I Love a Ball: Emma, Chapters 31-40

Congratulations, Team Emma Read-Along! You’ve made it halfway, and you haven’t even thrown your copy of the novel into the fire in disgust. (At least, I assume you haven’t, or at least that you bought a new copy and continued. We’re not quitters here.) In this section, things are starting to get REAL around Highbury, like so:

“Oh, Miss Woodhouse,” says Frank Churchill, “Why are you always so right?” Aaaaand here we are at the crux of the issue, man-wise. No wonder Emma likes him! And no wonder Mr. Knightley wants to throttle him 100% of the time! Seriously, though: Churchill, you are not helping. As much as I complain about Mr. Knightley, I think it’s refreshing that Emma’s choice is less about the manly attributes of her suitors and more about who she is around them. (I suppose this halfway answers my earlier question about whether Mr. Knightley changes at all over the course of the novel—maybe he doesn’t, but since the novel isn’t called Mr. Knightley, maybe he doesn’t need to. I find this slightly unsatisfying, but I get it.)

In other news, I hope that I am supposed to be enjoying Mrs. Elton, because she is the worst, and I love her. (I have a long history of liking detestable characters—Pete Campbell on Mad Men, I’m looking at you—but Mrs. Elton isn’t even bad for a reason. She’s just terrible for the sake of being terrible, and it is GREAT.) Just an endless stream of awful from Mrs. August Elton, and I never get tired of it, either.

So, do we think Maple Grove is next door to Rosings Park, or just around the block? (But also, oh gosh, Mrs. Elton and Lady Catherine! I would pay some body parts to see THAT dinner party.)

Sooo, here’s the part where Mrs. Elton & Jane Fairfax compare being a governess to being a slave—an actual, literal slave—which sounds tremendously tone-deaf (at best) to modern ears.  However! Emma takes place right in the middle of the British abolitionist movement—and so this strikes me as a small but fascinating insight into the social environment of Jane’s time, and a rare glance outside the immediate situation of the novel.

I loved the part at the ball where Emma realizes how hot Knightley is. (Can I call him “Knightley,” or does that make me the worst?) His “tall, firm, upright figure”! His “gentlemanlike manner” and “natural grace”! Because here’s the thing: it takes something for a man to impress Emma Woodhouse, and here we see the once-over of realization, pretty much in real time and pretty much for the first time.

And then he dances with Harriet, and I die. This is what does it for me and Knightley: the kindness of his dancing with Harriet, who’s already in an awkward situation and probably steaming in her own embarrassment at being partnerless, well, FINE, JANE, THE JUDGMENTAL GUY IS AWESOME. (Never mind that it causes Harriet strife later. She gets her happy ending! IT’S A GESTURE.)

Readers? What do you think? Lay it on me.

Dancing with Open Windows: Emma, Chapters 21-30

Here we are in early-to-middling Emma, otherwise known as “the introduction section.” Jane Fairfax! Mrs. Augusta Elton! The Campbells, the Dixons, and the Coles, and one mysterious pianoforte! Some of these people are important and some of them are not, and one of them is an inanimate object, but Jane wishes you to remember them all. (It’s okay if you have to page back to remember about the Dixons. Not that I would do that. But you, my friends, are perfectly allowed.)

Moving on!

Harriet, sweet Harriet. (Anybody? Anybody?) In this section, the true suckitude of Harriet’s situation comes into focus—for the reader if not for Emma. She’s running into her ex at the store! Her not-really-ex is showing up with his new wife! Whether Harriet herself sees the ways in which Emma’s screwed her over is anybody’s guess.

(I’ve been thinking more about Emma and what she does to Harriet, and I love how Jane makes her so totally confident in the bull-in-Royal-Doulton-outlet effect she’s having on Harriet’s life. Not a doubt to be seen! I read recently that the key to writing a good villain is creating a character who believes 100% that he or she is in the right; I don’t think Austen meant for Emma to be a villain, exactly, but I don’t think “heroine” is quite the word at this juncture, either.)

