Years ago, I had taken into my to-do list to read every book Jane Austen wrote. Consider it due to my fascination to English life during her time, or my mere obsession to the mastery of language. I believe that pursuing this task had actually invoked my passion for language, consequently resulting in a persuasion of studies of language.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t been until two years ago (2010) that I have managed to purchase my very first copy of a Jane Austen book- Pride and Prejudice. It took me months to read it, I admit it unabashedly. It was slightly disappointing seeing I usually read novels, in mere hours. I blame it on my poor knowledge on the language- which has been improved I believe- but nevertheless said book had inspired me so. Being a school girl (despite being enrolled in University, I’m still 16 that time), the book managed to engross me in one of the most wonderful love stories I’ve ever read. I admit, this is not entirely reliable for I have only read a handful of books in my short seventeen years of living, but to me, it is enough for now. Pride and Prejudice will always be one of my favorite books of all time.
Weeks ago, I was in the bookstore in one of the branches of a well-known mall in the city looking for some new books (and their prices) to add on my wish-list. Imagine my excitement when I had seen this simple (and excellent) book entitled The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen by Syrie James. I do not know the author, but I had always fancied reading things about my inspiration. I purchased said book although I didn’t get around into reading it until a fortnight ago due to academic circumstances.
I was so engrossed in the story, I even thought that the editor’s foreword and after word, plus the book itself was not a work of fiction. Forgive me, but it was that good. I always fancied myself as an idealist, a sucker for romance but had a hint of realism. Everything in the book sounded so realistic, I was even on the verge of tears in some parts. It wasn’t until I reached the end of the book (the author’s note) that I had snapped out of my reverie. Everything written in a work of fictions with some exemptions.
While it is a work of fiction, James had managed to stay true to character (on Miss Austen’s relations and so forth), and I really do think she did quite a magnificent job into inventing her own characters based of the characters Jane Austen wrote in her novels. It pains me to think that Mr. Ashford is not real. I would have fancied someone quite handsome as he. Even if he was the poorest bloke in the world.
It pains me to think –more deeper this time- of Miss Austen’s untimely death. I know that the technology during her time was not as flourished as what we have right now. Still, it would have been better if she did manage to write her own memoir, published it, or it would have been better if she married for love, like Lizzy did. I used to think Miss Austen was Lizzy in so many ways. I wonder what would it be like to meet Miss Austen. It must be great! Someday, perhaps on the after life?
Over all, I think James’ job in telling this so-called lost memoirs of our beloved writer is not in naught. I believe that we are all suckers for love stories (yes, I do!), and while it is very heart breaking that Austen died (I couldn’t bare to revel more of the ending especially about Mr. Ashford), I think this is a very worth it book.
After all “Some things are best left to the imagination,” as told by Miss Austen herself in Syrie James “The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen”.
