Ercassesanwi
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Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in the "Holly" journal:
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05:10 pm
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Nobody Likes a Handsome Prince
As promised, here is the companion essay to my beast-complex essays. I have written quite a few words in praise of literary beasts, such as the beast from "Beauty and the Beast," Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre, Cyrano de Bergerac, and the Phantom of the Opera. (See http://ercasse-ainince.livejournal.com/21800.html and http://ercasse-ainince.livejournal.com/34630.html.) Now I will comment on the beast's foil, his nemesis, the handsome prince.
Most beasts in general and each of the beasts I have mentioned in particular have their handsome-prince foils -- Mr. Rochester versus St. John Rivers, Cyrano versus Christian, the Phantom versus Raoul, and, of course, the beast versus the prince. At first, the handsome prince looks like a very attractive romantic prospect. He is young, handsome, dashing, admired and pursued by other women. He is the textbook-perfect model of romantically attractive manhood, the kind of man a Beauty, a Roxanne, a Christine is supposed to want. He is the happy ending to the fairy tale.
Or is he?
Note the "supposed to." Note the attitude of "this should be," the foregone conclusion that any woman, particularly an attractive one such as a fairy-tale princess, must want the prince, must even be destined for him. Doesn't she get a choice? Few of us know or have ever been told that the Grimm Brothers' Cinderella runs from the prince all three nights of the ball and that he gets her shoe only by spreading pitch on the stairs in an attempt to stop her flight. It takes a royal decree to get those two married. Old-school (read "non Disney") fairy tales are full of girls who aren't out looking for love but who end up catching a prince's eye anyway. Christine is enjoying her first night as opera prima donna, due to the tutelage of her angel of music, when Raoul decides to notice her, remember their childhood romance, steal into her dressing room, and take her to dinner. She refuses, thinking of her angel's displeasure, but Raoul won't hearken to her objections. St. John Rivers, too, though Jane is in love with Rochester, doesn't ask but rather demands Jane's hand in marriage, saying, "A missionary's wife you must -- shall be. You shall be mine: I claim you." When she persists in her refusal, knowing that she cannot be the wife he will require her to be, he tells her, "It is not me you deny, but God." Jane sees even St. John's beauty as a form of his tyranny, saying that to be what he wants of her is "as impossible as to mould [her] irregular features to his correct and classic pattern."
What the prince and often the audience fail to realize is that the prince's love for the maiden isn't always requited. His admiration doesn't obligate her to him. Her heart is hers to give, even if everyone else thinks she should give it to him, even if her family and friends are willing to sell her for money and a title. When the forces of parents and society and religion join to tell a woman that she must like a certain man, even if he is a prince, how can she help but feel manipulated and trapped? Is it any wonder if she succumbs to the allure of the forbidden and gets a crush on the dirty, sweaty blacksmith?
When we step back from the prince and the brilliance of his title, money, and popularity, what is so confounded attractive about him? He is a pretty boy. I know that pretty boys and metrosexuals are plastered all over present-day magazine covers and touted as the pinnacle of fashionable, sexually attractive manhood (again with society's telling women what to like). I know that I should allow for varying tastes among women. But can a pretty boy really do it for so many? So he's young, cute, (often) blond, bright eyed, smooth skinned. He sounds more like competition than a date to me. When I think of masculinity, I don't think of a pretty-boy handsome prince. I'll bet that blacksmith I mentioned earlier could easily take down our prince here and not even break a sweat (beyond that which he's worked up while pounding metal and building up those biceps). Even blind and maimed, Rochester could snap St. John's neck like a twig. The waifish Christine has to save Raoul twice from the Phantom's wrath. And Roxanne actually charges Cyrano with protecting Christian first from their allies among the cadets and then from their enemies in the war.
Yet despite the prince's general uselessness and utter lack of manliness, he is his own biggest fan. We can hardly wonder at his vanity, since everyone has always told him how cute, desirable, and extraordinary he is. He is Queen Mommy's darling, King Daddy's chip off the ol' block. Women fall all over him, even if he spends more time primping at his mirror than they. Sure, he can't arm wrestle the blacksmith, but he can order the palace guards to do it for him and then take all the credit. The prince is good at taking the credit for other people's work; after all, it's his due as royalty or as a pretty-boy heartthrob or as whatever characteristic he chooses for his entitlement complex. The rather dim-witted Christian sees no problem in claiming Cyrano's eloquence as his own in wooing Roxanne. St. John Rivers declares that God has destined Jane to be his bride.
