Pride and Prejudice

is my favorite novel. Some of you are rolling your eyes right now, because it's so stereotypical -- a female English major whose favorite novel is Pride and Prejudice? Get out. Shocking. But hang out for a sec, guys. It's not for the reasons you might think.

Lots of people, both men and women, have the idea that Pride and Prejudice is a love story between two perfect characters. I've seen... oh, I reckon at least a half-dozen ranty posts and articles from men criticizing women for liking P&P, lamenting the existence of Fitzwilliam Darcy, the supposedly ideal man. I've also heard countless women talking in (understandably) swoony voices about the (rightly) famous BBC adaptation and Colin Firth's utterly delicious portrayal of one of the most well-known characters in all literature, or the newer adaptation with the equally delicious Matthew MacFadyen...

OK, sorry. I know I lost a few of you there.

The point is, the rather sexy movie/TV serial adaptations are not the book. The book is not even a romance. It's scarcely a love story -- it's really not about "love" as much as marriage, in a society where love was often considered a bonus to that institution, not a prerequisite. You want the bottom line? Pride and Prejudice is a (sometimes gentle, sometimes quite biting) satire of Regency society and relationships, with an especially sharp eye cast toward marriage and particularly men's roles in making marriage successful or otherwise. In plain English: it's about marriage and men, good and bad.

You know the old saw about Austen "writing what she knew"? I don't buy it.

More to come on the marriages and the men of P&P, what we can learn from it, and why men ought to read it.

Lent, Day 18: Downton Abbey!

I am a sucker for the English Country House setting in books, movies, and TV. Murder mysteries, upstairs-downstairs type stuff, overwrought dramas -- you name it, I'll watch it if it's set pre-1940 at a country estate. So when I found out that Julian Fellowes, who wrote the screenplay for my absolute favorite movie (as well as for the heart-stoppingly beautiful The Young Victoria), had developed and written a Masterpiece Classics miniseries about a pre-WWI aristocratic English family with three eligible daughters and an entailed estate, I was sold. It's called Downton Abbey, and all you need to know is that Maggie Smith is in it, and at her gloriously condescending, sharp-witted best. The costumes, score, and scenery are nothing to scoff at either, and the supporting cast populated with faces you'll recognize if you're a fan of Brit flicks of almost any kind. Highly, highly recommended.

More Thoughts On Fiction and Entertainment

(see this post and comments section for the first part.)

OK.  I've asserted that it may be not only permissible, but also beneficial, for Christians to watch movies or read books without an explicitly Christian worldview -- even books or movies whose themes oppose a Christian worldview, or that are anti-gospel. 

Let me add one more assertion: I think it is the height of folly to judge a book or a movie based on what it omits rather than what it affirms.  Again, the Twilight books demonstrate how this happens.  Edward and Bella, the two main characters, refrain from sexual intercourse until they are married, at Edward's insistence (leaving aside for the moment that he does so because he fears he will be unable, in a state of arousal, to keep control of his desire to kill Bella.  And that she, knowing this, keeps pushing him to have sex with her).  I can't tell you how many times I heard, from the girls at my school or from Christian parents of my acquaintance, "Well, it can't be that bad; at least they stay pure until they're married!  It's a good example to teenage girls!"

Do I dare insult your intelligence, dear reader, by pointing out the folly of ignoring an onslaught of insipid prose both describing irreparably twisted relationships and suborning heresy because the two main characters narrowly and for the wrong reasons avoid one form of immorality?  By all means, read insipid prose describing twisted relationships and suborning heresy if you identify them all as such.  But don't pretend that it's "not so bad" as you stretch out on your blanket in the park for a sunny afternoon's passive absorption of insipid prose, twisted relationships, and heresy.

I'd much rather my students come to class and say, "Miss Roberts, we watched Massive Gory Shoot-Em-Up: Part IV on Friday night and, geez, it was so wrong!  I couldn't believe how Studly McHotness treated women!  And the way women threw themselves all over him even though he was a total dirtbag... ew.  I thought it would be cool, but I just couldn't get into it," than, "I went shopping at the Christian bookstore and bought this great new book -- I'm A Christian Princess!  It's all about how God is the king of everything and that makes Christian girls princesses, so we should make sure that everyone treats us like princesses!  Isn't that right?"

