I Have Been...

Poppy Field Near Vetheuil (1879) by Claude Monet

{Reading}

Finished The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer yesterday.

Just ordered Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat.

Bibliotherapy continues. :)

{Writing}

Academic work on Elizabeth Gaskell

and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

(Three cheers for all the great Elizabeths!)

{Looking}

 At flowers, buds and plants.

Currently obsessed by all flora and fauna.

{Listening}

Regina Spektor's Samson. So haunting!

 Bach's various string compositions. So invigorating!

{Watching}

Emma. This adaptation is sunshine for my soul:

 

{Feeling}

 Discouraged by my recent past yet hopeful for my future.

Also, hungry. Time for a snack.

{Anticipating}

 The imminent blooming of our tulips.

A forthcoming holiday in June.

{Loving}

Percy. Poor thing hurt his paw today, 

but he's revelled in the extra attention. 

Dogs are the best.

Bibliotherapy

My haul

I've been feeling rather rotten lately and -- what's worse! -- feeling sorry for myself because I feel rotten. Lots of feelings, few of them benign. At times like these I do what any self-respecting bibliophile does: I buy books! I don't need them. I won't even read them immediately. But damnit, I need some bibliotherapy*!! 

I took myself to my local Barnes and Noble on Saturday, accompanied by a short list of books from my wish list. None of them were in stock. Not one! With my brother by my side, I lamented about the many woes of being a reader whose tastes are far superior to the general reading public while I marched towards the magazines to pick up the latest issue of Marie Claire. [Editor's note: Snob? Hypocrite? Probably both.]

Luckily I found a lovely anthology of P.G. Wodehouse fiction just before closing time. While I've been enamored with the Blandings stories for several years now (I pay homage to him here), I still haven't read any Jeeves. Luckily for me, this charming edition contains two Jeeves novels and one collection of short stories: Joy in the Morning; Very Good, Jeeves!; and Right Ho, Jeeves. According to the blurb on the back, 'P.G. Wodehouse is the gold standard of English wit.' I agree! Looking forward to digging into this one, and the cover is so cute...  

I also stumbled upon a bargain priced edition of The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester. This non-fiction text focuses on James Murray, head of the 1887 committee formed to compile the OED, who is surprised to learn that one of the chief contributors to the project is an imprisoned murderer. Gripping material, indeed.

Needless to say, I left the store (haul in one hand, frappuccino in the other) a happy camper. What is it about buying books that boosts one's serotonin levels? Normally I frown upon retail addictions, but how can one argue against a propensity to buying what will actually provide a valuable experience and, ideally anyway, an increase in knowledge (as opposed to the new top that will be out of style in six months)? I mean, really.

Jane Austen also gave me a large dose of medicinal wit. Ah, Jane! I can always count on you. One cable channel thoughtfully broadcast the BBC Pride and Prejudice all weekend long. Consequently, I spent most of it in bed indulging in the following: overdosing on Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy, overdosing on Daniel Vincent Gordh as Darcy in the latest episode of The Lizzie Bennet Diaries (which I've watched more times than I care to admit), or reading Georgette Heyer's The Grand Sophy which features a Darcyesque hero. And you know, between my new haul and the inundation of all things Darcy, I feel infinitely better today than I did on Friday.

 

Bibliotherapy to the rescue! :)

Have you read anything from my haul? Do you have books or adaptations you turn to when feeling down in the dumps? If so, please pass on your recommendations.

*I have shamefully stolen this quaint term from Rachel of BookSnob and Old Fashioned Girls.

Celebrating 200 Years of Pride and Prejudice

With a flu virus so miserable I haven't even been able to indulge in some escapist reading in bed, this week past week has been a doozy. And while this is a few days late, I would be very remiss if I didn't give a little shout out to one of my most treasured books:

Happy 200th Birthday Pride and Prejudice! Here's to 200 more!

