Monday, October 5, 2009

You have consumed me, body and soul.... with HATRED

I think it's about time for me to step out of the literary closet, so to speak.

For me to reveal something my close friends and family know, but it's gotten so out of control that I want to open up to the entire world.

I am about to say something that will cause some of you to judge me, some to hate me, and some to call me a heathen sinner and never speak to me again. This is worth it, just to relieve myself of the burden I've been carrying for years. I need to come clean. It's time.

I hate Jane Austen.

That's right. All you girls, you better click off now. Run away to some happy blog that quotes Pride and Prejudice every five sentences and compares every male to Mr. Darcy. I don't care. I don't need your desperate pleas defending her writing, describing how she makes you believe in love (to which I say, PSHAW), how she stands as an inspiration for women authors everywhere. I don't want to hear it.

I hate her. This is a deep, lasting, forever kind of hatred. There is no grudge here. It's a vendetta, a lifelong disdain for her works and her self.

Right now, I am at the point where if I could go back in time and kill one person from history, Hitler, Judas, and Nero can rest easy. Live on to be horrible another day. Believe me, if I was killing two persons from history, I'd keep one eye open, but for now you all are safe. Because I would target Austen and her snobbish, restricted class fluff pieces.

I don't care if Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy ever get together. They'd probably both grow a lot more as people if they didn't. And I don't care about Emma and her match-making. She should have stopped being silly and realized what was there the whole time. It's her own fault. And don't even get me started on Anne Elliott and Captain Wentworth. Newflash: you are both idiots who allow society to pressure you, and, quite frankly, only have yourselves to blame for years of unhappiness. If either of you had an ounce of confidence and assurity, this novel would never have happened. And I would be a lot happier. It would have led to the salvation of many souls, as girls realized that sort of behavior is not acceptable in real life, and that's why they are still alone, eating chocolate and watching BBC movies in their dorm room. Get out and actually interact with real people, instead of swooning over men in high-waisted pants and frilly shirts. No one pulls those off anymore. There is a reason that is not the fashion. If you saw a guy with a cravat, you would run away from him, not towards him. Rant rant. Rave rave. And etc.

And I refuse to believe that any merit to be found in her books cannot be found in spades in other tomes. Ever heard of the Bronte sisters? Woman empowerment that is actually empowering. And has depth. I know. Gasp. But look at Wuthering Heights. It tackles racial issues, class structures, whether man is inherantly evil or just a product of environment, AND it includes a very funny bit with a dog! What more do you want? Romance? There are lovers that are driven literally mad for each other. Or is that type of devotion too much for you? Because it is so much more realistic than anything in your silly little Austen books. But go on. Carry on with your "he's rich and prideful and I want nothing to do with him so we will fall madly in love". Good luck with that. Call me when that tactic works.

Come on girls. How many of you really just like Jane Austen because you are expected to? I mean, seriously. Colin Firth is not really attractive. Not even as Mr. Darcy. It's kind of horrible acting, to be honest.

I guess the real point of this is, does anyone want to write my multiple papers on Persuasion? Because it's causing serious harm to my sanity.