Marxism, Schmarxism

Yes, this is another Austen-related post, but I'm annoyed, so bear with me. It's also extraordinarily long, so unless you're as nuts about Jane as I am, you'll probably be lost pretty quickly.

I'm taking a class this semester focusing on 19th century British novels. Naturally, the first thing we read was a Jane Austen novel. Emma was what the professor picked as the most appropriate to our overall discussions, so for the last 3 weeks we've been working our way through the book. Wednesday brought us to the end of the book, Jane married Frank, Harriet married her farmer, Emma married Mr. Knightley, and there was much rejoicing.....



....or not. This is where my annoyance comes in. My professor (who admits to being a Marxist critic) finds the end of Emma, "depressing" and "creepy." He feels that, in marrying, Emma completely loses her identity and is "subsumed" by Mr. Knightley. She no longer has the ability to function on her own, her wonderful feminist autonomy is lost, and she becomes, "the good little wife." ('Cuz, you know being a good wife is such a horrifying fate.) On top of this, as he stated, this was a loveless marriage and contracted for purely economic reasons. Mr. Knightley marries Emma to enlarge his estates, and Emma marries Mr. Knightley to secure her place as the queen of the neighborhood.

Now, this morning as I was brooding on the disagreeable sensation of Marxist criticism being perpetrated on Jane Austen, another "proof" against this particular theory came to me. It's actually part of the text that the prof used to prove his own point, but I think it makes much more sense in terms of the way Jane Austen actually seems to have thought and wrote.

The Prof pointed out a line in which Hartfield (Emma's home) is described as, "inconsiderable, being but a sort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate, to which all the rest of Highbury belonged." The prof took this as meaning that, in allying himself with the Woodhouse family, Mr. Knightley (the wicked wealthy white male....slightly paraphrased for the sake of aliteration....) is completing his "takeover" and enriching himself, while simultaneously overcoming the only person who ever argued with him-- Emma.

So, I'm a silly, slightly flightly, romantic chick, but I take this passage to mean something completely different. Emma, like Hartfield, is independent and not in a bad position. She is happy as a single girl and, believes that her situation, "cannot really change for the better." However, she is also deeply flawed and she has a penchant for messing things up. She needs Knightley's judgment and advice to keep her in check. Like Hartfield, she is not meant to exist on her own.

Donwell, on the other hand, is a great estate, encompassing the entirety of the neighborhood, excepting only Hartfield- the missing "notch." Likewise, Mr. Knightley seems to be doing just fine on his own. He has many friend, business to keep him occupied, and more money than ANYONE could know what to do with. Despite loving his home, however, he is constantly to be found at Hartfield visiting Mr. Woodhouse and Emma. Like Donwell, Mr. Knightley is incomplete. He is also not meant to be alone.

It is only with their marriage that Emma and Mr. Knightley are made whole, no longer missing any pieces or attempting to stand on their own. At the same time, the Hartfield and Donwell properties are rejoined, completing the property. There are so many directions in which this idea could be taken.... Personally, I think all of those potential directions make far more sense than the anachronistic Marxist reading we were given in class.

It should not come as a surprise that we disagree on this. Everytime I speak in this particular class, the professor disagrees with me. NOTHING I say seems to make any sense to him. I get the feeling that I've already exposed myself as a sexist, bourgeois, conservative, pro-marriage type. (Ooops, I think I said in class that being married was preferable to working as a governess. Bad, bad emancipated female.)

I had known for over a year that there were new Jane Austen adaptations in the works, had heard about them from acquaintances who were privileged enough to see them when they premiered in Britain, and I had even written down the US airing dates on a sheet of paper...somewhere. I checked the PBS Masterpiece website a month or so ago, just to make sure I knew exactly what was coming. With all of that anticipation and preparation, I still managed to miss the first two adaptations. Very annoying.

Last night, however, I remembered that "Mansfield Park" was going to be showing. Bean and I had to get some studying done....the sort that can't compete with Jane, so my mother set the TiVo to record it. Rather than doing the responsible thing and watching the State of the Union address tonight, we watched "Mansfield Park." (And drank chocolate tea, of all things.)

