On a whim, I bought Pride and Prejudice at Barnes and Noble about a month ago. I suppose I did so in response to a sudden urge to become more well-versed in the classics. I had always heard reports of how amazing this book is and enjoyed the movies portraying the work, so I figured it was safe to invest 10 bucks in checking out the writing for myself.
As is often the case for me when reading, I experienced a slow start in my relationship with the story. A chapter here...a few days passed...a chapter there...a week expired...another chapter covered. You know, a half-hearted, I-think-I-should-at-least-work-at-this sort of reading habit. Not that the book was boring at the beginning, but my heart wasn't invested and my time was often cramped.
Then, suddenly, something changed. At some point, I was not just hooked on the book, I was mesmerized. I found the language captivating, the story enthralling, and the characters so very real. The relationship woes of folks in 1813 apparently mirror relationship issues of today. How incredible!, I would think to myself as I read the sentiments that Jane and Elizabeth Bennet felt that so reflected my own thoughts on many occasions.
As I wound myself through the story, the character of Mr. Darcy became continually more attractive to me. No doubt, the number of papers and books penned on the subject of Mr. Darcy's character are numerous and my discoveries not as novel as they seem to me. But, I must divulge.
Mr. Darcy, I decided, is the supreme example of a romantic man. He does not use flowery words. No, in fact, he is a bit stilted socially. He does not attempt nor bother to woe women with gifts, flattery, or constant attention. Yet, he is a supremely attractive man because of his character and because of what he sacrifices for Elizabeth. As I read of his extraordinary love toward Elizabeth shown in his remarkable kindness toward her (though she was not at all deserving of his kindness), I found that his actions resonated with my heart in ways I have never before experienced while reading fiction.
While I basked in the refreshing balm this book poured on my feminine soul, I suddenly realized that the reason Darcy's actions seemed pristine was that they were a picture of Christ's love for His bride, the church. Christ sacrificed much for his undeserving bride just as Darcy sacrificed much for undeserving Elizabeth Bennet. Obviously, nothing can truly compare to Christ's sacrifice, but the analogy was poignant in my mind.
I marvel at how "all truth is God's truth". I believe that when any author, artist, playwright, composer, etc. hits on a profound truth, the human heart sings in response. Jane Austen hit on a profound truth of what romance was created to be and how that picture of romance is supposed to reflect the picture of Christ's love and sacrifice for the church.
Wow. That's it. That's how I feel about this book and its story. No recommendation to read the book is necessary at this point. How more obvious could I be that it is a tale worth your time?
