Pam Writes Romance

For years, I have held my head low in a secret shame—not only was I not a Jane Austen fan, I couldn’t even make it through the first quarter of Pride and Prejudice. (Sorry, Marilyn—I should have warned you. Yes, you can have your bookmark back.)

You see, Jane wasn’t really on my radar until the past few years, when one of the writing groups I’d joined started waxing romantic about Elizabeth and *sigh* Mr. Darcy. Ad infinitum. These conversations are much like Hailey’s Comet—they don’t come around every day, but when they do, life immediately ceases and everybody stops to participate in the miracle. Intensely. Reverently. So the second or so such time Austen’s Comet came ‘round, I jumped on and started to read this revered tome.

But I couldn’t.

I tried, I really did. I made it up to the point where Miss Bingley takes Elizabeth on a walk about the room and they mock Mr. Darcy, but that is where I set the book down and resumed the pose of my shame—head down, eyes averted, slightly puzzled look about all the fuss, and swore Montana to secrecy.

But, Montana—blessed husband that he is—knew of my constant struggle (even though I resolved to put it behind me) and one day brought me home the Kiera Knightly movie of P&P. He knew I liked British history, he knew I liked Kiera Knightly (Bend it Like Beckham, anyone?) and he knew I was still fighting through the need to understand Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Perhaps I could just watch the movie and use that as my Cliff’s Notes. I may never read the book, but I’d be able to understand the fascination a little bit better.

So, having no expectations, I watched the movie. Lo and behold, I liked it. Not in a Rocked My World kind of way, but it was a love story and God knows I am a sucker for them, particularly with period costumes, lush locations and swelling music while undying love is declared. It was enough that I plunked down $19.95 on the BBC version (with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy) one weekend when Borders was having a sale on boxed sets. I couldn’t tell you how long the boxed set remained shrink wrapped with the other DVDs, but I do know when it was released from its cellophane prison.

March 4^th, 2008

This spring I was stricken with that Hell-sent cold that laid cities low and sent stock in DayQuil through the roof. Sick, miserable and facing a near meltdown from my ADD-like attention span, I retreated to my comfiest chair with my softest blanket and favorite tea, and plugged P&P into my laptop with the hopes it would take me out of my misery for a little while.

It did, and I was glad I’d watched the Kiera Knightly version so I had a clue about the players and where they were headed. I think it helped me to understand Austen’s writing style, her cadence and voice—overall, to enjoy the extended series by understanding it better. Again, it didn’t Rock My World, but I was pulled in a little bit more, seduced by this story of manners that had affected so many.

Fast forward to this weekend. Feeling like I had a little bit of a cold, I went to my old friends, chair, blanket and tea, and brought out the BBC version of P&P. Damn that Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth, they sucked me in even more!  What is it with this Venus flytrap of scorn and silliness that is slowly transforming me into one of the converted?

God help me, I even started the book again last night.

But here’s the thing that has fascinated me most, for even as of yesterday evening, I had anticipated the bones of this post and saw the above sentence as the penultimate one, but something in the Norton Critical Edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice caused me to rethink everything.

Did you know that Pride and Prejudice, one of the most read and beloved books of all time, took over fifteen years to get published? Jane Austen faced the ten-year block and God bless her ink-stained hands, she busted through it with authority! (Her first book published was Sense and Sensibility, written around 1795 but not seeing the light of day sometime in 1811.) And that first book had to be published under the pseudonym ‘A Lady’, even going into a second printing.  Where I have thought my publishing road to be long and arduous, Jane’s makes mine look like Santa’s carriage ride capping off the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! How could I not now become one of the devotees of Jane and her works? Granted, I may not ever run for President of her North American fan club, but I will tip my hat to anybody who keeps plugging away after fifteen years and gets published, regardless of it taking 2 days, 20 months or 200 years. And with a romance, too.

Way to go, Jane.

* All facts courtesy of Wikipedia.org, one of the greatest websites on the planet.