I was pleasantly surprised. MP is probably my least favorite of Jane Austen's novels, and I have always had a hard time warming to the main characters (especially Edmund) , but the movie allowed them to be charming and likable. The movie was a little too short and thus a little shallow. There was very little off Jane's original dialogue, which was definitely missed, and I am ambivalent about the casting of Fanny. The actress was a little too awkward and gawky, and the running around (hair wild!) bugged me a little. Someone in my literature class this afternoon had complained that, although the movie was good, Fanny Price was too "pretty." I have to disagree....she was far from being too pretty, either by Regency or modern standards.

Edmund was lovely. Something about the way he was played really charmed me, and I still can't figure out what it was.

Over all, I have to say that I approve. It was by no means a perfect adaptation, but I enjoyed watching it, and I felt like I got a good dose of Austen

Next Sunday evening will bring "Miss Austen Regrets" with the lovely Olivia Williams (who will always be Jane Fairfax to me, although no other casting from that particular version of "Emma" has stayed with me.)

A New Way to Waste Time

I have already spent too much time this evening doing this, and I anticipate that it will become a splendid way to avoid doing homework.

From my mother's blog:

Directions:
1. The first article title on this page is the name of your band.
2. The last four words of the last quotation on this page is the title of your album.
3. The third picture on this page, no matter what it is, will be your cover artwork.
4. Take the artwork, your titles, and use a photo-editing program to paste them together.


Here are some of my albums, although I can't imagine what some of them would sound like.

Better Yet.....

Makeover

I finally gave up. My long hair has been causing problems for quite a while and this week I decided to get rid of it. So, today I got a REAL haircut for the first time in 6 years. The stylist, Megan, took over 15 inches off, and now my hair is bouncing and swinging around my shoulders. I think it's pretty darn cute.

I didn't let any of my extended family (uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents) know that I was doing this, and I am anxious to see what they think. I could very easily imagine certain cousins not being very happy with me.
Now, the real question is whether of not anyone will recognize me without the looooong hair. We'll find out tonight at church, and also later at the Sabre ofBoldness ceremony.

3 Hours Left...

There are only three hours left before the next semester officially begins. Roomie-Bean and I have been throwing a weekend-long pre-class shebang. We bought lots of chocolate, Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper, ice cream, Twizzlers (inspired by Project Runway), and Bean made chocolate chip cookies. We've watched a movie each night (Carrie on Friday night, and the only scary part was the hair.) Our friend Audrey was here Friday and Saturday night, and last night we had "menfolk"
over to share our junk food and play Cranium.

Don't fall over, faint, swoon, gasp in surprise/horror or anything else. Yes, I am posting something.

I've made a discovery that has horrifying implications. The discovery is this: I only blog when my bedroom in clean. What this says about the state of my room most days, I don't even want to consider. To tell the truth, I probably haven't seen my floor since I posted last. Right now, however, it is lovely and organized, thus I am blogging. One thing that became clear as I straightened, organized, and dusted, is that I need another bookshelf. There are books stacked four feet high against one bookshelf, and the other has books stacked two deep one some of the shelves. This seems like a very good problem to have!

To Autumn

Because I am cold and need to be convinced that Summer being completely over is NOT all that bad...... (and because I have had to read this poem over and over in my Romanticism class)

John Keats

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Woe is me

I just got finished complaining on Facebook, and decided that I might as well complain here too. I am trying to write a paper on Aristotle's Politics, and I am about to lose my mind. Of course, this is the last thing I want to happen, since it is difficult enough for me to comprehend the old geezer with my brain firmly in place. Maybe it's just me (or maybe it's just Aristotle) but every argument I find seems to need multiple paragraphs of clarification and definition before I can even attempt to say anything about it.

So, instead of writing my paper I'm posting here and playing Scrabble online with my mother.

Really, I already have 1 3/4 pages of a 5 page paper done, and it isn't due until the 16th, so I'm actually in good shape.

Is it just me...

...or is this a little odd?

My history professor is somewhat, uh, different. He tells us how to take notes, when to take notes, and what sort of container we need to put them in to study. He specified where each person has to sit for class (and my spot is in the front, about 6 inches from his desk, which makes everything just a little less comfortable.) He provided us with one textbook, but most of our assignments refer to a completely different book, only one copy of which is available in town. He requires anyone who gets a C or worse on the first exam to either drop out immediately or attend daily, compulsory tutoring. If you don't seem to be performing so well in class (i.e. not answering any questions) he will email your academic adviser and let them know that you are not a good student and should be monitored.

