My favorite Jane Austen fan fiction (so far)

I'm almost finished with this book and must say that I'm enjoying it more than any previous written attempts at getting into the head of Jane Austen's somewhat inscrutable Fitzwilliam Darcy. Aidan credits the 1995 TV series with her inspiration but she has created something all her own, most of it quite believable and enjoyable.

I must admit growing a little tired of Darcy and Elizabeth's verbal interactions being constantly referred to in terms of a "fencing match" but on the other hand, it's a fairly accurate description of their relationship at this point in the story. Some of the descriptions of Elizabeth seemed a bit flowery but then again, Darcy was quite smitten, so it's not much of a stretch.

And Elizabeth Bennet is a bit different here than she appears in the original work but that's not necessarily a bad thing. We see her in P&P as witty. But in Assembly, it is not just her wit that bewitches Mr. Darcy but her beautiful singing voice (he hears her in church before the Lucas party), her goodness, and even her taste in books (apparently, Aiden's Darcy relishes the fact that she likes Milton's Paradise Lost).

Right now, I'm in the midst of the post-ball Bingley "kidnapping" to London; Darcy hasn't even told Bingley yet that they're not returning. Only Caroline Bingley seems to be in on the secret. Again, and of course, entirely believable and fascinating to see this scene, only briefly mentioned in the original work and rarely shown in any of the adaptations.

In all, I find Aiden's fleshing out of the characters even more believable than the excellent 1995 TV series and am looking forward to the next two installments.

My favorite used book store, The Looking Glass

These photos might make The Looking Glass used book store appear larger than actuality. I've never seen a book store quite this organized or lovely. Scroll down and see for yourself. Better yet, visit them in person or online.

http://thelookingglassbooks.com/

The Casual Vacancy: A 21st-Century Dickens Novel

As a fan of the Harry Potter series I probably should have attempted to read JK Rowling's foray into adult literature long before last fall when a fellow bibliophile gave me a copy for my birthday. I jumped in eagerly, not only because of my friendship with said bibliophile, but because the reviews were so varied -- running the gamut between disgust and delight -- I wondered on which side my opinion would fall.

After the main character -- a good little man who casts an enormous shadow -- dies on the second page, the reader is introduced to a diverse cast of characters, all of whom are affected in some way by this death. How many characters? So many that I felt compelled to print out a character sheet just to keep everyone straight. Turns out I didn't need it for long: all the characters eventually became quite distinct as their stories intertwined brilliantly all the way to a denouement that must be the most bittersweet I've ever read.

An author who creates a long list of detailed characters that intertwine along a plotline centering on bitter class warfare and who has no problem killing off the good, the good-hearted, and the innocent: hmmm, let's see...what other novelist did this book bring to mind? I was about halfway through when I realized I was reading a 21st-century Dickens novel. The 21st-century bit must be what many found so offensive. Rowling writes, um, very descriptively in sections that I must admit to having skimmed over: unless we're talking about what Quentin Tarantino does to fictitious Nazis, I'm what is known as a sensitive viewer.

So I won't be rereading The Casual Vacancy anytime soon, even though it would be a great opportunity for a closer look at the novel's brilliant construction. For one thing, excepting the dead man, there are no characters in this book who I'd care to meet again. To see the effect that one good person can have on a community is almost inspiring here, in an It's a Wonderful Life sort of way, but as there's no one to fill the dead man's shoes, this inspiration factor is bittersweet at most. And, as many have said before me, there is a lot of grim realism to wade through, grit that was never thrust so graphically upon the readers of Dickens.

All this being said, the plot structure, characterizations, and writing in The Casual Vacancy should cement J.K. Rowling's reputation as a genius, even if so much about her novel gives little Dickens-like pleasure to the reader. Didn't he give us at least a few likeable, living characters?

A Treasure!

I was absolutely floored when I received this priceless gem in the mail from a fellow Fry fan in the UK. I'm a huge fan of The Secret of Ron Mor Skerry, but never thought I'd own an early copy of the book, this one with the original 1957 title. Thanks again, Stephen!

Book Review: Longbourn by Jo Baker

Longbourn contains some beautiful writing and a compelling plot. No, it wouldn't work without the P&P story overarching it, but still, the plot points manage to be as independently interesting as possible, which is quite an achievement.