Aaaand here we meet Jane Fairfax, a character I cycle between half-forgetting (“…Jane. Right. The orphan. Yes. I knew that.”) and not knowing what to make of. And I suppose that’s what Jane/Emma/Mr. Knightley means by “one cannot love a reserved person”—we’re continually told how lovely this beautiful and accomplished orphan-and-governess-to-be is, but we never get a grasp on her, even when things get, ahem, REAL. This sensation intensifies towards the end of the novel (wink wink, nudge nudge, all of you who’ve read this before), and maybe it’s a story for a later post, but for now let’s just say: frustrating and fascinating and also kind of a ghost. WHO ARE YOU, JANE FAIRFAX?

Hee, Frank Churchill goes sixteen miles each way ON HORSEBACK to get his hair cut. Emma thinks this is kind of dumb. There’s  “an air of foppery and nonsense in it which she could not approve,” and if you think I won’t be working the words “an air of foppery” into casual conversation this week, well, we must not know each other very well.

And finally, Emma condescends to have dinner with the Coles, who are “only moderately genteel,” and now you know what I’m getting embroidered onto satin jackets for my immediate family this Christmas. The Coles probably eat squeeze cheese on Triscuits during the Super Bowl, too. Finally, I’ve found my people in the Jane Austen universe!

Readers? Thoughts?

Get On Down, Get On Down the Jane: Emma, Chapters 11-20

Aha!

Did we surprise you? Did you think we’d abandoned our Emma readalong in a fit of pique? Did you put the novel down, or finish it without us? Might you be stuck in the middle of what is turning out to be a surprisingly long book? No matter what the situation, we do hope you’ll come back and read with us: Mrs. Fitzpatrick is indeed taking a brief holiday from posting, on account of the Emma-rage-induced coma she’s currently experiencing (not really), but I’ll be taking over and continuing our stroll through the novel. Probably with Mr. Knightley. The man loves a good walk almost as much as he despises a graceless lady. Or so I hear.

If you’re questioning my credentials as Emma readalong ringmistress, let me tell you: I may not have Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s existential malaise about it, and about Emma in particular, but I do have my own complete lack of opinion, which surely must be just as good? It’s been so long since I’ve encountered Miss Woodhouse that I’m practically, as they say, experiencing it again for the very first time.

Even better, my own mental landscape for Emma is the weirdest possible mishmash: since I barely remember the novel, my brain is like some kind of crazy Regency Surrealist painting, mostly of Clueless and the most recent BBC adaptation. It’s Romola Garai and Michael Gambon (pterodactyl arms and all) and Breckin Meyer and everything else, and let me tell you, it’s super strange and entertaining.

But let’s get down to business.

So, it’s not exactly that I have a problem with Mr. Knightley in the broad sense—there’s some stuff later that’s downright delightful—but I sometimes think he’s my least favorite Austen love interest (though that may have been before I met Edmund Bertram). Here is why I have a hard time with Mr. Knightley: “Hey, let’s be friends and make up,” he says, three seconds after calling her a spoiled child who’s always wrong. To her face! I guess we’re supposed to think that because he’s kind of right, he must not also be kind of a jerk. I just, I don’t know, think those things are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

Which brings me to something else: Does Mr. Knightley learn anything over the course of the novel? Does he change at all, or is it only Emma who needs to get in touch with her better self? (I suppose in a book called Emma, the onus of personal growth might lie with, well, EMMA. But he can be awfully judgy.)

So, there’s half an inch of snow on the ground, and Isabella’s freaking out about getting home. Which I would mock if I hadn’t once made Miss Osborne drive us through Rocky Mountain National Park in exactly this same situation. Snow is scary, people! It will make your car slide off the road, and nobody will ever find you, and if you fall asleep, you’ll freeze to death (or so my fourth-grade reading book told me) and be one of those people who’s uncovered six months later, at the thaw. Or, you know, after the half-inch of snow melts. I’m from California! What do you want from me?

