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Incense and Sensibility (2021)

Dear, dear lord. Where do I even begin with this?

Okay, let me jumpstart this by saying that I did not absolutely hate the book. I had my problems with it, including a slight lag in the very last act which made the process of completing the novel more painful than necessary, but I found it not without its merits. At least, at the time.

What I'm trying to say is that every time I think of a "positive" about the book, my brain immediately jumps to its "negative" counterpart. For example, I really liked how the book was populated with interesting, headstrong female side characters — only to have all of them FAWNING over their brother, the male lead Yash. After a point, it stopped feeling like genuine admiration and more like... a build-up for the romantic lead. Which is not a bad thing, except it's definitely a lazy writing thing.

And then there's Yash himself. And his romantic interest, India. (Yash is Edward Ferrars, by the way, and India is Elinor) (I don't even want to get into what I felt after finding out that the yoga practitioner, adopted-by-a-half-Indian-mother-but-ethnically-Thai character was called India. And that her sister was called China. I don't want to say I was offended because I think that term has been over-used in our cultural lexicon, but I definitely felt a teeny tiny bit enraged. If that's allowed criticism, of course, of a diaspora author by an Indian Indian). Anyway. Yes, Yash and India. Who have no faults except that they are too good and pure and perfect for each other but circumstances yada yada yeah I'm already yawning. China (whose Willoughby was a South Korean actress, by the way) had the far more interesting storyline of homophobia in East Asia vs the absence of it in northern California. But it was pretty much sacrificed at the altar of... "you are too good for me" "no, YOU belong to the people. let me make this sacrifice". This might be a me thing, but how am I supposed to enjoy a romance novel when the lead pairing is just so BLAH????

Another grouse: Jane Austen was funny. Sense and Sensibility is a good comedy. But the laughs in Incense and Sensibility were unfortunately few and far between.

And another grouse: this book was casteist as fuck!!!! The Rajes come from "Indian nobility", and there are constant references to Yash fulfilling his "duty" and the thing that was "born to do" aka be a "good leader". Now there is one specific caste in Indian culture that's supposed to do all this (and usually fails at it, but we will get to that later). And then there is also a very convenient prophecy that their descendant, Yash Raje, could become the President of the United States?? I mean, it's never said so explicitly, but there was a very telling mention while introducing the Raje sister who saw this prophecy.

Will this very meh, 2-star rating/review stop me from reading other Sonali Dev's Jane Austen adaptations? Not yet. I still have some hopes (even if they are dubious).

Will this turn out to be my 2025 brainrot, or will I invent hate-reading through this series? Only time will tell.

Stay tuned!

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Sense and Sensibility (1981)

Did not find this half as engaging or memorable as the 1971 adaptation. Except for one big reason: Amanda Boxer played Fanny Dashwood like she was MEANT to be played.

But except for this, a mostly miss adaptation.

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becoming a timothy dalton fan (i have not been able to stop thinking about him since i watched him in agatha) was NOT on my 2025 bingo, but here we are!!!!!!!

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have u ever hated someone so much that you want to learn black magic just to turn that hate into something more tangible?

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Sense and Sensibility (1811)

I did it! I completed the first step (often the most daunting) of my Jane Austen 2025 Challenge!!!!

I have been sitting with my thoughts on the novel for some days now, and as tempted as I am to just say "No Notes" and move on, I do want to try and document some of my less irreverent thoughts on Jane's first published novel.

Firstly, this book was so funny. I know there's a lot of discourse now on the humour in Jane's novels, as opposed to them being the more marketable "romances", but I really cannot emphasise how Sense and Sensibility made me laugh out loud on numerous occasions. After a few chapters, I think around the time Sir John Middleton is introduced, I actually started reading as if it was a close friend writing for me. I know that's a weird way of putting it, but what I mean to say is that the humour just hit all the notes for me perfectly, and there was not a dull segment to be found. I loved the sly little exposures of hypocrisies, the condescension towards decidedly unlikeable people like Fanny Dashwood and her mum, and the gentle, forgiving tone describing the awkwardness of the two male leads.

Secondly, I think what this book gets best is the sisterhood. Not just that between Elinor and Marianne (which is almost perfect in its description of elder-middle daughter bond), but also over-archingly so. Even when Elinor has EVERY reason to hate Lucy and wish her worst, she still keeps her secrets as if they were her or Marianne's! Mrs Jennings, despite constantly making fun of the sisters and their romantic lives, still shows up and provides them with a refuge even their own family (the John Dashwoods) fail to. It's heart-warming to read such fantastic examples of sisterhood — thank you, Jane dearest!

I think my third favourite part of the book is how it takes a whole ass sickness to really cure Marianne and make her whole again. As someone who has a rather morbid habit of categorising the time past through periods of sickness and health, I can relate so much to that one sickness that changed your life forever. I still think about that weird fever/tummy ache I had in 11th grade that completely derailed me for the next few years, MENTALLY AND EMOTIONALLY MORE THAN PHYSICALLY. I'm telling y'all, no one gets the sickness changing your entire personality, ideology, etc, like Miss Marianne and me.