The best, though, is our last assignment. We were required to print off and analyze a specific essay, looking for all the many elements that make it an "exemplary piece of academic writing," its merits to be discussed in class. The author of this "exemplary" piece of writing? The professor.

Ok, so I've been studying for the last 5 hours and I'm a little crabby. But still.....

I have created and am nominating myself for a new award. I even get a nifty little button.

For right now I think that I am the only recipient of this award.

You scored as Elizabeth Bennet, As one of Austen's most beloved characters, Elizabeth Bennet represents what most women would like to become: strong, independent, and loyal. Of course, she has her faults including a stubborn will of iron and a clinging to first impressions. Overall, Lizzie is bright and lovable...something to admire and aspire to.

Elizabeth Bennet		78%
Elinor Dashwood		69%
Marianne Dashwood		66%
Jane Bennet		63%
Emma Woodhouse		56%
Charlotte Lucas		34%
Lady Catherine		31%

Which Jane Austen Character are You? (For Females) Long Quiz!!!
created with QuizFarm.com

Harry Potter chat

Here is the transcript of a chat with J.K. Rowling, posted on the Leaky Cauldron website. She answers some amusing questions and fills in some gaps, especially regarding what happens to characters after the books. (Thanks to the people at Pemberley for the link.)

Style Tag

Courtesy of my mother:

Personal Style Quiz
Rules: You have to choose one of the two. You cannot answer "neither" or "both." You can indicate that you like both or neither, but you must state a preference.

Animal fiber or plant? Plants, please. I love my cotton.

Natural or synthetic? Natural

Ornate or simple? Simple

Color or Neutral? Color

Pastel or Vibrant? Argh. I want to answer "neither" but I'm not allowed, so (looking in my closet) I think I'll say vibrant.

Blue/Green or Red/Orange? Blue/Green

White Gold or Yellow Gold? White Gold

Gems or texture? I'm not quite sure what this one is getting at, but I'm going to guess texture

Watch or no-watch? Watch, simply for utility

Comfort or fashion? fashion (please, laugh at me)

Trendy or classic? Classic

Cables or lace? What season are we talking about? And what article of clothing? I love cable knit sweaters, but I also love light, lacy blouses.

Heels or flats? Heels

Flip-flops or sandals? Sandals! Flip-flops are anathema.

Skirts or pants? Skirts....long, swishy, girly skirts.

Geometric or floral? stylized geometric florals

V-neck or turtle-neck? V-neck (or, better still, bateau or boat neck)

Skulls or butterflies? Butterflies

Loose or snug? snug

Long hair or short? Let me think about this a moment. I'm going to say long.

Headbands or barrettes? Headbands, since barrettes don't work in my hair anyway

Shoulder bag or handbag? smallish shoulder bag, because it is almost impossible and certainly dangerous to eat while holding a handbag

Tagging Rachel, Emily, and Katie.

Blueberries

We spent this morning picking blueberries at a farm north of Fort Wayne with a few friends. By the time we left, our family had picked 23.7 pounds of blueberries.


It was a beautiful morning, starting off cloudy but clearing up by the time we got out in the field. The sun made it pretty warm out there, especially since the large bushes cut off any breezes. We were all a little relieved when the clouds rolled back in around 10:00.


I had never picked blueberries before, and really enjoyed my first trip out. I figured out that I could park myself in the middle of a bush and be within arms-length of hundreds of berries. Of course, I questioned my tactics after running into this guy:

Do I Know You???

Sometimes the crowd at the library can get colorful, but never, EVER have I seen anything like I saw today.

Striding through the gallery and into the genealogy department this evening, I saw a Roman legionary. I might have thought that I was hallucinating, but the old man standing next to me was also staring. The guy was all decked out in his shiny armor and helmet, clanking with every step. The best part of his outfit, however, was the pair of iridescent wraparound sunglasses he was wearing.

I checked twice to see if it was someone I know.

Return of the Internet

After weeks and weeks of inconveniencing my mother at every turn, I now no longer have to hog her computer when I want to mess around online. Having had its memory erased (yes, computers get amnesia, I am told) and the entire system reinstalled, my erstwhile computer is being reclaimed. I am trying to recreate all of my settings, remember once-stored passwords, and searching for all those sites I used to have bookmarked. This is quite an undertaking.

The truly distressing thing is that, even after all of the work that was done on my computer, the original problem it had (crashing while I play games) is still not taken care of. Hmph.

