My feelings as I read through this novel during the first few days of 2014 can be described in 3 stages. First is anger and frustration. Yes, I was angry at and frustrated with Emma, she of the flawed character who simply has to mess with everybody else's lives. Apparently, Emma has taken it upon herself to do all the matchmaking among people who matter in Highbury. It doesn't matter that her success rate is just 1 so far. In this day and age, she's be labeled as a manipulative and meddling b****.
So yes, I was angry, and, yes, I was frustrated. And my frustration is directed toward all the people who play along with her, specifically Harriet who foregoes the love of a certain Robert Martin in favor of someone that Emma likes. Why? Because, as per Emma, Martin is just too poor a match for her dear Harriet, who is clearly smitten with Martin and is thrilled at his marriage proposal. Kill me now.
|Angry enough to bite the book|
I was confused with Emma as well. Why does she have to appoint herself as the matchmaker of Highbury? It just doesn't add up! If she were being paid to do so, now that would one hell of a motivation. But clearly she just wants to poke her nose in people's asses.
I'm confused with the "weighty" issues they discuss in Emma. It really is important to talk about, and at length at that, how beautiful one's handwriting is and how one person's handwriting appears so much stronger than the other. Oh, and of course it would be a dilemma to find out that there would be 9 guests instead of just 8, which they originally planned. That truly is a problem that needs to be resolved in at least 2 pages. I scratch my head in wonder.
|A bit pacified but confused|
Still, I am happy that I finished Emma, even though it didn't offer any motivation to read more Austen novels. Pride and Prejudice? Thanks, but I'll just watch the movie again. And that Darcy—that's someone I also couldn't understand.
|A smile of relief|
- You love flawed heroines.
- You'll read anything that has female characters wearing corsets.
- You love a comedy of errors, of sorts.