Acerbic and delightful, this YA rom-com about a girl who resolves to become the main character of her own story is perfect for fans of Jenny Han and Becky Albertalli.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from J.C. Peterson’s Being Mary Bennet, which releases on March 15th 2022.
SYNOPSIS
With a hilariously sharp voice, a sweet and fulfilling romance that features a meet-cute in an animal shelter, and a big family that revels in causing big problems, this charming comedy of errors will have readers cheering for Marnie during every step of her obstacle-ridden journey toward embracing who she truly is.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that every bookworm secretly wishes to be Lizzie Bennet.
A less acknowledged truth is that Mary Bennet might be a better fit.
For seventeen-year-old Marnie Barnes, who’s convinced she is the long-suffering protagonist of her life, this revelation comes at the end of a series of self-induced disasters that force her to confront a devastating truth: Marnie has more in common with Mary Bennet—the utterly forgettable middle sister—than the effervescent Lizzie.
Determined to reinvent herself, she enlists the help of her bubbly roommate and opens herself up to the world—leading lady style. And between new friends, a very cute boy, and a rescue pup named Sir Pat, Marnie realizes that being the main character doesn’t mean rewriting your life entirely. It’s about finding the right cast of characters, the love interest of your dreams, and, most important, embracing your story, flaws and all.
Help me.
It’s such a simple command when the task is, say, reshelving books in the children’s library. You read the numbers on the spine and roll your cart to the correct shelf. But asking for help to change the very essence of who you are? Not so simple.
In the past thirty-six hours, I’ve missed nine calls from my mother, ignored five texts from my sisters on our group chat, and watched four Bollywood movies. That last one was Adhira’s idea. It was admittedly sweet of her, but also like giving a drowning man a bathing cap. It’s a nice gesture, but not
exactly helping the situation.
Which leads me here. My family probably hates me, and even Adhira has apparently taken all she can since she vanished an hour ago, leaving me prone in bed wearing novelty pajamas featuring pizza slices floating in space and scouring Pride and Prejudice for every mention of Swamp Monster Mary.
Each new, delightfully awful description pricks behind my eyes, hard enough that I sit up, shove my glasses up into my hair, and pinch at the bridge of my nose. What does one do when confronted with the truth of one’s nature? Is the answer to reread a nineteenth-century burn book about one’s life and copy every pertinent passage in a journal? No? Well, too bad.
The descriptions of Mary are scant in Pride and Prejudice, but maybe that’s because she’s such a turd of a person. This is my personal favorite. (And by personal favorite, I mean it makes me want to go all Mrs. Rochester and lock myself in an attic.)
Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached.
I underline the words pedantic and conceited so hard, my pen rips through the page of my journal. Under my pillow, my phone rings again, but I ignore it. If I were Lizzy Bennet—the heroine my heart longs to inhabit, but who is currently being played by Lindy—I would’ve laughed. A musical laugh that makes men like Mr. Darcy (cough Hayes cough) remember me far into the night.
My laugh is more choking chortle, like a bullfrog suffering from postnasal drip.
If I were Lizzy, I would’ve already put this behind me and come out the other side stronger. I . . . haven’t done that. Though I guess I can mark that down to having “neither genius nor taste.”
A whine starts deep in my gut and rumbles upward. I fall back against my pillow and finally pull out my phone. I don’t yet know how to confront Mary, but I can confront the mess I made with my family.
The gist of the ignored group texts: horror (Kat); awful glee (Lola); annoyance (Lindy); rationalization (Joss); then a final one from Lindy saying it wasn’t a big deal, but I’d better smooth things over with Mom.
Speaking of. A highlight from one of my mother’s many voice mails: “Why would you ruin one of the few joys in my life?”
Wonderful. But then there’s one more missed text from Lindy, sent only to me. I understand why family stuff is awkward for you, but the way you acted hurt me and Will. Can we talk about it?
My fingertips hover over my phone, unsure how to respond. Regret and shame skitter down my skin, making me squirm. I press my lips together and squint at Lindy’s text, but I can’t figure out a way past this horrid disappointment. It drags at me, churns inside me, and I shove the phone back under my pillow without responding.
Maybe my family made me this way, but I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be awkward or a disappointment. Mary would never earn Hayes’s love. She’d never win prizes or equal her sister or make her father proud. I can’t allow myself to be Mary Bennet.
I slide my glasses back down onto my nose, turn to a new page in my journal, and write out in large block letters:
ON BEING MARY BENNET:
A DETERMINATION TO THWART DESTINY
Underneath, I write a contract with myself.
I, Marnie Elizabeth Barnes, hereby do swear to root out and destroy Mary Bennet. I will not allow myself to be pedantic, conceited, or insensible. I will not allow myself to die alone with fifteen cats, having never been kissed. I will change who I am, no matter the cost, to cast off Mary Bennet.
Signed,
Marnie Barnes / October 28
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JC Peterson lives in Denver, Colorado, with her husband, two small sons, and one enormous tabby. When not dreaming up funny contemporary stories or herding children, she loves to eat and shop local, explore the Colorado mountains, and plan new adventures. Being Mary Bennet is her first novel.
