#anti fanny/henry
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It is no secret that I hate the Fanny/Henry pairing, bc like...
How can you read that book, and how Henry acts, and the distress it causes Fanny while we're in her head the whole way through...
And want her to be wrong? And want her to be the one to have to admit she was wrong?
No! Terrible, awful ending. Henry Crawford is not a good person. He's not, like, evil. But he's selfish and self-centred and thinks he deserves Fanny because he's rich and charming and made the bare minimum effort to seem like a better person. I fully buy into the idea that he likes her because he likes a challenge, and that if finally faced with what she like every day (shy and retiring and quiet and uncomfortable around loads of ppl) he'd start to resent her sharpish.
This is a book about selfishness and selfish people, and even in this cast, he's near the top of the most selfish, the most careless with the feelings of others. At the centre is Fanny, who is maligned and mistreated, but despite all is selfless and good, though she struggles with jealousy and negative thoughts and feelings.
It's a book about how she - poor and dependent and not especially well educated or taken care of by her relatives - knows her own mind and deserves to be treated as a rational, intelligent person.
It is literally crucial to her arc and the arc of the story that she's right about Crawford!
#fanny price#mansfield park#henry crawford#ive started to just think of it as kind of misogynistic#to be like ugh why won't she just marry Henry#like she's being irrational#you are literally sir thomas bertram (derogatory) sorry#anti henry crawford#i don't actually think it is but I'm going to tag just in case#anti fanny/henry
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JAFF recommendation: Unfairly Caught by @bethanydelleman
I really do not like Mansfield Park. But you know what I like? When authors figure out a way to change Mansfield Park so Fanny can be happy without stupidhead Edmund. And that's precisely what Unfairly Caught does.
The love story between Fanny and Henry is delightful. The character growth of both of them felt very believable, and the growth of their relationship was so satisfying. Honestly I felt kind of jealous of Fanny—I want someone to completely adore me and take care of my every need the way that Henry does for Fanny! It was so sweet.
The book does a great job at keeping Austen's style as well. I enjoyed the little references to other Austen works too, like the mention of the Crofts from Persuasion.
The bonus short stories at the end are also a lot of fun. I particularly enjoyed the hints in the first one that Edmund sucks at sex, because yes he for sure does! Luckily with Unfairly Caught, that is no longer dear Fanny's problem.
I recommend reading it!
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Jane Austen’s Warning:
A lot of people tell me the Mrs. Smith/Mr. Elliot plot is a lose thread or Jane Austen would have went back and fixed it, but when you read all of her books it's a very clear repeat of an important theme: men are often not what they appear.
Northanger Abbey: Don’t just trust your brother when he tells you his friend is a good guy, judge for yourself. It was John Thorpe, your brother was dead wrong. Also, your creepy feelings about General Tilney were right, just more mundane.
S&S: The passionate, open, charming fellow who is obsessed with your sister? Turns out he’s a debt-ridden, teenage-seducer. It was good to doubt him, Elinor, he wasn’t being completely straight with you. The good ones have honour.
P&P: Superficially charming man is super bad news, man with snobby manners has a heart of gold underneath. Elizabeth is intelligent, the novel shows us that anyone can be drawn in. Elizabeth was unwilling to change her first impressions and take in new information.
Mansfield Park: Some men pretend to be in love for fun, Fanny’s clear-sighted judgement of Henry Crawford keeps her safe from his attack on her heart. We are shown that these men can seduce friends and guardians against you. Fanny refuses to “fix” Henry or accept him on his word, he needs to show her that he has changed before she will.
Emma: The superficially charming man was already engaged and was tricking you! The other charming, attractive man was actually a petty jerk! The plain-spoken, honest man was always the better choice.
Persuasion: Anne has a gut feeling that she can’t fully put words to about Mr. Elliot that he is bad news. She cannot even fully justify it to herself. ANNE, YOU WERE RIGHT.
Again and again, we are told that women need to trust their judgement, look for more evidence into a man’s character/past, and mistrust charm/looks without a basis of goodness. Anne figuring out that Mr. Elliot is evil isn’t anti-climactic, it’s a proof that her judgement is sound. It’s a reminder that one should never rush into a marriage without knowing more about a man’s past. Because for a woman especially, it can end horribly.
#jane austen#meta post#mansfield park#sense and sensibility#pride and prejudice#persuasion#emma#northanger abbey#anne elliot#I'm basically incapable of writing about one book at a time#all the novels have become one canon#in the context of the corpus mrs. smith makes sense#trust yo gut Anne#you will be married permanently#lets be 1000000% sure he's not hollow and black
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Miller's Girl swirled w/Status of Chapter 8
So You Know What officially releases tomorrow in its...limited release, and I just gotta say... it's a movie about a seriously horny 17 (in the script she's 17) year old brilliant 'I'm not like other girls' girl who reads classic erotica and wants to fuck her pruney old white guy English teacher. I won't spoil the end... It's just like The Crush, with less superficial pouty lip and more classic literature, unless they changed/softened it for the final film (I didn't pay attention to what draft I was reading).
That's also my story, here. I started writing this shit before I knew of Miller's Girl. The tropes MG and Satisfying Afterburn share are numerous and almost complete, right down to the mini-flashback of Wednesday attempting to seduce her Honors English professor, Professor Fortunato. It's a common (or WAS a common, I should say) trope, the Precocious Girl. And as much as current climate sexuality activists would like to deny it, precocious girls exist, and I was one of them.
I did mention in my bio that some of what I write about is autobiographical, and that I was an extremely precocious child back in the 80s and 90s. Like Afterburn Wednesday, I was left to my devices in my father's library. Henry Miller (the author Cairo likes) was one of the authors that I was reading in not-so-secret when I was around 10, since my own father had a collection of erotica (novels and art). I suppose the perversion is generational. 🫠💦✨ He was not my favorite author at 10 (at 10 it was Dalton Trumbo...I fell in love with Johnny Got His Gun, and Night of the Aurochs was pretty good too...sucks when someone dies before finishing their work), but at 11 I became a Nabokov fan and at 12, Orwell and Highsmith (Patricia Highsmith was a fkn cunt/racist/anti-Semite, but I loved Tom Ripley); I wasn't as moved by Miller's Tropics (however, I was and am an Anaïs Nin fan, and her whole Henry and June/Henry & June thing was just 🔥). Some time before 12 I read the erotic books that I mentioned in the beginning of my story (My Secret Life and Fanny Hill; I bought them at a book fair, and yes, they let me buy them). I digress, but it's relevant to my fiction.
The erotica Cairo reads and writes is designed to do what it does in the movie, just as all erotica is meant to do. Afterburn is erotica too (and all y'all writing E [for sex] are erotica writers).
I don't want
another
fucking
Greyface anon
coming at me
about
Satisfying Afterburn
after this...
y'all can go fuck yourselves.
Also, Afterburn has all of the Miller's Girl tropes, except that 'Miller's Girl' (who is ✨cleverly✨ Professor Miller's Girl and Henry Miller's girl hyuk hyuk get it) doesn't get her man. Afterburn Wednesday does, and that's why y'all Greyfaces hate on me. She gets her man, just as I got my man at that age.
And speaking of 8 and rain (I hate this app, I fkd up this post and put it in my queue instead of saving the draft I was working on)...
I wrote most of this starting late last March 2023 through late April before I started to move sections into chapters. This part here was written at the end of April, but I transferred it into a different document on May 2.
Romantic/sexy rain trope is in 8. Couldn't help it, since Burton chose to make it rain whenever he wanted to...why the fuck can't I. Anyway, a very short fkn snippet from 8.2:
It tells you nothing except that's raining hard. And yeah, it's Wenovan speaking.
Anyhow...off to create...and probably watch this fkn movie tonight (I have my ways).
ugh
#miller's girl#henry miller#jenna ortega#martin freeman#satisfying afterburn#student teacher#precocious girl#common tropes#satisfying afterburn chapter 8#fkn movie#writing wednesday#wenovan#black bubblegum#writing#wednesday x donovan#sheriff galpin#i think if i wrote mg fan fic it would just be interchangable
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I just remembered I haven't changed my one button on my Fanny pack yet
Just for tomorrow I'm trading my let's kill Hitler button for an Anti homophobia one (I feel like it's more Henry vibes )
Still have to do my nails because I remembered how much I hate the green I have
I also have to eat I don't like eating it's boring
I should shower but I don't have the spell slots and won't have time before leaving tomorrow because I have to do the dishes before going to distribute poppies
I need to ask my new player about their answers on the consent form (we're back up to three yay) but I'm out of social battery
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List 5 favourite shows (in no particular order) and answer questions accordingly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Ghosts
2. Frasier
3. The Blacklist
4. The Thick Of It
5. Barry
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Who is your favourite character in 2?
Niles Crane, hands down.
2. Who is your least favourite character in 1?
Francis Button (or Eleanor)
3. What's your favourite episode of 4?
A tough call between S3E3 (the party conference) and S4E4 (the economist/thought camp)
4. What is your favourite season of 5?
Season 2 (ronny/lily alone MAKES this season)
5. What's your favourite relationship in 3?
Dembe/Red
6. Who is your anti relationship in 2?
Niles/Mel or Frasier/Julia
7. How long have you watched 1?
Since 27 September 2020 (started with Series 2)
8. How did you become interested in 3?
I like James Spader as an actor and the premise sounded good.
9. Who is your favourite actor in 4?
It *should* be Ben, by loyalty standards. But, it’s James Smith because I LOVE Glenn Cullen so much.
10. Which show do you prefer 1, 2 or 5?
1. Always 1. Even after it ends because, to me, it’s perfect.
11. Which show have you seen more episodes of 1 or 3?
3, only because it’s been on longer and has more episodes, but I’ve seen 1’s episodes more times than I can recall.
12. If you could be anyone from 4, who would you be?
Emma, because she’s around Adam all day. Or Malcolm because he’s a complete bastard but really powerful and revered.
13. How would you kill off your favourite character in 5?
He’d be assassinated when he’d least expect it, since that’s how he made his living.
14. Would a 3/4 crossover work?
It would be incredibly tough, but I’d love to see Malcolm and Red pitted against each other to see who would intimidate who.
15. Pair two characters in 1 that would make an unlikely, but strangely okay couple.
Julian and Fanny. He’d trim both their horns, but she’d make him crazy. And their bickering would be amusing.
16. Overall, which show has the better cast, 3 or 5?
Each has a super strong lead, but the supporting cast is so-so (with the exception of Henry Winkler and Stephen Root). But, for sheer experience, longevity and talent, I’m going with 3.
Anyone who wants to do this, please feel free. No need to tag specific folks as they may or may not see it to do it. So, if you want go, please go ahead! I’ll definitely check yours out!
