I Don't Like Books by Jane Austen

There. I said it. I don't like books by Jane Austen. I really, truly don't. I don't necessarily dislike them, entirely. But, as I said, neither do I particularly like them. I want to, if that helps. Listen, I know. You don't have to shout - I can hear you across the miles of cyberspace between us. Every literary-minded woman with an ounce of breeding and an iota of romantic spirit likes Jane Austen! I know! I SAID I KNOW!

I've pretended, for years, to like her writing. I read "Pride and Prejudice" with gusto, and dutifully saw the Colin Firth version. When Hollywood released a more accessible one in 2005, I even dragged my poor husband there - and scolded him for falling asleep during the moment when dashing Mr. Darcy confesses his love to Elizabeth in the rain (despite my true feelings about Jane Austin's stories, I really did feel his slumber was inexcusable! It was, after all, a very moving scene). And it's not that I disliked the movies. They were… fine. I'd go so far as to say I loved some of the scenes (like the aforementioned one. And the one pictured above). But that was the problem. I only loved some of the scenes. The scenes in between those few I'd describe as "okay" or even "forgettable."

I also read, and watched, Sense and Sensibility. And Emma? Yes. Emma too. Oh, and I endured Persuasion for a book club study, and practiced my acting ability as I - I think quite convincingly - portrayed a reader who was enthralled with the love story and beautiful sense of setting Ms. Austen created for her readers. 

Truly, I can't fault her writing. It's finely crafted, with breathtaking moments of sheer emotional brilliance. But there is something about the majority of her characters that repel me, and something about the style that is off-putting. Maybe it's the nuances of class relations that get to me. Maybe it's her propensity to include the texts of the letters characters write to one another.  Maybe it is simply the number of uninteresting words between the exceptional ones.  Whatever it is, it defeats me at every turn.

It's not that I don't enjoy literature from different time periods, nor that I somehow dislike romance. Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre is, I think, my favourite book of all times. I've read and re-read and re-read it, and have tearfully watched every film version I can find. Shakespeare's The Twelfth Night and his Much Ado About Nothing are glorious in play, film, and written formats. And I absolutely love Charles Dickens' Great Expectations (although to be perfectly honest, I much prefer his second more "hopeful" resolution to his dreary original one and I believe it to be far superior - judge me as you will!)

Even as I write this post, I feel a sense of trepidation. Can I still call myself a lover of true literature - and a romantic - without a love of Jane Austen? Is there something about her writing that I'm missing? And is there one book out there that she's written that will make her writing click for me? If you have the answers, dear readers, do tell. Please, do. 

After all, as Jane Austen herself writes, "The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid." Ouch indeed.  

My Relationship with the Anti-Hero

I'm a big fan of heroes. I looove them, in fact. Superman. Thor. Captain America.  And I don't mind the "dark hero" either. Batman, maybe, fits this definition. Wolverine. T.V.'s Buffy? Characters whose past and troubled "edge" have be-smudged their heroic qualities, but haven't managed to negate them. Both the hero and the dark hero are clearly noble, courageous, self-sacrificing. They portray characteristics we can count on and admire.  

But to be honest, while I adore heroes, there is a special place in my affections for the anti-hero. 

What's an anti-hero, you ask? Well, the Merriam-Webster online dictionary says an Antihero is "a main character…who does not have the usual good qualities that are expected in a hero; a protagonist or notable figure who is conspicuously lacking in heroic qualities." 

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't like all types of anti-hero. Often, the anti-hero is clearly a villain - a villain who we are told to align ourselves with and root for. I think of shows like Breaking Bad or movies like Natural Born Killers, where the audience is meant to be on-side with characters who are utterly morally corrupt. I avoid stories where I'm manipulated into rooting for a straight-up bad guy.

No, the type of anti-hero I find myself drawn to is the fallen character, who, despite his (or her) moral corruption, may not be utterly unredeemable.  A character who evokes my sympathy by being his own worst enemy - who does right in spite of, and at times against, his own nature. 

I'll throw some definitions at you, if you're still with me:

"An anti-hero is a flawed hero, and therefore, much more interesting than the more traditional heroes. They can be working on the side of good, but with a tragic flaw, or a horrible past, or for reasons that are selfish and not entirely "pure." They can also be working for the side of evil, but with hidden intentions or other underlying complexities." (Urban Dictionary)

"The anti-hero is often a reluctant hero who does not consider himself capable of accomplishing the goal. He might be selfish, addicted, corrupt, sullen, or disaffected… in many cases, the anti-hero dies at the end of the story, even while overcoming his faults." (WiseGeek).

