Weeks of rejoicing in the clear weather had lifted everyone’s spirits. Taking advantage of the right weather, talks of Kiara and Kovu’s official crowning as king and queen had made its way through the Pridelands. Dear friends and family were invited, including Kiara’s brother, Kion, and his queen, Rani, who had not yet seen the Pridelands for herself.
The last few weeks consisted of rehearsals that both the royals and the Guard had to practice. However, in these same weeks, sudden, mysterious disappearances had taken place. It was recently found out that said disappearances had been drownings, as the unfortunate victims would be found risen to the surface of bodies of water.
The incidents made Simba and Nala wonder if maybe the ceremony once again had to be postponed, but their son and his friends were already on their way. Vitani and her Guard promised to investigate the situation with caution.
Part memoir, part inspiration for aspiring writers, And Then? And Then? What Else? traces Daniel Handler’s sometimes challenging and often amusing path toward one of the most spectacularly successful writing careers of the twenty-first century. Declaring his love of strange literature, Baudelaire’s The Flowers of Evil in particular, Handler reflects on the life experiences–some of them deeply personal and revealed for the first time–and the cultural influences that shaped his writing, both under his own name and as Lemony Snicket, the lonely, beleaguered, somehow both cynical and romantic narrator of the beloved thirteen-volume saga of three unlucky orphans that became one of the best-selling series of all time. Inspiring, revelatory, and entertaining, And Then? And Then? What Else? is destined to become a classic of its genre, every bit as influential as Eudora Welty’s One Writer’s Beginnings or Stephen King’s On Writing have been on previous generations.
Time to cleanse the palate with a bit of positive
relationship analysis!
One of the tropes that plagues, and has plagued, romance
fiction ever since the invention of the novel is the idea of female consent not
being necessary as long as the male is desirable and/or really wants her.
Often, the heroine will succumb either to her own desires or his, whether she
is entirely willing to do so or not, and that is framed as being analogous with
passion—even love.
Well, two hundred years before Fifty Shades of Grey played fast and loose with consent issues, I
present to you the antithesis of this trope in Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.
Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, receives two proposals of marriage that are
eerily similar, despite the outward differences of her two suitors. Mr. Collins
and Mr. Darcy both spring unexpected and unwelcome proposals of marriage on
her, calling to light her family’s lack of financial security and connection,
seeing themselves as condescending to offer for her, and being completely perplexed
by her refusal to accept them.
Elizabeth to Collins: You could not make me happy, and I am
convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.
Elizabeth to Darcy: I had not
known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I
could ever be prevailed on to marry.“
Elizabeth’s words leave no ambiguity for either gentleman:
she soundly rejects them both in a similar fashion. From this, readers may infer
that since Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, it is Darcy who is persistent
in his romantic intentions after Elizabeth has said “no.” But in fact, it is
Collins who refuses to take no for an answer, and Darcy who never oversteps his
bounds.
The first thing Collins says after he hears her rejection is
that she cannot be serious in her refusal.
"I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”
So elevated is his own sense of
self-worth that she has to explain to him that she did, in fact, mean what she
said:
“Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”
What is the result? Collins still doesn’t take no for an answer, again:
“Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely – “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say.”
And again:
“When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”
“Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.”
And again:
"You
must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my
addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly
these: – It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or
that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My
situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my
relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should
take it into farther consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions,
it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you.
Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the
effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore
conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to
attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the
usual practice of elegant females.“
”I
do assure you, sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance
which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the
compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the
honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely
impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not
consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a
rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.“
And again:
“You
are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry;
“and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both
your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”
In fact, Collins only stops
pursuing Elizabeth when her father puts his foot down and backs her refusal. Pride and Prejudice is a comedy, and so
the tone is light on the surface, but beneath the satire is a very real, earnest
desire to communicate how often women’s words—even their consent—are dismissed
as fickle or inconsequential. Seeing our heroine not fleeing dramatically from
a villain, but pursued by an entitled man who doesn’t take her words seriously,
we feel Elizabeth’s sense of outrage and how belittling it is for Collins to
act this way.
By contrast, though we might imagine a love interest like
Darcy to be overcome with passion and try to make her his own by any means,
Darcy is remarkably restrained and respectful without ever losing his ardent
love for the woman he wants to marry. The first divergence of his response from
Collins’ occurs right after he has been rejected:
"And
this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might,
perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But
it is of small importance.“
The wording here is important. He doesn’t demand that she
explain why she rejected him, but
rather why she was so impolite about doing so (since he has no knowledge of her
dislike of him). He continues to be honest about his objections to her family’s
behavior and place in the world, and to be angry at her for defending the
duplicitous Wickham, but he never tries to convince her that she was wrong in
rejecting him, even though he still views her as a social inferior.