The prince's vanity and sense of entitlement make it very difficult to believe that he truly loves. What, after all, does he see in his desired woman but a pretty face for the family portrait, another check mark on his list of accomplishments? As Disney's Gaston says, "[She's] the most beautiful girl in town. That makes her the best. And don't I deserve the best?" Prince Humperdinck, too, declares, "I want someone who is so beautiful that when you see her you say, 'Wow, that Humperdinck must be some kind of fella to have a wife like that.'" As to the prince types I have named in particular, Raoul doesn't even notice Christine until she is made prima donna by the Phantom and displayed on stage, whereupon he says, "What a change! You're really not a bit the gawkish girl that once you were." When Christian tries to express his love to Roxanne without Cyrano's help, his words are, "Your neck! I'd like to kiss it." True, St. John wants plain Jane, but he wants her for his great missions work. As he says, "It is not the insignificant private individual -- the mere man, with the man's selfish sense -- I wish to mate: it is the missionary," and "You are formed for labour, not for love." In his way, St. John sees Jane as a missionary's trophy wife.
If this vain, self-centered prince marries his lady, will he love her selflessly? Will he make her happy? Of course he chases the fleeing maiden, because she challenges his view of himself as irresistible. But once he catches her, will he take her for granted as he would any toy of which he tires once he comes to possess it? Unfortunately for this question, the stories usually end with the prince's marriage, and we don't get to see his married life. But beauty/beast/prince stories in which the beauty chooses the prince don't give particularly glowing impressions of the couple's wedded life. Christine tearfully gives back the Phantom's ring and sails off with Raoul, and then we know nothing of her life except that she leaves Raoul a widower. Roxanne marries Christian minutes before he is sent to war, visits his camp just in time to hold him as he dies, lives in mourning at a convent for years, then at last learns that it was Cyrano who wrote the letters that won her heart, just in time to watch Cyrano die. She laments, "I've loved only one man, and I've lost him twice."
"But Holly," I hear you my readers say, "You titled this essay 'Nobody Likes a Handsome Prince,' and so far you've expressed only your own opinions." Well, now I will demonstrate that other writers are joining my cause and sharing my antiprince, probeast sentiments. The primary works I will discuss in this arena are Into the Woods, Shrek and Shrek 2, The 10th Kingdom, and a ballet version of "Beauty and the Beast" that I haven't seen but of which I've been told.
The first time I heard of a work that overtly agrees that a beauty should love the beast was when an aunt told me about a ballet version of "Beauty and the Beast" in which the dancer playing the beast dances around in a hideous mask. At the end, instead of his shedding the mask to become a prince, the Beauty character dons a mask and becomes a beast herself. I was so thrilled. Very soon afterward, I saw Shrek and was again glad to see Princess Fiona transform into an ogre rather than Shrek transform into a handsome-prince type. Even better than the sympathetic portrayal of the ogre Shrek are the characterizations of Lord Farquaad in the first film and of Prince Charming in the second film. Then I saw a college performance of Into the Woods, and I couldn't have been more pleased with the portrayals of the annoying handsome princes. And even The 10th Kingdom's Prince Wendell, though he isn't a romantic interest, is a wonderfully vain, spoiled, self-centered, useless prince.
The Shrek films do an excellent job of satirizing the "this is the way things should be" attitude of the prince type. (Sadly, these films take up satirical arms also against all fairy tales, which the films seem to recognize only as the Disney versions.) Lord Farquaad is a control freak who runs his not yet kingdom of Duloc as the most despotic of micromanagers and expects his princess to be part of his vision. As he says, "I will have order! I will have perfection!" Fiona, too, as if she has Stockholm syndrome from her long imprisonment, is at first a slave to fairy-tale convention. She balks at Shrek and his unorthodox rescue, saying, "It's destiny. You must know how it goes" and then "This is all wrong. You're not supposed to be an ogre." Later, however, she seems to realize the ridiculousness of marrying someone she doesn't know or like simply because it's expected of her. Shrek 2 does an even better job with Prince Charming, who also declares destiny has chosen him for Fiona. When Fiona's father the king points out that one can't force people to fall in love, the Fairy Godmother (Prince Charming's mother) says, "I do it all the time." The Shrek films are all about debunking convention and defying expectations, especially about love.
