The Gilmore Book Club

 How Literature Can Show You What To Look For In Your Soul Mate

What do Disney movies and Jane Austen have in common? (and I should clarify that we’re talking Disney movies before the twenty-first century). Both end with the creation of a couple.   

When I was young, Disney movies were a huge source of information on this topic. In that time, for every Disney Princess, there must be a handsome prince. Who would you choose? If you’re Rory Gilmore, you would have chosen Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty, because as Dean knows from his sisters, Prince Phillip can dance, and that’s a point for the plus column of the romantic pro and con list. Beast from Beauty and the Beast gets points for his learn-to-love character arc and major points for his epic library (which seems more like the guy Rory would pick to me. However, I do remember liking Phoebus from The Hunchback of Notre Dame too (definitely the movie, not the book- he is not a good guy in the book). I liked his hair, mostly because he clearly had strands of hair, and all the other princes had one big blob. But more importantly, he followed his heart and fell for the girl society told to avoid. The people branded Esmerelda a heretic and a witch, but we all know that it’s just because she was different, and historically, society has had a very hard time with people who are different. Now I don't walk around with a goat or anything like that, but I do embrace being different and I love dancing, so movie Phoebus gets a big gold star from me.

The Bennet sisters from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice didn’t have the benefit of TV, movies, and a vast number of books from which to craft their perfect man, but that doesn’t seem to have held them back at all, at least for Kitty and Lydia. They had dreamt up their perfect man and were unabashedly hunting him up and down the length of England. Elizabeth, however, probably picked up some pros and cons of her own from extensive amounts of reading, just like I have.

Disney movies were only a small part of my childhood; much of my youth was spent in the vast world of books. Even then, I was reading about famous relationships from Henry VIII and all his wives to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet- each giving me scenarios to judge; in these cases, both of these examples gave me options that I definitely did not want.

By the time I had become a teenager, Pride and Prejudice had become the paradigm against which all relationships and romantic prospects were to be measured, and though I wasn’t putting posters of Mr. Darcy on my walls, there actually weren’t any posters on my walls, I believed all the hype. Mr. Darcy for the win.

When we last took our leave of him, Mr. Darcy had executed his famously disastrous marriage proposal to Elizabeth. As devastated as he is, but stuffing all those feelings deep, down inside as any Regency era gentleman would do, Mr. Darcy manages to write a lengthy letter explaining the circumstances surrounding the actions that Elizabeth despises him for; Mr. Darcy's noble and good characteristics are thus revealed. Mr. Darcy turns out to be incredibly devoted to his family and friends, and who could fault him for that? That letter begins to change Elizabeth's feelings for Mr. Darcy from hate to respect. While traveling through the country with her aunt and uncle, Elizabeth finally visits Pemberley, the vast and stately home of the wealthy Mr. Darcy. After some awkward and repetitive inquiries as to the health of the Bennet family, Mr. Darcy gains his composure and asks Elizabeth to meet his sister, Georgiana. The meeting goes well but is most unfortunately interrupted by the news that Kitty has run off with a Mr. Wickham, and by now, it has also been disclosed that Mr. Wickham had years before made plans to run off with Georgiana to acquire her fortune.

Just as the Bennet patriarchs are ending their fruitless search for the mischievous Kitty, news arrives that she and Wickham have married. Most of the Bennets are a bit shocked and confused; Mrs. Bennet is elated, for one of her daughters has finally achieved the elevated position of wife. Kitty returns to show off her new status to her family and friends and accidentally divulges to Elizabeth that it was Mr. Darcy who had found them and arranged the marriage. Mr. Darcy has saved the Bennets from the shame they would have been shown as relations of a lost woman. But the excitement is not yet over. Mr. Bingley arrives, prompted by Mr. Darcy as we later find out, and proposes to Jane.

In the world of Austen and Disney movies, a tale cannot end without the heroine herself finding her one true love. And so it is for Elizabeth. She and Darcy admit to the pride and prejudices that have kept them apart, reconcile their misunderstandings, and consent to be married. Darcy has repeatedly saved the day, proven that he is a gentleman worthy of the love of a heroine, even if he is a bit shy and awkward at times, and has overcome his flaws to become the embodiment of the perfect love interest.   

If this were a Disney movie, this is where the bejeweled book would float closed, and the audience would emerge feeling as if little tendrils of magic have flown from the screen and into their hearts. And all would be right with the world.

But you and I know: there is so much more to the story.

A happy ending doesn’t always remain a happy ending, and a happy ending for one doesn’t always mean a happy ending for another. 

For over a decade, I let the tale of Elizabeth and Darcy remain intact, perfectly preserved as Snow White under her coffin of glass. Pride and Prejudice remained the literary love standard until I met John Thornton, the no-nonsense mill-owner from Elizabeth Gaskell’s novel, North and South. (And in case you’re wondering, the BBC version is just as good as the book, so in my opinion, you have to experience both.) This novel doesn’t need a lengthy synopsis; it’s basically Pride and Prejudice in another era. But its Darcy figure, to me, was so much better than its predecessor.

But is it really that simple? Why does Darcy shine while Thornton is lost in shadow? Is Darcy the best or just the first? We could debate the superiority of many literary heroes, but that’s not going to affect how anyone lives their life. I’m more interested in knowing: what does the idolization of Darcy and Thornton mean for our own love stories? What does it mean for me?

