Let’s Talk About…Victorian England

Guys, new and exciting things are happening over here at Sarcasm Soapbox! Well, sort of. Julia’s been watching excessive amounts of Chuck and I’ve been listening to the Aladdin soundtrack non-stop for about three days. But what’s really exciting is our new feature, in which we choose a subject, any random topic, and discuss it hilariously. Happy first Let’s Talk About Tuesday!

By this point, I’m sure you are all well aware of Julia’s love for Jane Austen, but to be more accurate, Pride & Prejudice. I’m sure she also enjoyed Persuasion (it’s the other good one and my personal favourite) as well as Northhanger Abbey. But let’s face it, Mansfield Park is crap. That having been said, Jane Austen is delightful because of her biting sarcasm and the way she parodies the era within which she was living. Also by this point, I’m sure you’re well aware of how greatly I dislike Victorian literature. That course I took on it wherein I had to read two 900-page Victorian monstrosities was probably not a good life choice for me.

This leads us to our discussion on Victoria England, which is probably not a surprise at this point (it’s in the title, folks).


Victorian England was rife with intolerance, classicism, and human waste. And I don’t mean that metaphorically. I mean literal human poop everywhere


As much as I adore Pride & Prejudice it’s great mostly because Austen is critiquing the conventions of the time, not celebrating them. And let’s face it, if we actually lived in that time I’d probably be a governess (if I were lucky) covered in small pox scars or something equally as unromantic.


By this age, we’d all be unmarriable shrews. We’re already past our prime, Julia! And even while we were in our prime (age 16 to 19, a very small window indeed), we’d have very little value in society except for how proper and pale we could be at any given time.


We’re both very pale, so at least we’d have that going for us.


Although, as the daughters of people who would technically both be governesses, we’d probably be married off to goatherds or steel workers. And we’d already have approximately seven children. Ahhh, what romance. And also syphilis.


Yes! There’s nothing more romantic than that!

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