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Monthly Archives: December 2010

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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.—Jane Austen

I owe so much to Jane Austen. When I read Pride And Prejudice for the first time, I accepted the opening line as truth, not irony. Not a scathing commentary on Society, or people’s expectations, or any of that. I thought it was universally acknowledged, and it wasn’t after several re-readings that I got the humor; for me, at first, it was all about the love story.

On subsequent reads, I figured out some of what she was saying. I don’t think I’ll ever get all the subtlety and nuance, but Austen was my introduction to understated irony, something that is my stock-in-trade now, both in everyday speech and in my writing.

When I read Austen, I was transported to a land where the smart chick gets the hot guy, families are full of foibles and people spend time at balls in gowns that hide their legs.

I haven’t read Austen in years, perhaps because I read her SO MUCH when I was in young. I think I found her in my parents’ library when I was around 12, the perfect age for love and romance and a happy ending. Her dry wit, ability to distill the world into a small village and her characterization has informed me, imprinted me, in ways I cannot overstate.

In recent years, trying to find time to write, I continue to be impressed with her, writing in secret and actually finishing a book. I have my family’s support to write, and still find it hard. Plus, she didn’t have a computer and files to write into and easily change, which is astonishing. Her barrier to entry was so difficult, and yet she did it, which is an inspiration.

I have a card on my bureau I bought when in Portland, OR many years ago. “Success supposes endeavor,” it says, a quote from Austen’s Emma. I look at it regularly, every time things seem too hard for me to do, every time I wish things were easier. They’re not. Success supposes–and requires–endeavor.

And so I have to thank Austen for inspiring me to endeavor, as well as giving me a platform–writing romance–to endeavor in.

Thanks, Jane. Happy Birthday.

Megan

Posted in Jane Austen | Tagged , | 4 Replies

Happy Birthday, Miss Austen

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Here was a woman about the year 1800 writing without hate, without bitterness, without fear, without protest, without preaching.

This quote from A Room of Her Own by Virginia Woolf is my favorite Austen quote and I’m honored to be blogging on Austen’s birthday. I’m one of many Austen enthusiasts who have gathered together today to offer fabulous prizes (including a couple of my books) and if you go to last week’s post you can find details.

Happy browsing, happy commenting, and good luck!

We all know Austen, or we think we do. She’s the first Romance writer–or is she?–yet she portrays few marriages that are happy in the happy ever after (okay, I give you the Crofts in Persuasion, in their eternal seagoing adventure). I can’t help feeling that she was wise to end her books with the wedding, because if anything, she knows when to stop, when enough is enough. She’s a master of understatement, the precisely poised comment, the ironic aside.

Talking of which … it’s her authorial commentary that makes the novels so brilliant and makes any TV or film adaptation second best. Instead you get the visuals which Austen threw around rather sparsely because she didn’t need them. Virginia Woolf again:

She could not throw herself whole-heartedly into a romantic moment. She had all sorts of devices for evading scenes of passion. Nature and its beauties she approached in a sidelong way of her own. She describes a beautiful night without once mentioning the moon. Nevertheless, as we read the few formal phrases about “the brilliancy of an unclouded night and the contrast of the deep shade of the woods”, the night is at once as “solemn, and soothing, and lovely” as she tells us, quite simply, that it was. The Common Reader

What I’ve learned from reading Austen is the supreme importance of author involvement. The author is the puppet master, the Prospero, if you like, of his/her world. It’s the writer who decides how much the reader should know and when they should know it, when the reader has to work something out for herself, and when it should be told to her. Emma, of course, is the finest example of Austen dropping hints, leaving clues, misleading and playing tricks upon the reader. Who gave Jane the piano? What are Mr. Knightley’s intentions towards whom? What is Frank Churchill really up to?

Austen keeps you on your toes, demanding your attention and promising rewards. I’ve read her books again and again over a number of decades, and each time I’ve greeted the familiar like an old friend but I’ve also found something that I’ve missed, or something new that relates to me now. You change, her books change with you.

Happy birthday, Jane. And thanks.

Thoughts on rereading Austen, anyone?

Posted in Jane Austen | Tagged | 64 Replies

The Door is This Way

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Yours Truly: Jane!

Jane Austen: Good morning. Is it morning? Do you know the date?

YT: Yes, but I’m not telling you on account of you might be shocked how long it’s been since the last time you were sitting around yakking. By the way, it’s your birthday tomorrow.

JA: It is? How lovely. Thank you so much for mentioning my special day–

YT: Right. Special day. Before we talk about your fav cake and shit, can I ask you a question?

JA: (looking a bit shocked) Of course.

YT: You had doors in your house back in the Regency, right?

JA: Certainly.

YT: Good. What did they look like? Because I need to know. I’m trying to write this scene—

JA: You’re an authoress? What a coincidence. I too–

YT: Yes, but only if we define writer as someone who procrastinates any actual writing until there’s nothing left of her soul except panic and the need for caffeine, sugar and cocoa butter and who when she’s freaking hyped up on the stress with like smoke coming out of her ears before she actually gets decent words on the page, finally does something you could call writing. Sort of. Does that sound familiar to you at all?

