Austen Candy

I was talking to a friend a little while ago and she told me that reading Jane Austen and George Eliot were like eating candy to her (I'm in the middle of a 1,000 page copy of Middlemarch and I don't think I've ever read a book with more than 5 or 600 pages). Anyway, I really like Middlemarch, because G. Eliot is an amazing writer, but I have to confess that I'm somewhat daunted by it's size. So, while I agree with my friend that Austen is much like candy, and I'm already a fan of Eliot, Middlemarch is more like a baked potato for me—a baked potato with all the fixins, mind you, but a baked potato, none the less. You take the first few bites of tasty goodness on the top where all the sour cream, cheese and onions reside; you start making your way down the core and you can still taste the creamy, tangy goodness mingled with the fibrously nourishing potato meat, and then all of a sudden, there's no more cream, not a shred of melted cheese and not a fleck of onion to be found, even between your two front teeth. You realize all you're eating is dry, mealy roughage that must be good for you, but you have to confess you're not that scientifically sound on the true mechanics of nutrition. Your brain knows it's good for you, but your tongue has lost all flavor memory of the toppings by now and your fork keeps scraping the bottom in the vain hope that there are toppings hidden somewhere. So I know the analogy is a little problematic, because it's not that the dry potato part of Middlemarch is boring to me, just indiscernible. I'll be reading along, thinking I understand the style and the intent of the page, paragraph or sentence and then all of a sudden Eliot switches from the literal to the metaphorical and my literal brain doesn't always take the leap. Reading Jane Austen though is like candy to me. Or maybe comfort food--like mashed potatoes and fried chicken and buttery homemade rolls (or chocolate, take your pick and if those don't suit, I've got plenty more food analogies where those came from). She's probably my favorite author; I can read her books over and over without boredom (with the exception maybe of Mansfield Park) and watch all the available movie adaptations with brainwashing, cult-like dedication and never feel a need for reeducation. Whenever I start reading something that turns out tiresome or dumb, I always go back for candy.