Anyway, Jane calls Isabella Knightley “the good-hearted Mrs. John Knightley,” which I’ve now decided is the Regency version of “she has a good personality.” Well, bless her heart.

Every once in awhile, it kills me that Jane lived and wrote before the heyday of the screwball comedy film. The part with Mr. Woodhouse and the new maid and the perfect consistency of gruel? You guys, that is a bit, and neither Laurel and Hardy nor Lorelai Gilmore could do any better.

On the other hand, neither Laurel and Hardy nor Lorelai Gilmore had the endurance to write an entire chapter of Miss Bates (Chapter 19, or Volume 2, Chapter 1, if you’re using my weird library copy). Nor did, I must say, I have the fortitude of heart to read it all in one sitting. Or, like, five sittings. That woman makes my everything glaze over, AND SHE ISN’T EVEN REAL.

So what do you say, Austen Nation? Another ten chapters? See you soon; same bat time, same bat channel. Same bat judgmental dude out for a walk.

 

 

 

 

 

Grrr, Argggh! Emma, Chapters 6–10

Hey, Emma fans! Did you get through Emma’s snobbery and manipulative jerkiness, part 1? Good job! I really do hate this part of the book. . . That’s why we’re a little behind posting, but I’ll try to make up lost time.

Chapters 6–10, Scheming: Emma decides Harriet should marry Mr. Elton and not Robert Martin. So she makes Harriet fall in love will Mr. Elton and reject Mr. Martin, and she convinces herself that Mr. Elton loves Harriet.

OK, let’s cut to the chase. Emma, WTF are you doing to Harriet? Why do you make her reject this guy that she really seems to like? Emma seems diabolical here—Machiavellian, evil. It is so off-putting that I spend a lot of time finding excuses for her behavior.

• It’s interesting, I think, that Miss Woodhouse could never visit Mrs. Robert Martin. Snobby and weird to us, but everyone agrees about that. Mr. Knightley, everyone. So it’d be sort of like convincing one of your friends that she shouldn’t take a job 3,000 miles away. Your friend kind of likes it there, but also likes it here. You don’t have many friends and you’d be lonely without her. You also think you can get her a better job here. This is selfish of you, sure. But more understandable than convincing her not to take a job 3 miles away.
• It would be less evil if Emma just said these things. But Emma isn’t really a straightforward person. And Harriet really is pretty clueless! So Emma gives us a lesson in Machiavellian tactics and misdirection. There’s no excuse for that.
• Also interesting that Mr. Knightley thinks Mr. Martin is Emma’s inferior in society just as much as Emma does. The difference is that Mr. Knightley thinks Harriet is socially inferior too. It’s purely Emma’s imaginings about Harriet’s background that make Emma think Harriet is not inferior to her.
• And, my favorite argument about this: Mr. Darcy does exactly the same thing to Mr. Bingley! And boasts about it to Colonel Fitzwilliam! Yet we don’t hold it against him, dislike him for it, as we do Emma. Maybe if we heard how Mr. Darcy dissuades Mr. Bingley, and how Mr. Bingley responded, we would think about it more. It’s so off-camera that it’s easy to ignore. We can imagine them acting in the best possible way—we don’t have to hear Mr. Darcy manipulating Mr. Bingley explicitly.

