Emma

Emma is a book I have mixed feelings about. It's an enjoyable read, it's well-written, it's elegant. However, I also really hate Emma Woodhouse. I've read it a couple of times-- I wrote about Emma for my extended essay, even-- and I just can't get over it. This time, before I started reading, I thought, "It's been a few years since I've read it. Maybe I just wasn't mature enough to appreciate her." But if that's the problem, I'm still not mature enough. I sat reading it in Shakespeare and Company in Paris-- an exotic location to read the book, indeed-- and I got so upset with and angry at Emma that I had to get up and walk around the city for a few hours before I could even start reading the book again.

Emma is, to my mind, about as repulsive as a character in one of Austen's books could be.

Hooray! A summary!