Teacher Appreciation: Blame, Rage, Love and Gratitude

A cartoon I made about teaching math.

Last school year I taught in an inner city Washington, DC school.  In honor of Teacher Appreciation Week I think it is time for me to write about this experience.  You should know before you continue reading that I am writing from a place of anger.  There is a certain idea in the education world that has me steaming mad.  Teachers encounter this simple precept everywhere they turn: the most important factor in student achievement is the quality of their teacher.  Why does this concept boil my blood?  My answer is going to take some explaining.

I entered the teaching profession through the Teaching Fellows Program, which is similar to Teach For America.  Fellows are selected through a competitive process similar to the college admissions process.  They complete a six week training institute that includes student teaching in summer school.  We were constantly told to Be Flexible!  Translation: put up with everything; if we don’t fulfill your expectations, you are still expected to fulfill ours.  If you are going to teach high school English during the school year, but get placed in a math class or an elementary class for your student teaching, Be Flexible!  If your mentor teacher sits at the back of the class texting and provides you with no feedback or guidance, Be Flexible!  As a Teaching Fellow the expectations of us were inflexible.  Our students must score at least 80% on their standardized tests (or was it 80% of the class must score in the proficient range? I can’t remember exactly) or make 1.5 years of academic growth.  Above all, know that if you do your job well, you CAN achieve these goals.  If you Teach Like a Champion there is no reason for you not to meet these marks.

Want to know how many students at my school scored in the proficient range last school year?  22% in Reading and 18% in Math.  Man, they must have some horrible teachers!  My fellow teachers and I were constantly made to feel that any problems in our classroom were our fault.  Every time a student talked over my instruction, insulted a classmate, walked out of class, turned my projector off, cheated on a test or failed to complete an assignment, I felt that I was to blame.  I taught juniors and seniors.  Some of my students dropped out.  My fault.  If students didn’t come to school, and boy did they ever not come to school, this was my fault.

You may be thinking “Sydney, don’t make a martyr of yourself.  Surely, everyone understood that you couldn’t be in each of those kids’ homes making them wake up.  You can’t babysit their younger siblings for them so they can come to school.  Surely, no one expected you to teach class and fix decades long attendance problems at the same time.”  Let me provide an example of how deeply entrenched this blame-the-teachers attitude goes.  During a staff meeting we were asked to draw an image of the greatest barrier to student achievement at our school.  The teachers around me were somewhat stumped, because this is an abstract issue that is hard to illustrate.  The majority of us drew a classroom with empty desks.  It’s hard for a student who comes to school 2-60% of the time to make 1.5 years of growth, am I right?  One of our assistant principals explained his drawing to the teachers and staff.  He drew students who had fallen asleep because the teacher was giving a boring lecture that didn’t engage their interests, and some empty desks for students who were so bored by previous lectures that they didn’t come to school at all.  See!  If we didn’t suck so much at teaching, our students would come to school!  Stop all your research!  Look no further for the cause of the achievement gap!  Teachers in high performing schools are fascinating and teachers in low performing schools are boring.  That’s gotta be it.

I don’t teach at that school anymore, but my anger about this attitude toward teachers is very fresh.  I encountered it earlier this week.  I recently applied to teach at a very successful charter school.  During the hiring process I felt that the principal had little to no interest in my previous experience.   In fact he couldn’t seem to remember from moment to moment whether I had taught middle school or high school.  I did try to talk about it, because I am proud of the work that I did at that school.  I am proud of each and every teacher and staff member at my low performing school.  More on that later.  Back to this principal: I have never in my life felt as judged and misjudged as I did when I spoke to him about my old school.  Everything I said about the challenges of teaching in an inner city school seemed to convince him that I don’t believe that students of every background can achieve at high levels.  When I talked about the difference in student behavior between his Texas charter school and my DC school, he said that “regardless of school culture the most important influence on classroom culture is the teacher.  No matter what the rest of the school is like, an effective teacher can have a well-managed classroom.”  At that point I had to get off the phone before I started smashing my own belongings while PTSD sobbing.