As I've said on this blog before, this novel marked my first experience reading a classic. It was my literary gateway drug. Therefore, I feel like I owe Jane Austen a debt for introducing me to the fabulous world of literature.

Speaking of Jane, I always wonder what she would think of all the Pride and Prejudice madness that endures (and only seems to increase!) so many years later, from Colin Firth in a Wet Shirt to Elizabeth Bennet as a zombie killer. She was so humorous and good natured, I have sneaking suspicion she's find it all rather amusing. Even after 200 years, we certainly haven't become bored with this story.

Somehow, I doubt we ever will.

Poetry: The Food of Love or Faux Pas?

'I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!'

'I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,' said Darcy.

'Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.'

-- Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice

Lately I've been wondering about the role poetry plays in dating, my thoughts on which begin with a little story.

Picture this:

A friend of mine recently went on a date which seemed to be going well: the conversation flowed, there was that spark of attraction which painful encounters lack. An invitation back to the date's Brooklyn apartment presented itself, and my friend accepted. 

Things were going very well!

Until suddenly the date in question, without encouragement of any kind, pulled out poetry that had been published in a small magazine and proceeded to read it aloud. 

My friend politely listened, silently wondering when she could make her escape without breaching the laws of etiquette or wounding tender feelings, when the date decided it was time to abandon poetry and play the guitar.

It was the final nail in the coffin. As far as I know, there has been no successive date. (Shocker!)

Sadly my friend is not alone in this predicament, for a similar occurrence happened to me. Perfectly normal conversations have been soiled by my unwelcome, and uninvited, subjection to poems about death. Because nothing says romance like melancholy writings on mortality? There I was, uncomfortably twiddling my thumbs while speculating how to respond without indicating that I wanted to hear more. I just wanted to get away; far, far away!

All this leads me to wonder if this sort of event transpires with frequency. In the intellectual/reader/writer/student dating pool, do overeager individuals often torment potential partners with similarly awkward encounters? 

I consider this to be a big no-no when it comes to dating (and social interactions in general for that matter). Perhaps it's motivated by a desire to bare one's soul to an object of attraction, but it comes off as vain and conceited. And if the poetry in question is bad, it comes off as groundlessly narcissistic in the grand tradition of Don Quixote.

Here's the dilemma: how does one appropriately respond to the song that sounds like nails on a chalkboard or the short story featuring the grammatical competency of a twelve-year-old? Do you proffer slight compliments? Offer an honest critique? Or do you simply say, 'Well, this has been fun, but I really must get home to shampoo my hair'?

No, no, just no. Particularly in the early stages of a relationship, I feel it's only considerate to wait for an invitation to share one's art. 

Elizabeth's right. There's no surer way to kill 'a slight, thin sort of inclination' than to read one's poetry uninvited. It only takes one sonnet. If you save that sonnet for when your significant other is already hopelessly in love, surely the rose-colored glasses will lead them to assure you of its brilliance...even if it's rubbish. 

Thoughts? Has this happened to anybody else out there? Are Elizabeth and I in the right, or do you agree with Darcy?

Library Loot

The recently established library in my small town is microscopic. Case in point: any title not aimed at children is placed in one of two sections, fiction and non-fiction. That's how little material these humble shelves hold. It wasn't until I discovered they miraculously had a copy of The Name of The Rose, and just in time for my recent readathon, that I bothered obtaining a card. 

As a compulsive book buyer, I generally prefer to purchase my books. The temporary non-existence of my book budget has compelled me to seek new titles in frugal ways. Though books aren't as plentiful as I would like them to be, I was surprised at how many of the library's titles called to me. I entered intending to get a card, check out the Eco novel and leave.

Somehow I left with an additional six titles. Whoops. I'm not sure how it happened. The chance of completing these texts before their impending due date is as probable as the library suddenly ballooning overnight. But it's nice to have options. I've discovered there's a great deal of satisfaction in walking away from a library, a goldmine of literature tucked under my arm, with the knowledge that I didn't pay for them! Free books for everybody!

