...one woman's 25 year quest to share a pint with the man who would be king.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Proud....and a little bit Prejudiced.

I have always loved books.  They transported me to other worlds I could only imagine visiting.  I read from an early age and I have never stopped.  When I was very young, I couldn't get enough of Gothic horror, Victorian romance,  sea adventures...the classics.  I buy and collect them all.  Sure I had favorite authors;  Dickens, Trollope, du Maurier,  the Brontes.   But my favorite of all was Jane Austen.  Jane made me laugh.  Jane made me cry.  Jane made me want to build a time machine and go back to her world.  I felt I belonged somewhere else - somewhere other than the small world I lived in.  I wanted to travel and see her England.  I wanted it to be "my England".

Fast forward twenty years from my teens.  I'm married for the second time.  I'm a mother to two girls and another on the way.  I live a happy and comfortable life.  I still read.  Every minute of every day.  My favorite go-to book?  ... Pride & Prejudice.

Well imagine my surprise one evening when I see a commercial for a small mini-series going to be aired in the United States.   Title:  Pride & Prejudice.   I am elated!  I had seen the older movie version but this was to be a newer one.  Think of it.  Two hours each week for three weeks!  I could immerse myself into Jane's world and visualize through another's eyes what life would have been like...in my most favorite story of all time.  And then.....

YOUR FACE CAME ON THE SCREEN.  I was dumbstruck.  The British Boy...MY British Boy...was now a man.  A man acting the part of the one story I knew by heart.  It just couldn't be possible.  But there it was; being advertised as "introducing Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy".  I called my family.  I said "You must watch this series.  It's my favorite book, remember?  It's him!  You will all get to see the boy I keep telling you about.  He's a man now and he's still acting!"   I may have begged.  I may have pleaded.  But they watched it anyway.

Six hours, and one wet white shirt later,  he was no longer my British boy.  He was the world's.