Sense or Sensibility

I love me some Jane Austen-- well, I'm partial to most 19th century English romantic novelists. But Jane is the one I return to time and time again. I suppose living in England brings more of this period of time to life-- especially in light of the recent pomp and circumstance of the Royal Wedding. But whether it's re-reading my already dog-eared novels or watching a BBC (or Hollywood) interpretation, they make me laugh and inevitably make me cry-- both from happiness and also from nostalgia. What is it about these characters that so resonate with me?

Perhaps with Jane (may I call her Jane? Or is Miss Austen more appropriate?) it is because her own history is so often reflected on the pages of her novels, giving her characters soul. If you've studied Austen and know anything of her early life (or if you've seen the "historical" film "Becoming Jane") her personal misfortune (not being able to marry the man she loves because of her station in life and his needing to marry someone of fortune to provide for his extended family) inspired the characters she wrote to always live happily ever after-- regardless of class, money, pride or prejudice. For Jane's characters, love always triumphed. A surprisingly modern notion in such Victorian times.

I've always related to Jane's more sensible characters-- Elizabeth Bennett, Eleanor Dashwood... the slightly stubborn but entirely proper ones where the right thing far outweighed the heart thing. But the older I get, and the more I re-read the novels, I get the impression that there's more depth and dimension to Jane's characters and like real life, things aren't always black and white.

"Sense and Sensibility" is by far my favorite of Jane's oeuvre. The circumstance of the Dashwood family, the women produced through a second marriage being turned out of their luxurious life because the heir-- a son, was product of the first marriage. The proper Eleanor suffering silently at the loss of her beloved Edward while the headstrong and passionate Marianne loves fully and unconditionally for everyone to see and then later suffers painfully outwardly in all of the same glory. The spectrum of the women's lives converge in the novel; Eleanor begins in a place where her head and propriety rules, and Marianne at the opposite end of the spectrum only meet in the middle before diverging again, their roles having switched. Eleanor, now believing that love ultimately wins out and Marianne more sensible and practical, marrying not without love, but without the abandonment that your first, true love brings. It turns out that Eleanor is the Cinderella character-- the stuff of fairy tales. While Marianne is the reality. The more I contemplate this, the more I realize that perhaps there is more Marianne in me than I'd thought. That perhaps the more sensible ones are so because they were formerly all sensibility, and that the sensibility has, in some ways, been beaten out of them... due to bad experiences, disappointments or I guess what we call life in general. I guess that's the trade off for growing wiser-- losing your blissful innocence. But sometimes I do wish I had hearkened the day where you believed there was only good in the world; and that no one would ever hurt you and no one you loved ever got hurt. I suppose that I see myself in both women although I can't help but feel that Eleanor's circumstance was luckier-- that maybe the surprise of love winning out is better than the defeat that it does not always.

Do you have an Austen (or other literary) doppelganger? Who is it?

Read Me

My friend Erika wrote this awesome book about the Chicago Board of Trade (CBOT) and Chicago Mercantile Exchange (CME) merger that was just published this week. Sound like it's not your cup of tea? Maybe not-- but Erika is a super talented, intelligent and witty writer. She makes what may seem like a snooze a humorous and interesting read (this, by the way, is not a snooze-- just ask this girl who got a sneak peak at the early chapters that made up her book proposal). And no, I'm not just plugging it because she's my friend and she very kindly gave me a shout-out in the acknowledgements (but seriously, HOW COOL is that?!? I always knew I'd see my name in print!). Not just for the finance crowd, this really is a fascinating read (especially if you've ever been through a M&A). Plus, there is a cast of characters to whom anyone who's worked for "The Man" will be able to relate. Buy it today! I guarantee that, if anything, you'll walk away smarter.

My name is Inigo Montoya...

Everyone who grew up in the 80s knows The Princess Bride. The adventure, quirky story lines (Billy Crystal and Carol Kane, anyone? Who could have been funnier? Even Andre the Giant, may he RIP, who despite innate lack of acting ability, managed to shine), and of course, true love, made for a prototypical teenage following. Probably ranking up there with 80s love-angst-y films like "Say Anything," it's the story that combines adventure with the undeniable anthem of every little girl: fairy tale love where your prince crosses oceans, land and, well, swamps to fight for his one true love.

But, have you read the book?

I have-- it was my "treat" one finals term at Vassar. To ensure optimum focus and limit distractions, I used to motivate myself with a treat when I was studying or writing a paper. Sometimes it was getting to change the music (I would make myself listen to the same cd until a paper was written; I'd get to have an ice cream when I finished a chapter (or 10); got to read a "fun" book (rather than school book) when I finished a subject. One time it was reading The Princess Bride (which, if anyone is interested, IS in the Vassar library).

While for the most part the movie follows the storyline of the book, the author's voice is not as defined in the film. And he's (yes, it's a he) funny. He's jaded, and somewhat acerbic (which, I suppose, does comes across in some of his characters), and sarcastic. It's part of the funny. And he doesn't believe in love-- or, so he'd like you to think. He channels the more "realistic" emotionally scarred, cynical disbelief into certain characters while letting others believe, in ignorant bliss, that fairy tales do exist. Take this passage from the preface of the book, for example:

"...but to take the title words-- 'true love and high adventure'-- I believed in that once. I thought my life was going to follow that path. Prayed that it would. Obviously it didn't, but I don't think there's high adventure anymore. Nobody takes out a sword nowadays and cries, 'Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die!' And true love? You can forget about that too. I don't know if I love anything truly anymore beyond the porter house at Peter Luger's and the cheese enchilada at El Parador's (sorry about that Helen)."

Helen's his wife.

Of course there's a deeper meaning behind this whimsical tale-- and that's one of what happens to love-- and life-- when you grow up. When you're young and idealistic and you've never been in love and you don't know what it's all about, it's easy to believe that everything should be like a fairy tale. To paraphrase a wise friend, "...[new] love's like anything new-- it's exciting, all that discovery and unknown. But once you've fallen in love again... and again... it sort of becomes old hat... and it's not exciting anymore. It doesn't mean that you don't love the person... it's just a different, grown up-- err, more sustainable, love."

Ouch.

I'm sure you can relate. I was all angsty and devastated about love when I was young and blissfully ignorant about the ways of the world. I thrived on it. Who didn't? But I wonder if we ever truly grow out of it. I mean, we all subscribe to the idea of romance-- romantic comedies, date night, valentine's day... we still believe in romance, but just in a more grown up, realistic way, right? (or is that an oxymoron).

But maybe that's the great divide-- can there be high adventure and true love when, indeed, you're all grown up? And, more importantly, would you, as an adult, fight for your one true love?

Pink Books for K

Ahhhh, Tesco. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

My dear friend, K, teases me about my love for "pink books."
Translation? Chick-lit. I must admit, this genre is a guilty
pleasure-- a totally brainless read that is entirely satisfying. Two
hours? Check! And longer than US magazine so all the more happiness in
the making (I have, by the way, found one retailer-- a magazine stand
in a train station in Birmingham, that does sell US).

Tesco has a HUGE section of pink books! I think this really is
the magic store. It's no Target, but it's up there.

The Black Death

Inspired by our recent trek to Scotland, I picked up this gem from Tesco (aka my favorite all purpose store because there's no Target in the UK) the other day. A novel about the plague?! Sweet! I guess that tour of the underground city and tales of witchcraft, gruesome capital punishment and, yes, the plague, peaked my interest. I'm wrapping up two other books and then plan to dive into this one. I mean, come on-- a novel about the plague! It's gotta be good!