Until the inevitable late fines accrue. Oh, late fees, I wish I knew how to quit you.

So, in this addition to the Library Loot event hosted by Claire and Marg, here are the treasures I've borrowed this week.

Sylvester by Georgette Heyer

After posting a request for Georgette Heyer recomendations, I shrieked with delight when I found two of her novels on the shelf. (But only on the inside. I wouldn't wish to disturb other book fiends.) The dear friend who kindly gave me Frederica as a gift also had Sylvester, or The Wicked Uncle highly recommended to her, and it's also a favourite of Claire's (otherwise known as The Captive Reader). I can't wait to dig into this one!

Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I studied some Barrett Browning for my dissertation and came to the conclusion that she's currently underrated. It seems like people feel the need to take sides and camp with Team Elizabeth or Team Robert. Can't we just acknowledge that both are wonderful in their own unique way?

Poetry has been calling to me as of late, and this volume is on my Classics Club list. Many birds, one stone.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

Although this one was frequently requested when I worked at the bookstore, but I never paid it much heed apart from taking note of the unusual title. Whenever a customer said they were looking for a book with a strange title, something about Guernsey or potatoes, I knew exactly to what they were referring.

Since my dear friend said it reminded her of me I've been dying to read it. And I love epistolary narratives. I don't care how many people diss them!

The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs by Alexander McCall Smith

Speaking of unusual titles, this novel surely wins the prize for most fabulous title of the century. At the very least it should be nominated. Though I've heard some enthusiastic McCall Smith recommendations, I would be lying if I said that's why I picked this little book off the shelves. This selection is entirely based on the awesome title and the fact that there's a cute little dog on the cover. I can never resist a cute dog. Seriously, never.

Under the Black Flag: The Romance and the Reality of Life Among the Pirates by David Cordingly

In the past few months I've come across some pirate documentaries on The History Channel that have been vastly entertaining and educational. When I learned that while pirate law forbade the presence of women on the ship there were still famous female pirates, my curiosity increased ten fold. Girl power?

Hopefully I'll be able to pick more fascinating fun facts from this work of non-fiction.

Lost in Austen: Create Your Own Jane Austen Adventure by Emma Campbell Webster

This specimen of Jane Austen kitsch looked too hilarious to pass up. I have yet to fully look into it, but merely flipping through has led me to some statements that are comical in their absurdity: 'Add "Insufficient Knowledge of Embroidery" to your list of Failings. This has seriously compromised your chances of attracting a rich husband.'

Oh, dear. Is this why I'm single? Should I stick to my sampler and forget the books?

As you see I am spoiled for choice. What are you reading this week?

Georgette Heyer; Or, What To Read After Running Out of Jane Austen

You know those days when you feel like you're in the eye of a tornado? The world is spinning around you while you're trying to stay calm in the center, waiting for the storm to die down. This, at any rate, is how I was feeling last week, and more than anything I wanted to momentarily leave my stressful reality behind and escape to a warm, happy place. I yearned to enter to the enticing world of evening balls, muslin dresses trimmed with lace and afternoon drives in a fashionable phaeton. A Regency novel was the order of the day.

My go-to Regency author is, obviously, Jane Austen. I have been metaphorically worshipping the ground she walked on since my stroppy teenage years. I literally worshipped the ground she walked on during a holy pilgrimage to her former home in Chawton. In short, I simply adore her and every novel she wrote. In any case, I love five and like one (ahem, Mansfield Park), which is practically the same thing.

The only problem is that I have read each Jane Austen text multiple times. I can quote full passages at the drop of a hat. And while I will continue to immerse myself in Austenland for the rest of my days, sometimes I crave novelty, the excitement of not knowing what will happen on the next page.

Enter Georgette Heyer.

Georgette Heyer is a British novelist who published from the 1920s until her death in 1974. She wrote prolifically, producing an astounding sixty-plus novels, and is most well known today for her contemporary mysteries and Regency romances. My experiences with the latter have sparked a deep and abiding love for this author.

