Austen shoots…she scooooooores!
We were amused by an article in The Tyee in which the authoress finds solace from an overindulgence in Jane Austen film adaptations in the Stanley Cup playoffs.
And she’s right. When I think about it, hockey has put more balance back than almost any other cure. Here’s why:
1. Austen antidote
Watching play-off hockey gets me out of my artsy gal costume drama rut where Sense and Sensibility re-runs on Bravo seductively lull me into an Austen-induced post-winter stupor. At this jaunty time of year, anything has got to be better than straining to hear the mumbling of Hugh Grant in a formal drawing room as he competes for attention with the noisy swish of ornate silk dresses.
We wonder why the authoress assumes that enjoyment of hockey, or any sporting event for that matter, and enjoyment of Jane Austen must be mutually exclusive. Goodness, we’ve had to physically drag Dorothy away from the television during games to make our evening pot of Orange Pekoe. It’s really rather mortifying–she squeals like a twelve-year-old fangirl every time Rod Brind’Amour hits the ice. Not that we blame her or anything.
But really, could the authoress who created a heroine who…
should prefer cricket, base ball, riding on horseback, and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to books
…create works that are antithetical to enjoyment of sporting events? We expect her name to turn up in a World Cup article any day now. 
