Dumbing Down Darcy

After a delightful, stimulating but intellectually difficult semester of Aristotle, Euclid, Plato, God and the likes, I prepared myself for a summer of mental marshmallow fluff (compared to the mental meat-and-potatoes of those intellectual giants). For me, a little chick lit goes a loooooong way, and I was about due for another bi-yearly installment. So, I scouted around the blogosphere and scored. Austenland, by Shannon Hale. Not only did I find chick lit, but I found chick lit that clearly had to do with one of my favoritest authors around. The book acquired, I settled down to enjoy myself, which I did. Up to a point.

Basic plot premise: Jane Hayes is a thirty-something New Yorker with an obsession for Mr. Darcy as played by Colin Firth in the 1995 adaptation. No mere mortal could live up to that ideal of manly perfection, and Jane's love life suffers. So, when her great-aunt Carolyn dies and leaves her an all-expenses-paid trip to an Austen-inspired resort, Jane hardly needs two seconds to agree. Austenland is a resort that caters to idle rich women obsessed with Austen and all things Regency. For a few weeks, they exist in 1816, living, for the most part, according to the social standards and technological limitations of the time (exceptions being made for modern bathrooms and makeup; cellphones not allowed). Actors are payed to romance the vacationing women, and Jane hopes she'll get a piece of the pie. But will this trip to Austenland allow Jane to kick her Darcy obsession for good? Or will she wallow in more daydreams of the perfect -- and perfectly unattainable -- Regency gentleman? This being chick lit, Jane gets more than just a brief Regency fling, and the novel does have some good things to say (more on those later), but first I'll flay it alive.

My first beef with the book is that it's chick lit. I like chick lit, in minuscule amounts administered at lengthy intervals. I think most women do. Who doesn't want to be the heroine, get the guy, and rub your opponents' faces in the dirt, at least every once in a while? But that's where my problem with these kinds of books starts. Even if the heroine is remotely life-like (and all too often she's model-thin, stunningly gorgeous, and has a closet larger than my bedroom crammed with the latest fashions), the story isn't.

I just have to come out and say it, unbelievable as it may seem, but life doesn't often dump all of these good things (clothes, looks, men, jobs, opportunities and talents) in your lap and wait for you to make your selection. Yes, chick lit is mostly escapist fiction. We want out of our daily lives and in on the perfect world presented to us in these books. But all too often this escapism leads to discontent with the lives we have. Don't get me wrong; I think our lives, as the lives of fallen humanity, are pretty pitiful, and we should always strive to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect, but that's obviously a life-long mission, and that kind of perfection doesn't entail driving a Ferrari or living in a chic downtown apartment. And as for the men in the real world? They're fallen humanity, just like us, and they deal with a lot of the same faults, disappointments, temptations, and icky real-world issues that we do (we have our differences, but that's a whole 'nother blog post).

Which brings me to issue number two: although Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy isn't real, ladies (and gentlemen, if you're reading this), he's so much more than Shannon Hale gives him credit for. Mr. Darcy is a wonderfully and realistically drawn character, and I deeply cherish the romance that Jane created between Elizabeth and Darcy. He deserves better than to be the prize at the end of a chick lit story. Henry Jenkins (or, as his Regency gentleman character is known, Mr. William Nobley), the Darcy-esque character of the story, is just that -- a door prize that Jane gets to take home with her at the end of her vacation. The real Darcy is so much more than that.

(Am I taking this too seriously? Probably, but two points: A) the copy of the book that I read included a study guide for pete's sake. You don't include a study guide with a book unless the book is worth studying. B) Any time you bring Austen and her works into a story, you'd better be prepared to go intellectual because that's what she is. Jane Austen did not write chick lit (this is why men are able to read her books); she put zing and thought and effort into what she penned, and that is not to be taken lightly. We may laugh at the opening line of Pride & Prejudice, but there are other universally acknowledged truths in her works that transcend the time in which she wrote them. A hundred years from now, people will still read Jane Austen; a hundred years from now, no one will know who Shannon Hale is.)

And there were good points: for one thing, Jane Hayes is obsessed with Mr. Darcy, not the latest celebrity heartthrob. She actually has standards for the men she dates, and they are standards based on a true gentleman. She's looking for a lifelong commitment, and most of the men she dates ("men" here being applied in a very loose sense) can't or won't give it to her. And eventually, she finds someone who meets those standards; she doesn't have to settle for less (they even want to have kids, albeit with the ever-stated caveat of "someday"). As far as chick lit goes, it's decent, enjoyable and clean.

