(Disclaimer: I am the one who is not concise. It is one of many traits my pseudosister possesses that I sometimes wish I could steal. I make my apologies now.)
I have been having a lot of feelings about books lately. Not in a "I just finished this awesome novel, allow me to fangirl for a while" way (though admittedly that happens a lot), but in a "I want to be involved in the literary world, look at these awesome things, and the awesome things people are saying--let me join in" way.
In addition to being a Pseudosister, I'm an administrator for the Jane Austen page on the Fandom blog. Today, Dear Readers, was the 200th anniversary of the publication of Pride and Prejudice. I will not allow this to devolve into a P&P-appreciation post, but suffice it to say that that novel is very near and dear to my heart, as is Jane Austen and her works in general (am I staying up far later than I should considering I have class tomorrow morning watching my collection of adaptations on my laptop? Did my friend and I spend a good five minutes making incomprehensible noises and dancing around the hallway after we watched today's Lizzie Bennet Diaries episode? ...Maybe. Maybe). And I spent most of my day between classes and chorus and eating and other important things like that scouring the internet for links and dates for my "200th anniversary" post.
What struck me was not only that there was stuff about it everywhere--in newspapers, on blogs, in museums, in ads, in recently-released books--but that everyone was still talking about it in the first place. 200 years is a long time. It's a testament to Austen's skill as a writer and the universal themes of her story that after all this time people are still as enamored of it as they were in 1813. It's never been out of print! There have been 20 million copies sold worldwide! So many movie adaptations, and book adaptations, and books and art and other things inspired by this novel; people regularly dress up in period costume and hold events like those of the Regency era; there is merchandise and fan fiction and I don't even know what else. (This is starting to turn into a litany of Jane Austen Enthusiasm, isn't it? ...Heh.) The devotion of the fans is incredible (and if there's one thing the internet has taught us, it's not to underestimate the emotions of a fan). It has been debated and analyzed in all kinds of academic settings and scholarly discussions.
And the awesome thing is that the same can be said about any number of literary works. So many books continue to inspire and encourage people, providing enjoyment and prompting wide varieties of conversations, despite their age. This is what I love.
As someone who grew up in a household full of books (literally full of. We're almost at 19,000 and counting, and no, I am not making that up), and was taught to understand and enjoy both the overreaching and personal importance of them (basically what I'm saying is that I was born and raised a nerd), I love that people are so eager and willing to express their feelings about a novel, be they positive or negative, and that these feelings are getting so much widespread attention in today's society. I love that people are talking about books, in, at least from what I saw, a civilized manner. There were no personal attacks in the comments, no blind promotion or hatred, but rather explained, respectful opinions.
I know that the kind of comments I just described are not necessarily normal (oh how I wish!)--I need only to go watch a music video on YouTube to see the truth in that. But this brings me to the core of this post, to the feelings that prompted this post in the first place. I can't help but feel that book people are good people. That statement is pretty naive and generalized, I know, but...seeing people be happy together over books makes me happy. I can't help but think well of someone who can have a logical discussion on the merits or lack-thereof of a novel, or who can happily devote the time to writing an article about a book or character or adaptation, etc, or who gets so attached to a piece of writing that they spiral into incomprehensible noises and dances in hallways. Hey, I'm a nerd. It's what I do.
It's not just today, though, with the Austen post. Whenever I have an English class I try to buy the books at one of the fabulous independent bookstores in town rather than from the campus bookstore. For my sci-fi/fantasy class I needed a good long list of them, and so into the first indie I went. As the clerk was looking up the titles, we got into a conversation, started by the fact that they didn't have a copy of The Time Machine and that that was actually the one I needed first. He kept telling me that they could order it, but that wasn't really the point.
"It's fine that you don't have it, I just wanted to see if any of the local stores had the books I needed before getting them from school," I told him.
It was like a magic key. We began talking in earnest, with him saying several times how appreciative he and his fellow clerk (I have a feeling they were the owners) were for my going to indies, and he went on a bit of a mini-rant about universities and their ways of tricking students (this post isn't a plug for independent bookstores, I promise, though really. Think about it.). The clerks asked what course the books were for, what professor I had, and I told them. They happily exclaimed that the professor shops there often!
