The only thing I like more than consuming media is irreparably spoiling it for myself by overthinking.
With this in mind, I’m embarking upon a new challenge, what with my recent thoughts about nostalgia and taking novels too personally: I’m going to read the books I loved most as a teenager and see how my perceptions of them are altered by reading them as an adult. This is potentially due to the quarter life crisis that’s brewing within me (and won’t that be fun when the wave eventually breaks?).
Continue reading “New Series: Teenage Rereading”
Let me preface this by saying that I really like Jane Austen. I have enormous affection for many of her characters and I respect her for being a clever, shrewd lady novelist at a time when being a smart girl probably wasn’t the best thing to be.
Having said that, I do sometimes get the feeling that Jane Austen would be the friend on a night out who insists you switch to water after 1am. I feel like she’d say something like “we have toast at home” if you tried to buy a kebab on the way back from said excursion. Basically, I feel like Jane Austen is trying to make me behave, and I don’t like it. Continue reading “Jane Austen, Designated Driver”