OK, enough of that. Here are some other scenic points along the way:

• I’m fascinated by the description of Emma’s natural talent and lack of application when they’re talking about her portraits in Chapter 6. She is like the quintessential slacker gifted kid. I can relate.
• Check out the conversation on What Men Want between Emma and Mr. Knightley in Chapter 8. Emma says (playfully), men like pretty girls better than smart ones. But Mr. Knightley says, “Men of sense . . . do not want silly wives.” I love Austen and her women-respecting heroes! Mr. Knightley acknowledges Emma has “reason”—rational thought. No surprise to us now, but this was a debate that went back and forth at the time. Could women think rationally or were they entirely governed by emotion. Emma’s a flawed person, but she is intelligent. I’d love to know how readers of the time viewed that—I know they didn’t like her, but was her “reason,” her brain, a thing people doubted?
• Mr. Elton is the Justin Bieber of Highbury—everybody’s crush! So popular! So beautiful!
• Mr. Woodhouse is almost a caricature of old people in general – anything new or any change is terrible! But Emma is like her father in supposing what’s good or bad for her is good or bad for everyone. Jane makes fun of Mr. Woodhouse explicitly: “his spirits [were] affected by his daughter’s attachment to her husband.”
• It’s interesting that we see Emma’s charity to the poor family—maybe Austen felt like she needed to show us that Emma is objectively a good person. Also, Harriet is the complete yes-woman!
• I like the John Knightleys—I like the inclusion of the kids, I like the character of John Knightley as being good but not perfect—considerate and kindly, but no nonsense

But I am glad Emma’s mistreatment of Harriet is almost over. She doesn’t do her best by Jane Fairfax, but it’s all much more understandable. I guess our lesson here is, don’t make a friend of someone who worships you. No good will come of it!

Handsome, Clever, and Rich: Emma, Chapters 1–5

Hi, Emma fans. Alas, yes, this post is almost a week later than I promised, and I also read only half as much! What can I say? Life has been too medical around here (nothing life-threatening or picturesque, just time-consuming.) Plus, I underestimated my Emma Resistance Level.

Also, I underestimated the length of the book—I figured with 55 chapters, we’d better keep moving, but I forgot how long they are, so we’re now doing 5 chapters/week until roughly Easter. So, yes, if you’re just now joining us, grab a copy of Emma and snark away in the comments!

Chapters 1–5: The Exposition. In which we meet most of the main characters. Emma adopts the beautiful but dim Harriet Smith as her friend project, and is concerned that Harriet’s crush is beneath her.

• I can’t get over the first few lines. Jane, you want us to hate Emma, don’t you? You are deliberately setting her up to be unsympathetic—I see where this is going!

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

• Interesting that Emma’s mom died “too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of her caresses.” Apparently that did not distress or vex her?—or maybe it was too common to be a big deal? In the recent BBC version (Romola Garai) they did this emotional intro about all the kids losing their mothers. Clearly trying to thwart Miss Austen’s plans for how we view Emma.
• I know I’ve got to get past the first page, but Jane makes this big thing about Emma being sad over Miss Taylor’s marriage, and I can’t decide if we’re supposed to think she’s being selfish or what? Or just has complex emotions like a normal person!
• Oh Mr. Woodhouse! I do love Mr. Woodhouse! I do love that I don’t have to live with him, because I’d go crazy. I’m remembering now how much chitchat there is in this book—how vividly Jane gets people talking on and on about the most trivial things. (That never happens in real life of course.)
• Jane really has Views on schools, doesn’t she? “not any thing which professed, in long sentences of refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality upon new principles and new systems…” She doesn’t usually get this worked up, does she? (BTW, I work in education, and unfortunately this is still very pertinent!)
• And so it begins—the Harriet Smith trauma. Ouch ouch ouch, this gets so hard to read! I do love how Harriet is struck Mr. Martin’s birthday being “just a fortnight and a day’s difference! which is very odd!” 😉 Poor little Harriet!
• Also, I am always struck by “the real good-will of a mind delighted with its own ideas.” When you are happy, you do more good in the world. Very true, I think, but so debated!
• Emma attacks Mr. Martin for having no “air,” not being “genteel,” and compares the air and manners of the other men in the book. I’ve read this a dozen times, but I realized I don’t really know quite what this means! I certainly can’t put it into words. Can anyone explain what she means by this? We know it isn’t that Mr. Martin is rude…
• And then, when Mr. Knightley says, “I should like to see Emma in love, and in some doubt of a return; it would do her good.” Ooh, the first time I read that, I was so mad! (I had never been in love myself, and was always in control.) Now I don’t know what I think. It still seems kind of callous—the sort of thing that’s easy to joke about, but hard to experience yourself… I don’t know.