Christians cannot avoid evil, and we must not pretend it doesn't exist.  Whether non-Christian media, and its depiction of evil, hardens our consciences toward the real thing or trains us to address the real thing depends on how we approach it.

I think the first step is to ensure that we and the young people in our care are absolutely crammed full of Bible.  God's Word contains everything we need for godly lives, but if we don't know it, it's of no use to us.  Why are there so many stories in the Bible?  I think it's so that, when our life stories start to run along the same lines, we'll know the outcome of certain actions.  We don't have to come up with an object lesson to teach young men not to ogle naked chicks.  We just have to send them to the story of David and Bathsheba! 

Beyond the Scriptures, God has given humanity two priceless teaching tools: a colorful and checkered history, and an irrepressible urge to write stories.  In these we see an affirmation, whether intended or not, that God's word is true. 

As N.D. Wilson puts it, my goal is for my students to learn to recoil from sin, to see in the Scriptures and in fiction and history a tiny taste of the fires of Hell.  I want my boys to be so familiar with Lady Folly and Becky Sharp and the Green Knight's wife and Anne Boleyn and Mata Hari that they learn down to a fundamental, instinctive level to stay the heck away from the house of the seductress.  I want my girls to know Mr. Rochester and the Highwayman and Count Vronsky and John Wilmot well enough to recognize the sort of twisted romantic obsession that drives women to forsake -- or nearly lose their lives to keep -- their most dearly-held principles. 

This sort of education will, ideally, have two results.  First, it will enable them to recognize good and evil in fiction.  A young man who recoils from Mata Hari will have no trouble recoiling from Our Mrs. Reynolds.  A young woman who learns to despise the Highwayman instinctively will hardly be fooled by the endearments of the be-sparkled Edward Cullen.

Following on from number one, this sort of education enables them to recognize good and evil when they encounter it in real life.  Again paraphrasing N.D. Wilson, I want my students to know that if the Fool follows the Seductress to her house on page 4, on page 10 he's going to get way more than he bargained for.  I want them to know that judgment follows sin as surely as B follows A, and I don't want them to have to learn it the hard way. 

A Mixed Bag of Randomness

Bit of randomness #1: I rarely watch The Simpsons, but I happened to be home when this week's episode ran. It was my favorite kind of Simpsons' episode, made up of a handful of mini stories that the characters tell each other. While The Simpsons' sharp political critique has been blunted of late, this episode leveled some mid-range missiles at public education, showing the brilliant Maggie's efforts at daycare creativity being thwarted and suppressed by a mediocrity-obsessed headmaster who knocks over her block sculptures and ruthlessly enforces conformity. Good stuff.

Bit of randomness #2: Chowhound, a foodie-type message board that is priceless for seeking out info and advice about everything food-related -- grilling burgers, sourcing uni, pairing wine, finding a great Lebanese restaurant in Sydney, using an immersion blender -- you name it, you can find it on Chowhound. One of the recent topics asked what typically "foodie" foods we just will not eat. Here's what I came up with (partially):

Pate and/or liver mousses and/or meat-based terrines
Sea urchin
Raw bivalves in general
Offal (except maybe sweetbreads. MAYBE)
Raw seafood in general
Pork belly (except in bacony form)
Caviar
Blue cheese
Washed-rind cheese
Mushrooms, unless chopped so finely that I can't detect them

Now, dear friends and sharp-eyed readers will recognize a common theme here: texture! 95% of the time, if I dislike a food, it's not the flavor that puts me off, but the texture! Anybody else have texture "issues"?

Bit of randomness #3: In the last few months, I've watched a half-dozen French movies (yay, Netflix!). I couldn't tell you what any one of them was about, but I can tell you that I liked them all. What is it that is just so satisfying about French cinema? Languid, unhurried pace? A decided lack of the overwrought melodrama that pervades even the best American movies? The deliberate avoidance of the obvious? Yeah, it's probably all that, but the verdict is that French movies are teh awesome.

