The town square is filled with over-sized, comfy black
cushions; double wide, red and yellow striped hammocks lazily strung on sleek,
wooden frames; large market umbrellas looming overhead; and shelves and shelves
of books. It’s Stadtlesen (city reads)
this weekend in Ingelheim on the Rhein and I think it’s ultra cool. Well, actually it’s ultra hot. 38 degrees hot. But, since I love books and I love the idea
of getting more people into reading (just got great guy hooked on the great
Margaret Lawrence!), I’m here, swaying in one of the ultra comfortable
hammocks, and I’m reading. And doing a
little people-watching.
A hot couple is snuggled up, sharing a book; a small boy is nestled into his mother,
listening intently to the story she’s reading to him; a few individuals are browsing
the shelves of new books available, at no-cost to peruse for the afternoon; and
a group of twenty-somethings are lounging in a cushiony circle, one reading aloud
first, then after some discussion the book is passed to the next, and the
reading and discussion continues. The
whole thing feels public, maybe a bit bohemian, but with a Parisian, salon atmosphere to it.
It suits perfectly that I am reading a decadent new novel, Death
Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James. It’s
a mysterious, almost campy, continuation of Jane Austen’s Pride and
Prejudice. The latter is one of my
favourite stories, by one of my fave authors, and I wouldn’t have touched an
attempted ‘sequel’ with a ten-foot pole except for the fact that it’s written
by another excellent storyteller. So, I’m
giving it a go, and am already very impressed and intrigued. The beloved characters, so familiar, are alive
and well, dancing around in my head. Elizabeth
and Mr. Darcy are a few years settled into their happy marriage and have two
small children. It is the eve of the
annual ball at Pemberley; everyone we know is invited, and then there’s a murder
(dun dun da).
I’m a fan of Elizabeth’s.
I think I would’ve liked her had I lived in 19th century
England and had she not been a fictional character. She is strong, yet feels deeply; she knows
who she is and what she believes in; she is optimistic, positive, utmost loyal
and stoic. She is kind, confident and
fragile, and absolutely unapologetic about where she comes from, nor where she
is now. She also just so happens to have
fallen for exactly the kind of man who I would fall for….capable and generous; an
incredibly loyal friend; strong-willed, yet a speaker of few words; clever and
silly; confident and yet not really; sensitive and moody; and of course sexy as
hell. Come to think of it, I have fallen
for such a man, once or twice...I think one happens to be at home right now.
Elizabeth handles stress with a calm, pull-up-your-bootstraps
attitude. She receives worrisome news and
gets to work bringing the house in order.
She adds logs to the fire so the room is warm and enveloping, and calls
for tea and cake. (Now why didn’t I
think of that a few days ago when I received worrying news from back home? I should’ve just eaten cake.) She is unflappable, yet speaks her mind. She is proud but treats others with respect
and fairness, demanding the same in return.
She is so cool.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been devouring stories, movies
and articles about strong, yet sensitive, positive women (Coco Chanel-brilliant and fascinating, Romy
Schneider-beautiful and dark, Queen Elizabeth-just surprising, Ann Romney-totally unexpected and in no way is this a Romney endorsement!) and the power of
positive-thinking and unwavering faith, to influence your life, your health and your relationships.
As I lie in the hammock reading under the blazing sun, I can picture
Elizabeth reading too, out on the great lawn amid the rolling English
countryside. Perhaps she holds a white
parasol in one hand and a book of poetry in the other. Mr. Darcy comes striding purposefully to her
side, plants a gentle kiss on her cheek and sits down next her. She starts reading aloud to him as he listens
contently. And, as long as there are no
more murders, I think they will live happily ever after.
