Mention the words “English Major” and a pretty clear picture pops into most minds. The sad sack spinster in her ill-fitting holiday sweater, orthopedic shoes and stringy hair in a top-knot sitting at home on a Saturday curled up on her couch surrounded by cats, clutching the same tattered copy of the same Jane Austin novel she’s been reading since puberty.
My experience has taught me that most of us bibliophile girls are nothing like the stereotype. The women in my English department were strong funny vibrant women with interesting careers and more often than not, killer haircuts. BUT. The whole Jane Austin thing. That’s alive a well.
Ok, confession time again. I don’t really get the whole Jane Austin obsession. Maybe it’s because I didn’t read her when I was in my dreamy teenage years so the fantasy of the English country side is lost on me. Maybe because by the time I did read her it was in graduate school and I had already spent my youth mooning over Leonardo Dicaprio, Gavin Rossdale, and Johnny Depp - real tough guys that made Mr. Darcy seem like less of a rugged misunderstood gentlemen and more like a presumptuous prick.
Whatever the reason, I spent a good portion of my time in graduate school confused about 1 – the assumption that every female had read and LOVED Pride and Prejudice and 2 – that people could work an Austin novel into any conversation. Seriously. One girl, I swear in the 3 classes we had together managed to mention an Austin novel in every class meeting. Even when we were talking about the Marxist aspects of The Great Gatsby, she managed to make a reference to Mr. Darcy.
So, when I heard about Pride and Prejudice and Zombies I was intrigued. Not only because I have newly embraced the fact that I am a bit of a sci-fi geek, but the thought that someone would tamper with such a beloved story like this – well that just appealed to my rebellious thumb my nose at society side.
Really, the one word that comes to mind about this book is ridiculous. Everything about it is just so… ridiculous. From the thought of England ravished by a plague that turns its victims into zombies to the exasperated flittering of Mrs. Bennet, to the frequent Ball jokes. Yes. I said ball jokes. The double entendre is abundant throughout with even Elizabeth stating that, “a summer with so few balls would be miserable indeed for a girl who thinks of little else.” I mean, come on… who imagines ball jokes in a Jane Austin novel?!
Most people know the basic plot, if not from reading Pride and Prejudice, then from watching one of the zillion movie adaptations out there, so I won’t spend time there. But, as much as I know I am bringing down the wrath of the entire literary establishment on myself, I have to admit that I like this version better.
Seth Grahame Smith highlights all that is ridiculous in the world of the original story; the feverish need to marry off daughters, the social structure of 19th century England, and all the arbitrary rules of gender and class. He pokes holes straight through the core of what makes people love the original and creates a social commentary about our own world at the same time.
He does all this with a self-aware sense of humor that I can’t help but love. There is even a “Readers Guide” with questions like, “Does Mrs. Bennet have a single redeeming quality?” and he then posits the theory that “Some critics have suggested that the zombies represent the author’s views towards marriage – an endless curse that sucks the life out of you and just won’t die.” and asks the reader to agree or disagree. Come on, how can you not crack a smile at that?
So. To my fellow English majors, and anyone else really, I say give this book a shot. But read it with your sense of humor well within reach and your tongue firmly implanted in your cheek. Otherwise your delicate constitution might be disturbed when your beloved Darcy tells Elizabeth that he, “[finds]that balls are much more enjoyable when they cease to remain private.”
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