These new takes on handsome princes also tend to agree with me on the prince's lack of manliness. Shrek's Lord Farquaad is laughably short and must endure the resulting jokes and all their connotations, including jokes about his huge castle's being in order to "compensate." Prince Charming from Shrek 2 is incredibly effeminate and immature, shown sporting a hair net and sparkly lip gloss. He whines petulantly and must rely on his mother to solve all his problems, even to do his hair for the ball. The two princes from Into the Woods have their ridiculous phobias, one of blood, the other of dwarfs. Prince Wendell from The 10th Kingdom is easily duped by the evil queen and turned into a dog, leaving others to rescue him, save his kingdom, and restore him to the throne and to his human form.
As for vanity and a sense of entitlement, these princes have them in spades. Lord Farquaad declares he and his kingdom are perfect and will hear no word to the contrary. He believes himself fully entitled to wed Princess Fiona, though he doesn't bother to rescue her himself. In Prince Charming's opening monologue to Shrek 2, he declares himself "the bravest and most handsome in all the land" as he tosses his hair for the camera. He, too, thinks himself entitled to Fiona without slaying the dragon or rescuing her. The princes from Into the Woods strut like peacocks for every female they see. Prince Wendell, even as a dog, thinks himself entitled to unquestioning obedience from the dimensional travelers who are in no way his subjects. He is supposed to have performed "prearranged acts of bravery" as a coronation requirement.
Each of the amorous princes has selfish motives for wanting his lady. Both Lord Farquaad and Prince Charming want Princess Fiona in order to become king. Farquaad is willing to use his marriage to be king while locking Fiona turned ogre back into her tower prison. The princes from Into the Woods want Cinderella and Rapunzel as long as these ladies are unattainable. Once they marry their ladies, they begin to pine for other beauties in need of rescue. As Cinderella's prince says, "I was raised to be charming, not sincere." And I don't think it's coincidence that the actor who plays this prince traditionally plays the wolf, with his double-entendred lines, as well. It seems these new princes, just as I've always said of the old ones, are not capable of the selfless love that a beast has for his Beauty.
So it looks like popular culture is starting to agree with me that a handsome prince is no real man, no true lover. And at least to some extent, beasts are gaining in popularity. I'm glad we as a culture are starting to come to our senses, but I'm afraid beasts may never be appreciated as they deserve. In fact, I'm sure they won't. That, in the end, is what makes them beasts, what makes them so very attractive to those of us who understand.
Current Mood: analytical
Tags: beast complex, beauty and the beast, cyrano de bergerac, fictitious men, jane eyre, literature, phantom of the opera
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11:54 am
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Beast Complex Revisited
It has been almost two years since I first posted about my Beast Complex, thereby enlightening the world as to why beasts make the best lovers and are infinitely to be preferred to handsome princes. It may be helpful to my readers to review the initial post at http://ercasse-ainince.livejournal.com/21800.html. For those too lazy to do so, I'll reiterate that I identified four literary beasts -- the beast from "Beauty and the Beast"; Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre; Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, from the musical named for him; and Cyrano de Bergerac from the play bearing his name. The beast qualities I identified are ugliness, masculinity, physical strength, and a love that is passionate, focused (on one beloved), faithful, and selfless.
In the intervening two years, I have ruminated over my intense reaction to beasts. It seems I have always felt this way. (I've noted before that all my education and literary training doesn't seem to change my opinions but only to augment my ability to express and defend them. Basically, one might say I have a BA in BS.) "Beauty and the Beast" has been my favorite fairy tale for as long as I can remember. I loved Erik and despised Raoul from my first hearing the Phantom soundtrack at eleven or twelve years old, long before I had any real romantic understanding. And Rochester is my number-one literary crush of all time. Even this entry at http://ercasse-ainince.livejournal.com/10674.html#cutid1, posted nearly a year before I first identified Beast Complex, shows the tendency was there before I realized it. What is it that resonates so between beasts and my soul?
To come nearer the answer to that question, I have begun to study the beast's beloved, his Beauty. After all, she, like me, loves and appreciates the beast. By studying her and seeing what she and I have in common, I may come to a fuller understanding of myself and my attraction to the beast.
