Week 11

Jo’s watching
The Best Pride and Prejudice Adaptations

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a good book must be adapted for the screen. Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, published in 1813 is such a novel.
In my opinion (and sound moral judgement), the conqueror of all these editions is the BBC television series produced in 1995, starring Colin Firth as Mr Darcy. The 2005 movie adaptation features Keira Knightly as Elizabeth Bennet, but it still does not compare—if you’re tipping your hat to hotness—to six hour-long episodes of Colin Firth. Even the iconic wet-white-shirt swim that he takes has since been an obvious inspiration for Bridgerton. (I now realise why I’m re-watching these romantic period pieces: in anticipation of season three of Bridgerton! This will be released May 16th on Netflix.)
However, the 2005 movie has an end credits scene with Elizabeth and Mr Darcy that I will never forget:
Mr Darcy: What endearments am I allowed?
Elizabeth: Well, let me think. Lizzy for every day. My pearl for Sundays and Goddess Divine but only on very special occasions.
Mr Darcy: And what shall I call you when I’m cross, Mrs Darcy?
Elizabeth: No, no. You may only call me Mrs Darcy when you are completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy.
Mr Darcy: And how are you this evening, Mrs Darcy?
It’s so good. I can’t tell you how long I’ve held the fantasy of someone calling me Goddess Divine.

Now there’s the small matter of there not being enough action in Pride and Prejudice, you say? Look no further than Pride and Prejudice and Zombies a 2016 film. With a host of great actors including Lily James and Matt Smith, this might even place as my second favourite adaptation. Pride and Prejudice is the first enemies-to-lovers to hook most people, but Pride and Prejudice and Zombies takes it a step further, complete with a hot fight scene.
If you’re looking for a modern comedy with Pride and Prejudice themes, I’d like to recommend Austenland. It’s a bit weird but a bit funny—the best combination.
Thanks for reading and have fun with these while awaiting the season three release of Bridgerton.
The BBC’s 1995 Pride and Prejudice and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies are available on Stan, and both the 2005 Pride & Prejudice and Bridgerton are available on Netflix. Austenland is available on Foxtel and Binge.
Olivia’s reading
An Offering from the Void by Daniel David Froid

This week’s short story concerns a book called Ought Be Sequestered: A History of the White Stone, and is styled as the editor’s introduction to said book. The main character and in-universe author of this introduction is J. M. Harris, cofounder of Obscurantist Press, a publishing house which exists to reprint rare books that are too fringe or bizarre for other publishers to pick up.
Harris recounts visiting an estate sale on the off chance that he will find a hidden gem for the Press, but with no particular hopes: rare, undiscovered books aren’t common after all. But he is lucky—or unlucky—enough to find some items of interest when discreetly rummaging through the deceased’s desks and bookshelves. The first, and less remarkable find, is a series of supernatural novels by one T. R. Rudleigh: rare but not weird enough for Obscurantist Press. But the second find is stranger: the book Ought to be Sequestered, written by one of the deceased, details a small white stone with a long history of bringing misfortune upon those around it. The book fills Harris, a cynical atheist with no belief in the occult, with unease. He has to publish it. Driven by curiosity and perhaps a supernatural pull, he revisits the estate sale. Conveniently, it is running again the next weekend. When he investigates the home office again, he finds a small white stone which definitely wasn’t there last time. When he picks it up, he is filled with dread and immediately puts it back and leaves the estate. But the stone seems to haunt him.
An Offering From the Void is a classic tale of a haunted/cursed object with nothing to terrify but plenty to scare and unsettle. A solid read for those interested in horror who want to dip their toes without jumping into the deep end of monsters, slashers, or body horror. I recommend it. Find it in issue 140 of Nightmare or at the Nightmare Magazine website.
Callum’s listening
Myles Cameron’s Softboy

Significant moments have amounted to music-evoked autobiographical memories for my future self to rationalise and embrace. No matter how hard I try not to connect any aspect of my life to my current music tastes, I inevitably fail. Distaste sometimes festers in my mouth with albums and artists who remind me of people and places where I wasn’t at my best. Occasionally, though, some soft song or album is like glue, momentarily holding a part of my psyche together.
I consider each tooth as an album or song that has ingrained itself into me. The occasional revisit to a band’s discography can shuffle my mind into a bubble, no matter where I am, and flood my thoughts with the space I inhabited when I was younger. Inconsistent as ever, that music merges or squishes into current and previous memories, rendering an incomparable thought and offering an enlightened reminder of what has changed. Colours are no longer the same; a smell I had taken for granted returns; the feeling of how slow time moved many years ago crushes me. But it is the moments that formed that distaste that I find myself pulling teeth in hopes I will be okay.
Myles Cameron’s Softboy encompasses the past self, with memories brought up by landmarks and moments of déjà vu. Cameron reminisces about ‘Boyhood’, his previous home, and growing up as a teen. The album follows his life in soft poetry and careful acts that set the listener up for each song. He connects these songs to memories of being young, of first love, and of mistakes made during and after college.
‘I’m a hero, I’m a black star, I’m an asshole, I’m a king.’
Cameron welcomes these memories, using his failures, success, and devotion to his music to accept criticism, compliments, and insults. He has grown from the boy he was, using his growth to rationalise a past life of decisions he isn’t always proud of. He truly transcends in this album, creating a new chapter whilst reminding himself of what he once was.
Albums like this lock me in a room, dancing slowly with my memories in the form of another human. It is me, a friend, a family member, or a lover (present, former, future). The person isn’t grotesque until they mirror me. Occasionally, though, I am awed by the beauty of change as they switch in and out, moulding its figure and face. We dance an ever-changing waltz of growth and regret, every year until my final one.
Callum Ross-Rowland (he/him) is a Brisbane-based creative writing student at QUT. He was 2023 Literary Salon’s Photographer with his recent Diploma in Photo Imaging from Billy Blue (Torrens). He was recently shortlisted for Photographer of the year in the Animal and Nature category and regularly photographs for Artful Heads magazine where he captures portraits of artists from different mediums. Find him on Instagram @alrightatart.
Josephine Renee (she/her) is a 23-year-old Meanjin author majoring in creative writing at QUT. She is the Brisbane Writers Festival 2024 Youth Ambassador and a co-president of the QUT Literary Salon, as well as the 2023 recipient of the Kellie van Meurs Memorial Scholarship. She has travelled Europe for two years, spent a year and a half in North America, and recently returned from Paris. When not gaining worldbuilding inspiration, she dedicates her time to writing and illustrating. She has work published in WhyNot, ScratchThat Magazine, and Glass Magazine. Find her on Instagram @josephine_renee_official or at josephinerenee.com.
Olivia J Pryor (She/They) is a 25-year-old Meanjin based queer trans woman writer in her final year of studying creative writing at QUT. She is a lover of speculative fiction in all its forms: sci-fi; fantasy; horror; weird fiction and others, but still enjoys reading, watching, and listening to media in all genres and forms. She cares deeply about marginalised voices in the arts, particularly queer and trans women.
Logo created by Josephine Renee
Art created by Sophie Gollant
Sophie Gollant (she/her) is marked by her earnest oil paintings and photographs of earthly, isolated scenes. Sophie’s practice is steeped in metaphors and motifs that earnestly draw on her experiences of womanhood, chronic illness, and solitude.
Instagram: @soggolla