"Oh, I know we have this one in stock, my fellow clerk loves it! Your professor probably got this recommendation from her!"
I bought what books I could and placed and order for the rest, and as I was paying the clerk said, laughing, "This is a long list! I'll tell [your professor] to go easy on you guys next time he's here!"
I left filled with a renewed love for and pride in book people. It's this kind of relationship, this camaraderie, that I adore. It was a short, pretty impersonal conversation. And yet there was kinship, based on the mere shared love of books and the recognition of that love in the other person.
(As I read over this, I want to add that in a sense I'm talking about nerds as well as book people--there's the same feeling of connection about all sorts of things people are passionate about, be it Doctor Who or Jane Austen or what have you. This wonderful quote from John Green, which I have immortalized on a poster on my wall, encompasses the emotion and bond I'm trying to relate: "Nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff. Nerds are allowed to love stuff--like, jump-up-and-down-in-your-chair-can't-control-yourself love it. When people call people nerds, mostly what they're saying is "You like stuff," which is not a good insult at all. Like, "You are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness.")
It happened again in the next store I went into (still on my quest for a copy of The Time Machine). The person behind the desk was one I was familiar with, the woman who headed the Young Adult section there and who I had bonded with in a similar way, as I just had with the other clerks, on previous occasions, when I had gone in to buy new releases of things and we ended up trading book recommendations for a good ten minutes. She told me that they were out of The Time Machine, and then--
"I love your pin!" gesturing to the "YA Saves" pin I have on my coat.
I beamed, thanked her, and left. It's rare that people know what my pin means--the only other time someone has commented on it (apart from giving it confused looks/ignoring it/cautiously asking me about it) was in fact in the only independent bookstore near my hometown, when the clerk said "I love your pin! Mine's at home!". I felt again that kinship, that sense of "You're a part of my world and I'm a part of yours, and I acknowledge and appreciate that fact".
I love being a book person, being a part of that world. And I guess I'm getting around to the other part of my post. I want to spend my life being in that world, I want to be allowed to do that for a job. People always say to do what you love, and...that's it. Writing, of course, is part of it--I will never stop dreaming of becoming a published author--but apart from that, which I can not see going over very well with the parents when I graduate college ("Guess what! I'm not going to get a job with an immediate income! I'm going to spend all my time writing novels and trying to get them published!"), I want to do something with literature. Whenever I have encounters like the ones I did in the bookstores, as well as when I simply read an article about issues in publishing and the YA world or current YA trends or the problems with the portrayal of certain YA trends, I get such an intense feeling of "when can I do this?". I want to talk about these things. I want to write about these things. I have more intense feelings and opinions about these things than I do about many others. The problem...is that I don't actually know what I want to do.
I have been somewhat apprehensive lately about the fact that I really have no idea what actual job I want to do after I graduate, or even what I want to major in. As a first-year college student, I know that it's okay not to know that yet, but I can't help but feel that way when literally almost everyone I talk to, first-years included, has a plan for their college education at least and in some cases for their future careers. I can't say how reassuring it was to be in my Introduction to Comparative Literature class this afternoon, where everyone but one is a first-year, and have virtually every single person admit to not knowing what they want to study.
Whatever I end up studying--English? Comp Lit? History? Anthropology? American Studies? So many possibilities...--I know where I want to end up. The specifics of that (publishing? Translation work? Publishing?) may be a little less clear, but I know where I want to end up, in a vague, indefinite sense. And I know that even while I'm figuring it out, even once I have figured it out, I will always be a Book Person. And I take comfort in that.
--Flannery
(P.S. I wanted to share some of the Jane Austen pieces that made me especially happy and proud to be a Book Person, such as Huffington Post's debating articles on who the best Mr. Darcy is in the movie adaptations--the comments are lovely--and Sarah Rees Brennan's insightful discussion on sexism in the literary world.)
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