Bit of randomness #4: I am at last getting around to that blasted no-knead bread everyone was going on about all over the interwebz last year. I'm not what you'd call a "joiner" with the latest fads, and besides, I was pretty sure you needed a big covered enamel cast-iron pot with a lid that doesn't have a plastic handle on it, in which to bake the bread, and I was just not willing to go out and buy one. I'd love one. I'll probably get one eventually. But just so I can bake one kind of bread? Probably not.

Bit of randomness #5: Yay! School! As much as I am enjoying my summer (and I am!), I'm really feeling ready to get back in the groove of teaching. I function much better with a schedule, and I struggle to finish tasks when I have days and weeks of unscheduled time to kick around in -- I can always excuse my laziness with, "Oh, I can just do it tomorrow, right?" Strangely, when I have more to do, I can get more done at home. Hm, maybe I should get started with lesson plans? That's an idea.

Um...Yeah... Totally Unrelated to Kitchen Keeping at All

So, the movie He's Just Not That Into You comes out February 6th in the U.S. Having read excerpts of the book and knowing the general premise (namely that a man who likes a woman goes after her, therefore if he doesn't go after her, he isn't interested in her), I'm predisposed to like it already.

Potential pros of this movie:
good plot premise
awkwardness
Justin Long
Ginnifer Goodwin
seriously, Ben Affleck is in this movie? Where the crap has he been the last five years?

Potential cons of this movie:
cheesiness
over-awkwardness
Drew Barrymore
Drew Barrymore is a terrible actress
She also is awkward
She's also not very bright-seeming
Also Drew Barrymore.

But anyway...

This video definitely increased the probability that I will drop ten bucks to go see HJNTIY. It's about six minutes long, and it's called "10 Chick-Flick Cliches You Won't Find in He's Just Not That Into You."* It stars three of the male leads, who act out the ten chick-flick cliches, complete with soaring violins and green-screen backgrounds. Classic!

*Caution: N particularly SFW as it contains one bleeped but still recognizable off-color remark.

Ten Things I Noticed While Watching The Oscars.

1. Jon Stewart is a gift to the world. Funny without being either too crass or too cutting. Human, as evidenced by the fact that he brought out that lovely Marketa to finish her acceptance speech. Sort of adorable. Very self-deprecating. Managed to make a political joke or two that everyone could laugh at, from that groan-inducing short-doc winner lady right down to Charlton Heston.

2. I love Irish people. When Marketa Irglova and Glen Hansard came out to accept their Oscar for best song, Glen was all teary and verklempt and fabulous, exhorting us all to Make Art! and by golly, I wanted to! I defy to you show me another soul on the planet more plaintive and convincing than a singing Irishman.

3. Jack Nicholson will never die. Seriously. He has been in that same seat at the Oscars for fifteen years and hasn't aged a day. Or changed his sunglasses. Or stopped making completely incoherent yet somehow inappropriate comments during his inevitable speech about... something...

4. Hilary Swank has big teeth.
...and, it would seem, a malfunctioning foundation garment. Ahem.

5. What is David Bowie doing at the Oscars? In a dress?

6. Remember when Colin Farrell used to be hot? When women all over the world were rendered defenseless by his suavitude and devil-may-careosity? In like 2001? Yeah, he hasn't washed his hair since then.

7. One of the "Oscar Escorts" (which is satisfyingly alliterative, don't you agree?) -- the girls who escort the winners into the wings -- forgot to put her Spanx on before she took to the stage. As any woman will tell you, no matter how thin you are, shiny gold satin + blinding TV-friendly lighting + the FRICKIN OSCARS, PEOPLE = you must wear something under your dress.

8. Miley Cyrus, alternatively known as Hannah Montana (right? Or is it one of those other ones?), Billy Ray "Achy-Breaky" Cyrus's fifteen-year-old daughter, was inexplicably a presenter last night. WHA? Why? And I hate to ding a teenager, though really the ding falls on her "stylist," but she has got to stop dressing like a former stripper who now wants to make herself seem like a serious actress. She's fifteen! Put her in some sweet, modest pastel thing, not a fire-engine-red gown with bad extensions and too much makeup! And the duck lips? Girl. Whoever told you that sticking your lips out makes you look sultry needs to look up the word "sultry" again. And remember that you are fifteen.

