Persuasion
The sky had been grey for so long Aziraphale couldn’t tell what time of day it was, or even if it was the same day at all. It made no difference to him. He was liable to lose time reading anyway, regardless of the weather.
The kettle came to a boil and he reluctantly marked the page using a pressed leaf from one of Crowley’s plants and stood. A few minutes later he was back on the sofa, the faint scent of lavender wafting from the steaming mug freshly placed on the end table beside him. He eagerly reopened Anne of the Island and fell immediately back into the story. The rain was a comforting hiss in the background. The lush plants on the windowsills and hanging from the ceiling seemed to press their leaves against the cool glass as though trying to catch a glimpse outside.
Aziraphale heard but did not note the footsteps, but he was forced to look up from his book once again when Crowley pitched backward over the sofa’s armrest, sprawling across the whole length of the cushions, and ending up with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale blinked down at him, nonplussed.
“There’s nothing to do,” Crowley complained. He held up the book in his hand by way of explanation. “I thought I’d join you.”
Aziraphale tilted his head to catch the title and his whole face brightened as he beamed. “Oh, Persuasion! It’s one of my favorites. What part are you on?”
“Hmmm,” Crowley hummed, brow creasing as he opened the book and scanned its pages. “Anne is visiting Mary. Wentworth just showed up and she’s all in a snit about it.”
Aziraphale sighed dreamily, looking out the window. His fingers found their way into Crowley’s hair and brushed it back from his forehead. “Oh, the first time she sees him again and she’s so nervous and overcome and he’s acting all cool and unaffected – it’s so deliciously poignant, don’t you think, my dear?”
“I guess,” Crowley said doubtfully.
Aziraphale poked him gently. “Why don’t you read to me for a little while? It’s been a long time since I read it, I’d like to revisit it a little.
For some reason, Crowley’s cheeks flushed red. “I don’t know, angel. I’m not the best reader.”
“That doesn’t bother me. I’d like to read with you for a while, if that’s all right with you.”
Crowley hesitated. Finally he lifted the book and held it above his face. Aziraphale’s fingers sank deeper into his hair in encouragement.
Crowley found his place and cleared his throat. “The walking party had crossed the lane,” he began slowly, bringing the page closer to his face as he read. Aziraphale closed his eyes and relaxed into the sofa. “…and were sor – sum –” Crowley paused. There came the sounds of tapping against paper. “Sur – mount – ing,” Crowley read with a tap each time, and continued: “an opposite stile; and the admiral was putting his horse into motion again, when Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a moment to say something to his sister, guessed by its – no wait.” Crowley shook the book and tossed his head a little, jaw a bit tight. Aziraphale brushed his fingers gently through his hair. Crowley brought a hand up and followed the line with a finger. “Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a moment to say something to his sister, - The something might be guessed by its effects.”
Once Anne was safely in the carriage, Aziraphale sighed. “Poor Anne,” he mused. “No one pays any attention to her.”
“Wentworth does,” Crowley protested.
“Hmmm,” Aziraphale hummed uncertainly. He squinted down at Crowley. “Does he?”
Crowley’s eyes flicked up to meet his, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? Everyone else is wrapped up in their own shit, but he’s always looking out for her.”
“He’s always aware of her,” Aziraphale agreed. “He’s always thinking about her. He loves her, so he wants her to be happy and comfortable. But it’s not clear to me that he understands her.”
Crowley squinted at him, a smile slashing his mouth. “Are we getting into spoiler territory here, angel?”
Aziraphale tilted his head, considering. “My point might be even more clear once you’ve finished the book,” he said, “but I think it’s evident from the beginning. How does he seem to you?”
Crowley shrugged a little. “He loves her, but he’s mad at her. And he’s embarrassed. She rejected him and he doesn’t want to look pathetic by showing that he still likes her.”
Aziraphale blinked. “Oh, I hadn’t picked up on that,” he said, delighted. “The anger is apparent, but it hadn’t occurred to me it might be compensating for wounded pride.” He sighed. “Silly man.”
Crowley quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why? What do you think he’s missing?”
Aziraphale smiled wryly. “He thinks that because she wouldn’t marry him, that means she doesn’t love him,” he said, his tone indicating the depths of stupidity he thought this revealed.
Crowley stared at him. “…doesn’t it?” he asked.
Aziraphale reeled back and stared down at him with huge eyes. “No! Of course not!”
Crowley threw his hands up. “Why didn’t she marry him then?” he hollered.
"There were other things to consider!" Aziraphale protested.
Crowley sat up slightly, twisting urgently toward him. "They were in love! What else is there to consider?"
"Quite a lot!" Aziraphale shouted.
They both paused, staring at each other. They took in the tension in the other's shoulders, the lines in the other's face. Slowly, they both relented.
Aziraphale’s face softened. "I'm just saying - as important as he is to her, she has connections and obligations to so many other people. She couldn't make this one relationship the only important thing in her life to the exclusion of everything else."
Crowley’s jaw tightened. It was a moment before he could speak. "It's not right that she's responsible for all of them," he said. "They're all adults, they should be able to take care of themselves. She shouldn't let them take advantage of her like that."
Aziraphale shrugged helplessly. "Maybe not. But she would never be able to cut ties with them entirely. She loves them too," he said.
Slowly Crowley lay back in his lap. He stared up at the ceiling. Aziraphale’s fingers had gone a bit tight in his hair. He quickly relaxed his hand and stroked soothingly through the strands in apology.
"I suppose..." Crowley said slowly, "He should have known she wouldn't be able to choose between him and her other ties. Her kindness is part of what he loves about her."
Aziraphale hesitated. "And I suppose that she could have done a better job of making sure he knew her rejection wasn't about his worthiness or her feelings for him."
