The Literate Kitty

I just died a hundred little deaths, watching Netflix’s take on Jane Austen’s final published work, Persuasion . [And, green eyes looking directly at the camera, “I was not the better for it”.]   A s her last completed story,  Persuasion  has always held a special place in my heart, for it is Austen’s most mature, most serious in tone, and most deeply felt… not only for Ms. Austen, who knew of love and loss, but for discerning readers, everywhere.  [If you wanted to go out on a high, you’d make  Persuasion  your last book.] [It should be noted that I'm fine with whatever “favorite” Austen tome anyone prefers, for that is not the point, here; the point, if you will, is that her stories—though set in a very specific period (the early 1800s)—have always translated easily , to other generations, other centuries… without the use of special plot devices that change the very tone of her witty, incisive writing.] Yet, what Netflix gives us today is a mind-n...

Cursed with a sweet tooth, I am. Not one of those harmless little “oh, I’ll just have a miniature cupcake once a month and be perfectly happy with nothing but health food the other 29 or so days” things, either; this is more of a full-blown, “must-have- something -sweet-every-single-day-OR-ELSE”-kind of thing.  (Fortunately, I love fruit. Un fortunately, fruit doesn’t cut it when I want a sundae. Or a cookie. Or that cupcake.) Still, one does what one must. Makes allowances. Fits the occasional sinfully-decadent whatever into the overall dietary plan (and hopes the combination of guilt and sugar buzz doesn’t prove lethal). Although there’s a case to be made for the similarities between desserts and Romance novels, I have a very different relationship with books than with sweets, because of suffering no ill effects from their absence.  Not that I out-and-out sniff with disdain at love stories or anything--and not that plenty of non -romance books (meaning, the majority of wha...