I consider the novel I’m writing to be a comedy of manners. The reason I love comedies of manners (the novels of Jane Austen being a perfect case in point) is that they do not neglect or gloss over the big, dramatic concepts of Life and Love and Heroism and Truth, etc. Quite the opposite. A comedy of manners takes those big, capital-letter issues and forces them into small, everyday gestures. The result is that seemingly innocuous acts are imbued with profound meaning – and I can relate to that so much more than sweeping gallantry or fights to the death.
Take my own personal hero, Mr. Dare.
(Let me say first that I require a large amount of caffeine to continue existing in this world. And my beverage of choice after 11AM is diet Pepsi. Mr. Dare, of course, does not drink diet anything. Ugh. How unmanly that would be.)
So last night, I took the last diet Pepsi out of the fridge to drink with dinner. I didn’t put more cans in. Yes, yes. I am one of those people. You can all feel free to hate me now. So lunchtime rolls around today, and I’m jonesing for a diet Pepsi fix. And as I swing open the door of the fridge, I remember that there will be no chilled diet Pepsi awaiting my lazy-girl self, who did not put more cans in last night. But lo and behold – there they were. Six perfectly lined-up cans of … Read More »