Who wouldn't love that face?

Who wouldn’t love that face?

So here’s the thing.  Some peo­ple don’t like Jane Austen.  As a rule, I wouldn’t real­ly mind that, because I’m not the kind of per­son who needs every­one to agree with him, but I kind of real­ly need every­one to agree with me that Jane Austen is the best thing in the world.  Most­ly because of all the anti-Austen opin­ions I’ve ever read, the most com­mon com­plaint, by far, is that her books are bor­ing.  False.  Patent­ly, hilar­i­ous­ly, stu­pid­ly false.  I’ve actu­al­ly con­clud­ed that peo­ple who don’t like Jane Austen prob­a­bly can’t actu­al­ly read.  And since Decem­ber 16th is her birth­day, I shall here and now school you all on the love­ly Jane’s intense awe­some­ness.


Because if you can read, and you picked up Pride and Prej­u­dice, how could you not be inter­est­ed in Mr. Bennet’s quip, “You mis­take me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you men­tion them with con­sid­er­a­tion the­se twen­ty years at least.”  That’s gold!

Who can read Emma Woodhouse’s hilar­i­ous­ly snarky blun­der, “Ah! ma’am, but there may be a dif­fi­cul­ty. Par­don me, but you will be lim­it­ed as to number–only three at once.”  And not lit­er­al­ly lol?  She’s so ridicu­lous­ly self-sat­is­fied that she becomes a bitch!

And the dry wit of Sense and Sen­si­bil­i­ty, “It is not every­one,’ said Eli­nor, ‘who has your pas­sion for dead leaves.”  So great.  Point being, Jane Austen rules, and you (if you don’t love Jane Austen) drool.  Full stop.


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So, what do you think?