BBC produced a 6 hour long version of Jane Austen's Emma which I just finished watching on PBS online. The last time I watched a 6 hour film was a few years ago when my mom and I stayed up late to finish Pride and Prejudice. I read most of the Austen novels in middle school and don't remember much of the stories except that they made me wistful and starry-eyed (and yes, the stories were all I cared about--not the language, or the social commentary, or the keen humor). The films have pretty much the same effect--just now, I went back to the part where Mr. Knightley finally confesses his love to Emma and watched the happy ending for a second time.

N reminded me a few days ago that Valentine's Day is coming up, and sent me something to read to "fight the onslaught of cynicism sure to come next weekend." It's probably true that I am more cynical than I used to be. But I'm not cynical about love. Love is great; God is love; God is everlasting; love will triumph. I'm just doubtful of my own ability to love anyone and anyone's ability to love me in a romantic context for longer than a few years at most. There are a lot of people in the world who are alone for this reason, or in marriages that are worse than being alone. This is simply a fact, like it is a fact that Jane Austen's books end at the wedding/honeymoon.

In short, I'm not going to spit on Valentine's Day or denounce love with bitter vile in my heart. I'm not going to emit angry hissing noises if couples in love cross my path. I'm just getting ready for my day of personal repentance and mourning--not very inappropriate on any day.