First of all, I would just like to make it clear that I am picky with a capital P when it comes to historical fiction on this period. In general, I'm not keen on Jane Austen sequels, re-imaginings and what not. In high school I read a Pemberley 'sequel' in which Georgiana unrealistically marries Sir Joshua Reynolds (he was cold in his grave long before Pride and Prejudice made its way to the printers), and its historical inconsistencies rather put me off this sub-genre. I have, with few exceptions, steered clear of fan fiction. Sticking a stray 'betwixt' or 'pray, sir' into an otherwise twenty-first century sentence does not a Regency novel make. I emphatically do not need to read novels about Darcy's infidelity or his secret life as a vampire. I just don't.

But Georgette Heyer is different. For a start, she creates her own characters and thereby conveniently avoids interfering with any reader's mental image of Elizabeth Bennet, Mr Knightley and the lot. In my opinion, she successfully emulates the language of the period. The dialogue never feels forced or artificial, allowing me to sink into the Regency world free from twenty-first-century distractions. Heyer is well known for conducting a copious amount of research on early nineteenth-century England, and it shows. The details she includes on a variety of topics truly bring this beloved era to life. Even with my limited Georgette Heyer experience I've come across descriptions of Regency fashion, social etiquette, horses and carriages, engineering, snuff, furniture, and sporting events. It makes me feel as though Regency England were a tangible place, a destination I could jet off to for a weekend away -- and with these books I can! If only all historical novelists followed the example set forth by Heyer.

Yet all these aspects would be meaningless if they centered around uninteresting characters. Luckily, Georgette Heyer is skilled at conjuring up protagonists who are plucky and charming. Take, for instance, my most recent Heyer read: Frederica. The eponymous heroine, a young girl left to play mother hen to her orphaned siblings, enlists the aid of a distant relative in the hopes of making a good match for her beautiful sister. Lord Alverstoke, the relative is question, is a perpetually bored nobleman who only agrees to help Frederica because he views the situation as a source of potential diversion. It's evident from their first meeting that Frederica and Alverstoke will inevitably fall in love, but the pleasure lies in watching the process unfold. I was immediately drawn in by the pair's witty banter, Frederica's quiet self-assurance as she deftly manages family matters and Alverstoke's insistence on forgetting the names of his nieces.

The fun doesn't stop there. The full cast of characters provide a great deal of literary entertainment. There's Felix, Frederica's youngest sibling, a precocious young boy intent on procuring Alverstoke's accompaniment to every site of engineering significance in London; Jessamy, slightly older than Felix, who feels the need to apologize profusely on his brother's behalf; Charis, the beautiful sister Frederica hopes to see suitably married, who harbours rather melodramatic views on romantic love; Lady Buxted, Alverstoke's sister, who constantly applies to the Marquis for monetary assistance in spite of her independent wealth; and the observant Lady Jevington, Alverstoke's other sister, who is the first to see through her brother's protestations that he has no more than a trifling interest in Frederica's affairs. All of these minor characters make each page of the novel an absolute joy. 

My only complaint with Georgette Heyer novels is the disappointing absence of epilogues. I'm the sort of reader who likes to see characters settled into a comfortable life before a narrative closes. I love that Jane Austen lets us know Georgiana is shocked by the way in which Lizzy talks back to Darcy, and the possibility of a future war is  'all that could dim [Anne Elliot's] sunshine.' Apart from this tiny niggle, however, I always conclude a Heyer text as happy as a clam.

In short, pick up a Georgette Heyer novel the moment you've exhausted your copies of Jane Austen or crave the wonder and finery of Regency England. Frederica and Arabella are great texts with which to begin. Both had me captivated, and both are perfect for a day when you need some internal sunshine. Curling up with Heyer and a cup of tea is a splendid way to pass an evening.

