Monday, February 27, 2017

Whoop-de-do! 'Tis my 100th post!

Is it not a grand occasion? 

I'VE WRITTEN 100 POSTS!  Me.  Little old me.

It's like... 

"Too bad to be true."

A-hem.  Where did you come from?

"Oh, nowhere special.  Just that insignificant part of your brain that takes care of all the saucy comments and smart-alecky remarks.  That's all."

Well, what do you want to be a wet blanket for?  If you're a part of my brain then this is as much your success as mine.

"Of course.  But it is my duty as the smart aleck to say smart-alecky things.  So that's what I'm doing."

Fine.  Whatever. 

As I was saying, this is my 100th post and I feel like that is worth celebrating.  So...

"Now it's my turn to say something.  You never let me get a word in edgewise."

Excuse me?  You're always talking.  It's like blab, blab, blab all day long. 

"I resent that remark."

Do you deny it?

"No.  I just resent it."

Well, I gotta hand it to you, you're quick on the draw when it comes to quoting movies.

"Of course.  That's one of my best things.  (You see.  I am good for something.)"

(I never said you weren't.)  Now.  As I was saying...

"Interrupting is another thing I do really well."

I've noticed.  
"It's a talent of mine, I guess."
'Hem.  To get back to my original train of thought...

"Choo-choo-choo.  Train ran off the tracks.  Too bad.  Very sad.  (You know?  I've actually got lots of hidden talents.)"

Well, hurrah for you!  I must say, though, the interrupting one is not so very hidden.

"Oh no.  That one isn't.  That's one I like to share with the world.  Because some talents, you know, are just too good to be kept to oneself. " 


"Yes!  But to get back to what I was saying.  I think it's about time you let me do more talking around here.  A person starts to feel very slighted when they're not allowed to have their fair share in the conversation.  You know that, don't you?" 

Honestly.  I'd say you've had more than your fair share of talking on this blog.

"You would say that, of course.  But your opinion can hardly be called an unbiased one."

Well, then.  I appeal to my readers.  Dear readers, hasn't my sarcastic, smart-alecky voice been heard quite often enough on this blog?  I mean, there have already been several posts where he's made an appearance such as he is making right now, and on top of that I have a feeling he makes a subtle appearance in pretty nearly every post I write.  Isn't that so?  (And don't ask me why I'm referring to my sarcastic voice as a "he".  It just fits somehow.)

"You can't appeal to your readers.  That's not fair.  Besides, by this point they're probably wondering what in the world we're even talking about."

Of course they are!  Because my posts never make sense when you show up.

"Haha!  Yes, indeed.  And proud of it I am.  Not making sense is another of my hidden talents."

Oh good grief.  Can I PLEASE get on to the point of this post?

"Yes.  Please do.  I was waiting for you to stop fooling around and get to that."

I don't think anyone even cares to hear after all of this rigmarole, but here we go.

Friends!  Fellows!  Countrymen!
This is my 100th post!!  My ONE HUNDREDTH post!!!

"And this is like the 100th time you've said that."  *prolonged sigh of boredom*

(I see you also like to exaggerate.  However, I'll ignore that remark.)  
In order to celebrate this grand event, I've been thinking over what I could do to make this post more special than the norm.  
*drum roll*

*accelerated drum roll*
*drum roll abruptly dies down*
Unfortunately I couldn't  think of anything.

"So.  We may go home now?"

(Shhh.  No.  Not yet.) 

As I said, I couldn't think of anything particularly special, but then I got the idea to include some links to a couple of my early posts.  And that seemed like a good enough idea. Celebrating a noteworthy post by reminiscing over old ones?  Why not?  

So that, my dear friends, is what I'm going to do.  For those of you who have been reading my blog since the beginning, naturally these won't be new to you...

"So you may all go home.  (Lucky people.)"

However, you might enjoy reading them all the same, so feel free to do so.  (Or just skip 'em.  That's fine, too.)

