Alert Janeite Jennite sent us a link to an article in the Independent in which another unfortunate individual with no discernible sense of humor publicly beats his breast over the inexplicable continuing interest in Jane Austen, since her books aren’t serious.
First taxed by that classic Austen opener back in mid-1970s teendom, I must have balked at it a dozen times before goading myself on into the dense verbal undergrowth that follows. Even now the edition pressed on me by my mother still has the unworn look of a text that is only read on the rare occasions when someone is paying you for the effort. And why exactly? Something to do with the practised coyness of the style and the sense of futility that rises off the material laid out for the reader’s inspection.
*pats writer on head* Poor dear.
And yet all this is nothing compared to the uses to which the novel has been put over the years by its admirers. How the heart of the averagely intelligent reader must sink whenever there is news of a new adaptation, with its double helpings of bonnets, Colin Firth rearing priapically from the lake and the substitution of romance for the devious calculation that is the book’s real subject.
Somewhere, Henry Tilney rolls his eyes and spreads out the article for training the Newfoundland puppy.
Oh, and how come detractors of the films always talk about Colin Firth “rising” (priapically or otherwise) or “emerging” from the lake when he is never shown doing so? When he was never actually in the bally lake/pond/body of water? They used a stuntman for the actual dive into the pond. The underwater shots were done in a studio tank. Sorry if we ruined anyone’s fun. But it does sound like these detractors think upon this particular moment more than they might want to admit, since they’ve obviously pictured unshown moments in their mind’s eye…
Just saying. 
And speak of the devil, Jennite also sent us a link to the results of the Colin vs. Matthew smackdown poll. Colin Firth screams “I’m not dead yet!” as Matthew Macfadyen attempts to roll him out to the curb in a barrow.
