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It is universally acknowledged that women English majors of a certain age always read Jane Austen.
Unless you’re me. Oh, it isn’t that I never tried. It’s just that Austen always seemed a little too foofy for me, a bit too girlie and modern (to a medievalist, anyway). Not to mention that in undergraduate and graduate studies I was constantly trying to distance myself from women writers and feminist readings because everyone always assumed that’s what I was. I wanted to play with the boys and talk about chivalry and brain bashing. I didn’t want to have anything to do with feminist bullcrap. Yeah. That was pretty stupid of me. I entirely blame my son for my becoming a total feminist. No, on the surface, I…