As if I couldn't become more of a geek than I already am, I must confess to being a huge Jane Austen lover. I, of course, don't see this as geeky in the slightest but my far cooler friends would probably disagree (Note to self; find new cool Jane-Austen-fan friends). I have read all the Austen novels on more than one occasion and I am in love with each and every one of them and very much idealise the many female characters of Austen's extraordinary novels, and no, I don't even care if this is a cliche. Oh, wait, though. All of them with the exception of Fanny Price. I'm sorry but her superior know-it-all nature and excellent decision making at all times has always grated on my scruffy-mistake-ridden self. One can not be that perfect all of the time. It's not possible. Pipe down, Fanny. Just pipe-the-fuck-down.
It is thought that Austen herself thought, although she loved her heroine, Emma, it would be Emma that wouldn't translate or bring as much warmth as her other characters had done. I personally adore Emma, even if she is the equivalent modern day 'it' girl (Cher from Clueless, step forward), she makes mistakes (and pretty big ones at that) and does not take criticism well. A fairly human trait found in all of us, and one I can identify with. Fanny, on the other hand, sees Frank Crawford for what he is almost straightaway and never lets go of her love for her cousin, Edmund (I know it was acceptable back then but still, first cousins...eek! Someone is going to have six-toed children). I don't hate Fanny, far from it. Austen writes so poetically and comically that it is hard to hate any one of her creations, however, if I had to ignore just one of Austen's heroines, then Emma Woodhouse it would not be. Fanny on the other hand, I can take or leave. Even if it is just because she marries her cousin. Wrong.
However, I am digressing, as I so often do. As I have mentioned, I have not been all that well lately and so as I had already spent a day dedicated to 'The Slipper and The Rose', I needed to turn my attention this time to my favourite female author. Of course, I would usually read the books rather than watch an adaption, but being rather fatigued, a film had to make do. But what to choose? The 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice has little to halt it (pure telly perfection, Colin Firth aside) however, suffering with extreme fatigue a five hour period drama fest was not on the cards. Not this time anyway. I could go through the pros and cons of each of my favourite adaptation but I fear we would be here all day (yes, I could talk ALL day about them...am I sounding like that geek I mentioned at the beginning of the post yet?)
I settled on ITV's 2007 adaption of Persuasion, and what an inspired choice. Of all the lessons in love and life that Austen teaches us, the one that I identify with the most of any of the books has to be when Anne Elliot of Persuasion utters "all the privilege I claim for my own sex, and it is not a very enviable one - you need not covet it, is that of loving longest when all hope is gone." I cannot agree with this statement more. Of all my failings when it comes to the opposite sex, I feel The Blonde One and Dynasty find my utter inability to move on the most annoying. I have always been the same. And I think I always will be. I find it impossible to completely let go of someone when there is even the smallest morsel of...of...well, not quite hope...the smallest morsel of 'maybe'. Before you write me off as some clingy stalker, I should make it clear that I do not in any way make it obvious that I still feel this way (well, apart from this post here that anyone and everyone can read, naturally!). But in the back of my mind, behind those naughty memories, behind the food shopping list and that latest assignment that I just can't complete, there is that tiny voice that just doesn't let me forget how I feel about that certain someone. And the possibility of what could be if I just wait a little longer.
Surely I can't be the only one who silently holds hope that one day that idiot that you can't stop thinking about will one day turn around and say 'Shitting hell, you're perfect. Give me some sugar!' Ok, ok, if anyone and I mean anyone (even Nadal) came up to me and seriously asked me to 'give them some sugar!' I would have to get the divorce lawyers in faster than one of Nadal's serves, but you get my point. I am not so hopeless that I stay in night after night just waiting for The Nice One to text me. Good Lord, no. For even Anne Elliot gave thought to other men while Wentworth was off at sea making his fortune, no, she merely kept an eye on her true love from afar and never gave up hope that one day he would forgive her. And really, is there anything wrong with that? I think not. After all, she got her man in the end.
So as I sit here talking to The Country One, I can't help but compare every new man she suggests to The Nice One. I think she may strangle me. Perhaps I just won't tell her I am doing it anymore. Shhhh! I think I have fooled her. However, if you don't hear anything from me for a while, know that The Country One gave up all hope on me and threw me into The Thames. Either that or I have finally moved on and have run off with my very own Captain Wentworth. I'm guessing the former...
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