PTSD? Yes, maybe.  My students’ behavior towards me was verbally, psychologically and occasionally physically abusive.  Almost every day I was called a “bitch” or worse.  Certain students threatened to hit me about as often as I asked them to answer a math problem.  During the 2011-2012 school-year a teacher at my school was punched, one was spat on and I was personally bitten by a student.  I have hearing damage in my right ear from being screamed at by a student.  When these things happen to a woman in her home we tell her that it’s not her fault, she should still value herself as a person.  When that woman is a teacher and the abuse is happening in her classroom, we tell her that she is bad at classroom management, that the way her students behave in her class is her responsibility and her fault.

Now do you understand why I got so enraged when this principal implied that there was no reason for my classroom in a failing school to not be perfectly managed and effective?  As a teacher I did not make those students behave the way that they did.  I did not have the power to make them scream insults at me anymore than I had the power to make them stop screaming insults at me.  I could only keep on trying to teach them, keep expecting them to be perfect students tomorrow even if they cursed me out today, keep coming to work and hoping to make it through.

In honor of Teacher Appreciation Week I feel that I need to show some love to teachers in tough schools.  I know how hard they work, how little hope of success they have under the circumstances, how little job satisfaction they can expect.  If you have read this far, I hope you know how sarcastic I was being when I wrote “22% in Reading and 18% in Math.  Man, they must have some horrible teachers!”  The teachers at my high-need school worked so hard.  They taught like champions and I love them for it.  I want the education reform movement to know how much sacrifice, how much blood, sweat and tears went into that 18% proficient rating.  If you’ve seen “Waiting for Superman” and you think schools fail because teachers have no accountability and no reason to try to succeed at teaching, think about the following:  The teachers at the failing school where I used to work would not have gone back to that place day after day if they did not passionately care about the fate of their students.  Our job was crushingly dispiriting; we had to believe in the innate ability and worthiness of our students to continue doing it.  We had to believe that the tiny amount of progress we made with a handful of students was worth the sacrifice of our mental and emotional health.  We could not believe that we were the reason our students don’t achieve at the same level as students in other schools.

I have been enraged by the comments of that charter school principal for four straight days.  Obviously, I needed to get all this off my chest.  I will never let anyone make me think that I failed as a teacher at my last school.  I will never be anything less than proud of the students and the teachers at that school.  To anyone who has ever taught, is teaching now, or ever will teach in a high-need school: I appreciate you.  So much.  You are amazing.  When Michelle Rhee blames you for low test scores, turn the other cheek.  I know it’s hard to turn the other cheek for your students all day and retain any patience for full-grown adults who know better.  I know it’s hard not to smash things.  Believe in your students.  Believe in yourself.  Thank you for doing what you do.

I also want to say thank you to everyone who was nice to me and remained my friend during my tough year of teaching.  I was a stressed out wreck of a person and you were so sweet and supportive of me.  Even if you just left a nice comment on my Facebook page, it made me feel less alone and it made all the difference.  I may not be so lucky in my employment, but I am the absolute luckiest in my friends and family.

Mansfield Park

Mansfield Park, Jane Austen, 1814

Mansfield Park follows the early life of Fanny Price, a young girl whose mother has made an imprudent marriage and consequently ended up with too many children and not enough money.  Fanny’s rich aunt and uncle decide to help her mother by bringing Fanny to live with them.  They instantly begin a campaign to prevent Fanny from thinking of herself as the social equal of their own daughters.  Hence, she grows into an unassuming young lady with a distinct lack of self-confidence.  Then, you know, all the young ladies and gentlemen must figure out whom to marry.

I have said it before, but it bears repeating, I have a hard time relating to the circumstances that Austen’s characters inhabit.  “First World Problems” doesn’t begin to cover how trivial their problems are.  The most dramatic moment of the first half of Mansfield Park occurs when Fanny gets a headache.  Really.  In complete disregard of her congenitally weak constitution, Fanny’s aunt sends her out to cut roses in the midday sun.  Consequently, Fanny feels a somewhat unpleasant sensation in her head.  Her cousin Edward gets enraged at the aunt’s lack of consideration.  Words are exchanged.  Not so much sharp words as slightly pointed words.  That’s it.  That’s pretty much the most heated exchange in the whole novel.  I’m sorry, but a problem that can be solved by taking a quick nap doesn’t register as a problem to me.

