Me (sticking head into E’s office): M. was wanting to envision me in the midst of a Jane Austen-y romance narrative, which was awfully dear and I adore her to bits for it, but casting me as a Jane Austen character just really doesn’t work, does it?

E: No. That’s not you at all. The options for the female characters are completely limiting.

Me: Exactly. I mean who on earth would I be? I’d end up being the weird, queer, impossible-to-unload sister, right? Think about it . . . if I were a Bennett sister, I’d get stuck being

E and Me (exclaiming simultaneously and laughing): Mary!!!

Me: That would totally suck.

E: It would. And that’s because it’s completely the wrong literary genre. You’re much more Bloomsbury. I could totally see casting you in a Virginia Woolf novel, for example.

Me: Yes. That’s much more like it, isn’t it?

See, that's the problem with movies! I loved Virginia Woolf but couldn't watch THE HOURS, because in my mind, Woolf is a queer Chicana!

Well Duh, you can't be JANE AUSTEN because I'm her.

But if you were Jane Austen then why on earth would you have to spend an entire evening moaning "Where oh where is my Mr. Darcy?" Couldn't you just go home and write him in? (I'm not arguing with you. I'm just curious.)

Dear it’s just like it is in dreams--the writer is ALL the characters and yet still the writer. I am in my own way, my own Mr. Darcy.

Ah, Lee, I would never restrict myself to female characters. Not that I'm a particularly wonderful male character. I'm Gatsby, spilling my shirts out over the bed. And I'm Gatsby, as Daisy and Tom talk intimately in their house near the book's end.

Point well taken, Emily, and in truth, I was imagining myself as Darcy for awhile -- particularly with respect to pride issues -- but ultimately my lack of material wealth/cultural entitlement made it difficult for me to relate to him, either.