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Stella of Essex, or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed Series. Chapter Eight: Rhodendron
Fix-It Fanfiction Series of The Essex Serpent
Pairing: Some Stella Ransome/William Ransome, mainly Stella/Being Happy, and William/Being Held Accountable and Facing Consequences for Cheating Eventually Stella Ransome/Male OC
Series Summary: Stella must come to terms with not only her mortality but her husband's heartbreaking affair. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity.
And Stella herself in the center of it all, torn between a wife's duty and her own quiet but present rage. Where in the midst of devastating heartbreak she gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.
Chapter Summary: Stella flees from her husband's house and asks for the aid of an old friend in her predicament. She writes testimonies of William's infidelity to be sent and shared.
Warnings: Eventual Major Character Death, Female Rage, Good For Her, ANGST, WHUMP, HURT/COMFORT, DRAMA, Discussions of Adultery, and the Trauma of Being Cheated on, discussions of marriage, children, mentions of death, religion, drinking, brief cursing, and mentions of illness. Being Anti-William and Anti-C*ra, so if you like them or the pairing be warned.
A03 Link
Ko-Fi Link
Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven
“There is a vision I have…Of slender women…who are born and raised to be perfect women. Who take whatever punishment we give them, and bounce back, strengthened by love, unconditionally. It is a vision that has become my life…there are still women. Women willing to sacrifice themselves for the love of a man. Even a man whose love is completely without worth”- M. Butterfly, David Henry Hwang.
“OPHELIA: I hope all will be well. We must be patient,
but I cannot choose but weep”- Hamlet, Shakespeare.
I moved slowly, but I reached town. No one was around—no one around to recognize, stop or force me back to his house. I was fortunate in that. It was getting to be evening. The clouds were dark, and the wind picked up. I stared up into the sky, then closed my eyes and clasped my hands together.
“God, please protect me. God, give me strength.” I prayed.
I opened my eyes to the dark grey clouds and crossed myself solemnly as the few rain drizzles broke. I then continued further into Aldwinter.
By the time I reached Fanny’s house, it burst into a torrent of rain. I covered the bag beneath my coat and removed the money from my pockets quickly into the bag. So, help me, the money and letters would not be damaged beyond their use!
I had not exerted myself like this in a long time. My knees wanted to give in from exhaustion beneath me. The rain splattered from an angle and hit a part of me. Trying to gasp in a breath, I reached up with one shaking hand and began to knock on the door.
From the inside, I heard Fanny.
“Have you heard something? A noise? Let me take Carrie to her nursery..."
I knocked again. My wraps were fewer- but still urgent. I leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing.
“Oh God, no…it couldn’t be….” She fretted.
“You don’t think?��� I heard the Austrian accent of her husband, Vince Kroeger, add on.
“The snake!”
How long could I stay out here? Any minute I could black out and collapse outside! Shakily, I used the doorknob to pull myself back to my feet, I kept pounding on the door with a fury, and I begged with what loudness my voice could muster.
“Fanny! Fanny! Please let me in!”
I heard footsteps at the door and the click of the lock.
“That’s no snake!” Vince commented.
Fanny opened the door and gasped seeing me. Her husband, a tall, muscular, strong-chinned man with wheat-colored hair slicked back, followed behind her. My tired legs finally collapsed beneath me. He caught my hand and pulled me up so I would not fall onto the threshold of the door and home.
“Why, it’s Stella!! Dear God, Stella! Here! Like this!” Fanny yelped.
“Get me inside, please! Quickly! And shut the door, now!” I begged.
He walked me over to the parlor they had. It was a red and white room with a tea table, a pink couch, white decorations, and a pretty grandfather clock. They placed me to lay down on the couch. It must have been shocking- me in a coat covering only my nightgown beneath and my hair was undone and free and a little wet in my face, hair, and coat from the storm. Fanny even squinted and put her finger in my hair. She pulled out the blue wildflower.
“What…what is this? Have you walked all the way here in the rain? Why are you here? Why are you scared?”
I heard the door close and lock.
“Mrs. Ransome, should I fetch your husband, does he…” Vince offered.
I shook my head desperately.
“No! I’m here because of William!” I interrupted.
From inside my coat, I pulled out the bag. I reached into it, retrieving the letters. Thankfully, there was no water damage to them from the rain. I began to file through them rapidly. The ones I knew were love letters I moved to the front, keeping the others to the back.
“What do you mean?” Fanny asked.
I placed the pile of letters on the little tea table in front of the couch.
“The children- Has he hurt them?” Vince asked seriously.
His green eyes lowered down onto the letters in curiosity.
“The children are safe…” I answered.
“Then what is it? Why are you out of your sick bed? Your house? What did Father Ransome do?” Fanny questioned.
She too tilted her head at the letters.
“What are these?” she asked.
I placed my hands together, hardly believing the words myself. They struggled to come out of me but did.
“W-W-W-William…. William is having an affair. I saw him with her, making love to her in the forest.”
“What?!” Fanny yelled, leaning back.
Vince swore, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Then I found these!” I answered, picking up one of the love letters and offering it to them. I set it down in a pile before them on the tea table.
There was a pause. Fanny and Vince began to take the letter and read it together. Then Fanny focused on it as Vince moved on to the next one under it. They saw The Woman’s name clearly and began scanning them through. What if they didn’t believe me? What if they thought me mad and burned them? Would I have to jump into the fires and fetch them before they burned and move on somewhere else?
You could tell that they reached where the contents became more amorous. Fanny blinked rapidly and then placed a hand over her mouth. Vince’s jaw dropped as he read the back of the second letter and then placed a hand on his forehead as he finished reading it. I removed the letter from her hand and clasped both of mine onto hers, begging again.
“Fanny, I know you have a spare room. I knew at least you of all the women here would pity me! Please, let me stay here! I told my children they could find me here- I cannot be with him anymore, not after this. If you cannot- then take me somewhere else, I can stay! Please! Please don’t let me go back to William’s house!”
She placed a hand over mine, her lips pressed together.
“Do you…do you believe me? Both of you?” I asked.
Fanny nodded, her brown, squinting eyes brimming with tears.
“Yes! Yes, I do! Oh, dear God, Stella! Christ almighty-Father Ransome himself an adulterer! I never could have imagined the day! How terrible! You poor thing! Poor thing!” she wailed.
“I never thought ever he would even think of this…and not now I’m…I’m…He never loved me!” I confessed. “Not after everything I did for him all those years! None of it was enough for him!”
I crumpled down onto the couch, burying my face in my hands to sob again. never thought there would be enough tears I could shed over William’s apprehensive betrayal.
Fanny leaned me in for an embrace and let me cry against her. She went “shhh” and patted my back and hair as I cried it out again. I felt her head turn towards her husband.
“Could you make some Chamomile tea, darling?” Fanny asked softly.
“Yes, mein Hertz,” Vince confirmed.
I heard his footsteps in the kitchen and some water running. Fanny then pulled me up and held my shoulders, looking into my eyes.
“Have you told William you know about it?” she asked seriously.
“He had not returned home by the time I departed. I left him a note to him saying I knew. Left some to the children too. Their notes said I would be here. Fanny, I couldn’t abandon them! What mother am I if I did that! What mother am I to do that…” I answered.
“But that means William could find their notes!” Fanny pointed out.
I nodded. My hands felt clammy beneath me.
“Please, Fanny, please don’t let him in! I can’t stand to even look at him anymore!” I pleaded.
“Of course not! she confirmed.
In the other room, I heard the tea kettle whistle.
“May I stay here?” I repeated.
“Yes, as long as you would like….” Fanny answered.
Vince returned with three steaming cups of tea. He handed one to each of us. He continually asked if I was alright as I drank my own liquid, sweetened with honey. Fanny continued to read through the letters, frowning as she skimmed over each and every page on the pile. Finally, she curled up her fist and slammed it onto the table, shaking the papers.
“God! William! And with her too! Her! The Londoner Widow!” Fanny cried angrily.
Vince gulped down his tea, then went over to check the guest room. I heard their infant daughter babbling from her nursery. Fanny then looked up at me, and then bowed her head low.
“I thought I saw something between them…” she confessed.
“Between them?” I asked.
First, she looked down and away, and then at me, eyes shiny again and frowning sadly.
“At the dance. They danced together and they seemed very passionate about it as they did it. How he looked at her that night I... I wondered if it was…was a look of longing. But I thought, William is a vicar and a loving husband, he would never, not to you, he wouldn't….and that I was only making up something silly and then I got distracted with my little girl. I’ve been…been terrified for her since Naomi …"
I nodded. Sadly, in the past, William had to lead the funeral services of Vince and Fanny's first three children. Finally, they had a little girl who was healthy. I could not blame her vigilant fear of her daughter, especially with word of The Serpent.
"But now…now I…” Fanny babbled on.
She wiped a few tears with her hands and sniffled.
“Stella, I’m so sorry. I should have warned you or told you about it…” she confessed.
“I was the one who encouraged him to dance with her at that party in the first place. And you weren’t sure about what you saw and wanted to look after your child! it wasn’t you; I was the one who made him stray,” I added on.
We embraced each other, letting the waves of crying and guilt wash over us again, released and free.
She took my hand to help me up. She walked by me into the guest room. It had white wallpaper with blue flowers and green foliage dotted across it. There was a tall bed with white blankets and next to it a desk with a mirror on it. A chair with a pink pillow sat next to an unlit fireplace.
“I was the one who introduced you to him in the first place! All those years ago! Oh, all those years we all swooned and giggled over William, who would have thought!” she muttered with anguish.
I made no reply. She led me to sit up on the bed. I looked down at the diamond shapes on the carpet and began to comment on my thoughts.
“But you see…I let him be with her. I just never thought…never imagined…. Fanny I- I thought it was just at most a little infatuation with her, like every other man in town. I thought it was me he truly loved. I let them walk together for the Serpent. I let them dance. I let her dine with us. I never thought…I never imagined once that…. not until…”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“I practically pushed him in front of her! It’s my fault! It’s my fault I got consumption! It’s my fault for encouraging him to do this! It’s my fault I told him to dance with her! And it’s my fault he betrayed me!” I mourned.
She handed me a handkerchief to sob into. I began to cough some blood into it as well. Her fists clenched at her sides.
“Did you…ever tell Will to sleep with her? Not dance- sleep with her!” she asked.
“No, I never did,” I answered.
“Of course, not… it’s not your fault, it's his! He did a vile, wretched thing! Your husband should be the one crawling to you for forgiveness! You’re the innocent one, you’ve not done one bad thing since your marriage!” she replied.
She removed my coat. She then hung it up to dry on a rack on the wall.
"I've done bad things, Fanny..."
“You made us dinner countless times, grew flowers for my wedding, and even helped delivered my Carrie, Stella! It’s the least I can do for you! You helped every woman and person in town! You should hear what the other people discuss about you when you’re not around! What they’ve all said about you for years! About how Father Ransome was gifted with the sweetest, most virtuous woman on earth to be his wife and mother to his children! How lucky he had been to have you at all!” she commented.