Throughout her novels Austen often takes care to establish that her characters’ behavior is a product of their environment and the way they are treated by those around them.  Fanny is an unassuming wallflower, because she was brought up by an aunt and uncle determined to keep her in her place by constantly reminding her of her inferior station relative to their own daughters.  Her aunt, Mrs. Bertram is indolent, because as a wealthy aristocrat very little is required of her.  Fanny’s rival, Miss Crawford, has a disdain for the clergy and a lack of respect for certain family members that are attributed to her upbringing by a crude uncle and bitter aunt.  To give credit where credit is due, Jane Austen does a fantastic job of establishing the social factors that influence the development of human understanding.  (By the way, “understanding” was used in this time to mean intelligence and method of relating to the world.)  In itself that is a terrific accomplishment.  However, I would love to see a character transcend those influences.  Yes, it is somewhat rare for an individual to reach beyond the limitations of their upbringing, but it does happen and I would love to see more of that grit and defiance in Austen.  Imagine that IN SPITE of her family’s constant reminders of her inferiority, Fanny developed a sense of self-worth independent of the opinions of others.  IN SPITE of their continual derision, she becomes an assertive, young woman with a vibrant personality.  Imagine that IN SPITE of the judgmental attitudes of her aunt and uncle Miss Crawford becomes a compassionate woman who judges others by their actions and not their membership in a given group.  For me to love a Jane Austen novel or character I need to see a little more IN SPITE.  That’s why Elizabeth Bennet of Pride and Prejudice is the best of Austen’s heroines.  There’s a lot of in spite in Lizzy.

Mansfield Park is my least favorite of Austen’s oeuvre.  It’s too long.  Fanny is too dull.  Too many boring conversations are included.  Weirdly, the romance that is ostensibly the driving concern of the novel is confined to a few brief paragraphs at the end of the book.  Why tell us so much about shrubbery and not give the lovers any dialogue, Austen?  Why?

Here’s a creepy quote:

“Loving, guiding, protecting her, as he had been doing ever since her being ten years old,her mind in so great a degree formed by his care, and her comfort depending on his kindness, an object to him of such close and peculiar interest, dearer by all his importance to her than any one else at Mansfield, what was there now to add, but that he should learn to prefer soft light eyes to sparkling dark ones.”

There’s an element of “he loves her because he raised her himself and made her in his image” in this quote that I’ll discuss further in my review of Emma.

You might like Mansfield Park if:

• you are an Austen enthusiast.
• you like awkward, unlovable main characters.

You might not like Mansfield Park if:

• you like action, plot and intrigue.

Final Thoughts: Mansfield Park is the most skipable of Austen’s novels.

The Corsair

The Corsair, Lord Byron, 1814

For a swashbuckling good time try Lord Byron’s The Corsair, a truly epic epic poem about everybody’s favorite type of outlaw: pirates!  If you like your pirates tall, dark and angsty you will love Conrad, the leading man.  Lord Byron kind of invented tall, dark and angsty.  No, really, he developed a new literary prototype inspired by himself.  Gone is the valiant, morally righteous young whippersnapper/knight errant.  Enter the Byronic hero!  He’s a smart, moody outcast.  He’s mysterious, cynical and sexy.  He’s an introverted rebel who scorns social norms and society generally.  Most importantly, he has a dark, guilty past that torments his conscience.  Yum.

Byron introduced this self-modeled hero in the epic poem Childe Harolde, a semi-autobiographical travelogue that I started reading and then was all “naw.”  I found it boring and obscure.  If you’ve been following this blog for a while you know that boring and obscure is right up my alley, but I am definitely not the perfect reader of Childe Harolde.  I am not familiar with the ins and outs of world events circa 1814 or with the landmarks of continental Europe.  When Byron refers to Colonel Thus-and-Such by some nickname, the allusion goes right over my head, because I’ve never heard of said Colonel or his diminutives.  So, I skipped Childe Harolde and moved straight on to The Corsair.  Whooeee, so much more fun.

