ricardienne: (christine)
So. This past weekend I obsessed about a couple of small points of grammar, but today I cornered Professor D. and geeked out at her about obscure syntax issues and Rules and text-editing, and now I think I have some of it out of my system. The other half won't be gone until after my presentation on Wednesday, though. The other thing that dominated my life this weekend also converged into a Thing, because I read Death Comes to Pemberley, a couple of the Victorian-Steampunk short stories in the Kelley Link and Gavin J. Grant Steampunk! anthology, and watched the finale of Downton Abbey. The result may have been that when I dragged myself away from JSTOR around 12:30 and fitfully fell asleep, I had dreams about the Dowager Countess and the pluperfect subjunctive.

I shall cut as soon as there are spoilers -- no worries. But first I would like to draw your attention to this article from the NY Review of Books (spoiler alert), which is, naturally, doing it's "critical takedown of overrated pseudo-intellectual television programming" thing. I think it's incredibly entertaining that so serious a publication as the NYRB has an essay whose first third is basically a shipping manifesto/plea for Lord Grantham/Bates* I always like to say that I learned how to do close reading by discovering the Harry Potter fandom in high school (back when…only 4 books had come out) and that fandom is basically an exercise in criticism of a sort; here the lines are definitely getting blurred!

I will say one thing about P.D. James's P&P sequel-cum-murder mystery: it was successful as a mystery: combining interesting period procedural details with red herrings and a not-too-obvious denoument. But I was expecting more Lizzie and Darcy tease each other and solve mysteries, and in that, I was disappointed…in this respect it is very like Downton: a noble, proud, and distant gentry obsessively caring for their dignity and their estates. Elizabeth and Darcy barely had any page-time together (she being busy bring jellies to the tenants and dealing with the housekeeper, while he was off doing the sorts of things that a magistrate of the county has to do when his estranged brother-in-law is found over a dead body on his estate.) I mean, Jane Austen characters are always more than paragons of social virtue! The best character by far was the eccentric and crochety fellow-magistrate Sir Selwyn Hardcastle, who got all the best one-liners and occasionally even provoked Darcy into being a little bit sardonic (obviously, Elizabeth was given no opportunity to indulge in such things.) [Also: aren't the Selwyns an old Harry Potter family? I'm just saying that Sir Selwyin's being a wizard would explain a lot.] I would say that it was a bit of a dystopian, Haha, You Thought It Would Be Happily Ever After Did You?, ironic sequel, but it wasn't. James obviously felt a great deal of affection and respect for Austen's characters. Too much respect. Spoilers for Downton Abbey S2 and Death Comes to Pemberley start here )

Also: these paper dolls are pretty amazing.
ricardienne: (Default)
I've been reading Pamela Aidan's Pride and Prejudice fanfic trilogy: "Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman." It wouldn't be very interesting to claim that the characters are all flat, the extra plotty-bits are really pathetic, and the whole thing is Not Even Worthy of Being Called Not As Good as the Original. But with all of that understood, here are 10 annoying things.

10. Church. It turned out to be possible to classify characters into good and bad based on whether or not they could easily locate their prayer-books. Or whether they enjoyed singing hymns. Religious sentiments/habits in the period is all very well, but combined with the overly large subplot about Georgiana getting born again, there was way too much, and not in an interesting way.

9. Squabs. Okay, I get it: carriages are upholstered with them. It was not necessary to mention them every time anyone got into a carriage. I started to wonder whether characters were sent on journeys solely so that they could "lean back against the squabs." Also, "steaming brew"? I believe the technical term is "tea".

8. The Shakespeare-quoting valet. P.G. Wodehouse could pull it off (and Jeeves, not perhaps coincidentally, quotes from a broader range of literature); I'm not sure anyone else can; Pamela Aidan couldn't. Also, I don't know that much about Shakespeare/literary breadth in the 1790-1820 period, but wouldn't an educated man be more familiar with Virgil and Horace? I don't like my ancients being snubbed, even for Shakespeare.

7. Best friend turns out to be secret agent. (No, not Bingly, although Bingly as a secret agent who is brilliant at infiltrating Napoleon's chain of command, but compensates for a Machiavellan secret agent career by trusting everyone who seems like a normal, decent person would be pretty cool.) This is mainly a complaint about the attempted relevance/politicy-ness of the extra plot material. There are worse even worse things about it.

6. Scenes lifted straight from BBC miniseries. I am quite fond, on the whole, of that miniseries, and yes, Colin Firth does make a nice Darcy, but appropriating their not-that-well-chosen interpolations just isn't that classy.

5. Blatant stupidity. So you want to find a wife? Would you do so by staying in London for The Season, attending balls and musicales, or would you do it by attending a small house party in the middle of nowhere with people you don't even know well. The only thing that would have made this acceptable would have been to make it cross over into Jane Eyre, and have Austen's characters hang out at Thornfield Manor with the Ingrams and Mr. Rochester.

4. Subplots involving cravat-tying for attempted humor. There isn't much else to say about that, except NO!

3. The obsessions with Elizabeth's embroidery threads. To the point of absconding them and nervously stroking them every few minutes. (Once might have been cute, 50 times was a bit weird.)

2. Celtic black magic and Irish heritage. This is the other half of the extra plot material. There are sacrifices by the new moon, and Wild Irish Revenge, and for some reasons, everyone takes it very seriously. To which I say: Get your PanCeltiness out of my Jane Austen!

1. Lack of re-conjunction with the original. The scenes that came out of Jane Austen didn't make much sense in light of the characterization. After two and a half books of dedicated Darcy POV, his proposal to Elizabeth still seemed to come out of the blue.

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