“Really? I…I thought for years I was the one lucky he picked me….” I muttered.
I felt myself smile from the praise.
“Oh no, really, all this time, it was the opposite!”
I bent my head and folded my arms, but then looked back up at her.
“I never…but I’m not that…I…I…I thank you, Fanny….”
A bit of rain from the coat dripped onto the carpet leaving a little stain. My nightgown had been stained not only with a little blood and a little rain but also with the green stains of the grass from the forest. I felt Fanny’s eyes lead down to them.
“Can I…can I have a change of clothes, please? I think we’re the same size…” I asked.
She left, and then returned with a new nightdress. She helped me change into it. Vince arrived with a small plate of leftover dinner and then left, giving us space to talk. Surprisingly, I was ravenous and finished it quickly. Fanny lighted up the fireplace with a bit of wood and a match. She then gripped me by the shoulders, almost knocking over the plate on my lap onto the floor.
“There is one phrase I want you to repeat to yourself throughout this, Stella…it is not your fault! Do you hear me? Let me hear you say it!” she ordered.
“It…it is not my fault…” I repeated.
“Good!”
The baby began to cry.
“Ah! Little Carrie! I’ll be back soon- she must be hungry…” she excused herself.
She stomped out as Vince closed the door. Despite the infant’s crying, I heard another angrier, adult crying right outside.
“Scoundrel! The nerve of him! Cruel, heartless man! I ought to strangle Father Ransome myself when he’s on the pulpit on Sunday!” Fanny ranted.
“Calm down, dear, the baby! I can go to her if you cannot!” Vince assured her.
“No, no! That’s her hungry cry! Let me!”
She let out a frustrated sigh and stomped off to the nursery, uttering numerous curses that would make a sailor blush beneath her breath.
Vince cracked the door open and poked his head through.
“Mrs. Ransome…I do have a telegram and operate where I work. Tomorrow…I can, uh, walk you through the back door…and-and do you know where your own family lives?”
“I know their addresses, yes,” I confirmed.
“You can use it to send a telegram to your family. First thing tomorrow…I’ll even pay.”
“No, I have money-“
“No, let me!” he insisted.
He was right. I could only access wages through my husband and then they were his, not mine. This would probably be the only money I would ever access. They had to be used carefully.
“Alright. Tomorrow, if I’m still alive…take me there and I’ll send them. One more thing…do you have stationary, Vince? May I have some, please?”
“Yes.”
He left and then returned with piles of paper and a pen and then left me to write.
Outside thunder boomed. The baby wailed again, and I heard Fanny shushing her. I lowered my head onto the desk away from the papers and ink. I took in what shaky breaths I could. Then I jolted up with a fear that left my insides feeling watery.
What if tonight was when the consumption won over me at last? What if this was the hour?
Then I couldn’t stop now. I had to act. I would not die without the town knowing. I would not die letting William get away with this. I would not die letting this become a secret between friends.
I took out a piece of paper. I felt another tear roll onto my nose. I had to confirm this. Confirm to them and myself that my worst nightmare had come true.
“Dear Congregation,
Here, I lay, a charge against my husband, your Rector, the Reverend William Ransome of the Aldwinter Vicarage. His crime is that, without my knowledge, without my acquiescence, he had formed and consummated an extramarital affair with…”
I finished the rest of it. Then I got another piece of paper and wrote some more. My urgency steeled me forth.
“Dear Ladies of The Aldwinter Bible Study,
I write to inform you that I am in dire need of help and comfort. My husband, Father William Ransome, is having an affair.
I saw him meeting with her. They were kissing, embracing, and committing unspeakable acts in the forest within miles of our house. I then discovered the letters from and to William documenting their passion and having them in my possession. I shall reveal his lover’s identity should you ask me unless you have your suspicions. You are probably correct as to who she is.
I have no desire to see him anymore after this. I will no longer stay in his house.
I am staying at Mrs. Kroeger’s for the time being. I need your support immediately. I need you to bring my children to visit me whenever they can without their father in their presence. If you may, look after them, shelter, feed, and protect Joanna, John, and James! You shall send letters to me through Mrs. Kroeger. I ask you, do not allow my husband to even enter the Kroeger household.
Most of all, I ask you, if there is nothing else you can do, pray for me. Pray that I have the strength to bear this great pain, not only in my body but in my heart. If you can send the comforting words and presence of a friend! Or a prayer- a prayer that someday, I will feel what it is once more to be happy, now as I lay on what might be my deathbed!
Sincerely,
Stella Ransome.”
As it finished drying, there was a furious knock on the door. I jumped out of my skin.
“Mr. Kroger! Mr. Kroger!” a familiar voice cried out from the outside of the house.
Of course, It was only a matter of time until he came here! What if he found and read the children’s letters on their beds, as Fanny and I feared?
But then- the letters between him and The Woman! They were in the parlor! If he got into the house, even if Vince and Fanny kept him at bay, he would see them out there and retrieve them! He was a tall, strong man fond of running. It would be easy for him.
Shaking uncontrollably, I hurried into the room quietly. If I had to rip them from his large, handsome hands, so be it, I would do it.
But he wasn’t there. William kept knocking again and again at the door, continuing to ask to be let inside.
Fanny and Vince walked into the parlor and then froze, staring at me with big, frightened eyes. I put a finger to my mouth for silence and they nodded. Then I scurried to the tea table, picked up the letters, and Fanny quietly shooed me back into the guest room. From inside, I locked the door.
William continued to plead with desperation, “Mr. Kroger- it’s your Rector! I must speak with you now!”
“He’s coming!” Fanny assured from inside with false cheerfulness.
I hid every letter- mine, The Woman’s, and Williams, and then the bag of money within the sheets of the bed and settled back there quickly. I then lay on top of it, letting my weight feel the crinkling paper. I forced myself still, despite my shaking. If he got in here and burst through the door, they would be hidden. I rarely saw William extremely angry. He wasn’t the type to lose his temper and destroy things, God forbid he would rip out the bedsheets his dying wife was laying over! Even if he burst in here, forced me in his arms, and carried me home like a hunter with his prize, the letters, and even the money would be safe.
I heard Vince’s footsteps towards the front door.
“I’m coming, Father Ransome,” he answered calmly.
Like a child, I covered myself under the blankets and placed another pillow over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut. I held myself tight and would not let go. My heart roared in my ears, and I fought back any urge to cough, no matter how much blood I tasted in my mouth. I tried to think of anything, anything to distract myself. Trying to play songs in my head, reciting scripture, poetry, bits of my books and love stories, my father’s Greek myths, anything to block it out. I couldn’t bear to think what was happening outside, that any minute I would be forced back into the house and bed of my husband. I had to remain silent. I would not give a hint in the house now I was here should he enter.
I heard male voices from outside, but they were muffled by the thunderstorm getting louder.
Some time passed. There were no voices. Only the rain and thunder. I was almost partway through trying to remember Wordsworth when I heard a knock on my door that made my skin crawl.
It was Fanny’s voice that said, “He’s gone, Stella.”
I let out an exhale and let go of the blankets and pillows. I went to the door.
“What did he say?” I asked in terror.
“He asked if you were here or if I saw you, Mrs. Ransome, he said you were missing from home,” Vince informed. “I told him you were not here; I hadn’t seen you all day, and that William should ask somewhere else or look in the morning.”
“You lied to him!” I cried in amazement, a hand flying over my mouth.
“If he can sin, then so can I…” he remarked.
“But rest assured, he is no longer here, and he won’t be welcome in here…if we have to lie a hundred times, we’ll do it!” Fanny promised, she reached over and squeezed my shoulder in comfort.
I took one of the black blankets from the guest room and draped it over my shoulders. I took out the letters I wrote and found the envelopes where I left them. I folded and inserted the second letter in one and addressed it to Mrs. Lee’s house for The Women’s Bible Study as well as her, our eternal hostess. I wasn’t sure where to mail the first letter. If I mailed it to the church or asked for it to be printed in the bulletin, William would find it and read it. Most likely, he would destroy it easily to absolve the public knowledge of his affair.
No, it would need to be spread, I mused. Not only the Women’s Bible Study, but the congregation and every person in Aldwinter-had to know the truth about their priest. One easily destroyed letter wouldn’t do. I took out another piece of paper and began making a copy of it. And then another. Word would spread and if one was destroyed, then Hydra-like, another would appear in the next house in its place.
I hoped that at least the women of the Bible Study would read the letter for them and would use their most common weapon, the one they unsheathed at every study meeting before and after the Bibles were opened, my small sin, the one indulgence I gave myself to every time in the past- they would talk. And talking spreads.
Please, please, let them talk! I prayed.
I began to take out more pieces of paper and copy down the letter by hand as much as I could. I had managed a tenth letter when it chimed midnight.
I sat at my chair, staring at the fireplace as it slowly burned the small logs.
Logs.
Wood.
The tree.
The tree with the blue ribbon.
The tree where they sinned in front of me.
I took out the pink pillow and hugged it to me. I heard a gentle knock.
“Stella, are you awake?” Fanny asked.
“Yes.”
I unlocked the door to see her and Vince.
“Do you need anything else?” Vince asked.
“Mr. Kroeger, you’re already taking me to the post office in the morning… Fanny, tomorrow, this letter must go to Mrs. Lee’s house. And these- these are copies of the same letter- if you could send them to any member of the congregation or anyone in town who knows of me, even. Please- put it in their boxes and slip it under their doors. I’d be grateful.”
She nodded her dark, curly head. I placed the envelopes into her small hand. Vince leaned closer to her and placed an arm over her shoulder, kissing the side of her forehead.
“My wife always was a little Valkyrie! All the more reason I love her!” Vince boasted.
To think I once had a love like that. I thought I would be happy dying as I was William Ransome's wife and the mother of his children. Back when I thought he loved me. Now here I was, to die without the love of my husband. A husband who I still loved, but could not return to.
I knew I had the love and loyalty of friends. I had to now learn to content myself with that. I didn’t know if a romantic love could ever enter my heart again after this, should I live even to the next week. I've learned my lesson from William. I couldn’t allow that anymore. No, I would only be opening myself to be hurt again.
“Of course, I will, first thing tomorrow morning…I’ll even lock them in the safe until then,” she promised.
Fanny looked down at the letters reading them. She swallowed hard, but her eyes were hard and resolved.
“Keep them safe as you walk and make sure they are delivered directly,” I requested.
“We shall…but Stella, it’s quite late!” she insisted. She even looked at the clock, frowning.
I looked back at the burning logs in the fireplace.
“I cannot sleep…I cannot stop thinking about William and…William and C-C-C-could you perhaps make another cup of tea for me?”
Vince put his hands on his hips and then turned halfway away to the parlor.
“I think tonight you need something stronger than tea, Mrs. Ransome!” he said.