Also, I have begun to look at some more recent takes on Beauties and beasts and handsome princes. I'm surprised and pleased to see that writers of various mediums are coming around to my view, exalting the beast and mocking the prince. These tidbits, however, I may save to post later under the title "Nobody Likes a Handsome Prince."
While contemplating Beast Complex one day, my muse pointed out to me one trend among beasts that I hadn't before noticed, that of luxury. When a Beauty enters the world of her beast, she is surrounded by luxury, often in stark contrast to the poverty of her former life. The fairy-tale beast lives in a beautiful palace with servants, invisible or otherwise, who grant Beauty's every wish and whim. Mr. Rochester's splendid residence at Thornfield Hall dazzles Jane. The Phantom's lair below the opera, though I've heard some disparage it as cluttered like an attic, is nevertheless rich and lavish, lit sumptuously with candles, hung with luxurious drapes. Just think of the carved-swan bed, with its brilliant spread and curtain canopy, where he lays the sleeping Christine. (For this luxury trend, we will have to excuse Cyrano. He is still a beast, but he doesn't fit the luxury mold.) ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) firebreatherjen had me read The Fire Rose by Mercedes Lackey, a more recent and less "literary" beauty-and-the-beast story. It, too, has the beastly Jason Cameron living in the lap of luxury, where he brings the scholarly Rose to aid him in his studies. These beasts' luxurious homes are in sharp contrast to their Beauties' former lives. The fairy-tale Beauty's father has lost his profitable shipping business and moved his family to a much smaller and plainer home. The orphan Jane Eyre comes to Thornfield from a charity school where she was first a student and then a teacher. The orphan Christine lives in the ballet dormitories of the Opera Populaire. Rose has just lost her father and her livelihood and has had to become a working girl. (Of course, we are leaving out the wealthy Roxanne, as we did her poor beast Cyrano.)
So what does luxury have to do with being a beast? What does it mean to the impoverished Beauty? Yes, a fortune makes the beast a better prospect, but that isn't the point. Beauty has never been mercenary in any of her incarnations. In fact, she is the least materialistic of the fairy-tale sisters, the others of whom ask their father to bring them expensive gifts while Beauty requests only a rose, and that only when pressed. Beauty is, in fact, quite selfless. The 1987 Beauty and the Beast film has Beauty say to her siblings, "Without you, I'd have all this lovely time just to devote to myself. Someday... someday." Her brother replies, "If you had time for yourself, Beauty, you wouldn't know what to do with it." Beauty asks, "I wouldn't?" He responds, "No, you're much too unselfish to enjoy it." He is, of course, dead wrong. And here we come to my newest epiphany concerning Beauty and the beast.
The beast, with his riches and, more importantly, with his intense devotion to Beauty, allows the selfless Beauty finally to receive rather than to give. The vivid contrast between Beauty's former life of poverty and her life in the beast's luxurious home is the visual realization of her translation from giver to receiver. To the unfailingly selfless Beauty, who has rarely been allowed anything for herself, entering this world of receiving is magical -- an enchanted castle in a forest, a candle-lit isle in an underground lake. Even Thornfield Hall, a mere mansion of no particular magical quality, is wonderful to the selfless Jane. Jane comes there looking for "A new servitude," saying "There is something in that. I know there is, because it does not sound too sweet. It is not like such words as Liberty, Excitement, Enjoyment: delightful sounds truly, but no more than sounds for me, and so hollow and fleeting that it is mere waste of time to listen to them. But Servitude! That must be a matter of fact. Any one may serve." And once Jane has lived at Thornfield, she says, "I love Thornfield: I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life [. . .]. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high." For Jane, Thornfield is magical solely because she has received there and nowhere else.
Of course, no selfless Beauty would presume, on entering a beast's home, that any of his luxuries are for her. The beast must give them to her. The Disney version has Belle shocked when the beast says, "I'll show you to your room." She thought she was to stay in the tower prison. In the fairy tale, Beauty finds a door clearly marked "Beauty's Room" behind which is a beautiful apartment filled with feminine luxuries that seem to have been selected specifically with her in mind. A note tells her "Here you are queen." Mercedes Lackey's Rose, too, is afforded a splendid apartment in Jason Cameron's mansion. Both Beauty and Rose are given lovely dresses to wear by their beasts. (Rochester offers Jane dresses and jewels and every luxury she can imagine, but the unreasonably prim Jane refuses to accept them.) And contrary to what the 1987 film brother says, Beauty is quite capable of enjoying all the beast's gifts, just as the beast is pleased to give them. His wealth has ceased to bring him joy in his loneliness, but now he finds joy in sharing it with his Beauty.
