Friends: "Your British accent is really, really terrible."
Me: "Hey! Just this morning I was reading Sense and Sensibility out loud to myself and I sounded great!"
Friend: "NO! That can't be true!"
Other friend: "It's her secret single behaviour...."
I'm not midway through Sense and Sensibility, but I must admit I've seriously come around on Elinor.
Yes, she's boring (not Fanny Price boring, but still). Yes, she's not as romantic as Marianne. But she's also not as silly, frankly. The way I think of Wuthering Heights as a teenage girl's fantasy, I think of Marianne as a heroine to the Crushing on Zac Efron crowd. (That's who the kids like these days, right? Zac Efron? Is it bad, by the way, that I too walked out of 17 Again with a wee crush on him?)
Elinor's a heroine to the been-there, done-that, keep your chin up for the love of dignity, set. I think Jane Austen may have liked her better.
And the girl can take a slap in the face like no one's business.
Also, just started reading Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking for book club -- a very strange juxtaposition. [Oh my God. Wikipedia says this book is a classic in "mourning literature." Is there such a thing? Mourning literature? How is that helpful? Of course, it's not supposed to be "helpful," I suppose. For that, one moves on to the self-help section? Ok, stopping my not-based-on-any-facts-at-all rant.]
I've been warned about this one: Writing's gorgeous but the chances of getting seriously depressed are good.
The book starts on this note -- words I imagine typed, zombie-like, soon after the author's husband's death:
Life changes fast.
Life changes in the instant.
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.
The question of self-pity.
4 comments:
To my embarassment, I think I was even harsher in my assessment of your (awful) British accent. I apologise. But don't ever stop, it's so amusing, it makes me smile.
But seriously, you sound like a teenager searching despartely for her high school affectation, and has decided on the "civilizing," "dulcet" tones avaliable in an English accent.
And please, please don't come back talking of "flats," "queues," "brollies," "chips," and "the colonies." Just don't.
Wow, T -- I wouldn't have dubbed your jokes as harsh until this: "But seriously, you sound like a teenager searching despartely for her high school affectation..."
Ouch.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!
You know I love you, Trisha...
Ummm, new topic all together... I'm not sure what to make of the "The Year of Magical Thinking"... I read it in the midst of our psychiatry lectures, and I have to disagree with your initial assessment - writing is in fact a very typical, and healthy way to deal with mourning. I found myself wondering as I read it if you, or another of my "wordy" friends might respond to tragedy in the same way, as compared to those of us who aren't in the habit of writing about anything, let alone grief. I'm definitely interested to find out your final thoughts when all is said and done.
And, sorry TSS, but queue is a fabulous word, especially when the alternative is line-ups (are we in prison? Is it the starters for the game?). On the other hand, jumper is just lame.
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