"I like to skip!"

For those of you who are newer to my blog, well, I hope you may find something here to amuse or interest you. 
"Of course if you enjoy skipping, I'd be most happy to have you join me."

So without further are the posts.

A post in which I prattle on about romantic stereotypes.  
"Prattling on being the perfect word for it."

I had fun with this post because talking about movies--and what I think of them--is one of my favorite topics.  
"This is very true.  And believe me, she WILL talk on that subject--long and thoroughly--whether you like it or not."

This is one of my favorite posts because... 
"Let me tell!  Let me tell!  It's a favorite because she thinks she really was quite witty in this one."  
You are so very complimentary today.
"I know it.  That's another of my..."
Don't tell me.  Another of your hidden talents.  *groan*

A random post about a couple games my siblings and I invented.
"Random being a very choice word indeed.  In fact, I there anything Miss March writes that is not random?"

The post in which "Mr. Smart Aleck" made his first appearance.  
"That's me!!  (wink)  I LOVE THIS POST!!" 

The title says it best.  
"Indeed.  And disastrous is the word that particularly stands out.  In fact, that would be an excellent word to describe this post. Don't you think?"

If you had time to read any of those (and I hardly expect you to read all of them because goodness knows there's plenty of new posts to read without wasting time on old ones), but if you did happen to read some, I hope you enjoyed them.  And I'll just say (for the record) that I by no means object to (and in fact I quite love) getting comments on old posts.  Just sayin'. 
Oh, shush.  You don't have to shout it from the house tops.  I only meant that as  a small hint or suggestion, just in case anyone wanted to comment.  No pressure.
Oh!  You are impossible.  I am entirely put out with you.
"Put out?  Where?  Where have we been put out?  Out on the street?  Oooh.  That wasn't very nice.  Who would do that to us?"
Oh brother. 
I have a feeling I'd better end this post right quick before it becomes an unqualified disaster.
Good-day, my friends.  If you read the whole of this ridiculous post all I can say is, MY HAT IS OFF TO YOU!  I hope very much you can manage to have a good day after all this nonsense, and that you'll find it in your heart to forgive me for being such a nut.  (I honestly don't know what comes over me sometimes.) 
How very true.

Friday, February 17, 2017

Moments in Fiction: The Thoughtfulness and Sweetness of Jane Austen's Heroes

In light of Hamlette's Jane Austen party, I thought I'd throw together another "Moments in Fiction" post, this time entirely made up of Jane Austen snippets.  ("Throw together"?  Ha!  Who am I kidding? My posts are never simply "thrown together."  In fact, they always take me much longer to complete than any reasonable post should.  *sigh*) 

The selections from Northanger Abbey and Mansfield Park were the first two that came to my mind.  I've always loved those scenes because of the kindness shown to the heroine by the hero.  However, once I got started I figured I might as well go ahead and highlight a scene about each of Jane Austen's heroes because they're all so splendid.  And of course I couldn't leave out Mr. Bingley, even though he's not technically a hero, so there will be eight scenes all together. 

Be prepared for a lengthy post.  (No, no! Wait! Don't go.  I know length can be intimidating shall I put it?...nothing ventured, nothing gained?  Sometimes you just have to do the hard things in order to reap the rewards.  In other words, you're going to miss out on  some extreme adorableness if you leave.  And you wouldn't want to do that, now would you?  *smiles*)