Yet my experiences with Georgette Heyer are quite limited -- I've only read four of her numerous publications. I've made my way through Regency Buck and Devil's Cub (though neither wowed me the way Frederica and Arabella did); I'm dying to pick up more of her novels but am spoiled for choice. Which would you recommend? Do you have a Heyer favourite? Please advise me!

Judging a Book by Its Cover, A Top Ten Tuesday Post

I'm a bit late to the game on this one, but Jillian's post has inspired me to join this week's Top Ten Tuesday event hosted by The Broke and the Boookish. So I'm sharing my top ten favourite book covers, united by a theme of my choosing. This topic ties in perfectly with some thoughts I've been having recently about the old adage 'don't judge a book by its cover.'

I do just that and more often than I'd like to admit. I can't count how many times I've purchased a book simply because 'it's pretty' -- pretty being my adjective of choice when I impulsively splurge on yet another book I can't afford. This practice isn't always to my benefit. Sometimes I toss a 'pretty book' to the side after reading, realizing I've been the dupe of a clever design and marketing strategy.

Sometimes I get lucky.

Once upon a time, I had no intention of reading more of Charles Dickens's novels. My horrid remembrances of having Great Expectations forced upon me in middle school put me off him for good. Then these gorgeous clothbound editions of Penguin classics suddenly popped up on the shelves of the bookstore where I worked. This book lover was entranced by Coralie Bickford-Smith's stunning designs. I walked by that beautiful copy of Great Expectations, the very book I loathed beyond description, day after day. It called out to me every time I passed by, begging to be chosen. Finally, I caved and bought the damn thing -- it was just so pretty. (Are you noticing a trend with the pretty?)

Maybe, I thought, Dickens isn't so bad after all. Maybe I've misjudged him. While I thought about it, I picked up the clothbound Oliver Twist to accompany its Dickensian sibling. Just in case.

As the abundance of Dickens-themed posts on this blog will testify, I grew to love the author I previously despised. I credit Coralie Bickford-Smith with igniting that gradual change of heart. It was her 'pretty' book that urged me to give Dickens another chance. In honor of her influence on my reading habits, I would like to share ten of my favourite classic designs by Coralie Bickford-Smith. I own several of the series now and have every intention of adding to my collection.

I love the chandeliers on this cover of Great Expectations. The designs created for Charles Dickens texts are particular stellar.

The pocket watch, which Oliver is taught to steal under the tutelage of the Artful Dodger and the rest of Fagin's gang, seems like the perfect image to represent this novel. I'm admire all of the designs in this series, but Oliver Twist might be my favourite of the bunch.

The image of the birdcage is such a potent one in Bleak House. Miss Flite owns a menagerie of birds, whom she says will be released on the day of judgement. It also, I think, serves as an effective symbol for the ways in which various characters of the novel metaphorically cage themsleves to a limited existence through their obsessions with the case of Jarndyce and Jarndyce.

The knitting needles, I presume, are a direct reference to Madame Defarge. She has the stillness of the lion before it strikes. Her eerie calm, as she quietly sits knitting, presages the violent outbursts that occur later in the novel. She is a standout character in the fantastic A Tale of Two Cities. Indeed, Madame Defarge is one of my favourite characters in the whole of Dickens's oeuvre.

I'd been lusting after this edition of George Eliot's Middlemarch for months when my dear friend Liz gave it to me as a parting gift before I left England. Therefore, this design has a lovely sentimental value for me.

Clothbound editions of all Jane Austen's completed novels have been released. The intricacy of this design for Pride and Prejudice makes it, in my opinion, the best of the six.

Illustrating the flamingos who have day jobs as croquet mallets in Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is pure brilliance. I love the bright-pink-on-white color scheme.

The peacock feather motif on this cover of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde is simply gorgeous.

The design of Emily's Wuthering Heights is another favourite of mine, probably because the image of the rose illustrates the relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff nicely. It's beautiful but full of thorns. If Cathy and Heathcliff aren't prickly, I don't know who in fiction is.

