#mimetics

Gentle Readers,

The Time has Come. We endeavour, in Light of Crushing Defeats and Curious Happenings, to build a Respectable TWO-TONNE OBELISK. It is a Grave and Crucial Task, to be Sure. It is not to be Undertaken Lightly; We must proceed with Great Caution to ensure the TWO-TONNE OBELISK does all it is Meant to do, Insofar as it will Soothe my Pains at the Hands of the Fraudulent Secret Book-seller.

When image macros are spread widely around the internet, they are referred to simply as memes. Internet memes are the same as regular memes, but specifically (and obviously) situated on the internet. They provide a vivid example of the ways in which fanfiction and memes overlap, ultimately creating memes which are more fit and adaptive. 

On her personal blog KC Kahler dedicated multiple posts to displaying image macros which combined screenshots from Jane Austen film adaptations with headlines from popular satirical news outlet, The Onion. 

Kahler’s image macro shown above does not expand far beyond Jane Austen’s pre-existing narrative world of Emma. It does, however, almost perfectly represent the two major conflicting themes present in Austen as a meme (which I discussed in my last post), the theme of marriage plot and the undeniable presence of sarcasm. This image macro actually helps me better understand how marriage plot and sarcasm co-exist so well. Of course Emma married Mr. Knightley in the end. Of course marriage is really about financial security. 

An example of one of Kahler’s image macros which is especially fanfiction-esque, shows an image of Northanger Abbey’s Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney embracing, with The Onion headline “Reverend Blessed with 9-inch Penis”. Obviously, this is far more sexual than any content Jane Austen actually wrote about in Northanger Abbey (or any of her novels). This image macro thus functions as fanfiction by producing, or at least suggesting, a hidden plot line within the original narrative world: one in which Henry Tilney’s appeal was a generous (physical) endowment.  

Per your Wise Counsel, I have purchased the Unabridged Poems of Sappho from my Secret Bookseller. The Cost was Dear Indeed, but I felt it my Duty to my Readers to acquire the Tome. Alas! That Person who I believed to be a Reputable Secret Bookseller was No Such Thing! Upon Receipt of my Much-Anticipated Purchase, what should greet my Eager Eyes but a Series of Engravings informing me, the Hapless Reader, "There are not to be any Unearthed Sapphic Lyrics, you Curd-Brain'd Cully!"

Upon seeking the Gentleman at his Former Establishment, I found the Place Quite Empty! Naturally, I am Most Distressed.

But O! my Readers! Every Side of this OBELISK is Inscribed with Runes, Ancient Incantations, and Histories Heretofore Unknown. On Clear Evenings the Wind seems to whisper of Forgotten Things, of Promises Made Between Persons Long Since Parted from this Life.

My Nieces are Quite Annoyed by the Whole Affair. They have united Against Me to declare we must depart for London, Bath, or Some Other Such Fashionable Locale. While I have been Persuaded a Change could suit, I feel Fashion and Diversion are not All One should seek on One's Travels.

Yet who is Immune to the Charms of the Italian Spring, Premature though I may be to name it so? The Skies are Clear, the Air Mild, and in the Boulevards and Gardens those Early Buds of Green Abound. We are All at our Leisure Here, and have received Several Tempting Invitations.

Though the Competition was Fierce, I and my Family have Only So Much Time in which we are Free to Visit with the Illustrious Circles of Firenze; We sent our Deepest Regrets to Most, and, as Directed, accepted the Invitation of that Lady of Letters, B.G. Raiskaya. (Though, it should be Mentioned for Posterity's Sake, she directs us All to refer to her as B-- Goncharovna, as one might refer to a Polite Friend as Miss Smith.)

The Poetess keeps herself Fashionably in an Old Country House, Some Distance from the Bustle of the City; For this Reason, I will be Unable, for the Period of our Stay, to write this Weekly Missive as you have no Doubt grown Accustomed to see. The Palace--for so it can be Comfortably Called--appears in Illustrations as Quite the Picturesque, Imposing Thing. One could Readily imagine, if One were of the Fanciful and Romantic Disposition, those Oppressed Heroines of Radcliffe or Walpole roaming its Gloomy Halls. B-- Goncharovna herself claims that the Garret-room in which she conducts her Business of Writing contains the Spectre of Such a Person. It remains to be Seen.