Northanger Abbey (Henry Tilney)
     "If I understand you rightly, you have formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to ---- Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained.  What have you been judging from?  Remember the country and age in which we live.  Remember that we are English, that we are Christians.  Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you--Does our education prepare us for such atrocities?  Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing; where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay everything open?  Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?"
     They had reached the end of the gallery; and with tears of shame she ran off to her own room.
     The visions or romance were over.  Catherine was completely awakened.  Henry's address, short as it had been, had more thoroughly opened her eyes to the extravagance of her late fancies than all their several disappointments had done.  Most grievously was she humbled.  Most bitterly did she cry.  It was not only with herself that she was sunk--but with Henry.  Her folly, which now seemed even criminal, was all exposed to him, and he must despise her forever.  The liberty which her imagination had dared to take with the character of his father, could he ever forgive it?  The absurdity of her curiosity and her fears, could they ever be forgotten? She hated herself more than she could express.  He had--she thought he had, once or twice before this fatal morning, shewn something like affection for her.--But now--in short, she made herself as miserable as possible for about half an hour, went down when the clock struck five,  with a broken heart, and could scarcely give an intelligible answer to Eleanor's inquiry, if she was well.  The formidable Henry soon followed her into the room, and the only difference in his behaviour to her, was that he paid her rather more attention than usual.  Catherine had never wanted comfort more and he looked as if he was aware of it.


First off, I love how Henry knows Catherine so well.  She barely has to hint at what she was thinking and he's already got a pretty good idea what was going on in her overactive imagination.  And the way he says, "Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?"  Eeek, I love it!  There's such a tenderness in his address even while he's calling her out on her error of judgment.    And then, oh!  It just warms my heart the way he cares for her that evening; noticing her need for comfort and treating her with even more kindness than usual.   He's a dear.

"Because it is my nearest way from the stable-yard to my own chamber; and why should I not come up it?"
(Haha.  Love that quote.)

Pride and Prejudice (Mr. Bingley)

As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; and he soon afterwards said aloud, "Mr. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?"
     "I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk to Oakhan Mount this morning.  It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view."
     "It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty.  Won't it, Kitty?"
     Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home.  Mr. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented.


Oh!  I love this part.  I love the picture it gives us of how close a relationship Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley have, and what a close relationship Mr. Bingley and Lizzy are going to have as brother and sister.  The fact that Bingley is so happy that Lizzy and Darcy are going to be married is just really sweet.  And I love how he maneuvers things in order to give Darcy and Lizzy some time to themselves.  I can just see his mischievous smile as he declares such a walk to be too much for Kitty.  Oh, sly, Mr. Bingley!  Sly!  ;)

Persuasion (Captain Wentworth)
The walking party had crossed the lane, and were surmounting an opposite stile, and the Admiral was putting his horse in motion again, when Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a moment, to say something to his sister.  The something might be guessed by its effects.

     "Miss Elliot, I am sure you are tired," cried Mrs. Croft.  "Do let us have the pleasure of taking you home.  Here is excellent room for three, I assure you.  If we were all like you, I believe we might sit four.  You must , indeed, you must."

     Anne was still in the lane, and though instinctively beginning to decline, she was not allowed to proceed.  The Admiral's kind urgency came in support of his wife's: they would not be refused: they compressed themselves into the smallest possible space to leave her a corner, and Captain Wentworth, without saying a word, turned to her, and quietly obliged her to be assisted into the carriage.

     Yes; he had done it.  She was in the carriage, and felt that he had placed her there, that his will and his hands had done it, that she owed it to his perception of her fatigue, and his resolution to give her rest.  She was very much affected by the view of his disposition towards her, which all these things made apparent.  This little circumstance seemed the completion of all that had gone before.  She understood him.  He could not forgive her, but he could not be unfeeling.  Though condemning her for the past, and considering it with high and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless of her, and though becoming attached to another, still he could not see her suffer without the desire of giving her relief.  It was a remainder of former sentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged, friendship; it was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart, which she could not contemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that she knew not which prevailed.


Talk about loving someone despite your own better judgment.  Haha.  Here's Captain Wentworth, angry at Anne for rejecting him so many years ago, and yet he can't bear to see her tired and uncomfortable without jumping at the chance to aid her.  This is a love that goes much deeper than mere feelings.  Because even as he stands to gain nothing for himself from caring for the woman who broke his heart, still he instinctively reaches out to help her.  Because he's a gentleman.  And because--though neither he nor Anne realizes it yet--no amount of rejection can really make him stop loving her.