He went out and returned with a huge decanter of golden whiskey in one hand and three glasses in another. He poured me a generous amount in one cup and forced it into my hands.
“But Vince…I really ought not to drink when it’s not a holiday…” I asked.
“When men learn they are dying, they drink. When men learn their wives have fucked another, they drink. You’re both- so twice the reason. Let’s drink. All of us…” Vince said.
Fanny poured herself a glass. I sat on the chair and they were on the floor. I stared into the liquid in my cup. I still didn't get rid of it, the unfamiliar smell and color fascinated me, enticed me. I felt myself raise the glass closer to my lips. Then it froze in hesitation.
“It will relax you…” Vince promised.
“If there is one night you become a drunkard, it’s this one…” she suggested.
Vince raised his cup. Fanny and I followed.
“Here…to Stella! May Reverend Ransome one day rot in hell! And may Stella Ransome live a little longer!” Vince toasted.
“To Stella!” Fanny repeated.
“To…to me…” I replied hesitantly.
I began to take the first drink in tandem with them. I coughed a little at the burn. Fanny brought a little water and a plate of fudge.
“You might need some sweets as well after today…” she offered.
Vince downed his whiskey in two big swigs.
“Who could imagine it? Mrs. Stella Ransome, The English Rose herself, drinking in my house!” Vince joked with a laugh.
Outside, I heard the rain pelt right over the roof and the grandfather clock chimed a quarter past.
“Well, who could imagine Father William Ransome an unfaithful bastard!” Fanny responded bitterly.
She frowned and drank hers. She kept a tight grip on the glass as if she wanted it to shatter in her hands.
I ate some fudge and sipped on the water. Then I sipped the whiskey again. Vince was right. The whiskey, far stronger than my occasional cup of wine, was relaxing me. I even felt my eyelids become heavy and I loosened my shoulders.
When I looked at the fire, I noticed that the center of the flames and the very bottom of it were a bright, light blue. Small, but present and in the heart of the fire.
Slowly, I nursed at the whiskey until I finished it. Fanny led me to the bed and tucked me in. They left. The room became darker save for the fire’s glow. It was warm and comfortable. For once, I could be a child again. Some of the old lullabies my mother sang to me in girlhood entered my mind:
“Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,
When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen”
In my younger days, I shared a bed with Elliott. When I was ten, I shared a bed with Edith, my little sister. Her now being old enough, Elliott being too old, and there being only a few beds to go around in the Harris houses. Edith and I still shared that bed when we moved to Aldwinter. It cut down on the cost of Father buying two separate ones. Then I entered William’s bed as his bride. I never had a whole bed all to myself until that night.
For that, as well as many things- the kindness and courage of Fanny and her husband, their belief in my word, their shelter, their protection from my husband, the food, the drinks, the access to papers for letters, the room that could lock, and now, this soft, warm bed that was completely mine if only for a night- I was grateful.
I grew more and more sleepy and even more at peace. I soon fell asleep in peace and woke up, rested, to sunshine late the next morning.
Vince managed to find extra clothes for me to wear, as well as a coat, shawl, and a hat not only for warmth but to avoid recognition. With his careful arm to steady and keep me up should weakness stir my legs, he walked me the back way into the post office where he worked, led me to a room, and seated me in front of a telegram machine, showing me how to form the message into it.
To think how different everything was just a year ago. I had my health. I had my husband. Now I had lost both, I thought, trying to think of what I could tell my family.
Vince sat over the chair and kept an eye out for any unwanted eyes or visitors in the tiny, musty, brown room.
“It costs you per word. So, my advice- make them short and put ‘stop’ in between them,” he warned
I began the first one.
WILLIAM HAS A MISTRESS. STOP.
HURRY TO ALDWINTER SOON AS YOU CAN. STOP.
I could hardly realize the words as I wrote them to be typed and sent off to my family members where they were. That was to be sent to my parents. I began the one for my brother, Brian.
WILLIAM HAS A MISTRESS. STOP.
HURRY TO ALDWINTER SOON AS YOU CAN. STOP.
My other siblings had to be notified too. I kept writing the words over and over each on different scraps of paper I ripped off. I kept typing again and again at an anxious and desperate speed, the words glaring back at me.
WILLIAM HAS A MISTRESS STOP.
HURRY TO ALDWINTER SOON AS YOU CAN. STOP
WILLIAM HAS A MISTRESS. STOP.
WILLIAM HAS A MISTRESS.
WILLIAM. HAS A MISTRESS.
WILLIAM. HAS A MISTRESS.
STOP.
I finished the last one. Vince made sure of the rest- that they would be sent off to my family members. We then quickly returned to his house without incident. I made sure the curtains on the windows were closed once I got back in the room. I had just removed the hat and coat when a knock on the door made me jump. Vince peeked through the curtains and confirmed it was his wife.
Fanny then entered the parlor, smiling triumphantly with a clenched hand over her head.
“I sent the letters without interruption- to Mrs. Lee and to each Congregation member I could!” she reported.
Now all I had to do was wait.
Wait for a response to my letters. For a word from friends. For a word from my family. For William’s knock. For a visitor. For help. For my children. For death. Anything.
#carrie writes#tw: cheating#stella ransome#angst with a happy ending#angst#cw: adultrey#cw: cheating#tw: drinking#cw: drinking#stella ransome/william ransome#stella ransome fanfic#stella ransome fanfiction#stella ransome x william ransome#female rage#good for her#good for her fanfiction#whump#whumptober#whump fic#whumptober 2022#whumptober2022#whump writing#hurt/comfort#hurt comfort series#hurt comfort fic#comfort fic#comfort fanfiction#stella ransome/male oc#stella ransome x male oc#angst with comfort
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“Suffragettes Meet the Antis in Debate”
Article from The New York Times, April 24, 1909
This article contains words spoken at a debate between suffragist Fanny Villard (called Mrs. Henry Villard) and anti-suffragist Mrs. William Force Scott. Other pro-woman’s suffrage comments are made by Mrs. Pearce Bailey, who states that to convert anti-suffragettes to their side, you have to catch her while “she is young”. Another statement by Villard shows her pitying anti-suffrage women, claiming that what they are doing “ill becomes them” considering their education.
This article also uses the term “Governmentalists” to describe antis. While not a term I have seen used often, it is used to label antis for their support and use of self-government, which they hoped to foster by restricting the vote. This seems to be a response to the suffrage movement’s claim that only with the ballot could women practice self-government. The antis had a different perspective, where if she kept the position she did in the home, and out of politics, she could foster the conditions to promote self-government through the discipline of her children and community.
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For the bad Austen take game: Fanny Price is boring. (I hated even typing that)
Aaaaahhhh, you went straight to the jugular!
Mansfield Park was published in 1814, a year after Pride and Prejudice. The latter contained a spirited, active, and witty heroine. The former, a heroine who was shy, physically weak, and very introverted.
Fanny Price is actually closer to what a lot of contemporary heroines were like. Elizabeth Bennet, bursting in on the scene with her “pert opinions” and physical vigor and her direct challenges to the hero is not ahistorical because clever and witty heroines do exist in literature of the time, but she takes that to the next level.
The “perfect heroine” of the early 18th century in many novels was sweet, virtuous, morally dutiful, and somewhat passive. She was prone to fainting, basically had no faults, and at the end of the novel was rewarded with the love of the hero. She is not always a particularly interesting figure and often such narratives have a foil in a lively, witty anti-heroine who brings the fun to the novel but cannot be rewarded with a happy ending because she does not display the appropriate morals. That way the author and reader can get the pleasure of a “bad girl” or at least a “fun girl” without disrupting the expected didactic morals required of (many) novelists at the time.
Fanny Price and Mary Crawford are interesting variations on that. Fanny, like all of Austen’s heroines, challenges contemporary notions of what being a heroine was about. Austen does this in all her novels though Emma is the most obvious example. Fanny has many of the qualities that you would expect from a contemporary heroine but she is also not particularly attractive (a heroine should always be the most beautiful woman in the room) and it is hard to read her excessive passivity and not feel irritated by it. She has a much deeper inner life than most of her contemporaries of this type. We see her jealousy of Mary Crawford, we see her misery, we see her unrequited love for Edmund, her complicated feelings regarding her home in Portsmouth in ways that make her fully rounded internally, only little of that is spoken out loud. These feelings are very human and understandable, but they are not always to her credit and knowing them, we wish she could act on them. Austen seems to be asking the reader to take the classic novel heroine and then ask, “How would she really respond to novel situations?”
Austen’s plot also challenges expected novelistic plots. Edmund Bertram is not a satisfactory romantic hero. He is as quiet and rigidly moral as Fanny... except he blows all his convictions by his blind infatuation on Mary and he spends 99.9% of the novel oblivious to Fanny’s feelings or even that she’s an eligible woman at all. I have sympathy for him as well as for Fanny because he’s very young (only 22/23) and making poor judgements over women at that age and being an oblivious numpty over your childhood best friend’s crush seems pretty normal to me. Nevertheless, following Mr. Darcy, he’s hardly the stuff of dreams.
The character and plot that does seem more novelistic is Henry Crawford and his pursuit of Fanny. He’s handsome and rich and a bit of a rake. Then he meets Fanny who he attempts to seduce, falls in love with her for real, proposes to her and is rejected, then changes his behaviour, tries again and is accepted now that he is reformed and worthy her love.... wait. Rewind. That’s not what happened! Think this plot looks familiar? It should. Henry Crawford is what a lot of people think Mr. Darcy is who don’t understand Mr. Darcy on any level. Henry Crawford genuinely is a handsome bad boy who is reformed by the love of a virtuous woman after being rejected by her. And Austen teases readers with a redemption arc and a real enemies-to-lovers plot. But Henry is as real and complicated and human as Fanny and Edmund - he fails at the last hurdle and cannot complete his redemption arc. He relapses at the last moment. Isn’t that true to life? And is reforming a rake really Fanny’s destiny in life? She doesn’t think so. She sees right through his charm and hates who he is underneath. She doesn’t reject him as Elizabeth does Darcy because she doesn’t understand him; she rejects him because she understands him perfectly. She is the only person in the novel who does. I feel it would be a poor ending for Fanny to make her marry a man she despises and become the mistress of a large estate which brings with it the kind of social duties she must have been unhappy executing.
Fanny gets what she wants. She quietly, patiently does not change. She is surrounded by the superficial, the brash, the badly behaved, the immoral, the weak and she remains strong and stoical and by doing this and remaining true to her values, she triumphs. She wins. She gets the man she wants. She is truly and fully adopted into the heart of Mansfield Park with all her enemies and rivals removed. She is acknowledged as the best of them all. Without even needed to do anything except endure and stick to her guns, she defeats every big boss in her path.