"The anti-hero is a kind of protagonist, who has aspects of the morality we've traditionally come to associate with the antagonist. An antihero is a protagonist who is as flawed or more flawed than most characters: he is someone who disturbs the reader with his weaknesses yet is sympathetically portrayed, who magnifies the frailties of humanity." (Writer's Digest)

Even Wikipedia gives a nod to this definition, acknowledging "the term is sometimes used more broadly to cover the flawed or part-villanous hero, in the literary tradition of the Byronic hero."

Ah, the Byronic Hero. Here it is, in the words of Lord Byron (from The Corsair)

"He knew himself a villain—but he deem'd
The rest no better than the thing he seem'd;
And scorn'd the best as hypocrites who hid
Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did.
He knew himself detested, but he knew
The hearts that loath'd him, crouch'd and dreaded too.
Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike exempt
From all affection and from all contempt. "

I read somewhere that if there's a chance he can be redeemed, he's an anti-hero. If not - villain. I like this.

With this type of anti-hero, we get a picture of someone imperfect - who is capable of great evil - but who is "human", just the same. We feel for him, because the human experience can be painful or difficult, and we relate. And we root for him to change because ultimately, that is humanity at its finest - acknowledging our own darkness or fallen nature and then, somehow, finding undeserved redemption and becoming something new. 

I think of Monroe, in Revolution - and Miles, too, for that matter. Loki, in Thor II. Riddick, in Pitch Black. Or a number of Joss Whedon characters: Spike, in the old Buffy series, Mal and Jayne in Firefly, and of course, Dr. Horrible in the classic Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog.

 These are characters who are completely Selfish. Angry. Hard. Callous. Somewhat…unbalanced. At least, at the start they are. But during the course of their journeys, although they are still, in many ways, selfish and hard, they also somehow defy their nature and do the impossible - display self-sacrificing courage and humanity.  

For example, in battle, Loki - whose motivations of course, are not selfless, nevertheless risks his life to save not only his brother, but also the woman his brother loves. In Pitch Black, Riddick is persuaded to re-enter the dark, killer-creature inhabited valley to rescue some shipmates, at his own peril. And, of course, Spike sacrifices himself for the world. 

I find these characters resonate with me, perhaps, because I find the character who does good in spite of his fallen nature a more moving picture, maybe, than the one who does good because he simply is good.

On the other hand, if you'd ask me who I'd rather have come to my rescue, I'd go with Superman, please. While the anti-hero is fascinating and relatable, I'd prefer my rescuers to be reliable. 

On Books and Movies

I love books. Love them. I love losing myself in the written word, as my imagination brings to life the world and characters the author has created. I love the richness of texture and detail that only written language can create in the mind. 

I also love movies. Love them. I love losing myself in the beauty of the mise-en-scene, in the world and characters created by the writers, directors, actors, and all others that work together to create the art of each film. 

What I really love, I guess, is story. Give me a good story, and I'm happy. The medium matters in that each form brings with it a unique and beautiful method of storytelling, but story is what I love. 

Perhaps that is why book-to-movie adaptations never quite work for me. There are a few exceptions, of course. Certainly, I can think of a few of these movies that are beautiful in their own right, even if they aren't entirely true to the book. Some, I must admit, I have even preferred to the book - where a change in character or storyline seemed more satisfying than the original work. But more often than not, when a film is made from a novel, it seems to me a string of scenes woven together to create but a poor reflection of the original story.

It's only natural, I suppose, that these adaptations would be left wanting. After all, the author has had, in most cases, hundreds of pages to build their worlds, to create depth of character, and to enhance the  intensity of the story. As one experiences the book, the author's vision interacts with the reader's own imagination, building - together - the complex and vivid textual universe. On the other hand, directors can show you the scene, and a good director can add depth and beauty unrivalled, at times, in the best imagination, but in terms of character, scene, and story, they really only have a couple of hours to create what would have taken a reader much longer to experience. Nevertheless, I'm always excited to see the film version of a book I love - and I admit, a great movie adaptation will often drive me to read the book.

Because I love story. In all its glorious forms.