Austen is like B-12, or a box of chocolates or a weekend at the beach. She is a restorative. She is a lady. She is a smart-ass. She is a Goddess.
Maybe it’s a girl thing, but sometimes when you feel rundown and out-of-sorts a good novel can set you right. Sometimes that means I need the fire in the belly that only Bernard Cornwell can give me. Sometimes it’s the wistful girlishness and sweeping vistas of Prince Edward Island only L. M. Montgomery can give me. Sometimes though, I need to believe there is order, propriety, manners, reason and beauty in the Universe, and only Jane Austen can give me that.
Whether I am cold as Emma, silly as Lydia or as timidly naive as Catherine, Austen is the remedy to bring me back in balance. Not just me either. Austen has come to the rescue of many men and women over the years. She is the remedy for modern culture and invoked in pop culture steadily. Austen’s star is still rising today, and we were to nominate candidates for apotheosis, she would top my list.