And the Jane-velope Goes To…

If you are anything like the Austenacious team, you will be spending Sunday evening watching people you do not know win awards you did not help bestow. You may or may not care about the awards themselves (though, ahem, you may feel unusually strongly that Cate Blanchett should win for Blue Jasmine); you may be watching to ensure that Lupita Nyong’o has worn something flawless, or to see who’s photobombing whom, or maybe you’re just super into the Mani-Cam.

And at some point, somebody you are rooting for will lose. Somebody you are rooting against will win! That person will make a terrible, boring, pretentious speech. And you will think, just for a second, Well, nobody asked me.

But take heart. WE are asking you. Be our Academy! Below, we’ve created a series of Jane-related categories for which we feel there should be awards, and we need your votes! Click, and make your voices heard! And when La Blanchett wins, we know she’ll thank you in her acceptance speech.

[poll id=”6″]

[poll id=”7″]

[poll id=”9″]

[poll id=”10″]

[poll id=”11″]

[poll id=”12″]

 

The Jane Flower: On Pianofortes and Bawling Our Eyes Out

People, Jane is following me into some weird places this week! For example:

1. I just finished the Penelope Fitzgerald novel The Blue Flower. We’ve—okay, I’ve—talked about Ms. Fitzgerald and her excellence before; she’s a wonderful writer who seems to get blank looks whenever I bring her up. Anyway, The Blue Flower is a strange little origins story concerning the German Romantic poet Novalis (né Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg, or “Fritz”) and his true and deep love for, and subsequent engagement to, the twelve-year-old Sophie von Kühn. And what does  young Fritz give his barely pubescent love as a token of his affection? You guessed it: A PIANOFORTE!

I was, as you can imagine, one excited Austen fan. I was also pretty confused: what did it mean? Was it a secret pianoforte? Was Fitzgerald weaving themes of deception and hidden love into her novel, encouraged by the shadow of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax? Was it all just one big secret message for the Jane-obsessed?

Upon further thought, here is what I believe it means: I think it means Fritz von Hardenberg, a real person who lived in real Germany and fell in love with a real seventh-grader, bought his fiancee a real pianoforte, and Fitzgerald included it in her novel. Which is a little disappointing from an interpretive perspective, but it made me pretty happy anyway.

2. I don’t know if you all listen to Pop Culture Happy Hour, the weekly NPR pop-culture podcast hosted by Linda Holmes ‘n Friends. If you don’t, not to worry: I’m making up for you. As a recent convert, I am systematically listening to ALL OF IT, in reverse order, and it is making my heart sing on a daily basis.

Today, I was listening to the PCHH episode from October 18, 2013, which includes a segment on pop culture that makes us cry, and why. And let me tell you: if you haven’t recently watched (or, in this case, listened to) the scene from the 1995 Sense and Sensibility where Emma Thompson completely loses her cool over Edward Ferrars’s apparent singleness, you should probably do that, possibly in the privacy of your own home, because it is GREAT and also completely deserves its reputation as a tearjerker. Podcast co-host Trey Graham cites it as Teary Moment Prototype #1: people doing the right thing, suffering for it, and later being rewarded for their actions, and if you saw a girl walking, teary-eyed and smiling, along the Embarcadero in San Francisco around lunchtime today, that was, uh, definitely not me. Nope.

Anyway, it’s lovely. (The relevant clip begins around the 30:00 mark in the link above, if you want to hear it.)

Has Jane been following you around this week, readers? Let’s hear it.

Happy Janesgiving!

Guess what, everybody? It’s pre-Thanksgiving, Austenacious-style! Action Jane is at the head of the table, awaiting her eggs and onions; don’t you see the glow of the twinkle lights (or maybe that’s just, you know, the Internet)? Afterwards, we’ll have alcohol-spiked cream. But first, let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for! I’ll start.

I’m thankful for Emma Woodhouse, who is a lovely girl and a bull in a china shop, all at once, in the way that people are.

I’m thankful for Jane and Mr. Bingley, who are always pleasant and forebearing, and never get anything done.

I’m thankful for Mary Crawford, who is neither a heroine nor a villain, but is interesting nonetheless.

I’m thankful for Anne Elliot, who proves that sometimes we find love with handsome sea captains even after the advanced age of twenty-seven.

I’m thankful for Mr. Knightley, who can be a little judgmental, but is mostly a really good guy.

I’m thankful for Elinor Dashwood, who keeps it together until the very end, and for Marianne Dashwood, who keeps it together almost never.

I’m thankful for pianofortes, for necklaces given in friendship/schemery, for trips to the strawberry patches, and for treacherous walks on the seawall.

I’m thankful for Mr. Collins, and Mr. Rushworth, who love expensive staircases and wear pink.

I’m MOST thankful for you—yes, you, specifically—who share your thoughts, and your humor, and your reading time with us on an astonishingly regular basis. Truly, you guys are the best.

So, Austen Nation, what are YOU thankful for?

 

 

(In other news, Austenacious is taking Thanksgiving week off. See you after the turkey settles!)