Heroine Chic

When looking at the history of chick lit, I believe that its origins can be traced back to one of the most illustrious authors in all of literature: Jane Austen. Sure, novels like Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility are usually classified as classic literature, but they could easily be put in the romance novel section of Barnes and Noble. Just look at the similarities: Jane Austen's heroines are intelligent women who are unlucky in love - and they always end up with the guy of their dreams at the end of the story. What sets that apart from your average piece of chick lit? Not much, I daresay. I am a self-proclaimed Jane Austen freak, myself. I've read most of the books and watched the Keira Knightley version of Pride and Prejudice at least 10 times. So when I walked past an Austen display in Borders one day, I had to take a look. Lo and behold, the shelves were filled with all of the classics - but an unfamiliar cover caught my eye. It was the cover Me and Mr. Darcy, an obvious homage to Jane Austen's most famous male character, Fitzwilliam Darcy. As a Mr. Darcy admirer, I knew I had to read the novel no matter what the story was. Little did I know that I was about to be ridiculed as a Jane Austen aficionado.

The story follows the journey of Emily Albright, a 29-year-old singleton and New York City bookstore manager. Her love life is little to speak of as the book opens on one of her nightmarish first dates. Emily is understandably unhappy with the date, but then proceeds to compare this poor man, in addition to the other poor men she's dated, to the Jane Austen creation Fitzwilliam Darcy. Mr. Darcy is everything she could want - brooding, handsome, intelligent, and insurmountably rich. Emily has the unfortunate habit of comparing her unsuspecting dates to the fictional perfection of Mr. Darcy. While I would agree that Austen's character is the pinnacle of man, this is the first mistake that Me and Mr. Darcy commits - making Austen lovers out to be crazed romantics.

So here's Emily, in her lonely life, dreaming about Mr. Darcy while working in the small bookstore, when a woman comes in and tells her about this fabulous Jane Austen tour of the English countryside. Not having any other plans for New Year's, Emily figures this is the perfect way to live out her fantasy, so she signs up. Here lies the first real portrayal of an Austen devotee, because I would totally go on a literature tour of England. Does that make me a tool? Perhaps, but at least I am an honest tool.

Chaos ensues the moment Emily steps on the bus and realizes she is about to spend a week touring with a bevy of old ladies. But then the tour group gets even worse when journalist Spike Hargreaves enters with a mission to find out just what is so great about this Mr. Darcy. The enmity between them is immediately reminiscent of the hatred between Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy - especially when Emily overhears the writer insulting her on the phone. No matter what Emily encounters on the trip, we know that she is going to end up with Spike in the end. This provides an air of predictability that I found to be rather unsatisfying.

The one surprise in the novel was the exact way in which Mr. Darcy is introduced into the plot. While touring Jane Austen's countryside house, Emily gets lost and actually encounters Darcy - as in the 19th-century Mr. Darcy - as in the fictional character Fitzwilliam Darcy. It seems that Emily's loneliness has finally put her into a state of delusion. Emily starts looking for Darcy everywhere she goes, convinced that he is real. They even go on a moonlit horseback ride. Gag me. All in all, Me and Mr. Darcy is an unsavory mix of predictability and stereotypes of the typical Jane Austen fan. I should have turned on Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time instead of wasting my hours on this cheap imitation. C