And finally...Charlotte's Jane Eyre. I have a soft spot for this cover, because Jane Eyre may possibly be my favourite novel of all time. Also, it's red, a color that makes everything vibrant.

Penguin hosted a live web chat with Coralie Bickford-Smith a few months ago, and she kindly answered my question about the extent to which the narratives of the novels influence her designs. It was fascinating to hear about the creative process behind this aesthetic series. Here is her reply:

I try to read all the books I design covers for but sometimes (due to time constraints) it is just not possible and I go to the blurbs team for a chat to bounce ideas off. For me the narrative influences my creative process massively. For the hardback classics some of the final patterns are more literal than others. The peacock feather on Dorian Grey, for example, plays on the book’s themes of vanity and the superficial, whereas the leaf motif on Jane Eyre, refers directly to the lightning-blasted chestnut tree, a concrete element in the text that serves as a potent symbol of the book’s central relationship.

So, buying books simply because they would look dashing on my shelves does occasionally lead me astray. Yet it has also opened my eyes to fabulous books I wouldn't otherwise have read and helped me to reconsider my opinions on literature. Judging a book by its cover is a practice I'll happily continue.

Do you ever embrace or reject books simply because of their covers? I'd love to hear! 

Literary Love: Favourite Fictional Couples

The story that started it all...

Ever since I read Jane Austen's quintessential tale of Regency courtship Pride and Prejudice during my teenage years I have been fairly obsessed with classic love stories. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy started a habit that has continued well into adulthood -- nor does it show any signs of abating in the future. In honour of Valentine's Day, I would like to share a list of the beloved couples that comprise my favourite narratives. These appear in no particular order, because I didn't think I could bear the stress of ranking them in addition to narrowing the list down to one (long) post...

 Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe

From the moment he called her carrots I was hooked! When he told her, on what seemed to be his deathbed, that 'there would never be anyone for me but you' I was a goner. A favourite of mine from my days in high school, I'm still quite taken with Anne's overactive imagination.

Bridget Jones and Mark Darcy

I'm generally not a fan of Jane Austen sequels, modernizations and what not, but I have to make an exception for Helen Fielding's Bridget Jone's Diary. I relate to Bridget because she's an older single woman who is reminded of her marital status on an annoyingly regular basis, and she constantly puts her foot in her mouth. I often say the most thoughtless things, only I can't attribute it to inebriation like Bridget does. If Ms. Jones managed to snag herself a Darcy, then there's hope for the rest of us awkward single girls, right?

Helen Huntingdon and Gilbert Markham

The inclusion of this pair from Anne's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall may spark controversy. I know many who maintain that Gilbert is a bit dumb and Helen, therefore, deserves better. But I love that Gilbert can see Helen is outspoken, independent and far more intelligent than he is -- yet he's not intimidated by it. That's rather forward thinking on Anne's part. When Helen and Gilbert undergo a separation midway through the novel, I was so moved I cried to the point where I could no longer see the page.

Margaret Hale and John Thornton

Oh, the tension! The tension between these two in Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South is so palpable you could cut it with a knife, proverbially speaking. Watching Margaret and Mr. Thornton overcome preconceptions and misunderstandings (much like Darcy and Elizabeth) as they slowly come together is a complete joy! Thornton gets bonus points for carrying around a flower from Margaret's childhood home. I know some were disappointed when the book didn't have the epic kiss the adaptation portrays. If you look closely at the final pages of the novel, it's there. What else could Gaskell have meant by 'some time of delicious silence'? I ask you!

Margeurite St. Just and Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet

They seek him here, they seek him there. I certainly did seek him everywhere, rabidly consuming the novel, the film and the musical. Set against the dramatic events of the French Revolution, I almost wished I was a French aristocrat at risk of losing her head -- just so I could have the privilege of being rescued by the enigmatic Sir Percy. Instead, I named my dog after him. 

