Jane Austen was writing about boring people with desperately limited lives. We forget this because we've seen too many of her books on screen.
quote by Mark Haddon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emotional Upheaval
Only Terry Pratchett can be forgiven for irreverently sending
an unrefined Sam Vines into the pristine company of Pride
and Prejuduce - calling this classic a silly romance
Vimes launches into a diatribe against the stifling gentility that
held rich people enthralled within a useless existence, tells
author Jane Austen to write about
Corpses, murder and war – a cross between Mickey Spillane
and Margaret Mitchell; I love his advice about earning one’s
own keep leading to self-esteem
Enjoy the psychological tension Austen described –without
much action she creates more excitement and emotional
upheaval than Mike Hammer and
Scarlett O’Hara combined – only Wuthering Heights and
Jane Eyre can rival Jane Austen in making me
experience hallucinations!
Snuff – Terry Pratchett; Doubleday 2011
pp 69-72
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ever In Memory
In Hampshire ~
Fair county of England
Dwelt a lady of skill and ability
The wonderful novelist
Jane Austen.
She wrote many stories...
'Pride and Prejudice'
'Sense and Sensibility'
And the ever-popular 'Emma'.
Although Jane died
With two novels unfinished,
Her unique and fine books
Are ours to own
Her films are still shown
And her name stands alone
In the famed archive zone.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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The Mare's Nest
Jane Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse
Was good beyond all earthly need;
But, on the other hand, her spouse
Was very, very bad indeed.
He smoked cigars, called churches slow,
And raced -- but this she did not know.
For Belial Machiavelli kept
The little fact a secret, and,
Though o'er his minor sins she wept,
Jane Austen did not understand
That Lilly -- thirteen-two and bay
Absorbed one-half her husband's pay.
She was so good, she made hime worse;
(Some women are like this, I think;)
He taught her parrot how to curse,
Her Assam monkey how to drink.
He vexed her righteous soul until
She went up, and he went down hill.
Then came the crisis, strange to say,
Which turned a good wife to a better.
A telegraphic peon, one day,
Brought her -- now, had it been a letter
For Belial Machiavelli, I
Know Jane would just have let it lie.
But 'twas a telegram instead,
Marked "urgent," and her duty plain
To open it. Jane Austen read:
"Your Lilly's got a cough again.
Can't understand why she is kept
At your expense." Jane Austen wept.
It was a misdirected wire.
Her husband was at Shaitanpore.
She spread her anger, hot as fire,
Through six thin foreign sheets or more.
Sent off that letter, wrote another
To her solicitor -- and mother.
Then Belial Machiavelli saw
Her error and, I trust, his own,
Wired to the minion of the Law,
And traveled wifeward -- not alone.
For Lilly -- thirteen-two and bay --
Came in a horse-box all the way.
There was a scene -- a weep or two --
With many kisses. Austen Jane
Rode Lilly all the season through,
And never opened wires again.
She races now with Belial. This
Is very sad, but so it is.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Flashes of Austen
From page to screen
Adorable Jane Austen
Telling us love stories
Woven amidst secrecies
And social prejudices.
The shrewd girl from Steventon
Bequeathed to us a treasure written
With a unique goose feather quill
Fulfilling her wishes and will.
Readers of Austen find
An array of characters
Speaking their mind
Through a precision of language
In different voices beyond age!
Kindness and civility
Elegance and respect
Are visible in landed gentry
The directors are crazy to adapt...
June,2012
poem by Maria C. Costa
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Dear Colette
Dear Colette,
I want to write to you
about being a woman
for that is what you write to me.
I want to tell you how your face
enduring after thirty, forty, fifty. . .
hangs above my desk
like my own muse.
I want to tell you how your hands
reach out from your books
& seize my heart.
I want to tell you how your hair
electrifies my thoughts
like my own halo.
I want to tell you how your eyes
penetrate my fear
& make it melt.
I want to tell you
simply that I love you--
though you are "dead"
& I am still "alive."
Suicides & spinsters--
all our kind!
Even decorous Jane Austen
never marrying,
& Sappho leaping,
& Sylvia in the oven,
& Anna Wickham, Tsvetaeva, Sara Teasdale,
& pale Virginia floating like Ophelia,
& Emily alone, alone, alone. . . .
