I've received many gifts in my search for my own Mr. Darcy, but when asked to recall the most meaningful and touching present I have ever received from a significant other, I need not think twice.  My Jane Austen action figure stands proudly next to my computer monitor, her brown curls mischeviously escaping her white bonnet and a 1.5 centimeter quill clutched tightly in her left hand.  Her miniature writing desk and a Polly Pocket sized copy of Pride and Prejudice lay at her feet.  (I have yet to figure out how to have her actively holding these.  As one could imagine, this is not the most high-tech action figure, and limb mobility is limited.)

And yes, I understand the irony of a quasi-immobile action figure, but I like to imagine her agility as similar to her disobedient curls – her strength not in her muscles but in the curious -- and often rebellious -- ideas that seep from beneath her bonnet.  She is my literary superheroine - witty, progressive and self sufficient. Most importantly, she is remembered as a genuine figure - like her characters, Jane refused to marry if not for love, but unlike Elizabeth, Anne, Emma, Elinor, Catherine or Fanny, she did fall victim to the conventions of her time and thus never married.

Truth be told, the entire function of Austen’s novels as parodies of 19th century courtship prohibits them from being terribly creative – the pleasure is derived from the comedy of manners that exploited what Austen deemed problematic in her time. Her heroines, typically the plainest in a family of eligible daughters in their early twenties, are all faced with the same obstacles: acquiring a husband that that will yield social advancement and monetary security without submitting to a loveless marriage. The resonance of these classic characters to contemporary characters seems almost too obvious at times. Emma is the girl who keeps herself busy meddling in our people’s relationships to avoid acknowledging her own lack of romance; while Mark Darcy is the sexy, brooding type who irritates you thoroughly before revealing his sentimental side. They are the gossip queens and prom kings of our own youth. In many ways the concept of blending backgrounds is at the forefront of Austen's texts - take the stigma adhered to the naval captains in Persuasion for example, where Admiral and Mrs. Croft have the most beautiful, symbiotic relationship of any of Austen’s characters. Captain Wentworth is considered inferior to Anne consequent to his profession, and Austen’s text points out how her contemporaries disregarded the virtue of such work in this sense. In our modern world, where job importance is often linked to monetary compensation, we can relate to how the noblest of jobs (teachers, social workers, writers) resign individuals to a lower class. Social misogeny has become even more prevalent in our generation, while interracial and interfaith marriages are now more common and accepted. Yet stigmas remain – the starving artist is romantic and desirable, but he is still starving. Austen’s tongue-in-cheek recognition of these inescapable constructs is timeless.

The adaptations are endless – but for the young women of my generation, Clueless and Bridget Jones's Diary are the most familiar. Cher Horowitz is the contemporary Emma, modernized as a Beverly Hills brat whose preferred “projects” are makeovers and match-making teachers and students alike at her high school. Helen Fielding's Bridget Jones certainly identifies with Elizabeth Bennett’s battle with her overbearing mother who wants nothing more than to marry her off as soon as possible, and a father who, though supportive and kind-hearted, remains too passive for his virtues to affect plot development for much of the story. Yet Bridget explicitly divulges what Austen’s work, though progressive and rebellious, simply could NOT outright discuss – the pleasure of vice: smoking, drinking, promiscuity, and EATING. Bridget is the 20th century woman, trying to keep up with the modern physical aesthetic by controlling her plethora of urges, yet always finding herself a bit too fat, a bit too drunk, and hopelessly attracted to her arrogant boss. But in the end, she does find her way back to Mark Darcy, whose classic line is that he loves her "just as she is” – harkening back to Austen" theme of marrying for love versus image.

Granted, 21st century culture has provided far more room for the free spirits to be, well, free. People get married later in life, and women pursue their careers before, during, and after having children -- if motherhood fits into their career aspirations at all. What I mean to say is that the social constructions of marriage have certainly been loosened, but at the same time, our culture is so crowded with new expectations for young women (body image, self-made careers, independence from their parents) that true love may be even harder to identify than it was in Austen’s time. Perhaps this is the real reason her heroines are so conflicted – it is their self-awareness and self-motivation that makes a good match simply not good enough. Austen’s novels were among the first to take the complexity of the female spirit and the female heart into consideration, suggesting that women do have things to offer in a marriage – it’s not just about finding a man who can escalate his wife on the social ladder. Contemporary adaptations revive the classic struggle of separating appearance from emotion, convenience from happiness, and replace the progressively independent heroine with today's independent young women, who bring their own set of goals and benefits to the table.
Needless to say, my Jane Austen action figure, being my favorite gift, expresses where I sit in contemporary society: at a 9-5 job pursuing my own career in book publishing and looking for the guy who may not be ready to advance my social status, but sure as hell will think of me when he comes upon a dorky literary action figure and knows I’ll keep it on my desk for the next two years.

Emily Krasner is a 23 year old Connecticut native who moved to New York City five years ago to study English Literature at NYU and fears she may never leave. She currently works for Workman Publishing, uncovering the mysteries of book publishing so that once her cloud of disconnected inspirations materialize into a novel, she'll know exactly how to get it into print.