The blog is called random rants and ramblings and yet there has been a lack of that here as of late. Never fear. Let the rambling rant ensue...
I am in the middle of a series of fictional novels (a form of reading I am rarely into) based on Jane Austins character of Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. A character that lets be honest I have come to love. Though at first I would have to join Elizabeth Bennet and later Bridget Jones in my initial dislike of Mr. Darcy, I have succumb to the pull of his reserved charm.
This is perhaps why I was willing to pick up this fictional look at his side of the story. Seeking to in someway understand this guarded man of mystery perhaps just a bit better. I was captured by the first book from page one. The second took more effort on my part, a willingness to let go of the story I know and leave the beaten path following Mr. Darcy's story on a rabbit trail of sorts. My hope of knowing his character better allowed me to stay with the book when normally I would have set it aside for another.
The thing is, while I am enjoying the delve into the back story and the chance to gain some understanding of this brooding man, I find myself frustrated that the books are authored not by a male but by one of my own sex.
Why should it matter? I know it's only a book, that he is merely a character created in fact by one of the female persuasion. I think it is the idea that somewhere within my own female psyche I want Mr. Darcy to exist, maybe I even believe he does. In that Prince Charming sort of way. I know that I am not alone in this, if I was Bridget Jones would have never made it, nor would Jane Austins beautiful story. The reason those stories have captured the female following it has is not because of their leading ladies alone. We watch and read them again and again because somewhere deep down we have allowed Mr. Darcy to become our Prince Charming and we want him to exist, just as little girls dream of their Prince, we dream of finding our Mr. Darcy.
So I/we pick up these new tales of Mr. Darcy not only in hopes of discovering more about our fictional crush, but with the hope of discovering the key to finding and then understanding our own brooding man.x
We want answers, insight into the male mind. we want to know why he acts as he does, what our response should be to his every move and glance. Does it mean something, or is he just constipated or perhaps he has gas.
This is why I find myself enjoying the books but not satisfied. Because while I feel they do much for the fictional depth of Mr. Darcy's character, they are still written by a woman. They in reality offer no insight into my understanding of the Mr. Darcy I am hoping for or dreaming of. They are only a woman's opinion on what could be, the author has only put in writing what we hope for, nothing more. In a way she has just taken my own mild obsession with Mr. Darcy a step or leap farther, creating more of the man we wish existed.
For those of you who are now worried about my sanity, rest assured that I do not believe that Mr. Darcy exists or that he will walk into Coffee Cat and look down his nose at those he finds to be odd or idle. If this series can be any use in reality it's authorship has proven to me once again that Mr. Darcy is nothing more than a grown up version of the fairytale Prince of my childhood.