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Sex and the City, LitWise
December 21, 2007
I don't often have time to read the comments on Jezebel, but when I do, it's almost always fun... the back-and-forth between people with monikers like Furious George, Dorothy Zbornak, Le Mal de Tete, and Trixie Belden can be a tonic to the hassles of the day.
Yesterday, I was intrigued to see a bit of Jane Austen posted: Jezebel linked to this Harper's front-of-book extract (full text after the jump). But the comments were where I found something silly enough to be interesting on a Friday (especially a Friday before a holiday:: Vivre Sa Vie asks "...out of the three Bronte sisters and Jane Austen, which one is Carrie, which one is Samantha, which one is Miranda, which one is Charlotte?"
Damned if I know, I thought. But just a moment's reflection settled it for me: Jane Austen would be Carrie, biting and literary; Charlotte Bronte would be Charlotte, a bit uptight but for some of the right reasons; Emily Bronte would be Samantha, the loose cannon; and Ann Bronte would be Miranda, with mordant wit and a few hidden depths.
Agree? Disagree? Oh, who cares... it's much more interesting, of course, to read the Austen squib from Harper's:
Catherine assented — and a very warm panegyric from her on that lady’s merits closed the subject. The Tilneys were soon engaged in another on which she had nothing to say. They were viewing the country with the eyes of persons accustomed to drawing, and decided on its capability of being formed into pictures, with all the eagerness of real taste. Here Catherine was quite lost. She knew nothing of drawing — nothing of taste: and she listened to them with an attention which brought her little profit, for they talked in phrases which conveyed scarcely any idea to her. The little which she could understand, however, appeared to contradict the very few notions she had entertained on the matter before. It seemed as if a good view were no longer to be taken from the top of an high hill, and that a clear blue sky was no longer a proof of a fine day. She was heartily ashamed of her ignorance. A misplaced shame. Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. To come with a well-informed mind is to come with an inability of administering to the vanity of others, which a sensible person would always wish to avoid. A woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can.
–Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey vol. 1, ch. 14 (1803)
Happy Holidays to one and all!
Posted by Bethanne Patrick on December 21, 2007 | Comments (2)