But you endure & marry,
go on writing,
lose a husband, gain a husband,
go on writing,
sing & tap dance
& you go on writing,
have a child & still
you go on writing,
love a woman, love a man
& go on writing.
You endure your writing
& your life.
Dear Colette,
I only want to thank you:
for your eyes ringed
with bluest paint like bruises,
for your hair gathering sparks
like brush fire,
for your hands which never willingly
let go,
for your years, your child, your lovers,
all your books. . . .
Dear Colette,
you hold me
to this life.
poem by Erica Jong
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The Romance Of A Book
Reading a book, you're hit by romance,
No matter the subject matter,
You can read and read,
And every book is different,
Some stories are more pleasant than others,
While some are funny, but most are serious,
For the romance of a book,
Is in everyone's heart,
No matter their age or height,
Whether male or female:
It is all relative and I devour,
Each and every book,
I can read the classics,
Or even a heart-warming romance,
I just get through so many books,
I love every storyline,
Not so much the gory parts,
But the cleverness of the fictional detectives,
And those rock stars that roam the stage,
For a book is something that will never age,
No matter how many years on the shelf,
And stories can be shared with everyone else,
Yet everyone has their own views,
And books can be lifting when they're feeling blue,
For people have been reading fiction for centuries,
But, of course, not all books are fictional:
There're the historical books, interesting,
Even if a reader is just passing through,
And we can all learn something from the history books,
And let's not forget the autobiographies:
Many a man and woman fascinating,
Having lead unique lives and having had special loves,
And there is a romance to these people,
For they walked the same earth as everyone else,
Yet brought something strange and special to the world,
Like a scientist making a new discovery,
Or a rock star penning a hit song,
And all these things are which make books belong,
I haven't met anyone yet who finds books boring,
Because books are not boring: they are fascinating,
Unique, special, strange, romantic and enjoyable,
And every reader's dream: like hitting 'play' on a record,
For this is the romance of a book.
poem by Paula Glynn
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There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just the omission of Jane Austen's books alone would make a fairly good library out of a library that hadn't a book in it.
quote by Mark Twain
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I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me that trouble of liking them.
quote by Jane Austen
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I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is not one in a hundred of either sex who is not taken in when they marry . It is, of all transactions, the one in which people expect most from others, and are least honest themselves.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Liza Jane
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute I'll get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
What's wrong with you what is it you want
Can't forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad it's called Little Liza Jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Hambone Hammer where you've been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man that's three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
the bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Liza Jean
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute Ill get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
Whats wrong with you what is it you want
Cant forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad its called little liza jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Hambone hammer where youve been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man thats three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
The bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boring Lonely Day
What to do
On a boring lonely day?
How to have something to do
To keep the blues away?
I have got my papers sorted
And I am faced with a lonely boring day.
I cleaned my home yesterday.
From having a good and fun day,
I am thwarted.
The songs only make me sadder
I am having a boring lonely day.
All my games bore me now
Even when I win, it is a lonely boring day.
Having nothing to do
Makes for a boring lonely day.
And no one to do nothing with
That's the cause of the lonely boring day.
Now that I know the cause
Of my lonely boring days,
I can do something without pause
To cure my boring lonely days.
poem by Lonely People Champion
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Daphne
She has… had… (which
is the more appropriate word
for those who live on so lively
in one’s human memory? …)
that grace of spirit which you’ll know
from reading, seeing acted out,
let’s say, Jane Austen:
at once as serious about life
as any thinker; yet as light-hearted
as she danced life’s play, that
to meet her, was to dance along
with her pure spirit..
a golden girl; I remember her
reading aloud Jane Austen’s letters,
Fanny Burney’s diaries, as if
she and we were living them together;
Shakespeare surely met her like..
she pretended to the belief
(eyes laughing, daring you to disagree..)
that ‘humour’ derives from ‘guna’…
and, she lived it; her soul, deeply serious;
her spirit, dancing to a merry tune;
acting out the play of life; speaking to the heart…
such are the lives that touch our own,
bless them, light them, lighten them;
may I share this memory of her? *
MS
*[guna: in Hinduism, the three ‘qualities’ of
all true goodness; activity; and rest;
continually swaying and swinging
the play of Creation with their imbalance
from first to last]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.
Jane Austen in Emma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
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