If Only We Had Some Aquaintances in Bath, We Could Find You A Dance Partner

Now, of course you have been watching the Complete Jane Austen Masterpiece Theater Series every Sunday night! Now you can knit the Jane Austen doll, but you have to scroll down a lot to see a picture.

True, Jane Austen didn't knit. Knitting was a production job early on in the industrial revolution, not a fine arts job. Jane's posse was into embroidery, and since they did not have Project Runway to break up the monotony, many days were spent in what was really the precursor to the stich n bitch, sewing away in the sitting room with your impoverished cousin and your charming governess.

This is the first time I'm seeing these movie-tized versions of the books. I did take a year long Jane Austen course in college where we read the novels, both finished and unfinished, and the related biographies and errata. That was a swell class, largely because of my fascination with a classmate who kept her Camel cigarettes in a Band-Aid tin, and who had an elaborate tamping and flicking routine every time she lit up in class.

And while I haven't joined any Jane Austen knitalongs, because, well, Jane Austen didn't knit, I have been reciting my favorite Jane Austen line whenever I can, and which I used as the title for this post. It is the plaintive bleat of the country squire in the big city, but I think it would make a fine Ramones song.