An essay in today’s Los Angeles Times on busy boomers finding time to read (or listen to) books, including those written by Jane Austen.
Covetous of everyone else’s book clubs, Howard, my neighbor at work, suggests we start one of our own. Like me, Howard is an English major gone awry; 35 years out of college, we miss our books. “What’s the most important book you’ve never read?” Howard asks one day, leaning in the door of my office. I pause a moment, wondering if I should tell the truth, then blurt out “Pride and Prejudice.” He shakes his head. “That needs to be rectified right away.” A week later, we stand around the water cooler, assessing whether we had known all along that Elizabeth Bennet would marry Mr. Darcy. I admit I wasn’t sure; Howard admits to having seen the “Masterpiece Theatre” version on TV, so the plot was fresh in his mind.
We linger a while, reluctant to go back to work. Then Howard says shyly, “Let’s do ‘Northanger Abbey’ next.” How to account for this midlife reading fever? My theory is that, like so many other crises that beset us as we approach the threshold of old age, it’s a struggle to cram as much experience as possible into the time that’s left. The expectation is that people shut down as they get older — they grow crotchety, conservative, intolerant. But just as often they open up, becoming more curious, more observant, more eager to learn. By the time we reach late middle age, we no longer have anything to prove. We’re free.
The Editrix has decided upon a summer reading program of Books Jane Austen Would Have Read (inspired by a cyber-acquaintance’s *waves to Robin* suggestion that she read Pamela) that will include works by Mr. Richardson, Mme. d’Arblay and Mrs. Radcliffe and possibly Mr. Scott–sorry, Sir Walter–and Miss Edgeworth, if we can squeeze them in.
In related book club news, the Reader’s Circle of the thestate.com will be concentrating on books inspired by Jane Austen’s work. April’s selection is The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler and May’s will be Such A Girl by Karen Siplin.