But mixing Austen and chick lit? Mixing oil and water? I just don't know. Austen is so real and gritty (in a way, my friends; she doesn't rub her readers' faces in the crasser details of Regency life, but she does deal with reality). The idea of Darcy as a passive character to be won by a woman is inimical to the spirit that Jane imbued him with. In Elizabeth and Darcy's story, there is a beautiful give-and-take between the two of them that mirrors the romances of the real world. Elizabeth would be lost without Darcy, and Darcy's life would be far poorer without Elizabeth.

And, yes, Darcy is a fictional character. It's not healthy to be obsessed with a fictional character, even one as awesome as Mr. Darcy, especially as played by Colin Firth. But the spirit of Darcy lives on in the many wonderful, real but flawed gentlemen of this world. Why settle for a dream when you can have the reality?

Drums, Faeries, & Magic

*drumroll*

Here is a teaser trailer for the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream that I've been rehearsing for!! They "premiered" it for us tonight at rehearsal, and then asked us to send it out to everyone we knew. Actually, they asked us to post it on our Facebook pages, but since I've sworn off of Facebook until I finish all my schoolwork... ... ...

I've decided to share it with ya'll!

(it looks prettier full-screen, so for optimal viewing satisfaction, we recommend full-screen)

The drum circle you see in the trailer is how we begin and end the show. It's wild, adrenaline-filled, and and absolutely magical.
And now you see what I've been sacrificing pie night for. :)

Who Tires of Poetry?

Here is another poem for you to ponder. The beast can be seen as all of humanity, who was saved at Bethlehem. Burdened humanity was saved by Bethlehem. (This interpretation comes from The Prose and Poetry of England, Seton Press, 2001).

This reminded me of the miracle of Christmas

*happy to think about it not always during the "holiday season"*

The Second Coming

by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Commencement

The best way to begin any story is to say:

"So, I was at Target today..."

Everyone knows that any story that begins with the words:

"So, I was at Target today..."

is going to be a ridiculously awesome story. Or, at least, your audience will be fooled into thinking that it's a ridiculously awesome story, because they are still not over the ridiculous awesomeness of your opening sentence:



"So, I was at Target today..."


That, my dear friends, is called strategy. More specifically, it's called good strategy. I most ardently urge you to employ it as ubiquitously as possible.


So.

I was at Target today.

My little brother and I were shopping for birthday cards, graduation cards, and water guns. That's right, water guns. Gotta love going shopping with the seven-year-old midget child.


So, I'm browsing through all the numerous graduation cards: college graduation cards, bad humor graduation cards, graduation cards with the Obamas on them, sappy graduation cards, kindergarten graduation cards, and graduation cards of penguins wearing mortarboards (<<mais pour quoi?>> as our French brethren would say...)...Then, my little brother asked me:
"Why don't they have graduations going into highschool?"
Putting away the graduation card with the cute duckling on it, I responded: "Pardon?"
He explained, "They have graduations going into college, but not going into highschool." And I said, "No, no, dear, graduation is at the end. It's at the end of highschool, and then the end of college."

Then, as our conversation turned to other matters, I let the matter rest. But, then I realized that it's not called "commencement" for nothing. When I was younger, the word commencement always confused me, because I knew there was that-thing-that-happened-at-the-end-of-high-school, called commencement, so I always assumed that commencement meant "the ending." But it means beginning.


Commencement is a time of new beginnings, of fresh starts, of new adventures.
Commencement celebrates the adventures you've already had, your accomplishments and achievements, but it also invites you into a new world, full of new lessons, journeys and a new stage in life. And that, my friends, is something to celebrate.

Mark Twain (an author whose writings I thoroughly detest [sorry, Mark, dear]), has an absolutely beautiful quote: "To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with." I've been waxing nostalgic the entire weekend, as I've collected photos for photo boards, hugged friends, smiled, laughed and reminisced. And I've been thinking often about the girls who write this blog. And I'm so thankful for them. For their friendships. Because all the tears, giggles, hugs, pie nights, and beautiful experiences would mean nothing without the people we share those adventures with.


