The Jane In All of Us.

I just finished watching Becoming Jane and I am honestly touched. Luckily, I was warned that it was very sad so it didn't catch my unaware. I think for any woman who puts pen to paper and tries to capture some sliver of how she sees the world it is a lonely and frustrating task. I know I'm not alone in admiring Ms. Austen's work. Her books speak to so many of us about hopes, and dreams, and love. I chose a Mr. Knightley despite spending most of my teenage years swooning for Mr. Darcy. We all, I fear, know Mr. Wickhams and Mr. Willoughbys. Beyond the romances, we saw ourselves in the Misses Dashwood and Bennet, and consequently the lady writer herself. One can't help but wish that Jane had been able to keep her love, but would the stories she wrote for us have been half as good? Sue Grafton said in an interview once, "No one with a happy childhood amounts to anything in this world . . . That's the drive, the angst, the passion to accomplish." I think this is as true of Jane Austen as it is of any great writer. Bless you, Jane, wherever you are.