Tag: people

Persuasion

When it comes to classic novels, it’s a love or hate relationship. There’s no in-between, no neutrality. At least that’s what I thought.

I bought Persuasion by Jane Austen about a year and a half ago. But I let it rest in my cupboard for a good few months before attempting it. When I did, it took me a long enough to get through just half-way. I admit, it was slow. But I didn’t want to give up.
People had said wonderful things to me about Austen and her Persuasion. And I wanted to see what they saw in her books.

I spoke to a well-read friend, and she mentioned she didn’t like classics like Persuasion. I felt like I had hit a speed bump. Just when I worried that I was the only one doubtful of the book, here was another who was brave enough to admit it. It was reassuring to know that I wasn’t the only one struggling to love Austen.

Not long afterwards, life drifted by, and so did the book. Until a few weeks ago when I decided to finish the goddamn book. Closure is a powerful motivator.
I finished the book in three days and it changed my opinion about Austen and Persuasion. Also, I understood why people had conflicting views about her books.

I liked Persuasion.

The story was great. Anne Elliot’s character is relatable — she isn’t just a pretty face. She hats everything about her false and two-faced society. The small talk, the vain parties—she struggles to get through them on a daily basis. That’s most of today’s women. And Austen wrote this story almost a century ago. That’s the beauty of it, that it holds true even after such a long time. I love how Austen portrays social conventions — how Mr Elliot entertains his rich cousin Lady Dalrymple despite being in weak terms. He worries that Lady Dalrymple hadn’t sent her condolences for his wife’s death (thereby ending ties) only because he hadn’t sent his condolences for the viscount’s death. He wonders how to revive the relationship.

“How to have this anxious business set to rights, and be admitted as cousins again, was the question: and it was a question which, in a more rational manner, neither Lady Russel nor Mr. Elliot thought unimportant.”

“Family connexions were always worth preserving, good company always worth seeking.”

He seeks to trumpet their relationship because of the Lady’s wealth, and not because he cares—that’s the reality of the present society too.

The story was great. But the writing was old. The narrative comprises lengthy sentences, archaic spelling, paragraphs of reported speech, and plenty of passives. Persuasion isn’t for the modern reader. It’s not for the 21st century youth with fleeting memories, and attention spans that span less than a goldfish’s. It’s not for the internet surfer, the scroll-addict, or the lover of the feed.

Persuasion is a classic. It’s for those who read for the pleasure of reading. It’s for those who look below the narrative layer and seek the symbolism in the prose. Complex sentences display the complexity of Austen’s society. Reported speech shows how other characters influence Anne; the words, the thoughts aren’t hers. Weird spellings reveal how outdated the society’s mindset is, even for the 19th century — a mindset that lives even today.

That’s how beautiful the story is. It goes beyond the plot in the page. It takes the reader into the English society that Anne lives in, explaining both in words and in symbols, how others influence our thoughts, our decisions, and the way we live our lives. The book is a truth serum that mirrors our own modern life that isn’t much different from Anne’s.

Bits of paper

Approaching the counter at the same time, both men gestured the other to go ahead. After a brief hesitance, the shorter took the offer. Middle-aged and suited, he smiled with ease—unperturbed by jet lag. His shoes glossy, walk steady, and stance authoritative, he nodded to the woman who smiled, handing him his US passport.

The taller man was suited, too—a corporate passenger attending an event. He appeared younger than the other, but with shoes as shiny and a walk just as confident. With a curt smile, “Please scan your bag.” the woman said before returning his middle eastern passport.

Time to manage

She walked to work feeling excited. She had woken up ten minutes earlier than usual and, to her surprise, didn’t feel tired at all. It’s going to be a good Thursday, she thought walking through the glass doors at her workplace. And if turns out lousy, the weekend’s not far away, her mind assured her.

Taking her place, she looked at the empty seats around her. It was 9 in the morning. She had about an hour before people trudged in.

Taking a deep breath, she fired Safari up. It opened all the tabs she had been working on before shutting down the previous evening. And the first one that looked back at her: Facebook. Instagram was just nearby.

She glanced at her phone. It was 9.05 am. Perfect. She had plenty of time to get some work done early—before the distractions walked in. Perhaps she could leave office early, too, and read that book she had been putting off for more than a while now.

Excited, she was about to turn back to her laptop when she noticed that the wallpaper on her phone seemed boring. Of course, she hadn’t changed it in over a two months. Well, how long could it take?

She flipped through the photos on her phone, and finding nothing worthy of a wallpaper, turned back to her laptop and opened a new tab: mobile wallpapers.

It took a while but she managed to find a perfect fit. Having set the new wallpaper, she was ready to go back to her work email. Facebook was still open, and so was Instagram. She flipped through her feed in record speed, just to catch the latest news from friends. Masha was getting married, Dave Jones had a baby boy (“Name him Davey!”), Trisha was pregnant again, and Joanna had got a new job in Paris. Wow, she wondered scrolling down. It was nice to see the gang succeed.

She kept scrolling until a video made her stop. “How to make the world’s best chocolate chip cookies—as told by Monica.” She smiled to herself. That’s a clever headline, her marketing brain whispered. Good tactic, recalling the beloved Friends character. The title worked on her too; she watched the ten-minute video even though she doesn’t bake. Sighing and craving chocolate, she scrolled further before pausing again. A social-worker friend had posted a video of a non-profit organisation that trained speech-impaired children. Feeling like she owed it to the kids, she played the video. It was short—just a minute and a half. At the end of it, she wanted to bake chocolate chip cookies and share with those kids.

She looked at the phone again. The wallpaper was fine, but would become dull in a month. Perhaps she should try themed wallpapers each month, something fun, she thought—it was 9.45 am.

Now she panicked. The stragglers straggled in one by one. “Hey Bob,” she waved as he passed. “Morning,” she nodded at Priya. And seeing the boss right behind Priya, she looked down in a hurry. She didn’t want him to see her cheery face, for he’d call attention to it at the end-of-quarter meeting later in the day.

She sighed (9.49 am). It was almost time to prepare herself for the tasks of the day. But she didn’t want to. Looking back at the browser, she saw her Instagram full of notifications. Then she remembered she had posted a photo the previous night, and hadn’t seen the responses yet. It was 9.51 am but she still had time. She clicked on the heart.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Her teammate stood behind her cradling a cup in his hand. It was 10.33 am—his coffee time. “Hey,” she replied, her eyes drooping. “I was just reading this article—about successful time management.”

Life Without Meaning

Jason trudged home alone, head low, hands in his pockets. No one wondered where he was or where he went.

He wished he was slender as the others. Perhaps then he could match their pace as they paced in line. He was the biggest and oldest of fifteen children, and his parents hosted hundreds of relatives, seldom noticing his absence.

It was yet another of those days, and they had found sweet merriment without him. He went into his room and shut the door. He hated his existence. He wished he had been born human; being an ant seemed meaningless.