After their heated conversation, Darcy leaves with an
apology that he has occupied her for so long:
"You
have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have
now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up
so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and
happiness.”
This is a far cry from Collins following Elizabeth around
after the proposal and trying to go over her head to her parents for support.
But wait—doesn’t the love interest write Elizabeth a letter,
convincing her to give him another chance?
No. Both Darcy’s letter and its method of delivery are
respectful of Elizabeth’s boundaries and her refusal of him.
It should be noted that an unmarried gentlewoman receiving
letters from a man she was not engaged to resulted in scandal if it were ever
exposed. If Darcy had wanted to compel Elizabeth to marry him, he would only
have had to deliver the letter publicly, or through the post. Instead, he
delivers the letter in person, when they are alone in a park and there is no
chance of discovery. It is still a bit of a risk, though, and so he asks (not
demands) that she read it:
“Will you do me the honour
of reading that letter?“
Right from the beginning, Darcy reassures Elizabeth that he
is not trying to impose on her or get her to accept him after she has made her
wishes clear:
"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter,
by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or
renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you.
While it is more than apparent that her rejection stung and
he is still in love with her, he never brings up the subject of the proposal
again—the contents are a defense of the charges she had laid against his
character, as well as a warning against Wickham for her own safety. He doesn’t
ask for a second chance or demand she reconsider her words, even in light of
this new information. Moreover, he trusts her with the knowledge of his
sister’s near-elopement with Wickham (which could cause a scandal if
discovered), thus risking as much by delivering the letter as Elizabeth does by
accepting it. In every way, he trusts her judgment and keeps her wishes in
mind.
When they meet again at Pemberley, Darcy is trying to reform
his behavior. He is cordial to her tradesman uncle and aunt, and has divested
himself of the haughtiness that prevented her from seeing his true worth
initially. Darcy does not give himself permission to pursue Elizabeth as a
result of this change in character; it is only after they have met and talked
cordially that he asks her, not to speak with him alone, but to meet his
sister. In fact, he resists making romantic overtures for the duration of the
visit, which ends abruptly when Elizabeth discovers her sister’s elopement with
Wickham. And even there, when she and Darcy are accidentally alone during her
distress, he makes no move to use the occasion as an excuse to “comfort” her
with his advances. His reaction is, in fact, quite the opposite:
"I
am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead
in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern.”
Another opportunity arises for Darcy to compel Elizabeth to
marry him, this time out of gratitude. Unable to see Elizabeth so wretched, he
finds Lydia and Wickham in London and, at great expense, convinces them to
marry. He saves not only her sister’s reputation but that of her entire family.
Yet rather than use that as an example to Elizabeth of what a good person he
is, he forbids her aunt and uncle from mentioning that it was he who saved the
Bennets’ good name. Elizabeth doesn’t even know he was involved until Lydia
thoughtlessly gives the game away (after she, too, was sworn to secrecy).
How then, do Lizzy and Darcy get together? It is Elizabeth
herself who gives Darcy a reason to believe her opinion of him has improved.
During a verbal duel with Darcy’s formidable aunt, she comes out the winner and
point-blank refuses to give Lady Catherine a promise not to pursue Mr. Darcy.
Lady Catherine petulantly tries to cut the problem off at the source by
relating everything to her nephew. It works about as well as you’d expect.
But, unluckily
for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.
"It taught me to hope,“ said he,
“as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of
your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely, irrevocably
decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly
and openly.”
What prompts Darcy to renew his offer of marriage is nothing
more or less than evidence that Elizabeth had seen his change of heart and
accepted it.
“You are too generous
to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell
me so at once.My affections
and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject
for ever.”
Above is Darcy’s second proposal. After hearing her first
rejection, he takes her at her word, respectfully gives her information that
might have led her to mistaken conclusions about him, leaves even before he is
asked to, reforms his own behavior, never takes advantage of their being alone
to make unwanted advances, assists her and her family without taking any
credit, and once he has seen enough signs to think she might accept him, renews
his offer once and only once. If she says no again, unlike Collins, he will not
continue to pester her or seek her out. He will not try to convince her that
her decision was wrong. It is a sad statement on society that this is a
remarkable thing, no less in the real world than in fiction, and all too
prevalent in heroes of romance even two hundred years later. There is no
shortage of love interests who mistake passion for permission, conflict for
consent, and adversity for flirtation—but there is also no excuse for this to
continue, particularly now. If a novel published in 1813 can understand the letter and spirit of
consent, I think we can do better in our own time.
Thiiiis!