Sense and Sensibility (Colonel Brandon)

It was not time for hesitation.  Her fears and her difficulties were immediately before him.  her fears, he had no courage, no confidence to attempt the removal of;--he listened to them in silent despondence;-- but her difficulties were instantly obviated, for with a readiness that seemed to speak the occasion, and the service pre-arranged in his mind, he offered himself as the messenger who should fetch Mrs. Dashwood.  Elinor made no resistance that was not easily overcome.  She thanked him with a brief, though fervent gratitude, and while he went to hurry off his servant with a message to Mr. Harris, and an order for post-horses directly, she wrote a few lines to her mother.
     The comfort of such a friend at that moment as Colonel Brandon--of such a companion for her mother, --how gratefully was it felt!--a companion whose judgment would guide, whose attendance must relieve, and whose friendship might sooth her!--as far as the shock of such a summons could be lessened to her, his presence, his manners, his assistance, would lessen it.
     He, meanwhile, whatever he might feel, acted with all the firmness of a collected mind, made every necessary arrangement with the utmost dispatch, and calculated with exactness the time in which she might look for his return.  Not a moment was lost in delay of any kind.  The horses arrived, even before they were expected, and Colonel Brandon only pressing her hand with a look of solemnity, and a few words spoken too low to reach her ear, hurried into the carriage.


I have to admit, Colonel Brandon is the one Jane Austen hero that I have the hardest time connecting to.  I'm not sure if it's because of his melancholy nature or what, but for some reason I don't feel for him as much as for some of the others.  Still, this passage is really cool because it shows how much he cares for the Dashwood family, and how willing he is to do anything to help them.  And also what a kind support he is in times of crisis.  He certainly would be a good friend to have with you at such a time.  Someone to lean on and gain confidence from.  Okay, seriously.  He really is a dear.  And I'm so glad he was there to be a support and comfort to Mrs. Dashwood.

Mansfield Park (Edmund Bertram)
A week had passed in this way, and no suspicion of it conveyed  by her quiet passive manner, when she was found one morning by her cousin Edmund, the youngest of the sons, sitting crying on the attic stairs.
     "My dear little cousin," said he, with all the gentleness of an excellent nature, "what can be the matter?"  And sitting down by her, was at great pains to overcome her shame in being so surprised, and persuade her to speak openly.  "Was she ill? or was anybody angry with her? or had she quarrelled with Maria or Julia? or was she puzzled about anything in her lesson that he could explain?  Did she, in short want anything he could possibly get her, or do for her?"  For a long while no answer could be obtained beyond a "no, no--not at all--no, thank you;" but he still persevered; and no sooner had he begun to revert to her own home, than her increased sobs explained to him where the grievance lay.  He tried to console her.
     "You are sorry to leave mamma, my dear little Fanny," said he, "Which shows you to be a very good girl: but you must remember that you are with relations and friends, who all love you, and wish to make you happy.  Let us walk out in the park, and you shall tell me all about your brothers and sisters."
     On pursuing the subject, he found that, dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was on among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest.  it was William whom she talked of most, and wanted  most to see.  William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress.  "William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed."--"But William will write to you, I dare say."--"Yes, he had promised he would, but he had told her to write first."--"And when shall you do it?"  She hung her head and answered, hesitatingly, "She did not know; she had not any paper."
     "If that be all your difficulty, I will furnish you with paper and every other material, and you may write your letter whenever you choose.  Would it make you happy to write to William?"
     "Yes, very."
     "Then let it be done now.  Come with me into the breakfast-room, we shall find everything there, and be sure of having the room to ourselves."