These are not attractive modern values. Our concept of a “strong woman” (*shudder*) is Elizabeth Bennet. But not all of us are Elizabeth Bennets. Most of us aren’t in fact. Most of us are quiet and insecure and filled with envies, jealousies, private sadnesses. Many of us have experienced at some point less than ideal family situations and reacted not by being spirited and clever but by curling up in a ball and just waiting it out. Shouldn’t Fanny be held up as an icon for winning in absolutely the worst of circumstances? But she is an Aeneas in a society that only wants to read about Odysseuses and Achilleses.
Finally, another way in which Austen was distinctly saying in MP, “Hey, so, if you thought I was going to write another P&P, JOKE’S ON YOU, MATEY!” is that the entire novel is an anti-romance. Of course you’re going to be frustrated with Fanny and Edmund if you’re looking for a pair of exciting characters who fall in love and get a swoonworthy romance. But if you read MP as an examination of bad love, inappropriate love, selfish love, inexperienced love, love that taints and goes wrong through the eyes of a quiet and insightful observer who herself suffers the crushing and all too familiar pangs of hopelessly unrequited love - then you find a character and a novel that are rich, satirical, and deeply intimate and clever.
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“Austen's fiction and her correspondence from her earliest writing days ironically reflects the restricted province in which her sex had placed her. The hitherto unrecognized savagery of her juvenilia, the plight of her heroines and the varied responses of each one to conduct book wisdom, clerical or lay, patriarchal or radical or moderate feminist, all indicate how much Austen had absorbed "the woman question." For example, Fanny Price was probably based on severely diffident and vulnerable neighbors such as the pathologically shy Miss Seymore who apparently lived in permanent "Penitence." Catherine Morland satisfied readers who thought that ignorance is charming in women, and as a daughter, she would have especially pleased Lord Halifax and Dr. Gregory. She and Marianne Dashwood exemplify that intellectual distortion that afflicted women without any formal education.
They both exaggerate feelings and avoid sustained thinking or serious reading, for fear, no doubt, of the philosophism that conduct-book males from Halifax through the pre-Victorian Duff had warned them about without recommending the obvious remedy. Elizabeth Bennet, Emma Woodhouse, Anne Elliot, and Elinor Dashwood all think for themselves; and approval or disapproval from readers, then and now, usually depends on the individual reader's sexual politics. Just as clerical preachers to women differed from their lay counterparts in this or that argument for male dominion and in the rhetoric that advanced their arguments, so Austen's clerical advisors to women, such as Mr. Collins, Mr. Elton, and Edmund Bertram, differ in their euphemistic conduct-book rhetoric, but not in their purposes, from two of Austen's secular heroes, Frederick Wentworth and Mr. Knightley. These two men both exploit the crisp, clear, and authoritative style of Halifax and Gregory, and they also base their arguments upon lay considerations rather than the primary consideration of the divine plan, from which source, to be sure, their assumptions of male superiority originated.
It is an intelligent critical commonplace that the young clergyman, Henry Tilney, does not sound like an ordained Anglican priest, and these critics who are quite unaware of the eighteenth-century war of the conduct books nonetheless unconsciously respond to something uncharacteristic of Austen's typical priests—and therefore of the historical conduct-book clergy—in Tilney's didactic speech. When he is not ironically imitating the anti-female satire of the Augustan wits, he instructs Catherine Morland as though he were a member of the Inns of Court, rather than a rector of a parish. His role is to induce readers to laugh at Catherine's Gothic sensibilities, and thus he is free of the unctuous pastoral metaphors so comfortable to most of Austen's fictional priests. Yet Henry in turn is an authorial target, for his creator understands as he does not that Catherine's fantasies are the predictable outcome of a society that devalues her and leaves her uneducated.
Nor is he troubled because he "consider[s] a certain degree of weakness, both of mind and body, as friendly to female grace" (Edgeworth, "Letter Upon the Birth of a Daughter," 34). As his creator slyly remarks, although to most men, "imbecility in females is a great enhancement of their personal charms," he is "too reasonable and too well informed . . . to desire any thing [nc] more in woman than ignorance" (NA, 111). Austen's judiciousness prevented her from creating heroines who exemplify the conduct-book "pictures of perfection," nor were her heroes, except for Darcy through Volumes I and II, quite as obsessed with their masculine privileges and as indifferent to the humiliations they inflicted upon the heroines as the heroes of Burney and Edgeworth. Austen's satirical techniques are particularly useful in preserving her judiciousness: they function as ricochets, or as boomerangs, in which her satirical characters themselves become the targets of their targets or, fully as often, of the understated authorial voice.
For instance, when Knightley satirizes the clergyman, Mr. Elton, as a man who cannot speak to women without nauseating euphemisms, Austen and her heroine approve. But Knightley himself denied all the evidences of Emma's predicament almost as resolutely as Elton; surrounded as he was with impoverished, exploited, or lonely women, most of them scantily educated spinsters, he could see no generic connections between Emma's case and theirs—that she has been as exploited in other ways to become what she is as they have been to become what they are. Yet his analysis of Emma's moral offenses is legitimate, his syntax on the whole is sensible, and he possesses the reassuring attractions of a squire's authority, which commands most readers' respect, despite his ponderous didactic methods with Emma, and, in many cases, because of them.
But Emma's mockery of his heavy male authority possesses a moral resonance that is rarely recognized as the revolt of an outsider who has been placated with some of the insiders' comforts and securities, without their autonomy of mind or movement. Readers often offer Frederick Wentworth the same forbearance as they offer Knightley, and for the same reason. He is fundamentally a very decent man, and his pride in his talents and achievements is quite legitimate. But because he is free of Anne Elliot's feminine constraints, he has the free person's typical blindness toward other people's fetters, and his proud assumption that he has a right to her prevents him from fighting for her. In fact, he eventually takes his revenge upon her in an ugly way, reminiscent of Henry Crawford. He flirts publicly with two women in front of Anne, thus discomforting three women whose code of feminine decorum prevents them from challenging his duplicity.
Readers do well to feel comfortable when they respond to the appeals of these two heroes, as long as they do not confuse their responses with absolute acceptance of the way the heroes treat women. Frederick Wentworth and Mr. Knightley do both possess a rueful wit with which they are almost never credited, and especially when they admit their own blindness about the heroines. Both of them fully accept their professional responsibilities; and as Alistair Duckworth has pointed out, Knightley's respect for his land is associated with his feudal courtesies toward others (The Improvement of the Estate). Austen's own affectionate respect for responsible laymen is one of her most judicious kindnesses toward the male sex. There are two exceptions to Austen's monitoring of her heroes' rhetoric by profession—lay or clerical—that may seem odd, at first. Edward Ferrars, who is eventually ordained, avoids unctuous rhetoric with women, whereas Colonel Brandon, the layman, does not.
Their relative male empowerment during their young manhood was the same, for they were both treated like younger sons, which Brandon was and Edward was not, and both suffered from tyrannical parents. But Edward had not yet emerged into the authority of manhood, with its assumptions of possessive and didactic privileges over women, whereas Colonel Brandon's military service in the colonies had already prepared him for unquestioned authority over disempowered peoples, unobtrusively as he would wish to administer it. Edward, the clergyman in the making, sounds more like an Augustan wit in an uncommonly relaxed and genial mood, in those rare moments when he smiles and lightly teases the attitudinizing Marianne. Brandon, the layman, does not share Edward's occasional Johnsonian wit and pith. He has chosen to establish his masculine authority with rhetoric far closer to Fordyce than is common in Austen's secular males.
The Augustan wits in their misogynist moods were feminist targets as often as the male conduct books, and mocking Pope's mockery of women was one of the feminists' favorite didactic weapons. But they hardly ever mention Swift's poetry, and perhaps for that reason there are no "bantering" allusions to it in Austen's fiction. Swift's slightly condescending attitude toward Stella would not have appealed to her ideal of robust conversational exchange between the sexes. And a woman who found The Spectator vulgar and insulting to women would have been disgusted with Swift's excretory poems and his Phillises, Corinnas, and Chloes, drowsy in their moist nakedness, not quite harlots and not quite grunting sows. Austen must have been quite as aware as Swift that "Celia shits!" But she would have encountered no literature that would have suggested so grave a suspension of anatomical probability as to preach that women only create such a "sinking Ooze" as part of their postlapsarian punishment.
Austen's respect for Pope is distinctly guarded. One of her objections must have been his shallow, vain women, his goddesses of spleen and boredom, and his description of them as typifying generic womanhood. She was as capable as he of creating ugly creatures, but her irony is almost always forgiving, or at least understanding. One of the most admirable traits is her habit of explaining the origins of ugly behavior, both in its private and public causes, so that the blame falls upon faulty parentage and hostile social conditions as often as it does on her ugly characters. Pope must have seemed to Austen to lack this Christian and Enlightenment charity toward the fallible human species; above all, to Austen, a member of "an injured body" of people, daily conscious of those injuries, both petty and grave, Pope must have seemed to lack charity toward women (Ν A, 37).
There are two ironic references to Pope in Sense and Sensibility. Elinor Dashwood, the oldest of three penniless young women, combines both the "affectionate heart" so dear to traditional moralists, and the analytical "understanding" that feminist literature of both persuasions stressed as imperative for women's survival. Elinor ironically congratulates Marianne, the second sister, because Marianne's suitor pretends, as a seductive ploy, to feel exactly as she does about literature. He values "the beauties" of Cowper and Scott, and he has reassured Marianne that he admires "Pope no more than is proper" (SS, 47). Another ironic scene in Sense and Sensibility reduces Pope's The Rape of the Lock and all its mocking neoclassical apparatus, to Willoughby's squalid attempt to soften Marianne for seduction.
This version of the rape of a lock is reported through the eyes of Marianne's gaping thirteen year-old sister, who describes how Willoughby waited until there were no adults in the room and then "cut off a long lock of [Marianne's] hair, for it was all tumbled down her back; and he kissed it. .. and put it in his pocket-book" (SS, 60). The oblique contrast between Marianne, a genuinely tender if foolish and solipsistic virgin of seventeen, and Pope's painted Belinda, who knows all the arts of avoiding actual seduction while enjoying its preludes, cannot be accidental. Belinda's "two locks, which graceful hung behind," did so, "to the Destruction of Mankind," whereas Marianne's "long lock," which "tumbled down her back," did so only to her own near destruction. In Pope's mock epic, Belinda's locks are "hairy Sprindges," which "conspir'd" to "insnare Man's Imperial Race."
Yet Pope's epic leaves matters open as to which sex was the more ensnared by the other: Th' Adventrous Baron the bright Locks admir'd, He saw, he wish'd, and to the Prize aspir'd By Force to ravish, or by Fraud betray. But Marianne is not at all conscious that she is sexually appealing, although she finds Willoughby so. Austen, who knew the difference between a heartless flirt and a sexually naive young woman in love for the first time, creates in Willoughby the conduct-book warning first to be found in Gregory and Halifax and later in all the feminist writing: Marianne was lucky to have mere fraud practiced on her, as her friends later remind her. Willoughby was summoned elsewhere, and he left the Dashwoods suddenly without explanation, before he could try "Force" or "Fraud" on a young woman he did not intend to marry.
