Pride and Prejudice

Books Are Your Friends

When I was 13, I had a lot of passion but no outlet to express it.

I joke about this often, but I really think that if I was a teen in the ’60s, I would have wound up in a cult.

Unfortunately or fortunately, cults were far and few between in suburban Massachusetts in 2003.

Left with no other option, I was forced to joined the ranks of those who arm themselves with a book emblazoned with the title: “The Collected Works of Jane Austen.”

I become a Janeite.

I hate to admit it, but I watched Jane Austen film adaptations before I read Jane Austen books.

There was a time in middle school when I consumed movies more voraciously than books.
And I mean voraciously.
I spent whole summers sitting in my basement watching whatever movie was on TCM.

Time seemed so endless during summer vacation.

Adulthood is like gastric bypass surgery for time.

These days my leisure time is pretty lean, but I still make time for consuming things I love.
Especially DVD commentaries.
I know I’ve found a kindred spirit when someone wants to watch a DVD commentary with me. (The DVD commentary of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang featuring Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer is one of my sister and I’s favorite movies.)

It was Joe Wright’s director’s commentary of Pride and Prejudice that made me want to read the film’s source material. In his commentary, he repeatedly mentioned the intense pressure that came with adapting a story with such a passionate fanbase.

How passionate was the Jane Austen fanbase?
Pride and Prejudice diehards produced scene-by-scene transcripts and analyses of Joe Wright’s director’s commentary.

I wanted to join in on the fun.
Here’s how I became a diehard Janeite:

Step One: I picked up a cheap paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice at the Borders in Methuen, Massachusetts.

Step Two: I fell. Hard.

Inside the tissue-paper-thin pages of my first Jane Austen novel, I learned that I could be as headstrong and independent as I wanted to be. Pride and Prejudice wasn’t just a novel, it was a self-help guide I didn’t know I needed.

I repaid that flimsy paperback by giving it more love than it could handle.

Today the pages of that book are barely intelligible, what with all my marginalia, underlining, and highlighting. Its cover is two threads away from dismemberment.

After reading and re-reading it throughout middle school and high school, Pride and Prejudice came back into my life the summer before my senior year. It was assigned as one of four books we had to read and analyze before entering AP Brit Lit. I didn’t have to read it again, as I’d devoured it about eight times by then, but I did.

I remember that summer passing too quickly.

Adulthood was stalking me like prey.

One night in late August of that summer, I attended a last-hurrah-before-school-starts bonfire.
I got to talking to a friend about Pride and Prejudice.
That friend’s name was Julie.

I’d known Julie since elementary school, and we’d always hung out in the same circles, but I wouldn’t call us especially close. But while others roasted marshmallows and eventually wandered inside to play Guitar Hero, Julie and I spend the whole night alone by the fire, talking about Mr. Bennett’s wit and trading our favorite quotes from Pride and Prejudice.

I’d found a kindred spirit.

The fire eventually went out and then the bonfire was over and then senior year started and then eight years passed and Julie and I have been the best of friends ever since.

[A version of this piece first appeared in Bryan Berlin’s brainchild, Broken Spork]

p.s. Who wants to come over and watch the DVD commentary for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy?

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