Isn't Edmund just the sweetest?!   I've always loved the picture that comes into my mind when Jane Austen describes him as sitting down beside Fanny on the stairs.  There's a friendly, brotherliness in the action which is simply adorable.  And then how he talks to her and asks her questions until she finally gets up the courage to tell him what's bothering her.  (I can relate to that, because I'm one of those people that needs drawing out.  And when someone actually takes the time to sit down and listen to me...that's huge!)  But Edmund doesn't stop there.  He goes even further; takes her out for a walk, finds the subject she most wishes to speak about, and then allows her to talk about it to her heart's content.  And when he realizes she wishes to write a letter to her brother he immediately sets out to make that possible for her.  Because he wants to see her happy.  Isn't that just the sweetest thing? 


Sense and Sensibility (Edward)

     "Perhaps you mean--my brother--you mean Mrs.--Mrs. Robert Ferrars."
     "Mrs. Robert Ferrars!"--was repeated by Marianne and her mother in an accent of the utmost amazement;--and though Elinor could not speak, even her eyes were fixed on him with the same impatient wonder.  He rose from his seat and walked to the window, apparently from not knowing what to do; took up a pair of scissors that lay there, and while spoiling both them and their sheath by cutting the latter to pieces as he spoke, said, in an hurried voice--
     "Perhaps you do not know--you may not have heard that my brother is lately married to--to the youngest--to Miss Lucy Steele."
     His words were echoed with unspeakable astonishment by all but Elinor, who sat with her head leaning over her work, in a state of such agitation as made her hardly know where she was.
     "Yes," said he, "they were married last week and are now at Dawlish."
     Elinor could sit it no longer.  She almost ran out of the room, and as soon as the door was closed, burst into tears of joy, which at first she thought would never cease.  Edward, who had till then looked anywhere rather than at her, saw her hurry away, and perhaps saw--or even heard--her emotion; for immediately afterwards he fell into a reverie, which no remarks, no inquiries, no affectionate address of Mrs. Dashwood could penetrate, and at last, without saying a word, quitted the room, and walked out towards the village, leaving the others in the greatest astonishment and perplexity on a change in his situation so wonderful and so sudden--a perplexity which they had no means of lessening but by their own conjectures.


Ohh!  I feel for Edward in this scene.  Like, really.  What an awkward situation to find oneself in.  The description of him picking up the scissors and spoiling the sheath by snipping it to pieces--simply because he didn't know what else to do with himself--ach! if that doesn't spell awkward I don't know what does!  But it's so sweet how he forges ahead and says what he needs to say, and then how he's so overcome by Elinor's emotion that he can't even stay in the house, but has to go off by himself and mull things over.  Dear Edward.  Someone needs to give him a hug and assure him that everything's going to be okay.  (Well, but I reckon Elinor will manage that, and make him super-duper happy when he finally comes back from his walk. ;))

Pride and Prejudice (Mr. Darcy)

In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was extreme.  She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to be made unhappy, and that it should be through her means that she, his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her, was a wretched reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile.  In a few minutes he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty, and, while pretending to admire her work, said in a whisper, "Go to your father; he wants you in the library."  She was gone directly.


I've always liked this part.  The simplicity and unobtrusiveness of Darcy's manner is so endearing.  The way he quietly smiles to let Lizzy know all is well, and then sits down by her side and nonchalantly passes along the message that her father wishes to speak to her.  I just love how happy they both are, and how all of this is going on so quietly in the background while Lizzy's family remains quite oblivious to the grand event taking place.

Emma (Mr. Knightley)