JA: I think I’m getting a call. (Digs in her reticule.)

YT: They didn’t have cell phones when you were writing. So listen, about Regency doors. I have this scene where the hero and heroine are in this room and they’re alone, but one of them wants to leave, I can’t decide who yet, but that doesn’t actually matter. The point is whoever tries to open the door, when they do that the handle falls off and they get temporarily stuck only I don’t know if they had door knobs back then.

JA: Door knobs?

YT: Crap. Did they have door knobs? Do you know who invented the door knob? Because actually, when I Google, the results are unclear.

JA: Google?

YT: Yes. Google. A search engine. 

JA: But it’s misspelled.

YT: INORITE?

JA: I beg your pardon?

YT: Door knobs, Jane. Concentrate.

JA: Perhaps there were door knobs as early as 1820 but I can’t be sure because **cough** I was not alive in 1820.

YT:  I’m thinking I may have to email the Antique Doorknob Collectors of America or buy one of their books, but I don’t know which one to get. Ack!

JA: Americans collect doorknobs?

YT: Some of us are obsessed. OMG! Look at those doors and hardware. So pretty!

JA: Oh Em Gee?

YT: I’m swooning. Look!

JA: Where is my vinagrette?

YT: You know what I really hate?

JA: Spanx?

YT: Pictures that look exactly on point that have no date. Seriously. There should be a rule that whenever you post a picture of something old you’re REQUIRED to say what date the really old thing was made. You can’t just say, Victorian, or 19th century or back in the olden days. There should be a rule that you have to GIVE THE YEAR!

JA: Could we go back to talking about cake?

YT: Sure. If you want.

Pegasus Cake

Happy Birthday, Jane!

JA: Who’s Emma?

PS. Was I supposed to do a contest thinggee? OK. Comment and I’ll figure out a prize. Not cake, though.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 24 Replies

Jane Austen Ballet

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Austen Week, yay!

Happy Jane Austen Week, everyone! I’m so excited to see our annual tribute to everything Jane on the blog. But first things first–I have a new cover! The Shy Duchess will be out in March 2011, and is a spin-off from the Diamonds of Welbourne Manor anthology. (I think this looks exactly like Lady Emily–and I seriously want to steal her tiara…). The Harlequin Historical Advent Calendar contest Diane mentioned yesterday is still going strong (my day is the 16th–you can go to my website to see details! You can win a grand prize of a Kindle, or any number of daily prizes). And I’ll be at the Borders True Romance blog tomorrow!

And Christmas is flying at us! It’s busy around here, making Christmas candy, finishing the shopping, getting over a throat infection (yuck!). I’ve also been working at the part-time job, teaching a children’s ballet class, as I get them ready for their winter recital this weekend, a smaller version of The Nutcracker. It’s pink tulle, snowflakes, and craziness! And then I had to find something to write about for Jane Austen Birthday week (which is also my mom’s birthday week), and couldn’t think of anything. I’ve already talked about my favorite Austen novel (Persuasion) and my first Austen novel (Emma), and great Austen gifts (you can never go wrong with the Jane action figure!). But what to write about this year???

Since I’m buried in The Nutcracker, I started to wonder–what would it be like if Austen (or one of her contemporaries?) wrote the story? For one thing, there would be lots of opportunity for some great Regency-style costumes!

Let’s say Lady Whatsit is having her annual Christmas Ball at her grand estate of Whatsit Park, an invitation much sought after by every member of the ton. She has a claret punch, a roast goose, and fruit cakes, and copious decorations of holly and ivy with red bows. (No tree of course–they’re Regency, not Victorian! Maybe a giant stalk of ivy will have to grow out of the ballroom floor when the scene changes). There’s waltzing and flirting in the conservatory. Lady Whatsit’s two adorable children, Lady Clara and Lord Bratley, attend the party, and their godfather, the eccentric Lord Lotsamoney, gives them gifts. Clara’s is a nutcracker doll (were there such things in the Regency? I don’t know…), in the shape of–let’s say Wellington. Lord Bratley (who lives up to his name) snatches it from his sister and breaks it!

Lady Clara is heartbroken. She sneaks down after the party, bandages up poor Wellington, and falls asleep. But she’s not alone for long. Along come the French army of nefarious mice! Wellington battles them valiantly, and Clara helps out by tossing her shoe at Napoleon Mouse’s head. The French are run out of the drawing room!

In gratitude, Wellington takes Lady Clara to a grand campaign tent where the Sugar Plum Fairy (who is emphatically not Harriette Wilson) introduces her to all the grateful nations of Europe, who dance for her. Spain, Russia, China (don’t know how they got in there), etcetera. They shower her with sweets, tiaras, and gowns before she dances once more with Wellington and is then whisked back home again!




What is your favorite part of The Nutcracker? If they made an Austen novel into a ballet, which should it be? (I’d love to see a Pride & Prejudice ballet!) To one commenter on today’s post, I have a copy of Jane Austen: An Illustrated Anthology!

Posted in Risky Regencies | Tagged | 13 Replies
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