What did you think of Chapters 1–5?

I am not looking forward to Chapters 6–10 (AKA Emma the Manipulative B-word), but I promise to forge ahead!

 

Mansfield Park 2014: Coming to a Fake Casting Call Near You

Well, we’ve finished the novel, people, so let’s get down to the real work: Mansfield Park 2014, the mega-budgeted star-magnet “romantic” “comedy,” which draws unprecedented, gender-balanced crowds to the multiplex but also woos critics with its profound insights on the human instinct to escape the ha-ha! The Oscar (whichever one you like) shall be ours, and we can all crowd up on the stage in dresses that make us look way worse than any self-respecting famous person, because we have dressed ourselves and are concerned that we may have lost our $4 Target earrings on the way up the aisle! They will probably have to play us off with music, because we are loud and difficult to corral and probably waving at Colin Firth!

Are you with me, Austen Nation?

By which I mean, it’s been well-documented that the most recent adaptations of Mansfield Park have been…odd. To be fair, it’s not an easy story to adapt: there’s a play, and then there isn’t a play, and then adultery, and then some goody-two-shoes get married (goody four-shoes?). The End! We’re just waiting for the agents’ calls to pour in!

But really. I think we can do better. So let’s talk casting.

Fanny Price: I keep coming back to Zoe Boyle, Downton Abbey‘s Lavinia Swire, for no reason I can quite put my finger on. Who can play virtous yet inert, and make us like it? Readers?

(Fun fact: Just this evening, I learned that the 1997 theatrical-release Fanny is, in fact, Frances O’Connor and not Embeth Davidtz, Mark Darcy’s snooty law partner in Bridget Jones’s Diary [“To Mark and his Natasha!”]. For YEARS I’ve thought this. And I’ve seen the movie!)

Edmund Bertram: I have to support the existing choice of Jonny Lee Miller on this one, though it’s primarily because of his performance as Mr. Knightley in the most recent BBC Emma. Handsome and kind, yet vaguely judgmental? He does that so well. (See also: I am trying VERY hard not to suggest Dan Stevens, especially considering the next entry down. But Dan Stevens, you guys.)

Mary Crawford: Hayley Atwell in the 2007 BBC one sounds like strong work to me, and I hate to typecast the Downton crowd—but my imaginary Mary has, since she first stepped onto the page, been Michelle Dockery. (My brain is a nerrrrrrd.) Tell me I’m wrong.

Henry Crawford: Everybody I can think of for this is either Too Much (Ryan Gosling, self? REALLY?) or an infant (Matthew Lewis!). And here I thought brainstorming hot British actors would be my shining moment of usefulness. Help me, readers! You’re my only hope!

Lady Bertram: This really COULD be Embeth Davidtz. I hope she likes pugs.

Mrs. Norris: Julie Walters. Imelda Staunton. Brenda Blethyn, reprising her role as Mrs. Bennet. Who knew middle-aged lady actors were Britain’s top commodity?

Readers, who would you pick, for these characters or any other? Let’s hear it!

 

Feels like the first time

I recently got a note on Facebook from a friend of the family. “You’ll be so proud!” it said. “I just read my first Pride and Prejudice!”

We get a lot of this sort of thing, we Austen bloggers.

And the thing is, mostly, that we are proud. But then, proud is also a misnomer. What we are is pleased—for ourselves, and for the first-timers. For our part, we get new Austen pals with whom to discuss and enjoy! And—not that we’d ever bring this up, being of fine breeding and proper training—we’ve been proven right! People like what we like, and that’s always nice, not to mention a sign of excellent judgment on their parts. OBVIOUSLY.

