I Am Not Charlotte Lucas

(Images via here and here.)

Today is the 200th anniversary of the publication of Pride and Prejudice, as I'm sure you've already learned if you've spent any time on the internet today, and in honor of this celebrated occasion, I wanted to add my own voice to the surplus of Austenian commentary.

My first (recollected) introduction to Pride and Prejudice was via the BBC adaptation starring Colin Firth, a favorite of my father's, during my early high school years. However, it was not until I was 17 when I first cracked open the novel to end all novels in my romantic teenaged heart. Having recently experienced my first heartbreak, I was primed for the wit of Lizzy, the absurdity of Mr Collins, Mr Darcy's heartfelt declarations of love (both of them), and the idea that true love can prevail over all adversity. Nothing is more appealing to an impressionable young woman than a witty, opinionated, independent heroine who wins the devoted love of the greatest gentleman in the county (read: most popular guy at school), who is also an upstanding person in possession of a kind and generous heart. Pride and Prejudice was like catnip to my nerdy high school heart.

I not only loved Lizzy Bennet, I wanted to be her. And for the next several years, I truly felt like I was her. I took total ownership of Lizzy in my heart, framing my own sense of humor after hers - ironic, challenging, though I'm afraid my humor has a bit more bite to it (consider it a natural progression based on the times) - and learning to observe the world around me, satirizing it in my mind with an eye for the ridiculous. I'm even self-aware enough to be honest in that I share many of Lizzy's flaws, including a stubborn streak and disinclination to accept another person's point of view if it does not match my own. (I'm working on it.)

I've even kept an eye out for a dashing stranger to whom I could take an immediately disliking to based on a slight against my vanity, then through great trial and upheaval, fall madly in love and get married in a double ceremony with my sister and her beau. No such luck there, unfortunately. (I haven't got a sister.)

Adopting Lizzy's personality was mostly successful for the first few years, but time, with it's unfortunate tendency to pass, has caught up with me. I'm no longer a lively 20 year-old, but a woman of 28 (soon to be 29) years. Now, when I revisit my favorite story through either film or novel, I often catch myself identifying not with our darling Lizzy but with poor Charlotte Lucas.

What's happened to me?! (If there is any circumstance that calls for an interrobang, it's this one.)

In the novel, at 27, Charlotte Lucas is "on the shelf," with very little opportunity to make a decent marriage, which would otherwise leave her completely dependent upon her family for the rest of her life, be a laughing stock as an "Old Maid", and never enjoy the comforts (ie independence) of having her own home. With little to no prospects on the horizon, Charlotte agrees to marry Mr Collins without hesitation. Does she love him? Of course not, but what choice does she have? She wants a home, a sense of purpose and identity, which Mr Collins can provide.

Lizzy, of course, is aghast, but she would be. Lizzy is notorious for her iron sense of will and independent spirit, which Charlotte clearly does not possess, but is most likely quite envious of. To Lizzy, marriage without love is out of the question, because her very nature is opposite to that kind of conformity. She is consistently rebuked for her opinions (if not for having them, for freely expressing them), and it is clear that she finds great pleasure in challenging the status quo. To Lizzy, settling would never be an option.

But what else does Lizzy have that Charlotte does not? The luxury of youth. Lizzy's idealism is as much a product of her youth as it is her general personality. Charlotte, on the other hand, has several years on Lizzy and the maturity to understand that love is not always a requirement for marriage.

Naturally, all of this is in the context of pre-Victorian England during the early 1800s with which the novel takes place. A far cry from 21st century America.

Like I said, I'm 28, about to be 29, and at a stage in my life where the majority of my friends are married, making their first contributions to the baby boom, and buying their first homes. I own a cat.

On my bad days, I feel a lot like Charlotte - getting closer and closer to 30 (which feels like The End), watching all my friends find happiness, while the best suitors I get put even Mr Collins in a respectable light. Did I squander my time as Lizzy and let Mr Darcy slip through my fingers, now cursed to spent the rest of my days as Charlotte, in a loveless, ridiculous marriage?

The older I get, the more I start to question my notions of relationships and marriages and wonder if the things I prioritize in a relationship are the things that are really needed to have a successful marriage. Arranged marriages start looking rather attractive once I start going down this line of thought.

And then I slap myself.

