Pride and Prejudice

Last week, I picked Pride and Prejudice from my bookshelf determined that I was going to read it this time. I erringly thought I had started it twice before, but couldn't finish it. As it turns out, it is Sense and Sensibility that I've started twice and been unable to finish. Once I opened Pride and Prejudice, I was immediately engrossed in the novel.

Austen wrote the novel as a satire on Victorian life. I was able to chuckle at some of the subtle sarcasm she embeds in the tale of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. Of course the novel is the story of their love, but it seems odd that he is always "Mr. Darcy" since such formality does not exist today. Darcy has to overcome his pride; Elizabeth her prejudice in judging situations so that the two can be together.

As I read, I was repeatedly thankful that marriages today are not so dependent on the good behavior of the entire family. I suppose in that society in which men didn't really work for their families--but instead lived on inheritances--and women only left the home on social calls, there was more time to meddle in the affairs of others and scrutinize the actions of others.

I have little sympathy for the foolish sister who runs off and marries a man with little money. Lydia and Wickham wonder how they'll survive. Perhaps they should consider working; isn't that a novel idea? I suppose though, my middle class upbringing leads me to such thoughts. I can't conceive a world in which old money has been handed to me so that I'll never have to work hard for what I have.

But I do so enjoy the twists and turns in the romance of Elizabeth and Darcy. From cultural references, I knew they were going to get together in the end. However, I had to keep reminding myself of that when I was not reading the novel. Austen constructs a story that keeps me wondering how in the world everything would work out so that they could be together. Ah, romance. . .