I woke up this morning in a Pride and Prejudice kind of mood. I even found myself walking straighter, moving with an affectation of grace, and longing for cucumber sandwiches. As I drove around in my Jeep (considerably unladylike), I found myself humming the opening tune to the BBC mini series. The book itself opens prior to Michaelmas (September 29) and so is most likely set at the beginning of autumn, not at the beginning of summer. However, Pride and Prejudice, as well as all of Jane Austen’s novels, remind of summer because, for a period of time, I read all of her books each summer. I don’t typically reread books but there is something about Austen that makes me want more. Since no more are coming, I enjoy reading her novels over and over again. It has probably been at least five years since I last picked one up, but today I started Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time.
At this point, you would think I had it memorized, but thankfully the book still surprises me and new things are brought to light. Perhaps that is why I enjoy her books so much. The satire, the wit and the romance – they all draw me in. I’m always shocked by Mr. Darcy’s behavior at the ball and Lizzy’s rudeness toward his proposal.
The problem is that when I am drawn in by a book, a movie or a tv show, I am wholly drawn in. My brain somehow manages to convince itself that I am Elizabeth or Mrs. Bennet or even Lydia. (Side note – my husband observed this recently with amused annoyance when I channeled Jess from “New Girl”. Hopefully, Elizabeth will be a little more agreeable.)
So as we welcome summer know that I am on the hunt for rich, unsuspecting bachelors to set up with my girlfriends, that I will be taking the waters, and that I may be found lurking around the halls of the National Gallery (pretending it’s Pemberley).