Darcy of course has his dickish attributes. He did start out assuming he was too awesome for anyone to say ‘no’ to. But having heard ‘no’, even though it shocks him silly, he respects it utterly. He is greatly wronged by internet talk of “Firthing” (aggressively brooding at the object of one’s unrequited affection and lurking around trying to force another chance). It is a thing, but Darcy does not do it. His brooding (even in the BBC adaptation) is not done at Elizabeth. In fact, even in the BBC adaptation, his “brooding” mostly isn’t brooding – his angsty faces mostly happen while he earnestly tries to get over his feelings rather than making them the lady’s problem – with manly fencing and getting out in the fresh air. He wallows in ponds so as not to wallow in heartbreak! It doesn’t work that well, because love, but he sincerely tries!
His letter surely has an element of sheer egotism. He can accept Elizabeth not returning his feelings but he can’t stand her thinking of him as so ignoble. However, it is also the case that: 1) Bad things happen to women who get close to Wickham without having been warned about him. Elizabeth actually needs what Darcy knows to make informed choices about how close to get to him and staying safe. 2) Elizabeth’s been running around multiple counties passing on Wickham’s lies and telling practically everyone how awful Darcy is. It’s hardly unreasonable he should want her to stop. Especially as “Darcy is an awful Wickham-abusing prig” is often accompanied by “And I hear his sister sucks, too.”
So, it’s not “Pleeeeease see how I’m not a bad guy and give me another chance!” it’s “Reasons I am not a bad guy, reasons you might want to be careful around Wickham, I will never bother you again, goodbye.” And then he goes away and works at being a better person because she made him look in the mirror and he didn’t like what he saw – he doesn’t do it for her, but because it’s the right thing to do. When he next sees her? It’s not because he came after her or even because they run into each other at a neutral event: she shows up at his house. It’s precisely in accordance with the advice we’d give today to anyone tempted to pursue an unresponsive beloved: “Ball’s in her court, mate. If she changes her mind, she knows where to find you.”
TL;DR Darcy responds to being rejected with the Regency equivalent of deleting Facebook, hitting the gym, and going to therapy, and he should get more credit for it.
I very much like this analysis. I mean, all the Mr Collins stuff is right there on the surface, but I admit I hadn’t viewed Mr Darcy in this light before, and of course Austen is deliberately drawing this comparison.
I so much more appreciate this against the complaint I have sometimes heard that P&P glorifies the idea of women ‘changing’ a man as a necessity for love, which isn’t how I see it at all.
They both change. That’s the whole point. They both have significant flaws which they must overcome, and neither does so lightly or easily. There’s much that Elizabeth doesn’t see about Darcy because she never sees him relaxed and at home and because she misinterprets his shyness/social awkwardness. But at the same time Austen makes no excuses for the fact that he is a bit of a tosser at times. He’s extremely and unjustifiably rude, not just to Elizabeth, but to a whole host of people and the company in general at the dance where they first meet and he refuses to even consider her. Sure, he’s masking his discomfort at interacting with people he doesn’t know, but there was no need to be such a collossal dick about it. Wickham’s lies succeed because Darcy’s chosen method of dealing with uncomfortable situations is to disdain everyone he doesn’t already know, which is pretty shitty. Not as shitty as Wickham, but shitty nonetheless.
Elizabeth doesn’t ‘change’ Darcy as some kind of moulding or bargaining chip for her love. She never makes any pretensions about wanting to change the men she refuses. She declares that Darcy as she has known him is not someone she could ever marry in no uncertain terms. Terms you do not use if you want to keep someone ‘on the hook’. Darcy grows up a bit because Elizabeth delivers some home truths, and Elizabeth does the same once she is better informed.
Consent and respect for each other’s rationality is at the heart of their relationship. Learning more about each other and being able to recognise their own flaws and do something about it is what allows them to make the relationship work.
This is a sad day. My heart goes out to all the Indigenous peoples who are hurt by these results. This is just gross. Right wing fearmongering, vile racism, and bold ignorance have won today. Check in on people. Comfort each other. Remember we are a community and we’ll continue fighting as a community for better outcomes and more say and self determination from Indigenous people.
And for those who need it there’s the Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander crisis support line 13YARN on 13 92 76
what’s the first “cinematic equivalent to taking a roundhouse kick directly to the sternum” childhood movie experience you remember having? (If you reblog tell me the year you were born in the tags!!)
hopping on here to say that the number of people tagging things “why is [x movie] even FOR kids?????” thoroughly depresses me and I ask you to remember that children’s media is for ALL children, including those who have experienced trauma, because they deserve to feel seen and validated by movies and books that depict similar experiences!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Netflix just released the full 358-Page Multimedia Art Of Book For ‘Nimona’ and its free and online and right here, so if you’re an artist who really likes the style or just a fan who cannot stop obsessing with it go check it out its really cool
Here are some of my favorite parts of it:
And theres so much more, please go check it out it is very much worth your time