Our anti-hero, Conrad, inspires extreme loyalty in his band of followers despite his dour demeanor.  One day he’s sitting in his pirate hideout feeling a little glum about the troubled past that got him rejected from society.  He decides to distract himself with his favorite occupation: piracy!  It’s going to take a big victory to get him out of this funk, so he sets his sight on the home city of his arch nemesis.  Enemy #1 is Seyd, a higher up in the Ottoman Empire.  Conrad says goodbye to his beloved, sneaks into his rival’s palace and sets that place on fire!  He’s feeling pretty good about himself when he sees that Seyd’s harem is burning.  Oh no!  Conrad will kill men left, right and center in the name of. . .robbing them, but no women.  Ok?  No women!   He orders his men to run into the flaming harem and carry out a flaming lady.  They prove their loyalty by following him into that burning building.  Amid the smoke Conrad blindly clutches for a lady and runs out with her.  Turns out she’s Seyd’s lead sex slave and she has such lovely charms.  Her name is Gulnare, which is unfortunate, but I guess it rhymes with stuff.

Turning back to rescue the women costs Conrad the battle.  He gets captured.  Fortunately (?), Gulnare has fallen in love with Conrad, duh.  Inspired by her love, she sneaks into Seyd’s chambers at night and assassinates the bejesus out of him, thus enabling Conrad’s escape.  Conrad had been feeling some uncomfortable sensations of attraction toward the lovely Gulnare, but now that she’s a murderer he is completely repulsed by her.   This guy kills people professionally and steals their lucre.  But girls are supposed to be sweet and innocent, ya know.  I can’t get over what a stinking hypocrite Conrad is.   If murder is ever justifiable, and I’m not exactly saying that it is, killing the man who has made you his sex slave has got to be near the top of justifiable slayings.  Way more morally correct than killing someone because they have money and you want it.  Uhhhhhhhhhhgh.

Warning: feminist rant commencing now.  If you are a patriarch it makes sense to perpetuate the idea that women should never dirty their hands.  I know that I am probably about to make the error of conflating Byron with his character.  In my defense, Byron typically tells the reader when he thinks his characters are making an error of judgment.  I really thought he was going to point out how ridiculous Conrad is being when he scorns Gulnare’s crime.  But he doesn’t.  So, he perpetuates the patriarchal precept that if a woman is in a terrible situation she should just stay in it rather than lift her hand to free herself.  Rage.  Remember ladies, if you are feeling oppressed, don’t ever fight back.  It’s unfeminine.

Anyway, aside from this giant glaring flaw, I really loved this poem.  Byron is a fantastic poet.  He really made me feel zeal for the open ocean and other piratey emotions.  Let me supply you with a quote:

Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,

And danced in triumph o’er the waters wide,

The exulting sense—the pulse’s maddening play,

That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?

 

You might like The Corsair if:

• you love swashbuckling.
• you like The Three Musketeers.
• you are looking for “Pirates of the Caribbean” in epic poem form.

 

You might not like The Corsair if:

• you have no interest in the Romantic Era or epic poetry.

 

Final thoughts: I really enjoyed this poem.  If you are curious about epic poetry and want to see if you have the appetite for it, The Corsair is a good starting point.  It’s not too long and it has a lot of spirit.  As far as long poems go, this one is easy to love.

Waverley

Waverley, Sir Walter Scott, 1814

Waverley is an odd novel that kind of captured my heart.  Sir Walter Scott was a prominent Scottish poet before he published his first novel anonymously.   It was immediately crazy popular.  Waverley is often called the first historical novel, which I guess it might be, if you choose to ignore Gothic novels.  I suppose you could argue that Gothic novels are their own genre and Waverley launched the historic novel genre.  It certainly is not the first novel with a historical setting.

Scott set his first novel during the Jacobite Revolution.  Briefly, in 1688 England deposed King James II in favor of the much less Catholic King William of Orange.  As you can imagine, not everyone in Great Britain was on board with this decision.  The Scots mostly remained loyal to King James as he was part of the Scottish Stuart dynasty.  In 1745, James II’s grandson, who went by the adorable name Bonnie Prince Charlie, landed in Scotland and made an ill-fated attempt to take back the throne.  Waverley is set during this exciting time.