Beatrice and Benedick

The witty banter of this dynamic duo has officially made Much Ado About Nothing my favourite Shakespeare play. This is quite a distinction, because anyone who's anyone knows that choosing a favourite Shakespeare play is virtually impossible. In addition to the comical, playful insults they pass back and forth at lightning speed, these two also have their sweet moments. Refer, for instance, to the line in which Benedick first confesses his love for Beatrice: 'I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is that not strange?'

Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth

As much as I adore my beloved P&P, there's something about the quiet maturity of Persuasion that makes Jane Austen's final novel utterly enchanting. I love the way Anne blossoms before the reader's eyes, the poignant discussion of constancy in relationships, how Wentworth notices and appreciates our heroine in a way no other character does and the theme of getting a second chance at love. Captain Wentworth, for the record, writes what is possibly the best letter in literary history. 'You pierce my soul.' How can that be beaten? If by chance you are unacquainted with this wondrous epistle, do yourself a favour and read it now. You may want to read it sitting down though. I myself some women have been known to swoon.

Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester

Again, this can be seen a controversial choice. I'm sorry Heathcliff fans, but Rochester is the clear winner for me. As I have remarked before, Rochester would not kill my dog. Percy wouldn't fare so well as the hands of Heathcliff. But seriously, this novel kills me. I reread the good bits all the time once in a blue moon. The passion, the celestial telegrams, Rochester's attempted seduction, their eventual reunion, the brilliant simplicity of 'Reader, I married him.' I. Can't. Get. Enough. I don't even mind that he has a wife hidden in the attic. Observe the following passage where Rochester is speaking to Jane (p. 291 of the Penguin edition):

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you -- especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.

How can that not win a reader over? I ask you!

And while this last selection isn't a literary couple, I had to give a little shout out to...

The Ladies of Cranford

I love that Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford validates the lives of Spinsters, particularly since nineteenth-century society consistently exhibited a propensity to write these women off. Masked behind an amusing veneer of Victorian propriety, these ladies are unbelievably kind and loving. Watching them take care of one another (even at great personal cost) moves me to tears. That's love.

P.S. My Halloween-themed favourites!

The National Book Fair in York

Ages ago I wrote a post about attending the National Book Fair in York.  This truly was a book worm's paradise.  With texts ranging in price from a few quid to well over 1,000 pounds, there was a wide variety of books -- a plethora of gems to be found.  Now (a full light year later) I'd love to share some photos of a few of those treasures.  I could tell from the strange glances that the vendors thought it a bit odd for somebody to photograph themselves with the books they had an offer.  I will only say that if I had had sufficient funds, I would have bought them.  All of them.  Unfortunately, my student budget meant that I had to find contentment in coming away with photographs instead of the real deal. 

A copy of Matilda signed by Roald Dahl

Ooh, I would have gladly shelled out the 250 quid for this

 First edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles

If I remember correctly, it was nearly 1,000 pounds

This antiquarian political print cracked me up

Ana with a first edition of The Vampyre by John Polidori

A signed copy of The Amber Spyglass

I did see the complete His Dark Materials trilogy

All three were first editions, all were signed by Philip Pullman

It could have been mine for the very low price of 13,000 pounds

A teeny tiny prayer book

Sarah with a gorgeous copy of Pride and Prejudice

Be still, my heart!  A first edition of Villette

I just love Charlotte

Ana with a Winnie the Pooh text (can't remember which one now)

signed by A.A. Milne

A first edition of Virginia Woolf's Flush -- only fifty quid!

I nearly bought this one, but I refrained

Until this day I hadn't grasped the danger antiquarian books pose to a compulsive book buyer.  After a visit to Waterstone's/Barnes and Noble or a cyber-spree on Amazon, I can emerge with a large pile of brand new books without making a noticable dent in my wallet.  But one or two purchases from an antiquarian bookstore, and one is potentially bereft of hundreds (if not thousands) of pounds.  Nevertheless, I fully intend on returning to York's bibliophile heaven with money to spend.