I am not Charlotte Lucas. I am not necessarily Lizzy Bennet either, but I am definitely not Charlotte Lucas. Charlotte comes from a time where women had basically no chance of advancing in the world through any means other than marriage. Charlotte could never forgo marriage, move to London, get a job doing something she loves, and spend the rest of her days living how she desires, with or without a man. England and the society of that era would never allow it.

Lucky for me, I can do just that if I so well please. So what, I'm not married, don't own a house, and don't have anybody relying on me as their sole source of nourishment. I have the luxury of living in a time and place where women are independent, can make their own choices, and seek their own happiness.

It's time to stop thinking of 28 as being past my expiration date. Just because I'm not married yet, doesn't mean I won't marry. I have all the time in the world to find my Mr Darcy and until such a time, I plan on making the most of the freedoms of my era, in whatever ways I see fit.

If you find yourself making the same mistake as me, thinking you're a Charlotte, take a step back and consider all the advantages you have at your fingertips. You don't have to settle for anything, least of all for being like Charlotte. Our happiness is our to create and lucky for us, we don't need a husband's signature to do it.

An Unexpected Journey

This movie season is one I have been anticipating for a long time. The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey will finally be hitting theaters on December 14th and, boy, am I relieved! I first heard about the possible project being spearheaded by Peter Jackson maybe a year or so after The Return of the King was completed, but then began the long convoluted drama between Jackson and New Line Cinema. I wondered - along with hundreds of thousands of others - if this movie would ever be made.

The wait is over! The movie will be out this December and it gets better: it's going to be released as a trilogy! Oh happy day!

When The Fellowship of the Ring came out, I had yet to read any of Tolkien's works. I was in high school and was going through my uppity, I only read serious fiction, phase (thank God I grew out of that!) and really had no time or patience for fantasy novels.

That all ended the moment Bilbo slipped the ring on at his (111th!) birthday party and disappeared before our very eyes. I was hooked! I must've seen that film a dozen times in the theatre, at least, since it eventually and conveniently made its way to our local $2 theatre, making it a nice way to kill an hour or forty five minutes before moving on to other adventures.

As a sophomore in college, I finally picked up the books and over the course of four months, I spent every available second reading The Lord of the Rings. It only took me so long because I was a Biology major and, unfortunately, had to delegate much of my precious free time to studying. An education in Middle Earth was much preferable, but I was shelling out quite a bit in tuition and had to make an effort, though during my study breaks, I was right there with Frodo and Sam.

I discovered a whole new world of orcs and hobbits, elves and ents, of how good can triumph over evil, of the imposition of modernity and technology against living a simpler life and that you can't always stop change, and what true friendship looks like. The Lord of the Rings opened my eyes to worlds and themes beyond my previous reckoning and, most of all, introduced me to myself.

From there on, I became a fantasy nerd. And thank God for that! Let's face it: the LOTR was pure escapism for me. Why sit through the drudgery of molecular biology texts when you can instead be enthralled by Tom Bombadil? But I found true happiness in these books. I became insatiable, devouring book after book. After LOTR, I read the Hobbit (yes, out of order, but that's okay), then the complete Chronicles of Narnia. And shortly thereafter? Harry Potter. Trust me, that one did not come easy either, but I'll save that for another post.

My mom and I outside The Eagle and Child pub where the Inklings (including JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis) held their meetings.

Eventually, I found my niche, my community, and even my calling in the fantasy genre. I never knew how much I needed whimsy and magic in my life until I found myself in these books. Looking back, it's hard to imagine what life was like prior to LOTR; it's become so ingrained in who I am now that I have to remind myself this wasn't how it's always been.

Many, if they're lucky, find their way into the fantasy world eventually. Some get there by means of a wardrobe, or a police box, or through Platform 9 3/4. For me, Tolkien will always hold a special place in my heart as my gateway drug into fantasy.

I may love Harry Potter a great (great!) deal, but I was an elf in Rivendale long before I was ever a first year at Hogwarts. When life starts getting to be a little bit much, I'm so thankful that I'll be given three more opportunities to dive back into Middle Earth, let Gandalf the Grey's magic restore me, and be ready to slay the metaphorical dragons coming my way.

I leave you with these two wonderful trailers for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey and hope you share in my unadulterated glee in watching them:

(P.S. I'm fairly certain I shouldn't find Richard Armitage good looking in his hairy dwarf costume, but I can't help myself.)