The main character is Edward Waverley and he is the silliest main character I have encountered so far.  I have so many problems with his personality, but I am smiling while I think about them.  His silliness doesn’t ruin the novel for me; it just makes me laugh.  Edward is a naïve, young English nobleman who joins the King’s army and sets off to Scotland to fight the Jacobites.  The Jacobites were loyal to the House of Stuart.  Apparently, if you were a nobleman in the army at this time, you could just take off whenever you wanted and go visit your noble friends.  Who knew?  Edward goes to visit his uncle’s dear friend the Baron Bradwardine, a Jacobite.  Baron Bradwardine.  Such a great name.

While visiting the honorable Baron, Edward learns about his arrangement with a certain Highland chief.  Get ready for the best name of any literary character ever.  Are you ready?  Fergus Mac Ivor Vich Ian Vohr.  Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!  Oh, I love him.  I love Fergus Mac Ivor Vich Ian Vohr so much.  He is the chief of Clan Ivor.  As Edward learns, Scottish chieftains were basically mafia bosses.  Baron Bradwardine paid Fergus Mac Ivor a fee for protection from other chieftains.  Basically, if Bradwardine pays up, Mac Ivor wont steal his cows.  If another chieftain steals Bradwardine’s cows, Mac Ivor will fight them and get the cows back or he will go steal cows from one of his enemies and give them to Bradwardine.  When Edward hears about this he thinks exactly what you are thinking right now: “That’s awesome!  I want to go visit this awesome guy.”  So, he sets out into the rugged highlands to pay a visit to the local chiefs.  That is the best idea that Edward has in the course of the book, and the only decision he makes for himself.  Everything else that happens is someone else’s idea.

Edward is quite passive, like a female character from this era of literature.  Also like a female, he constantly needs assistance from men.  Every time he tries something manly, he gets injured or sick and has to be rescued and nursed.  At one point he gets a nasty letter which “filled him with such bitter emotions, that after various attempts to conceal them, he at length threw himself into Mac-Ivor’s arms, and gave vent to tears of shame and indignation.”  Adorable, right?  I would like to fling myself into Mac Ivor’s arms, cuz that guy is manly and effective.  The only emotions he gives vent to are pride and loyalty.  Like a man.  (Ok, I know, reinforcing the gender binary.  Sorry.  Whatever.)

The bromance between Fergus and Edward can only be attributed to opposites attracting.  Fergus is a man of conviction.  He believes in the restoration of the Stuart monarchs SO HARD.  I started to believe in his cause too, that’s how powerful Fergus Mac Ivor Vich Ian Vohr’s convictions are.  Edward, on the other hand, is a freaking turncoat.  Really!  No foolin.  He joins the English army, cuz, whatever, he didn’t have anything better to do.  Then he changes sides, but not because he believes in Mac Ivor’s cause.  He joins the opposing army, because his original army is mean to him.  I am not kidding.  Also, they kind of kick him out.  Then when he is fighting with the highlanders he gets all upset when they try to kill British noblemen (you know, because it doesn’t matter if you kill a commoner, but it’s just a terrible shame to spill blue blood) and tries to save them.  Make up your mind, Edward Waverley!  This may be a result of indoctrination during American history classes, but there is something in me that hates a turncoat.

Anyway, Sir Walter Scott’s style is dense and often dull.  He includes many obscure references that only a highly educated British reader from the early 1800s would get.  Also, he makes the fatal flaw of writing a boring character.  Baron Bradwardine is notorious for telling long, boring stories.  Walter Scott includes many examples of those long, boring stories in Waverley.  I don’t think I need to explain to you why that’s not a good thing to do as a novelist.  Honestly, the book is pretty boring overall and the characters have incomprehensible motivations.  Waverley is basically unmotivated.  I can’t relate to Mac Ivor’s royalism.  It’s completely out of my realm of understanding to want to give up your life to make another man king of somewhere.  Just don’t get it. I do admire Mac Ivor though.   I did enjoy the book, mostly because of the incredibly romantic setting.  I got super excited about the highland Scots.  They have a loyalty to each other that I do understand.