Elinor's mild irony at Pope's expense implicitly includes Willoughby, whom she already distrusts. Austen was too professional a novelist to ignore the examples of witty syntax that the Augustan wits supplied her. Her own infectious pleasure in Pride and Prejudice, especially the "epigrammatism of the general style," indicates that she acknowledged her male predecessors in the arts of satire (Letters, 300). She adopted their skills with epigrammatical irony, their aphoristic barbs and wise sayings, their zeugmas and syllepses, their balanced cadences, and above all, their gusty pleasure in verbal virtuosities. Her earliest juvenilia called Volume the First is Austen's own version of "A Modest Proposal"; it contains an astonishing demonstration of deliberately unredeemed satire. Here is an example of Austen's syntax when she was twelve.
A duke whose wife has died, "mourned her loss with unshaken constancy for the next fortnight." He then "gratified the ambitions of Caroline Simpson by raising her to the rank of a Duchess." Caroline's sister Sukey, equally ambitious but anxious to achieve her goals through her own efforts, including unmaidenly violence, "was likewise shortly after elevated in a manner she .. . deserved. She was speedily raised to the Gallows" (MW, 28-29). Austen's juvenilia contains one verbal felicity after the other. There is Lady Williams, "in whom every virtue met. She was a widow with a handsome Jointure & the remains of a handsome face." There is "cruel Charles," who "wound[s] the hearts & legs of all the fair" young women for whom he sets steel traps. And there is "the worthless Louisa," who left her husband, "her Child & reputation .. in company with Danvers and dishonour" (MW, 13, 22, 110).
There is a delightfully ebullient moment when Austen, already the author of two novels, and now at work upon a third, writes to Cassandra: "In a few hours, you will be transported to Many down & then for Candour & Comfort & Coffee & Cribbage." And there is an unforgettable "Adm. Stanhope," who was "a gentlemanlike Man, but then his legs are too short, & his tail too long" (,Letters, 302, 129). What a fine rehearsal this verbal dexterity is for that alliterative moment in Pride and Prejudice, when Elizabeth Bennet is leaving Charlotte Lucas, who has disgraced herself by marrying Mr. Collins. Elizabeth is musing to herself about "Poor Charlotte!" and how "melancholy" it was for Charlotte's friends "to leave her to such society" as her husband's: "But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and. . . she did not seem to ask for companions. Her home, her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry... had not yet lost their charms" (PP, 216; emphasis mine).
Elizabeth's sorrow for her friend Charlotte's marital debacle is as genuine as her capacity to refuse to think in cant. Her own bleak future, trapped at home with two outrageous parents and three silly sisters, still seems preferable to marriage with either of the two condescending suitors who had just proposed to her. But Charlotte had been driven to marry for just those motives of feminine desperation against which Halifax, Gregory, and Edgeworth had warned single women, and Austen had warned her niece, Fanny. Austen's juvenilia is both violent and mournful in ways that anticipate her mature fiction. She learned to modify the violence so that it is almost unrecognizable in her novels, but in "Volume the First" there are numerous descriptions of executions, amputations, female starvation, suicides, and attempted and successful murders of all kinds: matricide, fratricide, sororicide, and the attempted infanticide of an unwelcome new born girl, who takes her revenge far more violently than indulging in some "bantering."
She grows up to raise and command an army with which she slaughters her enemies. In "Volume the Second" and "Volume the Third," there is increased sadness and more open explorations of the themes first discussed by the radical and the moderate feminists. There are scenes of feminine deprivation, such as the abandonment of hungry and threadbare spinsters while male relatives dump their children on the trapped women, and amuse themselves spending the women's marriage portions. While one or another male relative "is fluttering about the streets of London," young and indifferent to the welfare of his abandoned wife and child, or "gay, dissipated, and Thoughtless at the age of 57," the women "continue secluded from mankind in [their] old and Mouldering Castle," often obsessed with food, clothing, and loneliness (MW, 111).
In "Volume The Third," the theme of women as outsiders, vulnerable to every contingency of malice, neglect, or mere custom, is more pronounced. Two young women, marriageable but impoverished orphans, are in "great distress" because they "had been reduced to a state of absolute dependence on some relatives, who though very opulent and very nearly connected with them, had with difficulty been prevailed on to contribute anything towards their Support." The solution of the eldest was one with which Austen was familiar, since her father's dowerless sister was forced to go to India to find a husband. This is Austen's fictional version of the same sad solution, written thirty-five years after her aunt's desperate emigration. Already at sixteen, Austen was subliminally aware of what happened to dowerless spinsters. Her fictional spinster "had been necessitated to embrace the only possibility that was offered her, of a Maintenance."
This polite sale of herself to an elderly and bad-tempered man was "so opposite to all her ideas of Propriety, so contrary to her Wishes, so repugnant to her feelings, that she would almost have preferred Servitude... had Choice been allowed her." For Mary, another and younger dowerless sister, "There was not indeed that hopelessness of sorrow.. . she was not yet married and could yet look forward to a change in her circumstances." But this unfinished story called "Catherine" leaves Mary still abandoned to the charms of a companion's post, and both hopeless and "depressed" (MW, 194-195). Achievements of Austen's magnitude are always something of a mystery, and in Austen's case, the mystery is even greater than it is for her male colleagues. How did she learn to temper her hyperbolically witty yet bleak child's vision, which could imagine only a world of sycophants and of hostile, competing groups?
Where did she learn that buoyancy that she attributes to one of her minor women characters, "that elasticity of mind, that disposition to be comforted, that power of turning from evil to good, and of finding employment which carried her out of herself, which was from Nature alone"? The quietly witty but depressed Anne Elliot asks herself these questions about Mrs. Smith, an ill and penniless widow, betrayed by her husband and now abandoned by society in a back street of Bath. Anne compares Mrs. Smith's buoyant courage, which allows this utterly bereft woman "moments only of languor and depression," to her own permanent state of grieving with far less provocation, she thinks. "A submissive spirit might be patient, a strong understanding would supply resolution, but here was something more... . It was the choicest gift from heaven," and, Anne muses, "by a merciful appointment, it seems designed to counterbalance almost every other want" (Ρ, 154).
If we assume that there are portions of Austen's own hidden self in all heroines, whether transcended or not, we need to examine some of the subversive attitudes of these heroines. We need to watch the way Austen absorbed many feminist theories and transmuted them into the less contentious, more discreet, and sometimes more light-hearted medium of fiction, even while she retained an abiding contempt for those "meaner considerations" that Locke had identified in his Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Her favorite women novelists taught her that women could take as one of their most obvious fictional preoccupations the subject of Priscilla Wakefield's Reflections on the Present Condition of the Female Sex, and all the "meaner considerations" upon which traditional wisdom about women was so often based, and find themselves not only a publisher but a public.”
- Alison G. Sulloway, ““Pride” and “Prejudice” and the Compensatory Equation.” in Jane Austen and the Province of Womanhood
#history#regency#jane austen#sense and sensibility#gender#jane austen and the province of womanhood#pride and prejudice#emma#alison g. sulloway
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What would the ghosts, except Mary and robin, view on international relations with UK in their own time?
Unfortunately, the answer to this question is that I’m pretty sure most of them didn’t have views on international relations in their times.
Julian obviously did, and is the worst sort of Tory. Just pick whatever the worst answer to an international issue is and go with it, and you probably have Julian’s view. I mean, he’s canonically against the EU and in favor of arming extremists. The show already answered that question for us when it comes to Julian.
Pat, though, the closest he’s come to showing any sort of interest in the world at large is in enjoying the world cup and knowing a smattering of French. He’s shown no sign of being very political. His priorities seemed to be fairly mundane and domestic: his family, sports, scouting, popular music and movies, a nice meal, a bit of beer. Maybe he saw things about the Falklands War or the Troubles on tv or in the newspaper, but I doubt he thought about them too much. We hear more out of Pat than most characters and political people tend to be unable not to mention politics every now and then- Julian does all the time- so I’m going to say he probably just didn’t care all too much, so long as things were fine for him in the UK.
The Captain of course had political opinions, but they were most likely very orthodox. He certainly was anti-German and probably anti-Fascist, maybe with a bit of unease about the threats of communism, as was prevalent at the time. Honestly, though, he’s clearly a staunch monarchist- and also a career low level military officer- he’s used to being told what to do and think and probably was more than happy to agree with whatever opinion the King might give on any given international matter.
Escaping reverse chronological order for a moment to group Fanny and Kitty together, while they are both fairly clever and were both fairly well educated for women of their class and times, but that basically just means they’re very literate with good manners, and maybe a smattering of cultural achievements. In both of their times, it probably would have been viewed as anywhere between ‘cute’ and ‘utterly ridiculous’ for a woman to have an opinion on international politics or relations. Fanny seems to have been very proper, if she had those sort of opinions, it seems unlikely she would have voiced them, unless it was to back up the pro-British Empire orthodox opinions of the time. And Kitty was also very sheltered, so it’s uncertain and very unlikely whether she was aware of anything like international affairs.
Thomas’s brain seems to consist of romance, poetry, roiling emotions, and fluff. Honestly, I wouldn’t bet on him having any sort of substantive thought, never mind one on international relations. Both the War of 1812 and the Napoleonic Wars went on when he was a kid/youth, but he’s never even hinted about them. I would say he was probably vaguely anti-slavery, just because I think he’d have to have been a shitty person not to be, but I doubt overall it’s something he thought about much.
Mary was entirely uneducated, so I doubt she knew much if anything about even British internal politics, except maybe the name of the King.
Humphrey probably did have distinct political opinions, both domestic and foreign, it was pretty much impossible to not have them as a Tudor nobleman, and probably particularly distinct opinions about France, considering his wife was French and Henry liked feuding with the French... but I wouldn’t venture on the specifics of his political opinions until we get a Humphrey episode. Tudor executions really didn’t discriminate between left, right and center, because politics were full of intrigue and shifted quickly then. If he lived through Mary, being pro-Spain would have been beneficial, for example, but if he made it to Elizabeth, then he would have had to have been anti-Spain to survive. Hopefully we will be getting a Humphrey episode that clarifies when and why he died, which might allow me to gauge his answer better.
Interestingly, the Plague ghosts seem strangely cosmopolitan for country villagers and they died right in the middle of the Hundred Years War, so I think it’s likely they did have opinions on it, although if they did, those opinions were probably all ‘down with France.’
It’s uncertain Robin was even aware there was an ‘international’ when he was alive. Probably not.
And the pigeon is clearly an anarchist. I will take no criticism on this last point.