I also thought Baker's take on some of Austen's characters was well done and felt that her portrayals of Mr. Collins, Wickham, and Elizabeth Bennet were particularly spot-on. And James, the footman, one of Baker's original creations, is as noble and likeable as any of Austen's own heroes; more so, in my opinion, since his lack of money could easily have made him desperate and unscrupulous. He's like an impoverished Mr. Knightly with a dark secret.

But on the minus side the book has some serious flaws and, in my opinion, they all involve the dirty details: how many scenes involving the lugging of chamber pots, scraping mud off of boots, or cleaning dirty diapers (soiled by the Gardiner kids) do the readers need before we get the point that, yes, the maids were given tasks that no one else wanted to do? There are several scenes having nothing to do with excrement or mud where the ick level goes absolutely off the charts, making Baker's quest to bring realism to the original story seem extremely heavy-handed.

Most of this, it seems, is to illustrate how difficult life was for the servants of this time period. Point taken -- again and again and again -- but in my opinion Baker's chief error is having protagonist Sarah constantly complaining internally about her grueling tasks while endlessly comparing her life with those she serves. I don't think many 18th/19th century people in service would have done much of either. Twenty-first century people transported back in time? Definitely. But there's no time travel going on here except for the reader who, though appreciative of the time Baker took to research what life was like for servants in Jane Austen's day, might have liked a more accurate depiction of their thought processes as well.

Another magical character from Mary Poppins

I finally finished the first Mary Poppins book. One major difference between the book and film: Mary Poppins is so unpleasant that you wonder why the children are even the smallest bit sad when she departs at the book's end. When I saw the film version as a child I did think Julie Andrews was a bit too strict, too unfeeling for my liking. But regarding unlikeability, cinematic Mary doesn't come close to the one created by P.L. Travers. Perhaps I'm missing something but the original character is completely vain (without good reason, apparently), self-centered to a fault, and oddly arbitrary. I think the natural sweetness, relative youth, and beauty possessed by Julie Andrews may have automatically toned down the character's negative characteristics when the tale went celluloid.

But however one may opine on the book's central character, the magical elements contained within the pages of Mary Poppins -- most not included in the film -- are what gives the tale whatever charm it contains. And those magical elements are considerable.

The last one to appear in the book pops into a department store where Mary, Jane, and Michael are Christmas shopping. They're just about to leave through the revolving doors when someone comes towards the doors at the same time, "the running, flickering figure of a child."

This is no ordinary child. She "had practically no clothes on, only a light wispy strip of blue stuff that looked as though she had torn it from the sky to wrap around her naked body."

She spins through the revolving doors for a while, entertaining herself, apparently, before beelining towards Jane and Michael.

"Ah, there you are! Thank you for waiting. I'm afraid I'm a little late," said the child, stretching out her bright arms to Jane and Michael. "Now," she cocked her head on one side, "aren't you glad to see me? Say yes, say yes!"

"Yes," said Jane smiling, for nobody, she felt, could help being glad to see anyone so bright and happy.

She's Maia, one of the "seven sisters" of the Pleiades star cluster. Maia has been watching Jane and Michael "from the sky," is very excited to be finally speaking to them in person, and asks their assistance in choosing Christmas gifts for her sister stars.

And of course, like all the other magical characters in the book, she has a previous connection with Mary Poppins. After the shopping is done, Maia's one arm full of gifts, she reaches "up her spare arm and put it round Mary Poppins's neck and kissed her. A long look passed between them, and they smiled as people smile who understand each other." Then, outside the store, in front of a crowd of curious onlookers, Maia ascends some invisible steps back to her home in the sky.

Mary Poppins may have been a vain, cold oddball but she certainly had some interesting acquaintances, even if half of them didn't make it into the film. No wonder Jane and Michael were sad to see her go.

A Kite is a Victim by Leonard Cohen

It's still winter, I know, but this poem blew me away (no pun intended), especially the latter stanzas.


A kite is a victim you are sure of.
You love it because it pulls
gentle enough to call you master,
strong enough to call you fool;
because it lives
like a trained falcon
in the high sweet air,
and you can always haul it down
to tame it in your drawer.

A kite is a fish you have already caught
in a pool where no fish come,
so you play him carefully and long,
and hope he won't give up,
or the wind die down.

A kite is the last poem you've written,
so you give it to the wind,
but you don't let it go
until someone finds you
something else to do.

A kite is a contract of glory
that must be made with the sun,
so you make friends with the field
the river and the wind,
then you pray the whole cold night before,
under the travelling cordless moon,
to make you worthy and lyric and pure.


From Leonard Cohen's Poems and Songs.