Despite its faults, I actually enjoyed reading Waverley quite a bit.  Scott hides a unique sense of humor within all those extra words he uses.  I got swept away by his romanticized vision of 18^th century Scotland.  His descriptions of Clan Mac Ivor in their cave hideout are so vivid that I could smell the damp wool of their kilts.  I never liked the main character even a little, but I fell head over heels for Fergus Mac Ivor Vich Ian Vohr.  Heeheehee.  Fergus Mac Ivor Vich Ian Vohr.  Delightful.

You might like Waverley if:

• you went to St. John’s College or some other Great Books school and are trying to get your money’s worth out of your education by reading literature that references all those great books.
• you yearn for tales of old Scotland so fervently that you don’t mind slogging through some incredibly dense prose.

You might not like Waverley if:

• you have a low tolerance for pretentious literary references. 

 

Final Thoughts: Fergus Mac Ivor Vich Ian Vohr!  That is all.

Pride and Prejudice

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, 1813

Originally, I wasn’t going to reread anything for this project.  However, now it would seem strange to skip over major works of literature in my chronological journey through the canon.  So, I am adding books to the list that I have already read, but I forgot to add Pride and Prejudice until after I read Emma and Mansfield Park.  Hence, my Austen chronology has gotten mixed up and my opinion of Austen got mixed up with it.

Here’s a summary of how I felt as I read the first 4 of 6 Austen novels on my list:

Before: Ugh, so much Austen.

During Sense and Sensibilty: Ugh.  Yuck.  Blergh.

During Mansfield Park: Yawn.  Why does anybody read this stuff?

During Emma: Ok, Austen, I’m not too mad.  Emma is kind of a worthless B, though.

During Pride and Prejudice: OMG, Darcy and Lizzy’s love is more important to me than my own life!  They are the best lovers in literature.  Yay, Austen!

There’s a good reason for P&P being Austen’s most well-read and well-regarded novel.  It is largely absent of the flaws common to her other works.  As I see it, those flaws include excessive length, thoroughly boring characters and conversations, scanty plot and weak characterization.  Sense and Sensibility and Mansfield Park are the worst offenders.  Pride and Prejudice, however, doesn’t have these problems.  Despite the maxim that authors should show rather than tell, when characters are having a dull conversation, it’s often better for the author to summarize.  In Mansfield Park Austen dedicates 10 pages to a pointless conversation about shrubbery just to show the reader that a certain character is profoundly boring.  In P&P she mercifully tells us that Sir William Lucas and his daughter “had nothing to say that could be worth hearing” and moves on with the story.  That summary made me so happy.  Writer win!

I have probably read this book five times now and each time I find myself more emotionally invested in the lives of the characters.  I wonder how much this has to do with the merit of the book versus the cultural cache these characters have.  Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy transcend their novel of origin.  Am I invested in their love story because I like this book or because I like the BBC miniseries or the film starring Kiera Knightley or because I’m pretty much obsessed with Bridget Jones’s Diary?  Any way you slice it, I really care about their love.  They provide the archetype of the lovers who initially misunderstand and dislike each other, are thrown together by circumstance and grow to have a deep respect and horniness for each other.  By my estimation, 98% of RomComs and romance novels make use of this archetype.  I guess we’re all hoping that the people who dislike us just don’t “get” us and with more time and experience will see how deeply wonderful we are and propose, like, nine times.  Especially if the people that don’t like us happen to be rich and handsome.  The minor characters in Pride and Prejudice are more vivid than in other Austen novels.  The sarcastic, lackadaisical father, the frivolous, inappropriate mother and sisters, and the sycophantic Mr. Collins are literary archetypes in their own right.

The love stories in earlier novels go one of two ways: 1: “Hi, nice to meet you.  You’re hot.  I’m hot.  Our parents are ok with it.  Let’s get married.  I’ll send for the pastor in the morning.” Or 2: “Hey, dummy, let’s elope.”  I think Pride and Prejudice resonates with modern readers, because we want lovers to get to know each other.  We like to see marriages founded on affection.  We want characters to have some experiences together before they tie the knot.  Elizabeth and Darcy do this and it helps the reader feel invested in their romance.