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The OCs as Jane Austen characters?
everyone is lizzie bennet, remember? lmao
quoted descriptions sourced from the atlantic, barnes and noble, the guardian, and stylist.
and yes, I realize some of these could definitely qualify as hot takes lmao
ivy: fitzwilliam darcy ("I always saw myself as more of a mr. darcy than an elizabeth bennet. we’re both more reserved, and people can mistake our standoffishness for arrogance. but mr. darcy gets the chance to prove what he is really like, and now people often think of him as the ideal romantic hero.")
meredith: marianne dashwood ("marianne is a hopeless, self-indulgent romantic who veers from ecstatic, all-consuming happiness to miserable self-neglect over the unsuitable man she has pinned her hopes on. she is, however, capable of self-improvement and learns invaluable life lessons from her practical and generous older sister, elinor.")
diana: susan vernon ("not all austen’s protagonists are morally sound, well behaved romantics. in her only epistolary novel she presents us with a vicious anti-heroine in the shape of lady susan vernon. a beautiful 30-something widow, she is charming and manipulative towards anyone she can make use of.")
dahlia: isabella thorpe ("in northanger abbey, isabella is one of austen’s funniest characters. she’s a very realistically drawn teenage girl who makes and breaks friends on a whim, is a shallow flirt and loves dancing, shopping and giggling.")
alassie: mary crawford ("in mansfield park, mary crawford is the character all men fall in love with. vivacious, worldly, musical, funny and kind, she is the ultimate femme fatale. even the dull parson edmund bertram falls for her charms, simultaneously attracted and repelled by her particular brand of sexy charisma. she’s a wonderful actress and plays the harp like an angel. she makes the filthiest joke in austen when she makes a pun about sodomy in the navy, concerning rear and vice admirals: “of rears and vices I saw enough. now do not be suspecting me of a pun, I entreat.”")
ramona: anne elliot ("she may be austen’s most hopeful character. without the native strength of emma or lizzy, her quiet character withstands her own youthful mistake to triumph in the end. since most of us blow it to one degree or another in our twenties, anne represents that painful journey to self-knowledge and courage that most of us experience.")
rhea: elinor dashwood ("on the surface, she has it together, she’s in control, she keeps her family together, and she acts like she has no need for romance. but underneath, she is a deeply emotional person. to me, she is jane austen’s most complex and human character. we all exist in layers and are neither sense nor sensibility, but a mixture of both.")
cornelia: elizabeth bennet ("she is smart, witty, charming, and loyal. I have always admired her self-respect: a self-respect that wasn't entirely vain or selfish. the self-respect that would not allow her to marry her intellectually inferior cousin, just to have a home, or save her family. her self-respect that gave her the fortitude to reject darcy's marriage proposal, though, again, it would have secured her future. Her self-respect that gave her the courage to speak her mind among men and women who outranked her socially and economically.")
kaden: emma woodhouse ("emma is rich, pretty, and thinks more of her matchmaking abilities than she should, but she is also a devoted daughter, a loving friend, and above all is someone who is willing to own up to her mistakes and attempt to right them. emma is a heroine you root for as she not only finds love (as any great austen heroine must), but also as she matures from an often inconsiderate girl to a sincere and kind young woman.")
andreia: diana parker ("diana is a homeopathic health fanatic in austen’s final, incomplete novel sanditon, written when she was dying. diana sips herbal and green tea, has anorexic tendencies and distrusts conventional medicine and doctors. she self-medicates with her numerous homemade remedies and is drawn to the other invalids who are staying at the seaside resort. she plans to take a sea bath in a bathing hut on wheels with a mixed-race girl. what a pity that we’re deprived of the chance to see how that would have turned out")
arely: fanny price ("fanny price is also an odd heroine, meek and quiet without any of the strength of her other heroines. she’s also very difficult to read, with a moralistic streak that comes across as quite judgemental. however, like anne elliot, she is very much the outcast of the family and has to endure a fair amount of humiliation from childhood. to see her finally defy her uncle in the gentlest way possible and end up with her childhood love edmund bertram is satisfying."
suzy: catherine morland ("catherine is a dramatic, gothic-novel-loving teen who is desperate for drama and tries to turn her own life into a ghost story, offending and upsetting her friends in the process. throughout my teens I did my best to make my life something in between a fantasy novel and a sofia coppola movie—I can relate. she’s funny, outgoing, and magnificently stupid. but catherine, in her ridiculousness, just wants to make life a fun story. she is the angsty suburban girl who invites you to join her book club with a message written in invisible ink. I would join in a heartbeat.")
samuel: henry tilney ("funny, good-natured, and forgiving, tilney’s even ready to defy his boorish father’s wishes to marry the woman he…loves? this novel lacks the intense romanticism of austen’s later works, but that doesn’t mean henry isn’t a peach.")
bianca: charlotte lucas (sensible and intelligent, does what she has to do for a successful life)
archibald: george knightley ("he is the epitome of kindness, an underestimated heroic quality. he takes care of a vulnerable woman like miss bates, and steps in to dance with lowly harriet smith when he sees that she has been snubbed by the awful mr and mrs elton. he represents the perfect english gentleman and sets himself firmly against french affectation. he refuses to play the conventional hero and talk the language of love: “I cannot make speeches, emma. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” perfect!")
raphael: charles bingley ("this charming, gallant gentleman wouldn’t hurt a fly, but he would let his chilly sisters talk him out of proposing to the woman he loves, in an era when dancing with her all night has already got half the neighborhood writing up the wedding banns. but who doesn’t keep a spot in their heart for bingley, who’s glad to dance with even the homeliest old maids (we’re talking 27-year-old hags here). he may be suggestible, even a touch weak-willed, but he’s also got a heart of gold. (and if he had a bit more spine, he’d top mr. darcy.)
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Alain Delon’s Unrequited Love Affair with Hollywood By Raquel Stecher
With his piercing blue eyes, aloof demeanor and natural charisma, it was inevitable that French actor Alain Delon would become an international sensation. The suave French film star became known for playing brooding anti-heroes on both sides of the law. He catapulted to fame in Rene Clement’s PURPLE NOON (’61), the sun-baked drama based on Patricia Highsmith’s celebrated mystery novel. Other plum roles came his way including films such as the art-house darling L’ECLISSE (’62) and acclaimed crime dramas ANY NUMBER CAN WIN (’63), LE SAMOURAI (’67) and BORSALINO (’70).
When Delon got his start, he was a fresh face in a new era of celebrity and filmmaking. Delon’s good looks, fashion sense, his many romantic affairs with some of the most beautiful women in the world and his real-life connections to dangerous gangsters all added to his mystique. In his prime, Delon was a huge box-office star not only in France but throughout Europe. As his celebrity grew, he found fans in Japan, China and Russia. But there was always one market that was missing in Delon’s portfolio: Hollywood.
Hollywood came knocking at the very beginning of Delon’s acting career, even before he was an actor. After a tumultuous upbringing and years of youthful rebellion that culminated with being dishonorably discharged from the French Marines, Delon found himself in Paris where he took numerous odd jobs. It was there he befriended local up-and-coming actors, one of whom invited him to go to the Cannes Film Festival. Henry Wilson, David O. Selznick’s talent scout, spotted Delon there and had him do a screen test in Rome. Selznick offered Delon a contract with the provision that Delon must learn English beforehand. Delon signed the contract but later backed out of it when his actor friends introduced him to French film director Yves Allegret. Allegret became Delon’s mentor, guiding him to develop a natural style of acting telling Delon “don’t act, live!” Delon got his first acting role in WHEN THE WOMAN BUTTS IN (’57) and the rest is history.
Even with the success of the French and Italian productions Delon starred in, he always had it in the back of his mind that the apex of his career would find him making films in Hollywood. When he was nominated for a Golden Globe for his performance in Luchino Visconti’s THE LEOPARD (’63), Hollywood came knocking again. He tested the waters with the UK produced ensemble film THE YELLOW ROLLS-ROYCE (’64), in which he plays opposite Shirley MacLaine and George C. Scott in one of the story’s three vignettes. After several failed negotiations, including a role in a Sam Peckinpah production that never came to fruition, Delon snagged the lead role in the American film noir style drama ONCE A THIEF (’65). The project was quite similar to ANY NUMBER CAN WIN and even shared the same writer, Zekial Marko. However, the film did modestly well in the States and fared better overseas. It was even premiered in Tokyo to capitalize on Delon’s international fame.
Other roles in English-speaking films came his way including parts in the war drama IS PARIS BURNING? (’66), the silly Western spoof starring Rat Pack members Dean Martin and Joey Bishop TEXAS ACROSS THE RIVER (’66), the sexy British drama THE GIRL ON A MOTORCYCLE (’68) and the Spaghetti Western starring Charles Bronson and Toshiro Mifune RED SUN (’71). Most of these films did modestly in the American market but fared better in other countries where Delon was a more established star. Delon was considered for parts in FANNY (’61), LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (’62), THE LOVED ONE (’65), THIS PROPERTY IS CONDEMNED (’66) and GUNS FOR SAN SEBASTIAN (’68), none of which happened.
In the 1970s, Delon made two more concerted efforts to break into the Hollywood scene. He reunited with Burt Lancaster, his co-star in THE LEOPARD, for the CIA spy thriller SCORPIO (’73). Then there was THE CONCORDE… AIRPORT ’79 (’79), the fourth entry in the popular AIRPORT franchise. This film did so poorly that it put the nail in the coffin to both the AIRPORT films and Delon’s Hollywood career.
So what went wrong? Why was Alain Delon, who enjoyed fame around the globe, unable to make a splash in Hollywood? The answer to this is complicated. For one, American audiences are notoriously finicky and sometimes international success doesn’t guarantee box-office clout. Also, Hollywood is known for getting in its own way and many success stories have come from talent who were able to transcend limitations. Delon was given smaller roles in films with ensemble casts or very strong lead actors such as Burt Lancaster, Anthony Quinn, Charles Bronson and Jack Palance who overshadowed Delon on screen. These parts were beneath what he was capable of.
Delon’s accent was another barrier to entry even though he spoke English well and his accent gave him an air of sophistication. It’s very difficult for French speaking actors to break into Hollywood. There are a few notable exceptions such as Louis Jourdan, Charles Boyer and Maurice Chevalier. But those stars didn’t have Delon’s brand of masculinity and sexual prowess, that was highly prized in France and elsewhere but was not as appealing in the States. In the end, Hollywood didn’t give Delon a chance to shine. However, Delon demonstrated that he didn’t need Hollywood to cement his status as one of the cinema’s great leading men.
