Posted on Sunday, 16 December 2001
The first time I was introduced to the world of Austen was when Jimmy started banging on me until the sun rose.
I am her keyboard. I figured the explanation was necessary for the sewer-driven section of DWG. And, for those more tactful but still outraged by my previous statement, which, by the way, I stand by with all my ... plasticity.
Until Jane Austen entered her life (Jimmy is a she, by the way) I was living a rather dull existence. I mean, surfing the Internet is fun and all, and I certainly got the rollicks with some of the bizarre web pages she visited, but since I am not the screen, I could never fully derive the visual pleasure of the Net.
And we won't speak about the hard drive. Yeessh, you'd think with all the data it managed to hoard over the years, it'd be happy by now, but no, whine, whine, whine. More more more. Feed me, Seymour! You get the idea. Anyway, I tend to stick to my agenda, never mind what the other parts are doing. I will admit I am pretty friendly with the mouse, after all we're neighbors and he really is a witty, hardworking fellow. He is also a sturdy sort of chap, gets pushed around but still manages to do his job properly, nothing like the CD drive let me tell you.
And then there's the Zip ... thing Jimmy insists on having. It's loud, cantankerous, but I gather from the conversations I've had with the hard drive, unfortunately necessary.
Going back to the topic at hand (figuratively) it was when Jane Austen came across her path that Jimmy really started to get interested in me. From what I recall she has always admired the author, but was abused rather heavily for her preferences in literature during her time in the world of Academia. One faction thought her too lightweight, the other that Jane Austen was too arcane, not to mention British.
Well, she lived nearly two centuries ago, give the woman a break!
And I, for one, am more than willing to be partial with Lady Austen. Until Jimmy discovered Pemberley, she wrote by hand. I mean mounds, and mounds, boxes of notebooks filled with stories I will never get to type out. Did I say she wrote in pencil?
Can you fathom that? While I just sat there, covered by that shroud of dust protector, she wrote by hand. I used to watch jealously, I mean ... what does a pencil have over me? Stupid thing would snap half the time or smudge in the instant something brushed over the writing. I remember there were couple of instances when Jimmy had to dig out parts of the lead from her hands because she poked herself with the pencil while thinking or doing something else equally distracting. Unfortunately, it doesn't take much to distract my owner. Something she won't admit, but I can with clear conscience.
Her obsession with Austen started small. But then, don't they always? Anyhow, she would visit various links and lists, read fanfiction, read the library and the facts, the more trivial, the better. Then ... oh, then, she would start writing on her own, posting replies to questions. Let me tell you, those initial moments were unadulterated bliss. I thought I would never get enough of them. And I was right.
Jimmy started doing funky things with the hard drive, something called macros. It sounds dire, I know, but I benefited greatly because it meant she had to utilize me even more than usual, and really, it isn't bad after one gets the hang of it. After a year, that dust protector went to the trash. Ta! I could have danced a jig when I saw her roll it up and throw the dreadful thing away.
Then the stories came. No more lurking about. Jimmy decided to come out of the proverbial shadow and come hell or high water, she'd post something. And damn me, but she did, faithfully too. For years.
One has to wonder, or at least I do, why this loyalty? In a world designed to inspire transition and flagrant disrespect of the old?
I wish I could tell you, but again, since I am not the screen, I haven't a clue. I never read a single Jane Austen story during my entire existence. All I can say is that the screen squeaks with pleasure every time Jimmy pulls up an Austen story from the Net. I've tried to bribe it to read some passages, and it has, especially The Letter, but that's about it.
Frustrating existence this is.
Anyway, I decided to come out of the shadow and thank The Lady for my existence, literally. Without her, I'd probably be smothered to death by that cover and bored out of my wits while the screen, the hard drive, even that bloody zip drive would have the time of their lives.
So, Jane Austen may not be to everyone's liking, but she has a faithful admirer in myself. Always. Forever.
Happy Birthday, Lady Austen.