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no offence but I hate when people my age start projecting their own fears and ideas about aging and youth onto me. girl sorry but I’m young and beautiful if you think women in their late 20s onwards are worthless old hags who have run out of time that’s a personal problem

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Everyone finds that one random unposed snapshot of their mother from 30 years ago where she is literally the most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life

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Tallulah Bankhead was born on January 31, 1902, dahling. #botd

“Nobody can be exactly like me. Sometimes even I have trouble doing it.”

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Tallulah Bankhead as Carol Morgan in Faithless (1932)

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This is it. This is what resets my brain every time I read it

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btw now is the best time to keep boycotting. the israeli economy has never been weaker. don't stop the protests or the demands for divestment. keep supporting organisations like the Hind Rajab Foundation and the Accountability Archive. ofc don't stop boosting and donating to Palestinians as Gaza is still uninhabitable.

enjoy this moment but the work has not ended

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"We need more male-female platonic friendships" y'all couldn't even handle Elinor and colonel Brandon

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I don't know if you can ever beat a family meal with the Ferrarses from Sense & Sensibility when it comes to awkward relatives. Edward and Elinor, sitting next to the girl who jilted him (Lucy), the brother who stole his fiance (Robert), and then the half-brother who denied his father's deathbed request to help his sisters (John), and the woman who encouraged him to do so (Fanny). Then the matriarch, who declared both of her sons dead, then allowed them to live, and whose favourite child is now Lucy Ferrars (nee Steele)

I can't even imagine.

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Ordinary Girls (2019)

This YA novel by Blair Thornburgh is easily one of the best contemporary riffs on Austen I have encountered. I adored how it stayed true to the soul of Sense and Sensibility — the tight, respectful sisterly bond between Elinor (she's Patience/Plum here) and Marianne (she's Virginia/Ginny now) that always threatens to spill over into sibling rivalry territory.

Another aspect of this Austen iteration that I really enjoyed was how the focus was on Elinor/Patience/Plum primarily, instead of all the adaptations where it's Marianne/Virginia/Ginny who gets the spotlight. Don't get me wrong, I find Marianne endlessly fascinating, but it was quite nice to see the world completely through Elinor's eyes this time, and have her be the heroine of all their stories. Once again, RIP to Margaret, but also to Fanny, Lucy, Willoughby, Colonel Brandon, the Middleton and Mrs Jennings. I can't say I missed them very much, Thornburgh succeeded in making the story her own quirky little thing while retaining the charm of Sense and Sensibility.

I will definitely be checking out Thornburgh's other book, Who's That Girl (2017). Thank you for reminding me what my favourite kinds of YA books are: quirky, charming, witty, hopeful, and indulgently humourous.

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here's some more unsolicited adult advice as someone in her 30s who knows there are a lot of twenty somethings and teens that follow her: if you're trying to build a new habit you really want, and are struggling, you have to break it down to the smallest building block possible. If you're failing, you haven't thought small enough. I know it's possible to hear stories of people who just snapped into new life mode one day by "just deciding", but truly what's happening there is a confluence of events and experiences that force the brain into some sort of epiphany. You cannot will an epiphany. It'll never work. For most times of your life, you will need to build habits intentionally, and that means not working against yourself and to set micro goals. like laughably tiny goals. because once that easy tiny goal is met, you can build off it, tiny goal after tiny goal until you reach your big goal.

so for example, if you want to be a morning person that gets up at ass crack dawn so that you can work out, eat brekkie, shower, and get to work at a leisurely pace, and you're not that person because you will hit your snooze button 800 times, you have to get the big picture goal out of your head. think smaller. "I want to get up 15 minutes earlier than I normally do." If you can't do that, make it 5 minutes. "I want to cook breakfast every day" hell no too big. "I want to eat something, anything, before I leave the house" hell yeah, fantastic. When you go to the grocery store to make sure there are things in the house for breakfast, if you keep buying bagels and microwave sandwiches that you ignore, you gotta think smaller. SMALLER. What's something so easy to eat that you'll never say no to. Is it a yogurt? Is it a handful of grapes? Is it a hostess ho ho? is it hot cheetos? FORGET the big picture of the fantasy put-together woman preparing a full nutritious meal that you'd be proud to admit to. Think only of the smallest goal you can achieve. If you know you can't say no to an ice cream sandwich, put a ton of ice cream sandwiches in your freezer and have one for breakfast every day until it's so instilled in you that you gotta get up to eat something you can start diversifying.

It sounds like, from the lack of habit place, that must take forever. But really it doesn't take too long to form the habit once the discipline kicks in. the trick is that you have to give your brain something easy to become disciplined to. If it's too hard, think easier and smaller. No one has to know. Literally no one in the gd world has to know that for 4 weeks when you were 22 you had an ice cream sandwich for breakfast every day. who cares. If it gets you eating oatmeal with fresh fruit in a few months who cares. you did it, yay. smaller, easier. if you can't do it, think smaller and easier. smaller!! EASIER!!! You are not thinking smaller and easier enough. break your brain thinking how small and easy you can go. SMALLER. EVEN SMALLER, SIS.

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Kumkum Bhagya (2014)

It's terrible as a Sense and Sensibility adaptation, but even worse (trust me) as a Hindi soap opera. Couldn't even make it through the first episode.

2014 owes all Indians with half a brain some serious reparations.

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"We need more complex female characters" y'all couldn't even handle Marianne Dashwood.