I refuse to read this article, as I refused to see The Queen despite the wonderful reviews. I cannot and will not hear or read another word about the British royal family, or any royal family for that matter. Here I write in protest.

I remember the day Diana died. People were genuinely upset for the poor rich girl. I thought there was something wrong with me. I felt nothing-one more dead person on earth. Our next door neighbor shouted out to her husband who was working in the yard in a sad voice, "Honey, Princess Diana died in a car crash!" His immediate response was cruel "Oh, that media whore? Good riddance." Naturally, we were all properly scandalized, but a part of me was secretly relieved. I was not alone. I wasn't happy that she was dead, but hey, finally she was going to disappear from my life (boy, was I wrong!). She was my Paris. She was everywhere. She bored me to death and I just could not avoid the constant stream of her image since I was a little girl.

She was a woman born into privilege. Everything that happened to her was a direct consequence of her choices. Who was this "princess"? To me, she was a moderately attractive woman with a bad haircut who did not even go to college although she came from a very privileged background. To me, she was a glorified trophy wife who chose to marry a rich and famous guy who did not love her. I wasn't sure whether she was star-struck or a gold-digger. I knew way too much about her than I cared to know. She was everywhere, I could not escape her image. It did not make sense to me. Why was she so much on the news? She had not done anything of any consequence until her last years, but not even her death could subside the obsession. Why? Because she married into a royal family, which is itself an anachronistic and undemocratic institution? Because she was someone's wife? There is and was nothing special about this woman. I didn't dislike her. I didn't care enough to dislike her. OK, maybe, I did dislike the naked neediness in her eyes a little bit. But mainly, I was just sick and tired of her presence and I admit, that was not really her fault. I failed to understand Diana's relevance. Everything about her, every news item bored me, still does.

So now, I beg you,stop writing about her , but you won't. For reasons that are mysterious to me, a princess is always a marketable product.

It's the age-old dream of women to find the best-looking, richest, most eligible man in town and tame him. It wouldn't be fun, if he were already docile and kind. It is in taming the shrewd, or in this case, the snob. This man, who is so strong, and so desirable not only chooses you, who is no beauty queen or heir to a big fortune, but he bows before you, he changes for you. It is the fantasy of getting that man desired by every woman, but only one will have. He realizes how valuable you are, something the rest of the world will see when he chooses you. You are so special that he will choose you despite lacking the beauty and wealth that is ordinarily required for such a catch. What a triumph it is! You must be really something, as you always knew. It is the ultimate affirmation and recognition. This is why Darcy is so appealing. He is the highest prize, the biggest challenge. It is in attaining the unattainable, that many women who love this romance find so much pleasure, not in finding true love.

Having said all these, I find Darcy to be a secondary character in Pride and Prejudice. Males play less than prominent roles in Austen novels. I am not against different people taking different things from Austen, but they should know they are missing the best parts if they are focusing exclusively on the romance because most certainly, the heroines are not. Don't you forget about the main plot while you read the gossip in the bath house and smile in bemusement and shock at the brutality of implied insults in seemingly cordial exchanges? Her charm is in her witty observations and dialog ( witty is an overly used but very accurate word to describe Austen) and timeless characters. We all recognize them and if we don't, we are probably too much like them to recognize their pathologies. That's Austen's charm, all "romance" aside.