Words Have Escaped Me

Well, well, well. The moment we have all been waiting for has finally arrived; M has completed her novel. I was all too pleased to be called on Saturday morning to meet M&Msquared for coffee so I could pick up a complete copy of the bound manuscript. While I had explained to the delightful couple that I was not going to finish the rather weighty story until the end of the week, I spoke too soon. I read the entire thing yesterday.

Aside from the fact that there are serious holes in this plot, I understand the basic message of this "Time Traveller's Porn;" M's 27 yr. old spinster daughter (C/Moi) can not possibly get married in the 21st century. Consequently, she has to travel back to 1815 to find someone to love and abuse her. The first major sex scene, which M's sister, my Aunt "A," had described as "mild," is anything but. I am completely and utterly humiliated and taken advantage of. And sure, it does not matter that any self respecting woman would pick up her belongings after this episode for the 21st Century, I stick around and decide I am in love.

Snuff scene aside, it is a really good thing that M paid tribute to my true husband, my gay black friend, AJ who is called Aphonse in this tale. Aphonse is a child in the nineteenth century who was adopted by my fictional mentor Frances prior to the abolition of slavery in England. This adoption scene takes place when Frances and I decide that it would be a good idea at a masquerade ball to engage in some "soul dancing" with the other slaves. By the end of the novel, Aphonse is a famous chef who is considered to have broken some of the racial boundaries of his time. I am very happy that AJ has a good sense of humor, as while this is semi endearing and funny, I am not so sure this does not coincide with some of the more patriarchial plots that I dissected in some of my Enlgish literature classes in college. Regardless, AJ, you have no right to be offended. First of all, M writes me in as a major contributor to the abolition movement after I say two sentences to Wilberforce at this masquerade ball. Second of all, you survive a small pox epidemic because you were vaccinated in Africa before you arrived in England. Some of the white children were none too lucky, including my step son.

And if you want to talk about offended sensibilities, I am about to quote some of the text. I dare say, it's a good thing I have not commit suicide this morning:

Title Chapter II: Atticus Finch & His Wife Get Married, C Gets Drunk.

Excerpt: C knew she was dressing for Percy [my future 19th century husband] and she knew she was a fool to do so. When was a man she liked ever going to like her back? Well, both boys [two youngsters who are integral to the plot] like her but they were nine years old....

Excerpt: Percy looked at C as if she had as much sex appeal as the chair she was sitting on. But she didn't expect his next comment, which was-

Percy: "C, are you here for the hunting season?" C said she barely rode. Percy: "You don't have to ride for the husband hunting season."

C: "I am too older for that sport, as you can well see."

Excerpt: C was so hurt that Percy thought her both pathetic and unattractive. He probably thought her a big gawk....Of course she had been rejected on sight before, but never was she forced to live with the person.

Excerpt: C was the oldest deb that night. She felt like a spinster. The girls looked like college freshmen and the young bucks looked like frat boys. ..The girls all whispering, loud enough for C to hear, that they'd die if they were single at her age. How old was she? At least twenty-five? They all giggled. She was hurt, but doesn't the truth always hurt.