They were both silent for a while.
Crowley turned his head toward him. "I think I'm done reading for today," he said. "Do you want to read me some of yours?"
Aziraphale offered him a hesitant but genuine smile. “Of course, my dear.”
He stroked through Crowley’s hair once more before reluctantly letting go to open his book to the appropriate place. He found his spot and opened his mouth. Anne was speaking: “Of course. Everybody has. It wouldn’t do for us to have all our dreams fulfilled. We would be as good as dead if we had nothing left to dream about…”
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I want to share something for those of you who are teaching and want your conservative students to be more open-minded to liberal ideas that you’re presenting.
I grew up in a conservative family and a conservative town, and like most conservative kids, had been told that colleges were hotbeds of liberalism, so I was already defensive politically when I started college. My first semester or two I was really skeptical of everything political that my professors presented me with.
And then I took a women’s studies course (required at my college). And on the first day, the professor said,
“You don’t have to be a feminist. There are days when I’m not a feminist. But we’re going to discuss feminist ideas in this class, and you might find that you agree with some of them and disagree with others, and that’s fine.”
And that took the pressure off. By telling me that I didn’t HAVE to be a feminist, that I didn’t HAVE to agree, that professor started me on the road to becoming a feminist. I particularly remember her giving us information about what a huge percentage of the housework was still done by women, even in [hetero] couples where both the man and woman worked outside the home. And after that I remember saying, “I’m not a feminist, but I can see where they’re coming from.”
Within 5 years, I was claiming the term and coming out to my mom as a feminist.
So when I taught college writing, I assigned politically liberal essays to my students, many of whom came from conservative backgrounds. And before they read the first one, I would say,
“The reading for the next class--I want you to know that you don’t have to agree with it. You don’t have to agree with anything that your professors teach you in college. But the point of a college education is to have your mind opened to other points of view. So you’re not required to agree, but you are required to approach the reading with an open mind. You might find that you agree with some things the author says and disagree with others. And that’s cool! We WANT you to use your critical thinking and decide for yourself what you think about things! But to do that, you need to give people the benefit of the doubt and be open-minded to what they have to say.”
And I have to say, it worked really well for me! I remember in particular that after I assigned the essay “Black Men and Public Space”, one of my students wrote in her reading reflection,
“I was taught in school that racism in America ended with Martin Luther King. I am appalled to discover that this is not true.”
Priming your students to be open-minded, while also encouraging them to use critical thinking, can help to break down some of the automatic defenses against new ideas that students are often taught. Approaching your students’ comments during discussion with an open-minded view yourself, validating their experiences while also making gentle counterarguments, can do a lot as well.
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The New S2 Poster Details
Terry's hat and scarf ❤ With an ook pin! ❤
Crowley's old glasses on the statue. The statue itself is the Marly Horses by Guillaume Coustou the Elder.
Aziraphale's bow tie on the floor 👀
The cardboard box - long ago Neil shared on his instagram: Game on! There are mysteries, histories, secrets revealed and Something Too Terrible To Be Revealed on the way. Also a cardboard box.
Three feathers. One white, one blac and one white with a bluish/grey tinge (if it's not a shaddow)?
The angel mug is back 🥰
'The Resurrectionist' matches with skull and crossbones. In the previous poster there was a The Resurrectionist leaflet.
Again the Eccles cakes (already were in the previous poster)
Feather duster with dark gray/black feathers
On this shelf there books also in the previous poster, but at different place 🤔: The Crow Road, Catch-22.
And: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon, from wikj: mystery novel by nritish writer Mark Haddon. Its title refers to an observation by the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes in the 1892 short story The Adventure of Silver Blaze
And: No Woman No Cry: My Life with Bob Marley by Rita Marley a memoir of Bob Marley by wife, Rita.
Also heard the people say that the right one of the Catch-22 they see Gabriel García Márquez on the spine (I can't read it :)).
Lord Jim and Treasure Island have also been identified in the previous poster but now are in a different place 🤔👀.
Three books by Jane Austen: Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice and Emma. We have already seen Pride and Prejudice in the previous poster but it was a different edition so Aziraphale has more than one :).
Candy?
Again geckos! :) 🦎 (there were three in the previous poster)
The Buddy Holly Everyday was also in a different place in the previous poster. And there is a note on it
The Ressurectionist, 66. Goat Gate, Edinburgh 👀.
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Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had been lucky in his profession; but spending freely, what had come freely, had realized nothing. But he was confident that he should soon be rich: full of life and ardour, he knew that he should soon have a ship, and soon be on a station that would lead to everything he wanted. He had always been lucky; he knew he should be so still. Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and bewitching in the wit which often expressed it, must have been enough for Anne; but Lady Russell saw it very differently. His sanguine temper, and fearlessness of mind, operated very differently on her. She saw in it but an aggravation of the evil. It only added a dangerous character to himself. He was brilliant, he was headstrong. Lady Russell had little taste for wit, and of anything approaching to imprudence a horror. She deprecated the connexion in every light.
It's interesting to me, Persuasion is the last novel Austen wrote and she had this trend prior of "W" being a villain (Wickham and Willoughby) and this paragraph about Wentworth makes me think about her other dubious men. He's gambled or spent all his money away, just like the other two, he's confident he'll get more. Wentworth and Henry Tilney are the only heroes with wit, but only Wentworth has this magnetic charm that seems to draw every woman in the room. Very Wickham of him, recall how drawn every female was to him when he came into Meryton. Wentworth feels a lot like Austen's villains, especially at first.
It makes me feel that Lady Russell was right to be worried. This sort of magnetic person, with very pretty words but no substance to back it up. It could have been a Willoughby-esq whirlwind romance and left Anne with nothing.
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