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epitome of incomprehensibility
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When I was about ten, my friend Julia teased me because I saw a movie case of this on her mother's desk and asked, "What's Pride and Predi-juice?" It just seemed like it should be pronounced with juice in it.
When I was fifteen, I read the book for the first time. Reluctantly, at first. Back then, I mostly read books aimed at teenagers, with few exceptions: The_Lord_of_the_Rings, yes, and a couple of historical romances...Janette Oke with her cozy, rural Christian schtick, but also a "dirtier" one about David and Bathsheba snuck from my mom's bookshelf. But the Jane_Austen novel was boringly romantic, I feared, with complicated old-fashioned language.
And then...no. The dialogue was funny. The characters, lively. Scenes moved quickly along.
Plus, it seemed fitting that I would read a "grown-up" book the year I got to go to the artsy school downtown. I was in grade ten then. Practically an adult!
(A proud AND prejudiced take, but the change in schools did mark a sort of transition, an increase in independence. In retrospect, it feels like I became a teenager then and remained one until age 22; 23 was when I became an adult, more or less. Elizabeth is 20-21 in this book, and she's ready to get married at the end of it.)
About the book - my cool take is that Mr. Bennett is overrated. Sure, he's funny, but he's just as irresponsible a parent as his wife, in his own way. Elizabeth *would* be prejudiced towards him, as she's somewhat of a favourite with him, and it makes sense that he'd relate to a child that shares more of his personality and interests, but it's mean of him to dismiss her younger sisters as "silly" without him taking many pains to educate them. Even, hell, just getting to know them.
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