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There were only about two months between the end of The Jane Austen Book Club's run in movie theatres and the beginning of Masterpiece Theatre's months-long Austen extravaganza. Four new films! One new biopic! Two rebroadcasts! Those of us who have to manage a serious Austen habit thought we'd died and gone to Janeite heaven.

Then, on April 6, 2008, it all ended. The end credits rolled on the last installment of Sense and Sensibility, and we were left to fend for ourselves.

The message boards and blogs swelled with the lamentations of Austen fans everywhere. What would we do? Where would we turn?

Of course we had Austen's six novels to re-read, and we would never tire of doing so. And we would continue to play our Austen DVDs till they skipped or our players wore out.

But, like any addict, there's no such thing as enough. We want more. More, I tell you. More.

So, if anyone out there in the world of film and television is listening, please take note: There can never be too many adaptations of Pride and Prejudice. Or Emma. Or Sense and Sensibility. Or Northanger Abbey. Or Persuasion. Or Mansfield Park.

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Ever assume that the protagonist of a novel is a self-portrait of the author? I have.

I make the author-equals-protagonist assumption so often that I have to laugh at myself when I catch myself at it. For example, I was happily reading Literacy and Longing in L.A., the story of a bibliophile who uses books for comfort and escape (oh how I could relate to that), when my fuzzy cocoon of protagonist/author/me kindredness broke open upon the protagonist's announcing her dislike for Jane Austen. What?! My favorite author scorned by the book-loving heroine of a book I really like?

After the initial shock passed, I reconnected with the heroine. After all, poor misguided thing, look what she was missing out on: Jane Austen. It didn't even occur to me that her tastes might not be shared by her creators, coauthors Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack. In fact, when I was about to meet Jennifer and Karen as my fellow panelists at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, I actually felt a bit of trepidation. Would these Austen-hating authors snub me? After all, the title of my novel, Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict, says it all.

No, I told myself, that's just plain silly. And of course, they were absolutely lovely. To my surprise, Karen Mack even mentioned the Austen thing during the panel. It seems that she and Jennifer had received quite a lot of angry emails from Jane Austen devotees berating them for their lack of literary taste. Karen wanted it on record that although her protagonist had no use for Austen, both Karen and Jennifer love her.

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Men of the world, take note: Your testosterone levels will not plummet if you read Jane Austen.

Nor will you meet with this fate:

 

 

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Laurie Viera Rigler is our guest blogger during the week of May 12th. If you have any questions for her add a comment to any of her posts. Here is some brief information about Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict:

After nursing a broken engagement with Jane Austen novels and Absolut, Courtney Stone wakes up and finds herself not in her Los Angeles bedroom or even in her own body, but inside the bedchamber of a woman in Regency England. Who but an Austen addict like herself could concoct such a fantasy?

Not only is Courtney stuck in another woman's life, she is forced to pretend she actually is that woman; and despite knowing nothing about her, she manages to fool even the most astute observer. But not even her level of Austen mania has prepared Courtney for the chamber pots and filthy coaching inns of nineteenth-century England, let alone the realities of being a single woman who must fend off suffocating chaperones, condom-less seducers, and marriages of convenience.

This looking-glass Austen world is not without its charms, however. There are journeys to Bath and London, balls in the Assembly Rooms, and the enigmatic Mr. Edgeworth, who may not be a familiar species of philanderer after all. But when Courtney's borrowed brain serves up memories that are not her own, the ultimate identity crisis ensues. Will she ever get her real life back, and does she even want to?