There seems to be a barely-articulated expectation that as a published author I decry all books that can’t be classified as Serious Novels (notwithstanding the fact that lots of women’s fiction is not seen as “serious” in their eyes). Even worse, there seems to be an expectation from both genders that women should be ashamed of their reading. Add a drop of 50 Shades of Gray and a dose of secretive Kindle reading, and I think we’ve got an epidemic on our hands!

Lest you think I’m above knocking my own reading habits, consider this:  The other day, I was looking for a piece of light reading while waiting for an appointment and decided on a popular, made-into-a-movie-perhaps-starring-Meryl-Streep-as-an-Anna-Wintour-esque-harpy-boss bestseller…and found myself shielding the Kindle from passers-by. What, I ask, is up with that?

I’m sure it would be best if we all spent all of our precious reading hours elevating ourselves with amazing prose and brilliant erudition, but sometimes a girl just wants to read…whatever she feels like reading. To me, the choice of a book is as personal as any other choice (and mine alone to make). When we decry our reading in front of others, we teach them to question their own impulses and choices and plant the seeds of shame in our daughters and friends.

I’m bringing this up because it’s coming up in various parts of my reading and writing life. I’m doing some work right now that reminds me how dramatic and incredible the opportunity to freely read truly is (how’s that for grammar?!). Women’s reading and writing were nothing short of revolutionary for a long time, given constraints on subjects considered appropriate for ladies. It makes me feel ornery and a bit mad at myself. And so I ask you to talk to me about shame and reading.

Are you ashamed of your reading habits? If so, why?  Help me figure this out.

When people hear that The Heroine’s Bookshelf deals with “classic” authors and books, there are two normal reactions:  the thrilled intake of breath…or the heaving, miserable sigh.  You know the one.  It’s the sigh that says “oh, GOD, here we go again.  She’s going to force a bunch of dowdy, out-of-date, unreadable yet somehow supposedly relevant trash down my throat.”  You can almost hear the death rattle.

To this I usually say something like “RELAX!  Books can’t bite!”, which is true.

But there’s more to the story.

This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force. - Dorothy Parker

Blame terrible high school English teachers or The Academy or what you will, classics have a bad reputation these days.  Somehow, over time, living books got thrown in the vast garbage dump of memory, acquiring all of the sour non-appeal of books unread, unwanted, and unloved.  And while I have a teensy-tiny problem with the idea of naming an entire group of books “classic” while leaving another set of books entirely out of the equation, I don’t think classics are half bad.

Yes, this is coming from someone who read Jane Eyre for the first time at the tender, too-young age of 8.

But it’s also coming from someone who is frustrated with the status quo.

The accepted definition of classic seems to go something like this:

Old + Boring + Critically Acclaimed + [bonus points if written by a man] = CLASSIC

Yeah.  Not so much. Who says a book has to be old and boring to be classic?

I propose that we reverse the paradigm…shake things up a bit…give credit where credit is due.  I’d like to reframe classic as something that matters and excites.  After all, that’s how I think of my favorite books.

In the world of Erin, CLASSIC = Timeless + Fearless + Engaging.  This paradigm looks for relevance and signs of life.  It also renders books such as Thackeray’s Vanity Fair (a supposed Classic we are all told we must read and love) non-classic, while elevating a book like Jacqueline Susanne’s deliciously trashy Valley of the Dolls to Classic status.  And I’m at peace with that.

So…what do you think of my formula?  Can a classic be new, “trashy,” or non-canonically accepted? Let me know.

• Jane began writing Pride and Prejudice when she was just 21 years old.  The book was originally entitled First Impressions.
• Jane actually gave away the rights to her best-known book, selling them to publisher Thomas Egerton for just £110 (he argued her down from £150).
• Though witty and accomplished herself, Jane was more similar to her grumpy, outsiderish leading man, Fitzwilliam Darcy, than her sparkling female protagonist.
• Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, the spoof spinoff from Quirk Books, has sold over 700,000 copies to date and spawned an entire series of spooftastic books related to classic literature.
• The 1995 Jennifer Ehle/Colin Firth adaptation of Pride and Prejudice is the best televised or filmed P&P incarnation, ever.  This is an incontrovertible fact.

Finally, here are two of my favorite P&P resources:  a detailed Pride and Prejudice character map (left), and Pride and Prejudice in Facebook form (right):