#Alain Delon#French#1960s#1970s#Hollywood#international#Summer Under the Stars#TCM#Turner Classic Movies#Raquel Stecher
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Don’t Read Pride and Prejudice Again (Try a Different Austen)
I have written promotions for the other novels, but no one needs encouragement to read P&P. So if the lessers must rise, the greatest must fall. So here is EVERYTHING WRONG with Pride & Prejudice. (To be clear, this is satire! I love P&P)
The proposal scenes are totally unbalanced. We get every single CRINGEWORTHY word of Mr. Collins’s terrible proposal, we get exactly one line of Darcy and then “he spoke well” but what did he SAY Miss Austen? Cruel authoress! and absolutely nothing from the cutest couple: Jane and Bingley. (Want the outpouring of the main character’s heart? Try Persuasion)
Too many coincidences! Unless Mr. Darcy is a Time Lord (love you, Doctor Who), there is no way he can always show up at exactly the right time. He arrives when Georgiana is about to elope, comes one day early so he can run into Elizabeth at Pemberley, and walks in THE VERY MOMENT when Elizabeth reads the letter from Jane about Wickham and Lydia. And I’m not even going to get into how very convenient it is that Elizabeth’s estranged cousin knows Darcy’s aunt. Try harder Jane Austen! (To read a book without coincidences, try Mansfield Park).
For a strong heroine, Elizabeth Bennet faces almost no real difficulties. Elinor Dashwood has to deal with her father’s death, but Mr. Bennet just goes on living. Fanny Price must stand strong after rejecting a proposal, but Elizabeth has her father and sister's support after rejecting Mr. Collins. Anne must wait 8 years to be reunited with her true love, Elizabeth waits like 5 weeks. Catherine Morland must travel alone all the way home and wait six months for Henry’s father to approve their marriagr, Elizabeth always travels accompanied and marries as soon as she wishes. Emma has to spend weeks convincing her father that marriage to Knightley is a good idea, Mr. Bennett consents before his daughter even talks to him. It’s easy to be strong when nothing bad ever happens to you, Elizabeth! (You want real strength, read Sense & Sensibility, Elinor is a paragon or Mansfield Park)
Darcy is the least likeable leading man in existence. He makes fun of the Bennets behind their backs, he’s arrogant, he’s snobby, he’s a know-it-all, and he thinks he has the right to make decisions about his friends’ love lives. He is so terrible at flirting that Elizabeth spends half of the book thinking that he hates her. Okay... even I can’t go this far when Rochester and Heathcliff exist. Let’s just say Darcy needs some serious work at the beginning. (If you want a really lovable leading man, try Northanger Abbey. Henry Tilney forever!)
Pride & Prejudice is not long or conclusive enough! I need far more pride and extended prejudice. Why can we not learn the fates of Georgiana, Kitty, and Mary? Why only two measly weddings at the end of the book? I know Jane Austen is capable of three! (For a longer book that leaves every single eligible character married, try Emma)
Good heroines are passe, anti-heroines is where it's really at! Elizabeth Bennet being nice and good is boring. (Try Lady Susan for delicious evil)
Pride & Prejudice, not as good as you thought!
Don’t forget Emma, Northanger Abbey, Mansfield Park, Sense & Sensibility, Persuasion, and even Lady Susan.
#jane austen#pride and prejudice#mansfield park#sense and sensibility#northanger abbey#emma#persuasion#lady susan#remember this is a joke#dont flame me#i love P&P#elizabeth bennet
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29 apr 2021 09:16
QUANDO CRAXI DISSE A MITTERRAND: “TENETEVI VOI TONI NEGRI” – LA "DOTTRINA" SUL DIRITTO DI ASILO CHE HA PERMESSO A DECINE DI EX TERRORISTI DI RIFUGIARSI IN FRANCIA VENNE STRAVOLTA IN UN RECIPROCO GIOCO DI CONVENIENZE - L'INTELLIGHENZIA DE’ SINISTRA HA SEMPRE TIFATO PER GLI "ESULI" - QUANTI ERRI DE LUCA (E NEL CASO DI BATTISTI ANCHE ROBERTO SAVIANO) HANNO PROTETTO LA PARTE PEGGIORE DELL'ITALIA IN FRANCIA. MA ORA, FINALMENTE, IL SECCO "GRAZIE" DI DRAGHI A MACRON...
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Mario Ajello per "il Messaggero"
L' astrattezza dei presunti sapienti, la vacuità degli intellettuali italiani e francesi abituati a vedere idealismo nella criminalità di sinistra, è stato un ingrediente fondamentale nell' epopea dei terroristi ospitati a Parigi per decenni come perseguitati politici e vezzeggiati dalla crema della cultura o meglio dell' ignoranza militante.
Ora il pluriomicida Cesare Battisti è in carcere in Italia, ma quando era Oltralpe il riverito saggista Bernard Henry Lévy - per non dire di Daniel Pennac o della giallista Fred Vargas o di Fanny Ardant o di Carla Bruni, di sua sorella attrice Valeria Bruni Tedeschi e di centinaia di altri intellò da rive gauche - ne parlava come di un partigiano minacciato dalla violenza vendicativa e «fascista» della giustizia italiana. Un sindaco socialista di Parigi mise Battisti persino sotto la «protezione» del consiglio comunale perché quei barbari del governo italiano si erano permessi di chiedere l' estradizione di un «pensatore illuminato».
Una sorta di esodo della sinistra estrema italiana inseguita (ma svogliatamente) dalla nostra giustizia c' è stato in direzione Francia. Perché «questo Paese - parola di Franco Piperno, che è stato un rifugiato - è la seconda patria di ogni uomo libero». Fungeva da protezione per gente come lui, come Toni Negri, come la Petrella e gli altri appena arrestati, la cosiddetta dottrina Mitterrand sul diritto d' asilo. Si trattò soltanto di una dichiarazione del presidente francese, il 23 febbraio 1985, al termine di un colloquio con il premier italiano Bettino Craxi all' Eliseo.
Da lì è nato un lungo equivoco, abilmente sfruttato dall' Italia e dalla Francia. Mitterrand aveva detto con estrema chiarezza che andava escluso dai benefici dell' asilo chi aveva compiuto atti di sangue. Ma il comportamento della République (fino all' estradizione nel 2002 del brigatista Persichetti condannato a 22 anni per l' assassinio del generale Giorgieri e all' arresto di Battisti nel 2004) è stato diverso. La tipica doppiezza di Mitterrand ha giovato ai rifugiati.
L' uso improprio della dottrina Mitterrand fu tacitamento favorito dai governi italiani. Gilles Martinet, celebre ex ambasciatore francese in Italia, raccontò che Craxi stesso aveva chiesto a Mitterrand di tenersi Toni Negri ed evitarli il carcere. Meglio farli stare in Francia che averli da noi a fare danni: questo in fondo l' approccio di Bettino verso gli estremisti di sinistra. Verso i quali i nostri socialisti, anche in chiave anti-Pci, hanno avuto qualche debolezza.
LE CONVENIENZE
Per non dire delle infatuazioni modello Carlà. Quel mondo parigino dell' ignoranza militante tendeva a vedere nei terroristi e affini arrivati dall' Italia il capro espiatorio della nostra giustizia inquisitoriale e prevenuta contro le «idee ribelli» d' origine sessantottina. Una bufala, naturalmente, questo modo di vedere. Il fascino verso la figura del rivoluzionario fuggiasco è diventato così un sottogenere pseudo-letterario, a prescindere dalle colpe spesso molto gravi di cui si sono macchiati questi anti-eroi. Naturalmente nessuno crede alla Bruni quando dice: «Non sono mai intervenuta presso mio marito Sarkozy per favorire Battisti».
Ma chissà. Quel che è certo è che la dottrina Mitterrand ha funzionato. Era già stata anticipata dallo smaliziatissimo presidente francese in un discorso del 1 febbraio 85 al Palais des Sports di Rennes: «Mi rifiuto di considerare a priori come terroristi attivi e pericolosi - così disse quel monarca repubblicano - quelle centinaia di uomini che sono venuti nel nostro Paese, in particolare dall' Italia, e che sono ormai fuori dal giro delle violenze».
Una sottile, reciproca, convenienza, si è stabilita in questi decenni tra Italia e Francia. In realtà il nostro governo non chiedeva mai a quello di Parigi di restituire i latitanti. Soltanto De Mita lo fece con insistenza. Molto più tardi, nel 2001, il Guardasigilli del governo berlusconiano, il leghista Castelli, ha tentato di scardinare la dottrina Mitterrand, con un accordo con il collega Perben sulla chiusura definitiva della pratica dei rifugiati, in cui si pretendeva la restituzione di quelli condannati per omicidio (una dozzina di persone). Ma non se ne fece niente. Sarkozy non si è liberato dalla dottrina Mitterrand, al punto che Battisti, dopo essere scappato in Brasile, ha raccontato che 007 francesi avevano collaborato alla sua fuga.
TRA PERDONISMO E RETORICA
Un po' tutti, in questa storia italo-francese di ipocrisia e di malinteso concetto di libertà ridotta a macchietta (i libertari sarebbero gli assassini, libertaria anche la Francia che dà loro una patria, mentre da questa parte delle Alpi una sorta di regime liberticida costringeva i suoi poeti all' esodo), hanno contribuito a scriverla tra perdonismo, disumanità e retorica rivoluzionaria fuori tempo massimo. Quanti Erri De Luca (e nel caso di Battisti anche Roberto Saviano) hanno protetto la parte peggiore dell' Italia in Francia. Ma ora, finalmente, il secco «grazie» di Draghi a Macron.
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Such brilliant answers to my Austen-related!!! Now I need to ask more :) Unpopular Austen opinions? Reasons you're 'eh' on the 2005 version of P&P? Your favorite AND least favorite Austen heroes, heroines and ships?! I need to read your fanfic!!
ooh, a controversial ask!
My unpopular Austen opinions...well, I sort of don’t follow my own advice with Austen. I usually am pretty open to enjoying lesser and greater adaptations in fandom--I don’t need everything to be high-brow--but I’m very picky about Austen interpretation and adaptation.
Other than that, let’s see.
- Mansfield Park is excellent and one of the Best Works.
- Frank Churchill is practically a villain
- Mr. Bingley is not an incorrigible pushover
- Darcy is not socially awkward (more to come on that one)
- Edward Ferrars needed to Do More
Favorite Hero: Darcy (Wentworth, Knightley) Least Favorite: Edward
Favorite Heroine: Elizabeth (Anne, Emma, Elinor, Fanny--) Least Favorite: Marianne
Favorite Ship: I mean, all the main ones, but I’d love to write or see Henry Crawford/redemption (it would require a major overhaul) Least Favorite: Jane Fairfax/Frank Churchill
PUtting my anti P&P 2005 stuff under the cut bc I don’t want to harsh anyone’s buzz--including yours, if you would rather not see a wholly negative take!
I have seen it. Twice. I don’t think it’s a good film...it’s too short, it doesn’t develop the characters, it’s not well-paced, it focuses on weirdly cheap comedy and mood breaks, it’s not well-costumed, it’s not authentically set, etc etc etc
It’s a TERRIBLE take on Pride & Prejudice. It cheapens every important moment, misunderstands pretty much every character, and thinks it is both more romantic and funnier than Austen herself. It’s not.
Um...
The music is really pretty? That’s my one good take.
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