The Great Romantic Binge

A have an embarrassing confession to make. I haven’t read a single Jane Austen novel. Ever. I have no logical explanation. It’s not that I don’t read romance. I do read romance, a lot of it. And it is certainly not that I have anything against 19th century English literature. I don’t. I love Dickens and Hardy. And I’ve read Jane Eyre three times, so it’s not anything against women writers of 19th century England, either. It’s a mystery and it shall remain a mystery but t least I am now familiar with the material after I binged watched every adaptation of an Austen novel I could find. Continue reading The Great Romantic Binge