mansfield Park

I finished Mansfield Park the other day (the book, not the building). It's been quite some time since I'd read it before, because, I'm afraid to say, it's my least favourite Austen. Or, should I say, it was my least favourite, until this reading. (Be forewarned: if you haven't read the book, and you're one of those people who must have suspense in order to enjoy a novel, stop right here. I'm the type who reads the end of a book first - a habit which I'm utterly unrepentant of - and will unashamedly drop spoilers all over the place. End of warning.)

Unlike some other Janeites, I didn't dislike this story because of its heroine. Yes, Fanny is shy. Fanny is timid. Fanny is mousy. Fanny lets herself be bullied. But I get that. Okay, there are times during the reading of that book when I just want to go "C'mon, girl, stick UP for yourself!" But I know that Fanny can't, she just hasn't got the opportunities. No, I disliked the story for a couple of reasons: mostly, because everyone is so mean to Fanny, and also because Edmund is so terribly dense.

It's all the other people in the story that had me disliking it, not Fanny. Aunt Norris, of course, is nothing but a horrible, despicable bully. She's probably the character who is the closest to being a "bad guy" in all of Austen (although that might be a toss-up between her, Lady Catherine, Sir Walter, and General Tilney). I'm still not sure that I find her come-uppance at the end entirely satisfying, although at least she does get a come-uppance, which is more than can be said for some of the other Despicables in Austen. Aunt Bertram is a lump of inertia (ADD, Inattentive Subtype, I'd say.). Sir Thomas is, well, pretty much a despot. Tom a jerk. Maria and Julia cattish airheads. Mr Rushworth a dimwit (but as that's his whole role in the piece, one can't fault him for that). And of course the Crawfords, they're terrible. All around evil people.

Or so I remembered. You see, that's what I had against Edmund, that he was so very dense that he didn't see what Mary Crawford really was, and preferred her to Fanny. And that he didn't get Henry Crawford either. I thought that Edmund didn't deserve Fanny, and that the ending didn't justify all the emotional turmoil Austen puts the reader through in feeling with and for Fanny.

But in this reading, I saw it differently. For one, Fanny doesn't suffer nearly as much as I had remembered; I think in the past, I felt more for her than she does for herself. And for another, Edmund became so much more human. As a hero, he leaves quite a bit to be desired. As an ordinary guy, he's actually - well, kind of endearing, and his character makes a lot of sense. He's a young man who has never been around women much. He went to an all-boys school, an all-male university, and then comes home and hangs out with his airhead sisters, his indolent mother, his bully of an aunt, and - Fanny. Along comes an extremely pretty, vivacious girl, who is (and this was my other big revelation) really, really nice - is it any wonder he falls hard, and fast, for her? And that in his mind, he endows her with all the good qualities he feels a woman should have? Building someone we find attractive into the image of what we think they should be, I think we've all done that (okay, I've done it. If you haven't, good for you - although I'm not sure I believe you.). In Edmund's case, it doesn't mean he's dense, it just means he's a normal twenty-four-year-old without much experience with (the opposite) sex.

And, as I said, Mary Crawford really is nice. She's the only person who is ever kind to Fanny and supports her against people's bullying; she's considerate, and she's fun. Her main (and fatal) flaw is that she does not have "good principles"; she does not share Edmund and Fanny's value system, does not understand where they are coming from. And unlike Edmund, Fanny sees it all along - but then, she does not have physical attraction to muddle her vision. The only thing Fanny's vision is muddled by is her low self-esteem. And there's great hope, in the end of the story, that that's a fault that'll be rectified by time, maturity, and being loved for who she is.

Incidentally, Steve doesn't like Mansfield. Not enough bears in it for his liking. Now where did I put The House at Pooh Corner?

Life, the Universe, and Mansfield Park. Which Austen should I re-read next?

PS: I got the lovely illustration image at the top here. Another good site for Janeites is this one. And if you want to know why those sites are called "Mollands" and "Pemberley", respectively, you'll just have to read the books, won't you?