Halloween Reads (sort of)

Every year, I like to read a book or two during the month of October that is fitting with the holiday. I love a good theme. In keeping with the seasonal festivities, I am taking my usual habit and kicking it up by 500%. This year, I am making it a point to scare/creep the bejeebus out of me at every reading opportunity.

Last year's read was Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman, a rather tame story in comparison to this year's selections, but very enjoyable. I like the movie quite a bit - who doesn't wish they could join Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman and fly/jump off their roof, holding broomsticks, in front of their whole town? Plus, Aidan Quinn. Although it left me feeling mostly satisfied, it didn't quite hit the Halloween note. You know, the shrill, screeching, knife thrusting towards your face, psycho note.

This year's list brings psycho killers, witches, ghosts, and the End of the World. They may not be precisely Halloween related, but all are suitably creepy or thrilling in nature and should serve their purpose just fine. Naturally, no such Halloween reading list would be complete without Neil Gaiman and Stephen King. Check and check!

Bring on the scary!

***

My 2012 Halloween Reads:

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

From Goodreads: After the grisly murder of his entire family, a toddler wanders into a graveyard where the ghosts and other supernatural residents agree to raise him as one of their own. Nobody Owens, known to his friends as Bod, is a normal boy. He would be completely normal if he didn't live in a sprawling graveyard, being raised and educated by ghosts, with a solitary guardian who belongs to neither the world of the living nor of the dead. There are dangers and adventures in the graveyard for a boy. But if Bod leaves the graveyard, then he will come under attack from the man Jack—who has already killed Bod's family . . .

***

The Daylight Gate by Jeanette Winterson

From Goodreads: GOOD FRIDAY, 1612. Pendle Hill, Lancashire.

A mysterious gathering of thirteen people is interrupted by local magistrate, Roger Nowell. Is this a witches' Sabbat?

Two notorious Lancashire witches are already in Lancaster Castle waiting trial. Why is the beautiful and wealthy Alice Nutter defending them? And why is she among the group of thirteen on Pendle Hill?

Elsewhere, a starved, abused child lurks. And a Jesuit priest and former Gunpowder plotter, recently returned from France, is widely rumoured to be heading for Lancashire. But who will offer him sanctuary? And how quickly can he be caught?

This is the reign of James I, a Protestant King with an obsession: to rid his realm of twin evils, witchcraft and Catholicism, at any price...

***

John Dies At The End by David Wong

From Goodreads: STOP. You should not have touched this flyer with your bare hands. NO, don't put it down. It's too late. They're watching you. My name is David Wong. My best friend is John. Those names are fake. You might want to change yours. You may not want to know about the things you'll read on these pages, about the sauce, about Korrok, about the invasion, and the future. But it's too late. You touched the book. You're in the game. You're under the eye. The only defense is knowledge. You need to read this book, to the end. Even the part with the bratwurst. Why? You just have to trust me.

The important thing is this: The drug is called Soy Sauce and it gives users a window into another dimension. John and I never had the chance to say no. You still do. I'm sorry to have involved you in this, I really am. But as you read about these terrible events and the very dark epoch the world is about to enter as a result, it is crucial you keep one thing in mind: None of this was my fault.

***

Misery by Stephen King

From Goodreads: Novelist Paul Sheldon wakes up in a secluded farmhouse in Colorado with broken legs and Annie Wilkes, a disappointed fan, hovering over him with drugs, ax, and blowtorch and demanding that he bring his heroine back to life.

[Sidebar: I am fairly certain this book will end up in the freezer at some point, but I'm willing to give it a go.]

***

And for an alternate, in case any of the above creep me out far too much:

Gossip Girl, Psycho Killer by Cecily von Ziegesar

From Goodreads: Just as in the original story, Serena returns from boarding school hoping to make amends with her BFF Blair Waldorf--things just haven't been the same since Nate Archibald came between them. But here's where our dark tale takes a turn: Serena decides that the only way for her to make things right with Blair is to eliminate Nate. If that means killing him, well, c'est la vie. Her attempted murder doesn't go unnoticed by Blair, however, who isn't about to let Serena kill whoever she wants-not when there's Cyrus Rose and Chuck Bass and Titi Coates and everyone else who's ever irritated Blair to get rid of first . . . .

***

If the above list isn't to your taste, here is a short list of some of my favorite suspenseful-chilling-thrilling-creepy-leave-the-night-light-on reads:

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury

What are some of your favorite chilling and thrilling reads? Please, no Twilight jokes. :-)