When we discuss relationships, my therapist has always asked me to describe what I want before we discuss how to get what I want. For me, knowing what I want has always come pretty easily; I think I was born knowing what I wanted. If we’re talking about romantic relationships, which we are, I have been deciding what I did and didn’t want in my romantic partner since I was little thanks to the aforementioned movies, tv, and books. I had this list of what I wanted in my soul mate prepared since I was old enough to understand marriage and love and all the stuff that comes with it. All of this knowledge was cataloged in the shelves of my brain, but because I did this at such a young age, I was young enough to be told that my tastes would change, and the list was long enough that I was told my standards were too high. To be clear, my standards are high, for everyone including myself, so it makes sense to me that my standards for my life partner would have to equal those I have for myself. We’re talking about the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with; why shouldn’t my standards be high?

Elizabeth knows what I mean. She heartily demonstrated to the reader she’d rather live out the rest of her life as an old maid than marry the bumbling, sycophantic Mr. Collins who would have made her miserable for the rest of her life. Going against her family’s urgings and the cultural standards for ladies of the time, Elizabeth refused his proposal. And every reader is on her side. We cheer her on as she turns him down and stand by her as Mrs. Bennet begs Elizabeth to reconsider.  I’ve never heard anyone in the modern world say Elizabeth was being foolish and should have accepted the first proposal to come her way. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen the movie instead of the book or which movie you watched- no one roots for Mr. Collins. But once the movie is over or you've closed the last page of the book, what do you do then?  What do we do to ourselves? We tell people their standards are too high; we tell people to be more realistic. We roll our eyes when children tell us what they want in a partner instead of encouraging them to practice making and refining these choices. We lower our own standards so that we get access to the exclusive world of couples, and then we wonder why things went wrong.

Here’s my literary advice: Don’t settle for the Mr. Collins’ of the world- aim high and go for the Darcy’s. I even have my therapist to back me up on this if the literary analysis isn’t enough for you: have high standards. High standards are not just for Jane Austen heroines. I’ve read Pride and Prejudice before, I’ve watched the movies countless times, but it wasn’t until discussing standards with my therapist and then sitting down to write about this book that I realized: low standards get you a Mr. Collins; high standards get you your Mr. Darcy. After seeing that comparison so beautifully illustrated in Pride and Prejudice, I can honestly say that my reservations about having high standards have mostly evaporated.

(This is not a dig at Charlotte. For her, Mr. Collins was her Darcy.)

But to have high standards, you have to know what those standards are so you can identify them when they appear. You can’t just say, “I want Mr. Darcy," and hope the universe plops him on your doorstep. And you can’t just pull a Kitty and drop your handkerchief in front of every man you meet. It doesn’t work like that. You have to be super, super specific about the characteristics that you’re looking for. (You do, however, have the right to change your standards, but make sure it’s truly because you are changing, not because someone else wants you to change.) So, if Mr. Darcy is your goal, write out a list of all his character traits that you like. But if you’re like me, and you’re questioning the status of Darcy as the perfect man, feel free to broaden your references. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do; here we go.

If I were to make up a list using my literary and pop culture knowledge to create the perfect man, here are the traits he would possess:

• Mr. Darcy bookish devotions and extreme loyalty (extra points for having a killer library)

• John Thornton’s honesty and passion (if he has a voice like Richard Armitage, that’s a plus)

• Phoebus’ willingness to look for love outside societal norms

• Aragorn’s leadership skills and allegiance to the morally correct path

 And because my blog is inspired by Gilmore Girls, I have to put some Gilmore guys in here too:

•  Dean’s ability to go after the shy girl and embrace her quirks, and his certainty in his feelings

• Jess’s literary references and, later in the series, his communication skills, and ability to identify and support people’s true passions

• Logan’s lightheartedness and spontaneity (but only a teeny-tiny drop of this)

• Luke’s readiness to help in any situation and thoughtful gestures (extra points for a personal ice rink)

And presto- the perfect man! Based on this list, Mr. Darcy is not my perfect man, he’s only a part of it.

Except there is no perfect man because there are no perfect people. There aren’t even perfect people in books because as readers, we wouldn’t be attracted to them or identify with them. We identify with the things we see in ourselves, with the human qualities.  Ok, so maybe Mr. Darcy is perfect in his imperfections, but there’s a reason why he fits so seamlessly with Elizabeth: it’s because he was literally written for each her. A writer, or group of writers if we’re talking movies and TV, sat around thinking about the attributes of one person and created complementary attributes in another person so they’d match perfectly. As writers, we are the gods, the hand of fate, cupid’s arrows, and the winds of destiny. We may treat characters like people, listening to their wants and needs, but ultimately something within us has put all of that into being. And it is because of this that I have to ditch Mr. Darcy.

How could I come between two people whom literary gods have bestowed with their blessings? How could I ever separate Darcy from Elizabeth, John from Margaret, or Aragorn from Arwen? Darcy and Elizabeth are so entwined in literary history, just as Romeo and Juliet, that it’s hard to separate them. It’s difficult to discuss one without the other let alone picture them marrying someone else.

And in the end, that means Darcy is not for me because I cannot and will not separate him from the love he is destined for, especially when it’s written in black and white for all of the world to read.

I don’t need Darcy, and when I really think about it, I don’t want Darcy. I can use him and other characters for inspiration when deciding on what I want in my soul mate, and appreciate the lessons he’s taught me, but that’s where Darcy’s involvement in my romantic life ends.

I want my own hero, my own gentleman. Someone who couldn’t be separated from me if tempted with all the literary heroines in existence. Because he was written for me and only me.

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