A novel by J.C. Peterson
My introduction to Jane Austen was the 1995 BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice (you know the one, it has Colin Firth in a wet shirt) on Montana Sunday Theatre. The family, like the rest of the world, was obsessed. We recorded it on VHS and watched it over and over (to be fair, the over and over part may have just been me). Every member of our family was designated a character; mine was Mary Bennet. I was distraught. Sure, I liked reading but I wasn’t boring or ignorable. Was I?
I didn’t relish being equated to “one of literatures’ famous wet rags” because “Mary’s no hero”; she’s the easiest Bennet to remove from an adaptation, she serves no function in the major plot lines. But J. C. Peterson’s Being Mary Bennet opens with the line; “It is a truth universally acknowledged that no one should spend her eighteenth birthday at the library.” I spent my most recent birthday at the library and I loved it! There were cupcakes, quiet reading, my favourite librarian, my favourite niece and favourite sister. (It’s ok my other sisters won’t read this anyway.)
It’s only in recent years that I have come to accept that in some ways, I am Mary Bennet. We’re both from large families and struggled to be visible or acceptable. I know now that part of the reason, at least for me, was due to undiagnosed neurodivergence, living in a word that wasn’t made for me. At one time I heavily identified with a devastating line from Katherine J Chen’s Mary B “How could I, little weed, be a favourite of anyone?” (in that book Mary does become a heroine).
Reading Being Mary Bennet was almost revolutionary. I identified so strongly with Marnie as she takes a journey to kick her Mary-ness, worries that her family doesn’t notice when she’s not there, and despite trying new things still needs to organise her books “just so.” But she discovers people who love her, like they say in Bridget Jones “just as she is.”
Mary may not have main character energy, she may be inconsequential to the heroines story line but does it matter? Some people may only ever see Mary, and that’s their loss.