She hoped they might now become friends again.  She thought it was time to make up.  Making-up indeed would not do.  She certainly had not been in the wrong, and he would never own that he had.  Concession must be out of the question; but it was time to appear to forget that they had ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather assist the restoration of friendship, that when he came into the room she had one of the children with her--the youngest, a nice little girl about eight months old, who was now making her first visit to Hartfield, and very happy to be danced about in her aunt's arms.  It did assist; for though he began with grave looks and short questions, he was soon led to talk of them all in the usual way, and to take the child out of her arms with all the unceremoniousness of perfect amity.  Emma felt they were friends again; and the conviction giving her at first great satisfaction, and then a little sauciness, she could not help saying, as he was admiring the baby,
     "What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews and nieces.  As to men and women, our opinions are sometimes very different; but with regard to these children, I observe we never disagree."
     "If you were as much guided by nature in your estimate of men and women, and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your dealings with them, as you are where these children are concerned, we might always think alike."
     "To be sure--our discordancies must always arise from my being in the wrong."
     "Yes," said he, smiling--"and reason good.  I was sixteen years old when you were born."
     "A material difference then," she replied; "and no doubt you were much my superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?"
     "Yes--a good deal nearer."
     "But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we think differently."
     "I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years' experience, and by not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child.  Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends and say no more about it.  Tell your aunt, little Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now."
     "That's true," she cried, "very true.  Little Emma, grow up a better woman than your aunt.  Be infinitely cleverer and not half so conceited."


This is what I love about Emma and Mr. Knightley's relationship.  There's a bond of friendship there so deep that no amount of disagreements and arguments can pull them apart.  I like the connection they have with their nieces and nephews and that in this scene you get to see them enjoying the children together, as a brother and sister would.  And then how they tease each other and almost get into another argument, before Mr. Knightley finally says, "That's enough.  Let's be friends again." And they are.  (And he calls her "my dear Emma" and I think that's just so sweet.)

Aren't Jane Austen's heroes just the best? 
Do you have a favorite amongst the eight gentleman mentioned in this post?
Was there a selection here that you particularly enjoyed reading?
Well, the party's still going on at Hamlette's blog, so be sure to head over there and check out the other posts which have been written this week. 
(And then go and read a Jane Austen novel, because you know you're in the mood for it!  ;))
Farewell, my friends!

Monday, February 13, 2017

Wishing you a Happy Valentine's Day ~ Vintage Style

I wanted to do a nicely thought out post about my favorite period drama couples or something along those lines, but in my typical fashion I ran out of time.  So instead I googled some cute vintage Valentine cards and thought I'd share them with you.  ('Cause we all need an extra dose of cute, right?  I think so!)



Happy Valentine's Day, my friends!
Got any special plans for the holiday?
Which of these five cards do you like the best?
(There now, Sister dear.  Are you satisfied? Two posts from me in one day, and the last one wasn't a tag post.  *wink, wink*)

I Love Jane Austen Week // Tag Answers

Hamlette is hosting a Jane Austen week over at her blog.  (Check out her master post here to see how you can join in on the fun.)  Naturally the week would not be complete without a tag, so Hamlette has created a lovely tag of lovely Jane Austen related questions, and it is my intention today to delight you all with my, uh, delightful answers.

Actually, I have a feeling my answers are going to be quite lame considering the fact that I've talked about Jane Austen many times before and you probably all know what I'm going to say before I even say it...but no matter.  I've decided to run the risk of boring you (sweet of me, no?) and answer the questions anyway because so many of my friends are doing it know...

 "I must have my share in the conversation!"

1.  Which did you experience first, a Jane Austen book or a movie based on one?

Pride and Prejudice 1995 was my very first Jane Austen experience.  I couldn't have been more than six when I first saw it, so you can definitely say I grew up on it.  And it's been a family favorite ever since then.

2.  What is your favorite Austen book?

Ohhh!  It's hard to say, but I guess I'll go with Pride and Prejudice.  At any rate, that's the one I've read the most.  I also really love Northanger Abbey.  The large doses of sarcastic humor in that book appeal to me more than I can say.  (Sarcasm is my one weakness.)

3.  Favorite heroine?  Why do you like her best?

Oh, dear.  I like ALL Jane Austen's heroines.  But I suppose in the end Lizzy might possibly be my favorite.  Maybe.  (Or is it Emma?  Or Elinor? Or...forget it.  I DON'T KNOW!)  (Please.  Don't ask me these kinds of questions.)  Fine.  I choose Lizzy.  And I like her because...I don't know.  Because she's nice.  (*evil laugh*  I've just made  Henry Tilney very  happy.)