Still, it is certainly not only luxury that pleases Beauty about living with the beast. It isn't that she puts up with him because she gets to share in his wealth. The beast gives his Beauty not only his wealth (He is so wealthy that swamping her in luxury is no sacrifice.) but also his time, attention, and devotion. In his castle, in his heart, she is queen. Everything she says and does, every wish and dream she has is of utmost importance to him. More telling than the richness of his gifts is their aptness, how fitting they are for Beauty and for Beauty alone. She likes books; he gives her a library (in the fairy tale, too, not only in Disney). Christine dreams of a protecting angel of music; Erik becomes her angel. And even more important than gifts is time. Whereas before Beauty spends all of her time helping others, now she has time for herself. In the beast's world, there is only Queen Beauty and her loving beast. The only being who has contact with her is the one being who wishes only to serve her and please her. Think of what that means to Beauty. She cannot go against her selfless nature. She is compelled to serve those around her. Beauty's family, Jane's students, others' needs have always come first. What does Erik need? He needs Christine. What does Rochester need? He needs Jane. What does the beast need? He needs Beauty.
I hear some readers now hearkening back to the statement by Beauty's brother in the 1987 film that Beauty is too selfless to enjoy so much time to herself. I agree that a life spent in meaningless self-gratification would not be amenable to Beauty. But we must remember that she has the beast. In the beast's castle, Beauty has not only the pleasure of being queen but also the joy of knowing she is helping another. She is, in fact, the only thing that makes the beast's life worth living. Without her, he would die. (See my previous entry on Beast Complex for the fates of Erik, Rochester, and the beast without Christine, Jane, and Beauty respectively.) The selfless Beauty is in the glorious position of being able to accept all the wealth, time, and devotion the beast offers without suffering the slightest guilt. She knows that by accepting, she is only pleasing him. Her entire existence is pleasing to him. As Jane says of her relationship with Rochester, "There was no harassing restraint, no repressing of glee and vivacity with him; for with him I was at perfect ease, because I knew I suited him; all I said or did seemed either to console or revive him. Delightful consciousness! It brought life and light to my whole nature: in his presence I thoroughly lived, and he lived in mine."
In short, my newest epiphany concerning Beast Complex is that I love the beast because he allows me to be selfish. He turns the tables on me and my selflessness. (brukwurm says I have a scary definition of "selfless." She may be right.) As a teaser for the "Nobody Likes a Handsome Prince" post, I'll point out that no handsome prince can give the way a beast does. A handsome prince may have the money, but he has so many distractions and obligations that his princess can never be queen of his heart the way Beauty is queen of the beast's heart. No handsome prince's world of publicity and politics and duty can compare with the private world of love and devotion that is a beast's castle, a Phantom's underground island. We don't even have to bother posting a "Do Not Disturb" sign.
Tags: beast complex, beauty and the beast, cyrano de bergerac, fictitious men, jane eyre, literature, phantom of the opera
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02:02 pm
[Link] | ::Skips the usual "sorryIneverupdatenotmyfaultnohomeconnectionwishIweremotivated"::
So after a fabulous weekend at the Texas Renaissance Festival (Mer and I had decided to run away and follow the Ren Faire, sort of like joining the circus, only cooler), I came home and, within ten hours, had two flat tires. My front passenger-side tire burst about forty feet from my driveway. I had to go and get roommie supermer's cousin, who doesn't know me, from across the street to come help me change to my spare. I didn't know that I had a spare, but I did. I had a deposition in Clinton the next morning, and I was told I could make it on the spare if I got a new tire right afterward.
I didn't make it.
My spare burst on the highway, and I had to pull over and call tripleA and get towed to a tire place. Fun times.
But for some reason, my mood has dramatically improved since last week. I am really chipper today, notwithstanding the fact that I worked over twelve hours yesterday. (I had a deposition in Whiteville, two and half hours away. It started at 3:00 and finished at 6:30. I wasn't home until 9:00.) Today, however, I got off at noon. My inexplicable cheerfulness hasn't worn off.
I have pictures from the Texas Ren Fest (roommie's digital pictures). Can I post them here just from the CD, or do I have to get a website to host them? I don't know much about such matters.