But we’re even more excited for them. What could be better than seeing Lizzy and Darcy (or Emma and Knightley, or Elinor and Edward, or Anne and her Captain) with fresh eyes? It’s an accomplishment, yes, but it’s also a kind of engagement; especially in a literary and pop-culture landscape that embraces primarily the very new, there’s a sense that discovering the Austen universe is a bit like discovering that old things can be funny, and sharp, and hit romantic notes that we somehow expect them not to know about. (Jane’s humor is, I think, the most surprising thing to new readers. They just seem so shocked! Wry humor: not invented by Mark Twain, or so we hear.) From that first page, there’s so much to enjoy, and I, for one, just want to hear about it.

And so, if you’re just reading your first Pride and Prejudice—or Emma, or Sense and Sensibility, or (let’s be brave) Northanger Abbey—do an Austenite near you. (Or not near you. We’re on Facebook! HINT HINT.) You just might make her day, as long as you’re also making your own.

Jane Austen/Harry Potter Fantasy Casting

It’s rainy and muddy in Austenland right now, and the good people there were thinking of passing the time with a little amateur dramatics when, lo and behold, a wormhole opened up and a copy of the Harry Potter series dropped back in time and into our heroes and heroines laps! While Fanny Price looked on in horror, a fantasy casting frenzy commenced.

Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley: All the heroines wanted to be one of these two. Hermione has the best brains and get the most to do, while Ginny is, of course, the love interest, and feisty in her own right. Emma tried to claim Hermione by pointing out that she read the most, but Lizzie pointed out that making lists of books is not the same as reading them! Also, who sticks up for herself and her friends most in a tight spot? All right, Lizzie, fine, you can be Hermione. Anne Elliot gently reminded the others that Ginny was also a put-upon member of a large family, but Catherine Morland pointed out that she was the only one who played a sport, baseball, so she should be Ginny. . .

Harry Potter: Most of the men made a claim to this, but the ladies agreed that none suited so well as Captain Wentworth. He was dashing, he was a common (not too bright) man who did things, won hearts, stirred up controversy . . .

Ron Weasley: Mr. Darcy disdained being Capt. Wentworth’s sidekick, even for Lizzie’s sake, but Mr. Bingley said he didn’t mind if he did.

Lord Voldemort: Of course, Darcy was attracted by the role. But everyone agreed quietly than it really belonged to his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And she agreed that it was  fitting she should play a noble role.

Professor Albus Dumbledore: Mr. Knightley or Mr. Bennet, for sure, the from-the-side-watching know-it-alls.

Professor Severus Snape: Lizzie laughed, and said surely this role belonged to Mr. Darcy!

Draco Malfoy: Henry Crawford, to be sure. Draco doesn’t get much action, poor boy, but Crawford could identify with his halfhearted redemption.

Professor Gilderoy Lockhart: For sheer daffiness, vanity, and ego, everyone agreed, Sir Walter Elliot should have the honor here. (Mr. Collins would have done, had he been handsome.)

At this point, the ladies’ scuffles over who was to be Ginny Weasley became really quite alarming. Mary Crawford was heard to say that Ginny had always had plenty of boyfriends to choose from, and that therefore she should be Ginny. Then Lydia Bennet proclaimed loudly that she had more, and should be. Mr. Bennet went into one of his rages, and took his whole family back to Longbourn, leaving the others to practice riding their broomsticks in the drawing room and casting spells at the card table.

. . .

Obviously, I have merely scratched the surface here! Readers, what do you think? What obvious character connections have I missed?

Photo credit: Magic wand image ©amanky. Used under Creative Commons licensing.

Someday my flawed but lovable hero will come

For the first time in a good long while, we have a Disney fairy tale on our hands—a true “Once Upon a Time,” sugar-coated Grimm’s-ripoff fairy tale—and all the buzz over this Rapunzel business has the generic Prince Charming type on my mind. Surprise! But really: his name is Charming. Blame me if you must.

