At age 12, my obliviousness was a survival instinct. As my peers experimented with make-up and clothes, I wore a sports bra to school, my hair frizzing into the stratosphere. Most days were spent doing what I loved best -- reading.
Inevitably then, my mother one day showed me the six-hour spectacle of Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle falling in love despite their best efforts. But my first exposure to Jane Austen only left me with more questions: Did people really have hair like that back then? Why so many hats? Is there nothing ...
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