"I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten..." - Mr. Darcy
By: Abigail Walters
Of course, Rory Gilmore read Jane Austen's arguably most famous novel, Pride and Prejudice. A favorite among many book lovers, Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy's unlikely love story continues to inspire film adaptations and modern day chic lit like Jane Austen's Book Club. Their tale captivates modern audiences, even if its notable popularity only stems from women's (and maybe even men's) unavoidable crush on Darcy. But, really, who can resist a serious, moody, well-dressed gentleman? Not me, I tell you. Pride and Prejudice has proved a timeless tale, and like so many before me, I could not resist falling in love with this love story.
In-between scrawling Mrs. Abigail Darcy in my copy's margins (kidding... maybe), I struggled to find a topic for this post. I wanted to add something new to the conversation surrounding this book, a goal that seemed downright insurmountable given the countless critical analyses that exist and 20,000,000 Google hits, "Pride and Prejudice" yielded.
Inspiration struck when I reread my favorite scene in Pride and Prejudice for the eighth time. As I again imagined Elizabeth Bennett opening her letter from Darcy in a cozy, dimly lit cottage, I reflected on this endangered art form. The letter. A tangible piece of paper, covered in a real person's penmanship, that allows feelings to unfold in a premeditated, uninterrupted manner. It's downright poetic, and oh how I wished it still prevailed in today's society! I lament the loss of the letter.
I can trace my affinity for the letter back to my second grade gymnastics career. My stout, compact body was built to leap, flip, and twirl, and every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I would suit up in my sparkly blue leotard and head to Gym World. My wonderful mother supported my hobby but instated one rule: No tumbling outside the gymnasium.
I broke this rule.
My mother discovered my secret late one afternoon, and after a passionate lecture sent me to my room to, "think about what I'd done." Guilt racked my little gymnast's body. I needed an outlet, a way to tell my mother how truly sorry I felt for doing back handsprings in the basement. My hand reached for a notebook, then a pen, and I composed my first ever apology letter from the safety of my twin-sized bed.
Despite its many grammatical errors, this letter's honesty makes it one of my best works to date. The letter gave me a chance to capture my mother's undivided attention and voice my intentions and failings. I admit, it was the first of many I would write to my mom. Later letters apologized for swearing, breaking curfew, and making one too many sarcastic comments, but all stayed honest. She forgave me each time, and letter writing taught me that lies live easily on tongues, but die quickly on pages.
This observation, however flawed, is the reason I long to receive and send long-form letters like the one Darcy gave Elizabeth. I think it's easy to tell someone what they want to hear, but much harder to immortalize it on paper. Someone may whisper, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," "you're so beautiful," "I love you," blah, blah, blah... but would they dare write these words down if they weren't true? I can't say for sure, but would guess not. So, bring back the letter writing! Let's get it trending.
I know, I know, it's not that easy, but after reading Pride and Prejudice I also know I could benefit from treating my conversations with family, friends, and my "It's Complicated" relationships, more like a letter. I think we all could. That means putting more forethought into our spoken words, and more importantly, more honesty. Darcy and Elizabeth's initial disconnect stemmed from a lack of openness only remedied through his letter. His honest words helped Elizabeth realize her love. I plan to keep this in mind next time I meet someone for coffee, or chat with a friend on the phone, or even send a text message.
The letter may never make a comeback, but honesty certainly can.
Of course, Rory Gilmore read Jane Austen's arguably most famous novel, Pride and Prejudice. A favorite among many book lovers, Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy's unlikely love story continues to inspire film adaptations and modern day chic lit like Jane Austen's Book Club. Their tale captivates modern audiences, even if its notable popularity only stems from women's (and maybe even men's) unavoidable crush on Darcy. But, really, who can resist a serious, moody, well-dressed gentleman? Not me, I tell you. Pride and Prejudice has proved a timeless tale, and like so many before me, I could not resist falling in love with this love story.
In-between scrawling Mrs. Abigail Darcy in my copy's margins (kidding... maybe), I struggled to find a topic for this post. I wanted to add something new to the conversation surrounding this book, a goal that seemed downright insurmountable given the countless critical analyses that exist and 20,000,000 Google hits, "Pride and Prejudice" yielded.
Inspiration struck when I reread my favorite scene in Pride and Prejudice for the eighth time. As I again imagined Elizabeth Bennett opening her letter from Darcy in a cozy, dimly lit cottage, I reflected on this endangered art form. The letter. A tangible piece of paper, covered in a real person's penmanship, that allows feelings to unfold in a premeditated, uninterrupted manner. It's downright poetic, and oh how I wished it still prevailed in today's society! I lament the loss of the letter.
I can trace my affinity for the letter back to my second grade gymnastics career. My stout, compact body was built to leap, flip, and twirl, and every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I would suit up in my sparkly blue leotard and head to Gym World. My wonderful mother supported my hobby but instated one rule: No tumbling outside the gymnasium.
I broke this rule.
My mother discovered my secret late one afternoon, and after a passionate lecture sent me to my room to, "think about what I'd done." Guilt racked my little gymnast's body. I needed an outlet, a way to tell my mother how truly sorry I felt for doing back handsprings in the basement. My hand reached for a notebook, then a pen, and I composed my first ever apology letter from the safety of my twin-sized bed.
Despite its many grammatical errors, this letter's honesty makes it one of my best works to date. The letter gave me a chance to capture my mother's undivided attention and voice my intentions and failings. I admit, it was the first of many I would write to my mom. Later letters apologized for swearing, breaking curfew, and making one too many sarcastic comments, but all stayed honest. She forgave me each time, and letter writing taught me that lies live easily on tongues, but die quickly on pages.
This observation, however flawed, is the reason I long to receive and send long-form letters like the one Darcy gave Elizabeth. I think it's easy to tell someone what they want to hear, but much harder to immortalize it on paper. Someone may whisper, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," "you're so beautiful," "I love you," blah, blah, blah... but would they dare write these words down if they weren't true? I can't say for sure, but would guess not. So, bring back the letter writing! Let's get it trending.
I know, I know, it's not that easy, but after reading Pride and Prejudice I also know I could benefit from treating my conversations with family, friends, and my "It's Complicated" relationships, more like a letter. I think we all could. That means putting more forethought into our spoken words, and more importantly, more honesty. Darcy and Elizabeth's initial disconnect stemmed from a lack of openness only remedied through his letter. His honest words helped Elizabeth realize her love. I plan to keep this in mind next time I meet someone for coffee, or chat with a friend on the phone, or even send a text message.
The letter may never make a comeback, but honesty certainly can.