Northanger Abbey and Angels and Dragons (45 page)

^[1]
Gentle Reader, not all Richards are “Poor” nor are they all “Dicks.”

^[2]
As opposed to a Windows mouse.

^[3]
The Astute Reader is surely stunned! But yes indeed,
baseball
is known and acknowledged by the Esteemed Author—possibly its earliest literary mention ever!

^[4]
A creature of nightmares, rumored to be first observed and harbored at a certain fine estate called Mansfield Park.

^[5]
It must be noted that some “last” volumes work better than others that actually precede the first volume in an endless series of imperial space battle rehashes, cute stuffed creature aliens and brother-sister pairings, strange
forces
that may or may not be with one—that is, ahem! Upon my word, what was that all about?

^[6]
Ahem! Gentle Reader, it is not what one thinks it is. Besides, there is nothing wrong with that.

^[7]
Vide
a letter from Mr. Richardson, No. 97, Vol. ii, “Rambler.” Verily dear Reader, young ladies in love must never divulge their delicate amorous state, for gentlemen are such flighty creatures, easily frightened out of their wits.

^[8]
Delightful pastime consisting of observing people and objects at a distance through a magnifying glass in order to generate better informed gossip, or plan a more effective courtship, or, in some instances, to quit the room in a hurry.

^[9]
Goodness, how thoroughly unseemly!

^[10]
A Novel is a metaphysical Object of great power, capable of Changing Minds and Creating Worlds of untold wonder. It is also a secret means of universal travel.

^[11]
Be warned, O Fair Reader, this is an Authorial Aside, and as such, a measure of passion on the part of the humble Author must be excused, for she speaks from the heart, and Knows what she Speaketh.

^[12]
A Reviewer is a metaphysical Being for whom there are no proper earthly terms, O Blessed Reader; verily, neither angel, nor demon, nor dragon, nor even a monstrous duck. And yet, all that can be said is, Thou must Fear and Tremble!

^[13]
Ahem!

^[14]
One begs to differ—there is that fiendish Thing that rhymes, commonly found inside a greeting card.

^[15]
A Reader! A most happy breed of all, for Thou art Blessed and Wanted and Worshiped and Adored! Ahem! (The Author must hereby be pardoned for going into these warmest effusions of sentiment.)

^[16]
A Novelist is a metaphysical Being who has taken it upon her sorry shoulders to carry the burden of conscience of the entire modern civilization, while being paid less than minimum wage, working three or more additional jobs to avoid homelessness and starvation, and having no personal life to speak of, all in exchange for the privilege of speaking the Truth clad in Story.

^[17]
A forgotten periodical, gentle Reader, which finely illustrates the argument.

^[18]
Unless the gentleman is Beau Brummell or Oscar Wilde, in which case fashion moves the heart with Swiss precision.

^[19]
Oh dear! This is not in any way intended to remind the gentle reader of a certain Oscar Wilde, but rather of a happy butterfly, fluttering in the breeze.

^[20]
Gentle Reader, this Author is duly shocked. Whatever gutter filth must be passing through your thoughts! Oh dear! You must hasten to procure good soap and use it!

^[21]
Gentle Reader, pray, do not attempt to make sense of this.

^[22]
Be warned, O Virtuous Reader, what follows is a Meaningful Moral Lesson. An Aside, if you will (and even if you won’t). Thus, you must steadfastly persevere onward, for there is no escaping your instruction in Theological Cosmology, nor in the culinary art of baking!

^[23]
Gentle Reader, there is nothing more frightening than aggressive ignorance. To impose your own misinformed or vacant state upon someone else is a human crime. And yet, irony of ironies! It is a condition found, disturbingly often, precisely in the character of those who sit in judgment over human crimes.

^[24]
Being “curiously inlaid” is an absolute requirement when one discovers mysterious chests under such circumstances.

^[25]
Presumed to be neither a front portion of a moving vehicle, nor a guitar—items the Reader would be hard pressed to find in Northanger Abbey.

^[26]
Oh dear! One truly knows not what to say!

^[27]
A very, very bad man. Seriously, thou needst google it.

^[28]
Pray, do not think of a certain gentleman by the name of Oscar Wilde.

^[29]
Hold fast, bear onward! This one shall be brief!

^[30]
The publisher was an imbecilic twit.