I didn’t like Pride and Prejudice when I read it as a teenager.  Elizabeth Bennet has grit, but you need a decent understanding of the social norms of the early 19^th century British aristocracy to appreciate her particular spunkiness.  In the context of earlier novels and when compared to Austen’s other heroines Lizzy is a breath of fresh air that provided me a much needed reprieve from the swooning, confused, inactive ladies of early English literature.  Many people romanticize this era in literature, but in the past I have found it difficult to relate to the concerns and sentiments of Austen’s characters.  With more life experience relating to Austen gets easier.  I have actually spurned a lover for being ill-bred.

You might not like Pride and Prejudice if:

• Eh hem.  If there’s one thing I’ve come to terms with as an appreciator of English literature, it’s that not liking Pride and Prejudice is not an option.  You will read it and you will like it!  If you find yourself not liking it, revise your thinking.  We, the literati, have decided that there is nothing wrong with this book.  If you don’t like it, there’s something wrong with you.  Bad wrong.

This photoshoot gave me the chance to tell Simone to “Clasp me to your bosom!”

Quote:

“‘I am astonished, my dear,’ said Mrs. Bennet, ‘That you should be so ready to think your own children silly.  If I wished to think slightingly of any body’s children, it should not be of my own however.’”

You might like Pride and Prejudice if:

• Wait, you haven’t read Pride and Prejudice yet?  That’s crazy.  Borrow a copy from a friend.  Pretty much everyone owns this book.  (My home seems to spawn copies of P+P.  Every time I purge my bookshelf I get rid of two extra copies.)  It’s a quick and delightful read that displays Austen’s unique wit at its best.  Read it now so you can read it again two more times.  It just gets better.

Queen Mab

Queen Mab, Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1813

Queen Mab is Shelley’s first long poem.  Based on the title I was hoping for a mystical, Arthurian tale about a Fairy Queen.  No such luck.  The Mab of this poem is more of a philosopher than a ruler.  The poem contains neither knights nor dragons, but is chock full of vitriol.  Shelley’s Mab is a dusky, ethereal, nebulous, purple beauty who appears riding a chariot through the dawn sky.  She spies just the prettiest, sweetest blonde mortal you can imagine, innocently sleeping.  Based on how lovely and sinless she looks in her slumber, Mab decides to separate the maiden’s unspoiled soul  from her exquisite form so she can take her into outer space and impart some knowledge on her.

Please forgive me, I have neither the inclination nor the aptitude to excel at philosophy.  So, my summary of this poem may lack clarity and intellectual rigor.  Anyway, Queen Mab uses her magic viewy-thing to show all of. . .human history, I guess, to the disembodied Spirit.  Cuz her job now, as the disembodied Spirit of a virtuous maiden, is to know about all of human history; past, present and future.  I’m not sure why.  Anyway, Shelley’s summary of human history is quite misanthropic.  Three strongly held opinions emerge: tyrants are bad, nature is good, religion is evil and the cause of all suffering.  Unlike most poets before the Modern Era, Shelley wears his atheism loud and proud.  Good for him, I say.  Freedom of religion should include freedom to not have religion.

This poem is bit of a jumbled mess.  It left me wondering “What?  Why?  I mean, sure, I guess.”  However, Percy Bysshe Shelley sure does know his way around imagery.  Listen to this amazing thing he wrote about lizard love:

“Those deserts of immeasurable sand,

Whose age-collected fervours scarce allowed

A bird to live, a blade of grass to spring,

Where the shrill chirp of the green lizard’s love

Broke on the sultry silentness alone”

Aw, lizard love calls!  Aw.  Shucks.

You might like Queen Mab if:

• you are looking for corroboration of your misanthropic, atheist world view.

You may not like Queen Mab if:

• you like epic stories in your Romantic poetry.

Final thoughts: I’m hoping the other long Shelley poems on the list will have more plot to them.

Sense and Sensibility

Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen, 1811

I have a lot of thoughts about Austen. I won’t lay them all on you today.  I put all five of her novels on the list, so we will get to them over the next few weeks.  I will say that Sense and Sensibility is a brilliant title.  It keys the reader in to the central concept of the novel, the contrast between the two sisters’ reactions to heartbreak, hardship and injured pride.  Elinor’s measured, restrained, self-denying response highlights the selfishness of Marianne’s effusions of grief, wallowing and lack of concern for the effect her emotions have on those around her.