9. I'm with Heather -- Helen Mirren, don't you ever get tired of looking fabulous? Don't you ever want to throw on what Tilda/David/Annie up there has on (several garbage bags, I think, through which she has poked her very orange head, or perhaps a prop from a Vegas magic show) and just forget about the whole thing?

10. I saw a lot of strapless dresses last night, and, lovely as many of them were, they did nothing but rouse a desire to shout, "Hitch! It! Up!" at the screen. Seriously, don't these celebs have stylists or bodyguards or minders or something to whisper discreetly that the gown is heading south? They could even come up with some clever code. "Jessica, I think that's all the time we can give to Ryan Seacrest, and purple monkey dishwasher."

Welp, that's our Oscar roundup for the year, folks. All in all, I was glad it went on, and still don't care a fig about any of the films, and enjoyed laughing at Jon Stewart and rolling my eyes at Jack Nicholson, so a night well spent, I think.

I think it's high time...

...for another waste of time post.

First, Love Actually. Some people hate it -- Christine, for instance, detests Hugh Grant so much that you can hear the gag start before she finishes saying his name -- but I adore it. Quotes:

Billy: Ask me anything you like; I'll tell you the truth.
DJ: Uh, best shag you ever had?
Billy: Britney Spears.
DJ: Wow...
Billy: (Snorts) Only kidding. She was rubbish.

Natalie: He said nobody was going to fancy a girl with thighs the size of big tree trunks. Not a nice guy, actually, in the end.
David: You know, being prime minister, I could just have him murdered.
Natalie: Thank you, sir, I'll think about it.
David: Do. The SAS are absolutely charming. Ruthless, trained killers are just a phone call away.

David: Anyway, I'm not sure that politics and dating go together.
The President: Really? I've never found that.

Karen: Now, which doll shall we give Daisy's little friend Emily? The one that looks like a transvestite, or the one that looks like a dominatrix?

Colin: Stateside, I am Prince William, without the weird family.

Daisy: We've been given our parts in the Nativity play.
Karen: And?
Daisy: I'm the lobster.
Karen: The lobster?
Daisy: Yeah!
Karen: In the nativity play?
Daisy: First lobster!
Karen: There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?
Daisy: Duh...

Second, how great is technology? I just got off the phone with Christine... well, off Skype with Christine. We talked for around an hour and a half for free with perfect clarity, which is way better than sending a letter that might get there six or eight weeks later, or typing an email that will be read whenever, or even chatting on an instant messenger. There's something about hearing a friend's voice. But isn't it strange and wonderful to think of having a real-time conversation with someone who lives on the other side of the world?

Third, I love Anthony Bourdain. Love. Love, love, love. I may, in fact, be IN love with him. I adore his shows, though sadly I never get to watch them, being cable-less as I am. He is a genius with both a pan and a pen. I love him for the same reason I love Dr. House -- he's perfectly, often brutally, honest in every situation, and yet has these moments where he's so human and tender and open. The mental censor works both ways, you see, so people who never filter what comes out of their mouths can't filter what those around them have access to. And I couldn't possibly agree more with his assessment of the Drunken Madam of the Brothel of Food-Adjacent Terrors, Sandra "COCKTAIL TIME!!!" Lee:

Pure evil. This frightening Hell Spawn of Kathie Lee and Betty Crocker seems on a mission to kill her fans, one meal at a time. She Must Be Stopped. Her death-dealing can-opening ways will cut a swath of destruction through the world if not contained. I would likely be arrested if I suggested on television that any children watching should promptly go to a wooded area with a gun and harm themselves. What’s the difference between that and Sandra suggesting we fill our mouths with Ritz Crackers, jam a can of Cheez Wiz in after and press hard? None that I can see. This is simply irresponsible programming. Its only possible use might be as a psychological warfare strategy against the resurgent Taliban--or dangerous insurgent groups. A large-racked blonde repeatedly urging Afghans and angry Iraqis to stuff themseles with fatty, processed American foods might be just the weapon we need to win the war on terror.

