Wed 16 Jan 2008
Awhile back I complained about a Francine Rivers audio book. I think there’s something wrong with my selection technique (run into library, grab items with interesting titles) because my follow-up selection, the Devil Wears Prada, was quite a slog as well. It is sometimes okay to listen to real people complaining, but to listen to fictional characters complain for hours on end gets to be a chore. Also, there were a lot of double and triple “reallys” to contend with. As in, “I’m really, really, really sorry, Miranda.” As usual I listened the whole way through anyhow. Why do I do this?
But I have been rejoicing on the commute the past two weeks at the perfection of Pride and Prejudice, which is probably more enjoyable to hear read aloud in a proper British accent than it is to read it quietly to oneself. There is not a wasted word anywhere, and while I sometimes wished for direct speech instead of reported speech at crucial moments (such as Mr. Darcy’s first and second proposals), I could not begrudge Ms. Austen the efficiency of simply giving me the gist. I don’t know how I failed to appreciate this properly before, but it is actually giggle-aloud-in-the-car funny. Though a world of landed gentry and servants and days spent doing needlework and walking around the grounds could hardly be more foreign to me, the foibles and vanities of the characters are as 21st century as an ipod.
It is hard to resist going around talking like them.
You are all most amiable readers and I should be very shocked indeed to discover that any of you deserved to marry into less than 10,000 pounds a year, at the least.