Now that we are officially allowed out, mask or no mask, and now that the golden daffodils are smiling at us from every flowerbed, I feel as if I could take a break from grim stories, crime genre and co. and read some Romance novels. I am already halfway through Jane Austen's Emma. I usually read all her novels (except Northanger Abbey) in the run up to Christmas but this year I did not get do complete the list.
It's so relaxing, though, to read a novel even if you know nearly every word by heart and know that despite the little perplexities as Jane Austen would have called them, there is going to be a Happy Ending. It is the best form of escapism.
Here's something I wrote some time ago. I hope my readers will enjoy it.
LITERARY
VISITS
Outside
the winter night is drawing in accompanied by gentle tap of rain on the
windows. Time to snuggle into a deep comfortable chair by the fire and go on a
literary visit. Who shall I call on tonight?
Ah
yes, the Dashwoods. I haven’t been to see them for quite a while. I’ll just
take a seat in the sitting room of their little cottage and listen to Mrs.
Dashwood and Elinor chatting about a likely visit from Edward. Marianne is
playing the piano softly in the background and no doubt dreaming of that
dastardly Willoughby. I expect Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, his garrulous
mother-in-law, will call. Sir John with his naïve kindness has won my heart and,
unlike Marianne, I don’t mind what she considers his lack of culture and polished
manners. I like Mrs. Jennings, even if she and Sir John can be annoying with
their silly banter about beaux. When Marianne was so ill, she really came up
trumps and almost supplied the place of a mother. I’d like to see Colonel
Brandon pop in too, although all his attention will be on Marianne. His
conversation is always interesting. I’ll sneak away before he starts to tell
Elinor his sad history.
Where
shall I go next? I can be sure of a welcome from Emma Woodhouse at Hartfield and
Knightley is as entertaining as Colonel Brandon. I’ll have to resist taking a
basin of that “thin but not too thin” gruel with Mr. Woodhouse while I’m
listening to the preparations for the ball at The Crown. I hope to meet Jane
Fairfax and Frank Churchill and I mustn’t miss that happy couple, Mr. and Mrs.
Weston. It will be a fun evening and not even the presence of the vicar, Mr.
Elton and his pushy wife can spoil it. I’ll just smile politely when Mrs. Elton
goes on about her sister’s prospective visit in the barouche-landau.
When
I’ve left Highbury and the oh-so-happy Miss Bates, I’ll pop in to see Elizabeth
Bennett and her family. Her father will be in the library and will no doubt
have some droll remark to make. He is one of my all-time favorites. I’ll be at
Rosings to hear Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth and her spirited refusal and then
smile over her embarrassment at meeting him again unexpectedly at Pemberley.
And I mustn’t miss the scene with Mr. Bennett when Elizabeth tells him she
wishes to accept Darcy. I’ll stay in the library long enough to listen in to
Elizabeth defending him against her father’s disapproval before sneaking
upstairs to partake of her mother’s raptures at having a daughter well married.
Maybe I’ll look in on Jane and Bingley, but I doubt I’ll visit the
Wickhams.
On
another night, I’ll slip across the Atlantic and take a peek at Meg, Jo, Beth
and Amy round their worktable and hope that Laurie Lawrence will drop by. I
might even go with Meg to the ball where she is so admired but so unhappy, or
perhaps I’ll attend Jo when she goes to have her beautiful hair cut. I’ll cry
over all their trials and little heartaches until their father comes home from
the war and then I can bid them a fond farewell as they sit round the fire,
united in tenderness.
While
I am on this side of the Atlantic, I’ll take a trip out West and drop in on the
Denmeades. The last part of the journey
there has to be taken on horseback. I can almost taste the scent of pine and
wild sumac as we ride through those deep woods. There will be a warm welcome at
the homestead even with the hounds barking. If all the family is at home, it
will be pretty crowded round the table for supper. Mrs. Denmeade and Ally will
fix something wholesome for us all to eat and we might get some of Ed’s wild
bee honey. I’d like to be able to stay in that tent the Denmeade boys fixed up
for Lucy and her sister. It’s so cozy there in winter with the wood burning
stove. Before we retire for the night, I’ll stand beside Lucy at the cabin door
as she pays her respects to the towering red Rimrock and the stars glistening
in the frosty sky above it.
On
very cold nights I’ll follow Mole, when bored with his sleepy companion Water
Rat, he heads off to the forbidden Wild Wood. I’ll keep a respectful distance
as he gets deeper and deeper into danger. I can hear the scuttling of other
frightened animals and then the Terror of the Wild Wood, the dreaded pattering
and whistling. I’ll drop down beside Mole in the hollow of that old beech tree
and hope they, whoever they are, do not find us. What a relief when Rat comes
to the rescue and we discover the door to Badger’s dwelling. I’m a child again
as I revel in the feeling of comfort and security in Badger’s underground home.
I love those down-at-heel slippers of his and his cozy living room and the
little hedgehogs having breakfast in the morning.
Yes,
I’ve read these stories over and over again. Old books are like old friends,
friends with whom one can slip off one’s shoes and stretch out by the fire.
Friends who know you through and through and still like you! Friends to whom
you’ve told your stories time and again but who still listen patiently. Friends
who have told their stories to you over and over again. That is the lure of the
literary journey, a journey to be taken at any time, but especially on cold
nights in the winter when it brings back that feeling of warm security from my
childhood.
In
order of appearance:
Sense and
Sensibility,
Emma, Pride and Prejudice, all by Jane Austen,
Little Women by Louisa May
Alcott,
Under the Tonto
Rim
by Zane Grey and
The Wind in the
Willows
by Kenneth Graham
