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The Characters
Courtney
No one, including myself, can begin to calculate how many hours I’ve fantasized myself into one of those quiet Austenian drawing rooms pretending to do needlework while a hottie in skintight trousers sent me meaningful glances from across the room. I’ve read Pride and Prejudice at least twenty times, and Austen’s other five major novels at least a dozen times. I’ve watched my two-DVD set of the BBC’s P&P so many times I could practically act it out end to end, all five hours of it. Sometimes, and especially lately, the only thing that makes sense in my world is Jane Austen.
Could all those viewings, combined with all those re-readings, have resulted in my finding myself living someone else’s life, in someone else’s body, in, of all places, Jane Austen’s England?