Incidentally, while I am writing this, I just want to say that watching Little Women with a carton of Ben and Jerry's is a wonderful, girly way to spend a tired and lazy evening. Have I ever mentioned that I adore Laurie? Well, I do.

Be prepared.... When I am really tired I either get completely witless or I turn introspective and philosophical. Tonight, it is the latter.


I have a confession to make.

I laugh at people. Hair, clothes or lack thereof, habits, and cliche-ridden speech patterns are all fair game. Perhaps it is the result of reading Pride and Prejudice a few too many times and trying to emulate Elizabeth Bennet, but I love absurdities and quirks.

Perhaps that will explain why the last two days seemed a little strange. It started yesterday afternoon while I was at work. My boss had assigned me to stick labels to a bunch of our microfilm cabinets, so I spent 5 hours sitting at a table in the back of the department, sticking tape on the backs of the labels, and being bored out of my mind. While I was thus engaged, a lady who appeared to be in her late-seventies walked in, wearing the old-genealogy-lady uniform (colored capris, T-shirt from Walmart, and white tennis shoes). Her face wasn't remarkable- it was rather worn-looking, but very soft. What set her apart was her hair. It was dyed a very light yellow-blond and curled and teased into something resembling this 40s style. She had combed it flat over the crown of her head and there was much more scalp than hair visible.

The overall effect was quite grotesque, but it didn't amuse me as I would have expected. Instead I was deeply saddened. Something about that old women and her hair really caught me. Perhaps it was because she was trying so hard to recapture something that is obviously gone forever- she will never be young again, her hair will never again be thick or naturally blond. Suddenly the genealogical records on the shelf next to me seemed completely different, as though all of the people listed in them had been personified in that one woman. Sitting there, bored out of my mind, it really hit me that the same thing will happen to me, to my parents, and to all of the people I love. This 20 year old was suddenly facing the reality of mortality, with even more force and awareness than at my great-grandparents funerals, when the emotion seemed to act as a buffer.

As I sat there thinking (still taping labels), I also realized just how comforting it is to know that, even should I become grotesque and ridiculous with old age, and my already flawed and weak body become flawed and weaker still, I can rely on Christ, who feeds me with his own perfect body and blood. When death comes for me, as it already has for so many, I will not remain as I was but be joined with Christ in Heaven, where I will be given a new and perfected body which will never grow old or bald or require Walmart t-shirts and old-lady shoes.

"Our life holds few distinctions..."

I just wanted to share my amazing accomplishment with everyone. At work this evening, I shelved 1000 books (plus 50 rolls of microfilm) in under 6 hours. I am pretty impressed, especially since our boss told everyone that 100 books an hour was the goal.

My pride in my mad shelving skills is competing with my sense of humor, which tells me that this entire post is pretty silly. (Typing "mad shelving skills" gave the sense of humor an advantage, and I think it wins now.)

Apparently my blog is in imminent danger of being hacked and deleted unless I start writing. Since I am tired, far too slap-happy write anything legible (let alone intelligent), and just a little cranky, I thought that I would just share something truely inspiring.

Baby names.

My mother and I have a weekly ritual. One of us will pull the birth announcements from the Fort Wayne paper and we will read the names aloud, sometimes spelling out the most impossible and ridiculous ones. My personal favorites this week were twins Xamir Asante and Sebastian Amadeus. I can't decide which one I would rather be. It could be worse, though. There was someone in there with the middle name Nimrod. I realize that it is a real name, but all I can hear is Bugs Bunny saying, "What a nimrod...."

Or, there's little Uriyah Danyell. Uriyah, pronounced like, Uriah the Hittite, except that Uriyah is a girl. I was so moved by that name that I decided I would name my first daughter Zebedee, but (since all letters and sounds are now interchangeable) I would spell it Xebydii. Isn't it cute???
In case anyone had any doubts, that was completely facetious.

December, Amyah, Kateri, Mineee-Kae, Everlye, Jaiyr, Keishyeia, Nasiyah and Nysi, Aneciea, Reace, and Talon deserve special mention. I couldn't bring myself to type any of the many names that contained Xs, but know that they were there.

I can't decide whether it would be worse to be a Jaiyr who will go through life with a name no one can spell, or a Caiden/Kaiden/Kayden/Kaedyn/etc. who will be in a class full of boys and girls whose names are all pronounced exactly the same.


Incidently, this is way fun. Just explore.