The world beyond commencement is a brave new world. But I know we can face it as long as we have our awesome-sauce friends by our sides.

Love and Friendship - Part One

No, no, this post has nothing to do Jane Austen’s satirical short story. That is a post for another day. This post will address the difficulties that people face in their attempts to forge friendships that are lasting. In this day and age “social networks” such as myspace and facebook thwart these efforts every which way. Although these networks can be used as tools to connect and stay in contact with people, they do not facilitate very deep connections between people.


They can only operate on a superficial level, to check the status of the people on your friends list, to chat occasionally, etc. Such things help us to stay informed as to our friends' and acquaintance's movements in their day-to-day lives, but it cannot assist us in knowing the state of our friends hearts and minds. This can only be obtained through true conversation, whether face-to-face, in a letter or on the telephone.

There is an intangible, yet very real, connection of minds and hearts that is completely lost when posted for the whole world to see. True friends take personal interest in the feelings and ideas of those they have befriended, not just their recent activities. True friends are able to bear their souls to one another and feel safe in the knowledge of mutual understanding.

Cuteness

I don't know about you girls, but I'm determined to be the cutest one on the beach this year. :)

Tamara Lowe at Christ Fellowship

This is the basic point of life!

It is good to know that she said "make sure your sins are forgiven" not "you need to be saved." The Sacrament of Confession is what perfects us and makes us ready for heaven.

Speaking of the Summit...

While avoiding the Archimedes props that I need to learn for the Lab final, I found this article by Raquel Welch about changing sexual mores in America after the advent of the Pill in the 60's. What's really interesting is that she doesn't approach the issue from an explicitly religious perspective, but she still doesn't think that all is sunshine and roses because of contraception and female empowerment.

Hat tip for the article to Father Longenecker.

Harry and Me

Finally, I've found someone who can summarize how I feel about Harry Potter.

From Left of the Dial:

"And what I’ve decided is that J.K.Rowling is one of the great storytellers of our time, able to spin a tale wonderfully, keep multiple plots in the air successfully, create interesting characters and worlds and situations. What’s she’s not, however, is a great writer, the way J.R.R.Tolkein, for instance, or Charles Dickens or Mark Twain or Willa Cather or Fred Chappell are; every one of them are both outstanding storytellers AND magnificent writers, whose language glows like burning coal, to borrow The Bard’s words. Rowling’s prose is never more than pedestrian. And that’s okay—Stephen King is one of my very favorite writers and he’s the same way: a phenomenal storyteller but a journeyman when it comes to the actual language.
[Interrupted for me to exclaim: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I totally and completely agree; there are some books (Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine, for example) which, quite literally, made me cry with how beautiful the language was. Others, like the Harry Potter books, are marvelous stories without that same stunning impact: the language really IS pedestrian. And finally, there are the Tolkiens of this world whose language and story are equally full of goosebump-inducing, spine-tingling, make-me-hurt beauty.]
[...]
Now, breaking rules is no big deal, per se, as long as there is a consequence attached. You sneak out, you get caught, you get punished. That’s life. You run the red light, you get caught, you get punished. But Harry virtually never gets punished. Yes, there are a few exceptions, but they are comparatively minor. And here’s the thing: the rules he’s breaking aren’t arbitrary and foolish; this isn’t your basic civil disobedience here or minor schoolboy pranks. The rules are there for one very good reason: to keep the children from being killed. Yet time and again, Harry breaks the rules and, frequently, almost gets killed, or worse, almost gets someone else killed...and gets away with it because he’s such a skilled liar or because he’s Harry Potter and he gets special dispensation.
[...]
Again, I cannot stress strongly enough that I have enjoyed the books and that the witchcraft angle doesn’t bother me in the least; it’s part of a long and noble history in children’s literature. What bothers me is the fact that the hero is a charming boy who lies and cheats and gets away with it."


Now go and read the rest!!!

And then this follow-up piece.

And then this one.

Surprise, Surprise

You Are a Black Coffee

At your best, you are: low maintenance, friendly, and adaptable At your worst, you are: grumpy and stressed You drink coffee when: you can get your hands on it Your caffeine addiction level: high

But we knew that already, right?

What kind of coffee are you?

One more song!

This is one of my favorite songs.

Ever.

It is from Dan in Real Life, a sweet little love story.

Fiddler on the roof - Matchmaker ( with subtitles )

Here is a video

Why?