Honestly, people, in what universe is (pre-made angel food cake + canned frosting + only the white gum drops from 10 packages of gumdrops + approximately 7000 toothpicks) FOOD? Or (1 package white chocolate chips + 1/2 gallon whole milk + 1 pint heavy cream + 1 cup sugar + 1 bottle white chocolate liqueur + 2 cups peppermint schnapps) a DRINK? Her concoctions are stomach-turningly vile.

Judging from the processed sugar content of her... uh, let's call them "recipes" just for the heck of it, she is either A) a meth addict; B) trying to buy her way to the top of C&H's board of directors (which, combined with her penchant for extremely tv-inappropriate tops, makes me think she's got her sights set on a CEO's fortune, which would make her the Anna Nicole of the Food Network); C) suffering from the most severe case of hypoglycemia ever known to man; or D) an "Air-tarian," meaning she has never consumed a single mouthful of the slop she throws together. Or possibly all of the above.

What the Food Network programmers seem not to understand is that their shows are meant to be aspirational -- people are supposed to watch lovely Nigella or no-nonsense Alton or homey, friendly Ina and sigh fondly, dreaming of the day when they'll be able to whip up lemony linguine or crisp fried chicken or juicy roast for their families. Rachael Ray, with her quick, decidedly un-gourmet family suppers, ought to be the lowest on this aspirational totem pole. But instead they dredge up Sandra Lee, who pimps out brand-name processed garbage and calls it "semi-homemade." Microwaving Velveeta and taco seasoning inside a tortilla for 20 seconds hardly counts as dorm food, much less as semi-home-anything.

I could seriously go on and on about Stupid Sandra and her Domain of Processed Darkness, but I won't...

Anyway, that's about enough for one night. I've got another one in the hopper about food choices, stewardship of creation, and being an unrepentant omnivore, but it's long enough that it's going to have to wait. Movie quotes, technology, and Anthony Bourdain... I think that earns this post the label of "Random."

Why? Why Do I Not Own "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"

This movie has some of the funniest lines of any movie I've ever seen. I'd put it as my third-favorite comedy (after Some Like It Hot and His Girl Friday).

Pete: Who elected you leader o' this outfit?
Everett: Well, Pete, I figured it should be the one with a capacity for abstract thought, but if that ain't the consensus view, then hell, let's put it to a vote!
Pete: Suits me. I'm votin' fer yours truly!
Everett: I'm votin' fer yours truly, too!
Delmar: Well, I'm with you fellers.

Pete: You stole from my kin!
Everett: Who was fixin' to betray us.
Pete: You didn't know that at the time!
Everett: So I borrowed it until I did know!
Pete (momentarily perplexed): That don't make no sense!
Everett: Pete, it's a fool that looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart.

Everett: Well, it didn't look like a one-horse town, but try findin' a decent hair jelly!

Wash Hogwallup: Sorry, Pete, I know we're kin, but they got this dee-pression on, and I got ta do fer me an' mine!
Pete: I'll kill you... Judas... Iscariot... Hogwallup!

Everett: Well, ain't this place just a geographical oddity! Two weeks from everywhere!

Wash's Boy (after firing a warning shot over the Wanderers' heads): You men from the bank?
Delmar: No, son.
Wash's Boy: My daddy tole me I'm to shoot whoever's from the bank.
Delmar: We ain't from the bank, young feller.
Wash's Boy: I'm also s'posed to shoot anyone servin' papers. You servin' papers?
Delmar: We ain't servin' papers, neither.
Wash's Boy: I nicked the census man!
Delmar: There's a good boy.


Pete: They never did turn me into no toad.
Delmar: Sorry, Pete, that was our mistake.

Everett: Say, Cousin Wash, I guess it'd be the acme of foolishness to inquire if you had a hairnet.
Wash: There's some in yon' bureau. Mrs. Hogwallup's, before she done R-U-N-N-O-F-T.

That's just a taste. It's absurd that I don't own this great movie! Something must be done.