Jane, of course, isn’t in the business of fairy tales. Happy endings? Yes. True love’s kiss? Usually. But Jane is fundamentally a realist, and in her version of Regency England, sometimes perfectly intelligent and likeable ladies end up with guys like Mr. Collins—who never turns into a prince, no matter how many kisses he gets (to be fair: twice, max).

Oddly enough, with a slight change of scene and a good fairy godmother, many of the heroines of the Austen universe would make pretty good fairy tale princesses, or princesses-to-be—think smart, dreamy, plucky, maybe a bit bossy (ahem, Miss Woodhouse), and generally virtuous even in the case of undeserved poverty. The men, however, definitely tend away from the Prince Charming type—probably, to be honest, because Austen took the time to develop her gentlemen in a way that isn’t on the menu for most Disneyfied princes. They’re handsome, those princes, but let’s say complex emotional arcs aren’t exactly their bag (though 30 Rock tells me that Prince Eric, the gold standard for animated hotness, was based on fictional Jon Hamm‘s high school swim team photo—and I’ll take that fake fact to my grave).

Sorry, Austen gents. We’re taking away your…well, whatever it is you call a prince’s little crown (tiaros?), and here’s why:

Mr. Darcy: Prince on the inside, Beast on the outside. Surely in possession of a trusty steed (for that fifty miles of good road) and a true heart, but a bit on the oversensitive side. Definitely doesn’t hold with fairy godmothers; is probably made extra cranky by extraneous acts of the supernatural.

Mr. Knightley: Definitely the most outwardly princely of the bunch—handsome and well-intentioned, and ripe for occasional high-horse unseating at the hands of his lady love, which of course is always a nice touch. Prone to snootiness and angry speeches—theoretically appropriate for the position, but ultimately unbecoming to a man with the last name Charming (who, remember, may eventually need to get it on with a very recent scullery maid).

Captain Wentworth: He’s a pirate, not a prince. I mean, come on.

Col. Brandon – Too old for the Prince Eric treatment. Also, princes don’t have wards or wear flannel waistcoats. Unlikely to burst into song.

Henry Tilney – Okay, cute and clever. He’s the prince’s bookish little brother—sarcastic, and into a good novel and the price of muslin. Possibly too detail-oriented and not take-charge enough for the average dragon-slaying mission, though excellent for an entertaining retelling later.

Edmund Bertram – A clergyman! And not even a first-rate one! Certainly a good guy, but too much in need of a rich princess to bail him out of his own financial duress.

How to Be a Jane Austen Father

Mr. Darcy, Mr. Knightley, gentlemen: congratulations on landing the babe of your choice. I have no doubt, birth control being what it is, that you’ll all soon be fathers. As you might guess, the rules of being an awesome Austen dude change a bit with dad-hood. Let’s go over some basics.

1. Break off, I repeat, break off any entails your estate is under. I know being a manly man you assume you’ll have a son, but it just might not happen that way. And you don’t want your daughter to have to marry her skanky cousin, now do you?
2. You guys have all chosen well, but just in case. . . if your wife doesn’t quite live up to your expectations, don’t ignore her and leave her to her own devices. It doesn’t pay, and the kids might not turn out well.
3. Speaking of which, take some interest in your children. Let them know you love them, and don’t leave them under the care of their evil aunts. (Note: Almost all aunts in literature are evil. It’s one of those phenomena.)
4. Don’t think about your own looks, and don’t value the kids based on theirs. Keep as few mirrors in your dressing room as possible.
5. When making out your will, don’t leave the kids tied to their mother’s purse strings. Let them choose their own careers and destinies. Everyone will be a lot happier.

OK, guys, got that? Fatherhood is tricky territory. So watch your step and one day you too might receive a cravat that looks like a fish.