And now, what you've all been waiting for: ( another of Holly's abstract musings! )
Tags: feminine, gender roles, literature, masculine
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05:07 pm
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Real people appreciate literature! Really!
But first, the dull, concrete stuff:
Went home this weekend for my little nephew Isaac's dedication. He was incredibly beautiful. One would never guess he has recently suffered a serious life/health-threatening injury. He is perfect: friendly, alert, responsive. He shouts now to get attention when we are distracted from his perfection. He is also a connoisseur (sp?) of pacifiers and will not take any but his favorite now-unfindable dollar-store type.
He seems to like for us to sing to him. I'm thrilled at that since, as he's too young yet to care to sit for long book readings, singing is the next best thing. He liked the strange, haunting songs I sang for him. I have wondered why I prefer to sing haunting little melodies ("Scarborough Fair," "Gypsy Rover")to babies rather than singing traditional, happier tunes. My best friend Marjorie says that she agrees and she thinks it may be an attempt on our part (Myers-Briggs Ns both) to make the child an N. I find that idea both amusing and convincing.
I'm doing more and harder jobs at work and liking it. Today I went to Greensboro for a would-be-all-day deposition. But there were only two witnesses instead of the four on the notice. I was back before 3:00. The deposing attorney today is just about the nicest man I've ever met. He's from Savannah, Georgia and a real Southern gentleman. He referred to me as "Miss Holly" several times, at least once on the record. He tried his best to make my job easy. He spelled any word he thought might be difficult (including a few I knew already). My crowning achievement was changing a tape without a hitch and then flinging my pen across the room. He stopped questioning, got up, and retrieved it before going on.
And now ( proof that real people appreciate literature )
Current Mood:  relaxed
Tags: family, literature, myers-briggs, snob
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01:22 am
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Parmaneri Literary Men
I will begin this post, as per Laura's request, with a short recounting of the medieval feast held in the dining hall this past Friday.
I spent an hour on my hair, putting most of it into two braided buns on the sides of my head with gold ribbon running around the braids (it may sound weird, but it's pretty) and leaving a long tail cross-wrapped with gold ribbon. I wore my blue and gold Renaissance Faire dress, at least two centuries too late for the theme but the best I could do.
There was a high table for the royalty and the court -- those professors who had chosen to dress up. We had a king and queen, a lord and lady of Meredith Wood, and several courtiers.
The food was wonderful. We had three-color soup (potato soup served with various purees one could add and stir in to color it), cheese, bread, chicken, nuts, figs, and apple dumplings all served with hot wassail. Our serving page sneaked us some contraband forks, but I wasn't about to cheat like that.
The entertainment was, for the most part, excellent. We had a medieval band, a chorus of virgins (a school choral group on whose collective chastity I won't presume to comment), a strange pseudo-feminist but interesting dance performance, a storyteller, and heavy fighters from SCA. The fighters were to select a lady for whose honor they would fight. The first declared, "Though I see many lovely ladies in this room, most of them appear to be over the ripe marital age of twelve." He fought for the honor of a cute little girl up front. After the feast, we had some dancing, with a lot of help from one of the band members who told us what to do.
The heavily advertised prizes for best costume and hair were given strangely. I was handed a card informing me I would "be called upon" for "finest frock at the festival." The king and queen summoned four ladies, including myself, and a gentleman, the husband of art professor Dr. Greenberg. He was not in costume. They held an applause contest to see who would win. They declared Abe Greenberg the winner and presented him with a trophy, golden dancing shoes, and a "slave girl" -- his wife. The rest of us got consolation prizes. Mine were soap, incense, and an incense burner. Note, these are illegal to have at Meredith. I am the RA's roommate. But I have nowhere to keep them except for beside my bed.
Several professors remarked to me that I was "gypped" out of my rightful prize. I thought that was funny. But Monday afternoon in my PR writing class, Dr. Duncan brought me a present for "Lady McGhin" from the English faculty as the prize they believed I should have received. It was a book of Irish lore and legends. That was really sweet of them.
I have been working like mad on my thesis research. I'm already behind. :(
And now, the long-awaited essay on topic #3
( Men of Literary Romance )
Tags: beast complex, cyrano de bergerac, emma, fictitious men, jane eyre, literature, phantom of the opera
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