Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

I am incredibly pleased to post this review from one of my real-life and long-time BFFs, Tammy. Especially since I've been so bad at posting lately. I'm also excited to see this review because I have a copy of it waiting for me at the bookstore (I think) along with It Sucked and Then I Cried by Heather Armstrong. Enough about me, though. On to the zombies!

Seth Grahame-Smith’s mash-up novel Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is a lot like finding chocolate in your peanut butter. Never could two more esteemed genres find companionship. The story is, of course, still Jane Austen’s—often verbatim—but with the much appreciated addition of zombies.

In P&P&Z, the sisters Bennet have all been trained in the deadly arts. They spend their days hunting unmentionables and husbands, Bingley is still dreamy and Mr. Darcy intolerable. The parody of manners and civility remain, enhanced with the burden of proper conduct during battle with either zombies or ninjas. Before roundhouse kicks, one must consider modesty. During their visit to Rosings, Elizabeth suffers Mr. Darcy and the unfortunate transition of her dear friend Charlotte:

What remained of Charlotte would liked to have believed this change the effect of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza. She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success, for her thoughts often wandered to other subjects, such as the warm succulent sensation of biting into a fresh brain. Mr. Darcy certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind. And upon imaging Mr. Darcy’s mind, her thoughts would again turn to the subject of chewing on his salty, cauliflower-like brain.

Who, truly, has not, on occasion, desired a little blood and gore while reading of repression and propriety? Haven’t we all shared Elizabeth’s feelings toward a suitor at one time or another when she “resolved to hold Darcy’s heart, still beating, in her hand…?” Wouldn’t Wharton’s The Age of Innocence be more satisfying if Countess Olenska became a blood sucking vamp, rather than expiring pathetically of tuberculosis?

Grahame-Smith is also a screenwriter, so a movie version cannot be far behind. Spare us Keira Knightly or Gwyneth Paltrow. Give us the girl who always plays the outsider, a Kat Dennings or Eva Amurri. And LET HER KICK ASS!