4.  Favorite hero?  Why do you like him best?

WHAT?  NO!  I just told you not to ask me these kinds of questions.   Have some compassion on my poor nerves! 

Do I have to choose just one?  *clasps hands pleadingly*  *sinks under the weight of such an obligation*  Alright, alright.  I will be brave.  I will pretend to have an opinion.  I will choose Mr. Knightley.  I love him because he's just, ach!! The sweetest, dearest, most kind-hearted gentleman ever!

5.  Do you have a favorite film adaptation of Austen's work?

Pride and Prejudice 1995 and Emma 2009.  (Shush.  I know that's two.  I can count.)

6.  Have your Austen tastes changed over the years?  (Did you start out liking one story best, but now like another better?  Did you think she was boring at first, then changed your mind?  Etc.)

Oh-hmmm...good question.  Let me think about that.  Well, I did use to think Mansfield Park was one of Jane Austen's more boring novels and that Edmund was not as likable as her other heroes, but I have since changed my mind.  All six of her novels are excellent and I like all of her heroes and heroines. 

7.  Do you have any cool Austen-themed things (mugs, t-shirts, etc)?  (Feel free to share photos if you want.)

Uh, no.  I suppose I don't. 

Does that make me sort of half a fan?

8.  If you could ask Jane Austen one question, what would you ask her?

"Which movie adaptions of your novels do you like the best?"  *Fingers crossed that she would  choose the ones I like the best*

9.  Imagine someone is making a new film of any Jane Austen story you choose, and you get to cast the leads.  What story do you want filmed, and who would you choose to act in it?

I definitely think we could use a new adaption of Mansfield Park so I'll go with that one.  And as to casting, I must first make it perfectly clear to all of you that I am HORRIBLE at casting characters.  I don't trust myself at it.   But the following is the closest I could get (at the moment) to the Edmund and Fanny of my imagination.

Dan Stevens as Edmund. (And looking pretty much just like that, except with his hair a bit shorter perhaps.)

And yes, I know.  That's Edward Ferrars from Sense and Sensibility.  I'm not saying I don't like Dan Stevens as Edward (I do!), but considering the fact that I've always gotten Edward and Edmund mixed up because of the similarity between their names, it makes sense that I could imagine them looking very much the same.  (Well. Doesn't it?) 
For Fanny I'd cast Amy Dorrit Claire Foy.

Because she just seems like the sweet sort of person that could totally bring to life the Fanny I've always imagined.  I know some of you think Fanny has blonde hair, but...*coughcough*...please.  Allow me to straighten you out on that one.  As I tried to explain to my siblings years ago when we were discussing why I had always imagined Faramir (from The Lord of the Rings) to have dark hair instead of light hair:  "F" is a dark letter, people.  It is.  Reading about a person in a book who's name starts with "F" naturally brings up visions of a dark-haired person.  It DOES.  (Don't tell me it doesn't.  You're messing with my theory.) 

10.  Share up to five favorite Jane Austen quotations!

I spent a significant amount of time today looking up Jane Austen quotes and choosing some that I liked, so I do hope you appreciate them.  ;)

"Where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong? "  -Jane Austen
(That's profound.  Really.)

"You deserve a longer letter than this; but it is my unhappy fate seldom to treat people so well as they deserve."  -Jane Austen
(Haha.  Love that.)

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, "of conversing easily with those I have never seen before."  -Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
(I can totally relate to that!)

"There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison."  -Jane Austen, Persuasion
(*sigh*  This is what I'd want to be said of me and my future husband.)


Well!  It appears we've come to the end.  Thank you all for allowing me to have my share in the conversation.  I shall leave you now.

Don't forget to check out Hamlette's blog for more Jane Austen related posts!