For the sake of beauty, femininity, and a bunch of single girls who once decided to start their own blog...

Summer Attractions

After reading Desdemona's post about On the Verge, I commented, "Hurrah for femininity! When the collegiates get back, we should hold a summit on ways to add femininity to the world. ;)" Apparently Desdemona got an idea into her pretty little head, and she is now organizing:

The Femininity Summit 2010

Changing the World, One Catholic Gal at a Time.

Of course, the summit will mainly consist of eating pie, drinking coffee, and giggling our heads off, but we'll also be talking about what it means to be a woman, how being a woman affects our lives, how we relate to God as women, and what that means for how we dress, act, speak, etc. We'll tackle sticky wickets like the fine line between flaunting your body and wearing potato sacks; how to treat yourself with the dignity you deserve; and what to do in those oh-so-awkward moments in public when poise and confidence seem impossible. We'll post the results -- which most likely will be slightly edited and clarified ;) -- and show the world that not everyone conforms to its standard of "pretty", "hot" or "sexy".

Wonderfully Made

One very comforting thought I've had recently is that God loves the idea of each person. Loves it so much He had to create us.

There's a very special bond between the creator and the created, because when you make a work of art, you pour yourself into it. And there's a certain mark- a trademark, if you will- on your designs, because they take on a bit of your personality. Your creations smack of you-ishness. Take, for example, the different authoresses of this blog. I don't even have to look at the bottom of the post to know who penned the entry. Each of us have our own distinct voice, vocabulary and writing style. It's quite beautiful if you stop to think about it.

So stop.


Think about it.


Now continue reading.


Now, sometimes we'll create a piece of art that doesn't come out quite as we hoped. It's imperfect. Flawed. We wish it would be better-more like the ideal we envisioned in our heads. God, however, only creates perfect works of art. God's idea of, say, Catherine, is perfect. It's a masterpiece-a work of art that shows off, as no other work of His can, some particular aspect of Himself. He formed the idea of her-of Catherine, with her own Catherine-ish qualities and quirks, her idiosyncracies and beauties. He thought of them all; He laughed with joy; and He fell in love. He fell in love so much that He had to create her. That's truly mind-boggling. God loves us so much that He creates us. I don't even understand how that works.

God wants our love. And, (as I feel like we've discussed before on this blog, and as many greater minds have been discussing since time began,) love is a choice. We have to make the choice to love God, or else our "love" is nothing worth. He can't program it into out hearts that we love Him. Love cannot be forced or coerced, it is a gift.

"If a man were to give all the riches of his house for love, It would be utterly despised." Song of Songs 8:7

God's love has breathed us into existence. Our love simply gives ourselves back to Him, since we really belong to Him anyways. The Creator who loves us so infinitely and indesciribably simply wants our love in return. But here's the catch: we've made the horrendous, disastrous, catastrophic, mistake of choosing not to love Him. How absolutely tragic. We only exist because of love, yet we constantly turn our back on Love himself. Imagine how desperate He would be to win our love, to woo us back to Himself.

I opened to my beloved;
but my beloved left; and had gone away.
My heart went out when he spoke.
I looked for him, but I didn’t find him.
I called him, but he didn’t answer.
The watchmen who go about the city found me.
They beat me.
They bruised me.
The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me.
I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem,
If you find my beloved,
that you tell him that I am faint with love.

And the Word became flesh, and lived and died for us. Because He loved the idea of each person so infinitely that He would stop at nothing to save us. He came up with of the idea of His mother Mary, of Pontius Pilate, of each Roman soldier who scourged Him, of Judas, of everyone of us sinners-of you and me. He thought of us. Every single person who put Christ to death was a precious being that He had thought of, and loved so much that He wanted to create them. We were His idea, and He loved us so much He gave up His life for us.

I found him whom my soul loves.
I held him, and would not let him go,

The moral of the story: God loves you. We hear it so often, but we don't listen to these words. God loves you. He likes you-He wanted to make you! He's not like: "Well, since I'm forced to make someone, I might as well throw together a Becca." He fell in love with each of us so much that He wanted nothing more than to bring us to life, so that we might share in His life. Everything God makes is infinitely and incandescently beautiful, including us. We are a masterpieces, made by the Master Artist.

Behold, you are beautiful, my love.
Behold, you are beautiful.

God loves you.