I do appreciate the point that Austen illustrates about being over-emotional or perhaps excessively restrained and I appreciate the way that she makes it.  I think she presents a valuable observation about human nature.  However, I must be missing something when it comes to Jane Austen overall.  I find her a bit dull and considerably spiteful.  I know that other readers love the sharp-witted barbs she slings at her characters.  That’s perfectly valid, but I get weary of her constant enumerations of the character flaws of aristocrats.  Yes, there are people in this world who are frivolous or mean-spirited or unintelligent, but surely Austen knew some admirable people.  Right?  This really boils down to a matter of taste.  Some readers will delight in what I see as tiresome cattiness.

Like all Austen novels the main concern in Sense and Sensibility is who everyone will marry.  Frankly, I don’t really care who they marry.  Recently, I was complaining about this to my best friend who said “but, you were the one who explained to me why that’s so important.”  What did I explain? Deciding who to marry was the only chance a woman had to determine the course of her own life.  Women had few means of accumulating wealth.  So, “making a good match” was their one chance to improve their circumstances; something women can now do throughout their adult lives without getting accused of being mercenary or callous too often.  I think I may have made this point in reference to “Middlemarch” in which George Eliot clearly delineates the causes and consequences of deciding who to marry.  She shows how ill-equipped Dorothea and Rosamund are to make this decision; how ill-suited they are to get along with the husbands that they choose.  Austen does not do this.  The reason I don’t feel invested in the Dashwood’s marital prospects is not that I don’t think marriage is an interesting topic for a book.  I don’t care who they end up with, because the gentlemen in question lack dimension.  I guess I want Elinor to marry Edward, but only because she seems to want to.  I can’t remember a single thing he says from the entire book, but I distinctly remember that he doesn’t do anything until he proposes to Elinor.  Not one thing.  Sorry, Austen fans, but that’s terrible.  She spent so much time establishing exactly how nasty and self-interested Lucy Steele is in her attempts to impede  Elinor’s marriage to Edward, that she failed (yes, FAILED) to give us a reason to root for said marriage.  This is supposed to be a canonically awesome item of literature.  In the 1995 Ang Lee movie they had to add scenes and plot elements to Edward’s character (remember the bit where he sends the atlas to the little sister?), because not even the irrepressibly charming Hugh Grant can make something out of nothing.

That’s enough anti-Austen rhetoric for now.  Next up, Sydney vs. Mansfield Park.  For the record, I do mostly respect Jane Austen as an author.  I just don’t enjoy her as much as everyone else in the world seems to.  Sense and Sensibility with all its imperfections is not a bad first novel and Austen’s later novels improve a bit in some areas.  She gets a bit better about showing rather than telling, for example.  A bit.

Oh wait, one more thing.  SPOILER, BY THE WAY, IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT DON’T SCROLL PAST THE PICTURE. 

I am completely not ok with the way Austen disposes of Marianne.  She marries Colonel Brandon because her family wants her to and she feels bad about wearing on their nerves during her long mope over Willoughby?  She grows to love him eventually?  You’ve got to be kidding!  I mean here’s Austen’s explanation of why they wish for a marriage between Marianne and the Colonel:

Precious as was the company of her daughter to her, she desired nothing so much as to give it up to her valued friend; and to see Marianne settled at the mansion-house was equally the wish of Edward in Elinor.  They each felt his sorrows, and their own obligations, and Marianne, by general consent, was to be the reward of all. 

Really?  Really?  Colonel Brandon has been through so much, we should do something nice for him, like, I don’t know, give him our daughter as a prize.  Literally, a consolation prize.   You may want to make the claim that Austen is being ironic and mocking her characters.   However, Colonel Brandon and Marianne end up super happy together and in love, which is how Austen rewards the good decisions of the characters she herself has deemed deserving.  Blerf.

You may like Sense and Sensibility if:

• you like Jane Austen, generally.

You may not like Sense and Sensibility if:

• you need action in your novels.  I know some readers like characters to do more than loll about wondering who to marry. 

Final thoughts: I have no final thoughts.  My thoughts on Austen are to be continued.