For Love or Money

I’m reading Pride and Prejudice for the upteenth time. I found my copy from college, which means there are plenty of comments from my 21-year-old self, and damn are they stupid comments! I keep my books from college because I want to observe how my understanding changes over the years. When I was 21, I didn’t understand much about satire or humor or the stubborn short-sightedness of people. I didn’t understand the brilliance of Jane Austen. I hope this means I have developed a sense of humor.

pride_and_prejudice_ch_19I was inspired to write this post because #feminism. Mr. Collins refuses to understand Elizabeth when she declines his marriage proposal.

“You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these:– It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther consideration that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.”

Volume I, Chapter 19.

I identify with Elizabeth’s typically feminine frustration of not being heard by a man when she is expressing herself very clearly!

Collins assumes that Elizabeth will accept him because he is a good match according to external standards: he will inherit her father’s property, already has a good home, and was born into the proper social class. Because the Bennets aren’t wealthy, Elizabeth must marry a man who can support her (or end up like Fanny Price’s mother in Mansfield Park). Elizabeth, having witnessed her parents’ unhappy marriage, is determined to marry a man she can love and respect.

Of course, Darcy made the same mistake as Collins during his first proposal to Elizabeth. He assumes that she will accept him because he is an excellent match according to external standards. Elizabeth refuses him because, at that point, he hadn’t shown her that he honored her as a person. I wonder if this novel is part of a shift in thought about whether marriage should be for property or for love.

Elizabeth replies to Collins, “I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere.” And then, she references Mary Wollestonecraft, “Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.” Elizabeth wants her future husband to see her as an individual/capable/lovable woman, not a cog in the machine of a gentleman’s life. (Collins easily switches his affections to Charlotte after minimal encouragement– he was merely looking for a puzzle piece to complete the image of his life. Of course, his constant listing of the price of items belonging to Catherine De Bourgh show that he has no concept of true value.)

I was flipping through my copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, and most of my notes reference Pride and Prejudice. I must have been older and smarter when I read that book. Vindication was published in 1792, when Austen was 17-years-old. Her first draft of First Impressions, which would become Pride and Prejudice, was written in 1796.

Wollestonecraft argues that educating women and allowing them to take an equal place in society will make families healthier:

Make women rational creatures and free citizens, and they will quickly become good wives and mothers – that is, if men do not neglect the duties of husbands and fathers.

— from the chapter “On Natural Education”

Wollestonecraft’s argument is that free women will make better wives and mothers because they will act from internal motivation instead of external requirements.

When Elizabeth realizes that she loves Darcy, she recognizes that his character complements her own and that their differences would encourage growth in each other. A marriage based on love instead of property, requires two fully-formed individuals.

His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.

Volume III, Chapter 8

And then, my favorite line:

But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial felicity really was.

I love that line because it shows that Elizabeth is still prideful and egotistical and it’s just delicious. I’m noticing this time how often the characters misrepresent themselves. It’s obvious with Mrs. Bennet, saying she’s ill when she’s really frustrated. But, for example, after Wickham and Lydia elope, the whole town of Meryton claims they never trusted Wickham, when a few months before they loved him and believed all the lies he told about Darcy. As a younger reader, I looked for the moral of the story, and the moral of this story is to be like Elizabeth, don’t be like Mrs. Bennet. But it’s not that simple. Even in carefully-crafted fiction, it’s not so easy to understand what traits lead to a happy ending.

Persuasion, self-delusion, emotional labor

After a vigorous discussion on Emotional Labor, prompted by this MetaFilter discussion,  I found myself wanting to reread Persuasion by Jane Austen.  Now that I’m halfway through it, I realize why my subconscious made the connection.

I love Persuasion.  I love that it hasn’t been co-opted by Hollywood.  I love that it’s about a woman who was disappointed in love eight years ago and has had to fully accept the consequences of making a decision that ended all hope of happiness for her.

In all of her novels, but especially this one, Jane Austen does a fantastic job of describing the thoughts and feelings that grease social interactions.  Now that I’ve learned my new vocabulary words: “emotional labor” I can’t stop applying that lens to everything I observe.  Anne Elliott, in Persuasion, feels the burden of unseen emotional labor.  She doesn’t even realize it’s a burden, most of the time.  She considers it her responsibility to account for the feelings and desires of the (often selfish) people around her, to smooth their way without acknowledgment for her effort.

Books do shape us and I wonder if my love for Jane Austen gave me the wrong tools for modern social life.  There was a Facebook group called “Jane Austen gave me unrealistic expectations of men” and now I think I should belong to a group called “Jane Austen gave me outdated expectations of myself.”  I’m reading about Anne making herself amiable and disinterested and realize that I have tried doing that when around my own family.  In the past couple years, I realized that being so passive around my family was boring!  I would go stay with my grandmother and kill vacation days not doing much of anything.  I thought I was doing it to be easy on my grandmother, but I’ve slowly come to realize, that maybe she wouldn’t mind if I showed initiative and desire to go out and do things.  While we’re at it, why was I using my precious time off to just hang out instead of go to awesome places?  I have a friend living in Alaska that I’ve been wanting to visit, but never have time or money after my family trips.  I’ve been operating under these false obligations that a single woman has to put her family first– when I don’t think my family would have their feelings hurt if I decided to do something else.

I’m a bit worried that my new perspective on emotional labor might make me dislike Jane Austen.  That would be terrible!  But I have to say, while reading Persuasion, I’m a bit frustrated with Anne. I want her to speak up, claim what she wants, and stop caring about what her selfish family wants.  I know what happens in the story, but now I’m reading it with whole new eyes– is that what happens?  Does she grow into a self-determined woman, or does chance and circumstance lead her to a happy ending?

I thought that if I was considerate, good, self-sufficient, then all my dreams would come true.  Where did I get that idea? Austen? Disney? church?  Well, I’ve been waiting for years for things to fall in my lap, because I was considerate, good, and self-sufficient.  But the good things that have happened were a result of me identifying a goal and working toward the goal, claiming the reward.  It was not sitting back and waiting for someone to notice me. Anne Elliott is waiting for someone to notice her.  While some decent people do (and some indecent people), it doesn’t lead to her happiness.

Drinking Tea

Reading The Hobbit makes me want to drink tea.  So does Jane Austen.  And Tolstoy.  I suppose it’s just the power of suggestion, but I wonder how much deeper this influence goes.

One book that had a great impact on me was Cheaper by the Dozen.  I must have been in middle school when I first read it.  The father, Frank Gilbreth, was an efficiency engineer, and I have been obsessed with efficiency most of my life.  He invented a concept called Therbligs (Gilbreth spelled backwards, almost.)  I wish I could quote the exact passage, but my copy is still in a box in my living room, but here’s what I remember:

A therblig is a unit of action.  So, if you are combing your hair, the first therblig is to locate the comb, the second is to move your hand to the comb, the third is to grasp the comb, the fourth is to lift the comb, etc.  Obsessing over the distance between tools and color-coding items helped me a lot when I worked at Starbucks.  I think I’ve mellowed a bit, because I no longer get so frustrated when things aren’t organized efficiently, or traffic doesn’t behave the way it should.  Still, having read Cheaper by the Dozen when I was young had a strong influence over my behavior well into my 20s.

This worries me because I wonder how other books have influenced me in ways I haven’t noticed.  I read Jane Eyre recently, and it struck me how awkward Mr. Rochester is.  I wasn’t able to judge his awkwardness when I was young, so did that set me up to respond to awkwardness as normal and normal social cues as odd?  I’ll probably never know.

Back to my tea.