The Snottor has been quite busy this month nursing blisters sprung up on his delicate ankles, all on accounts of those dratted “April Showers”. Boots, no matter how advantageous to the avid gardener, can be quite painful when worn at length on a wet day. He accepts the readers’ condolences rather sourly, but as politely as the situation can warrant. The rest blistered feet desire is quite conducive, he thinks, to this month’s recommendation.
About this work:
The Scarlet Pimpernel is a work of swashbuckling-ly romantic historical fiction by the Baroness Emma Orczy. But enough of these silly descriptions, they are frustrating to an impatient and sour Snottor. The point of this post, and what he wants the reader to know, is that the book is really quite fabulous. It is quick, adventurous, and for the romantics like the Snottor out there, it is really quite appreciated. There have been two adaptations made of this lovely work, to the Snottor’s knowledge. One, a miniseries, he has not seen and cannot speak to. Phlox would discreetly ask a knowledgeable reader to enlighten him on the subject, to ease his acidic curiosity, but she knows that would do no good for the poor Snottor. He must see to believe.
He has viewed, however, the 1982 feature length adaptation. It is long but superb, he says. He finds Anthony Andrews (whom Phlox is rather fond of, he shall inform the reader with a smirk) and Jane Seymour (not to mention the illustrious Ian McKellen) carry the whole thing with splendor and grace. The music that goes along with the whole thing is quite scintillating, and the Snottor, who is not fond of watching or reading even very good things more than once, must confess to having watched the movie three times (although it feels to Phlox like five), and to having read the book twice. He finds it to be quite the innocent indulgence.