Although I have read Jane Austen's Emma at least a million-and-one times before now, I am not sure that I've ever noticed during those readings the very interesting contrasts the novelist creates among the talkers-at, the talkers-to, and the non-talkers. Mr. Weston (sociable rising-genteel neighbor), Miss Bates (sociable shabby-genteel neighbor), Mr. Woodhouse (Emma's sweet but dumb wealthy-gentleman father), and Mrs. Elton (the vicar's obnoxious nouveau-riche bride) are talkers-at, though all are very different kinds of people in terms of class, talking style, and personality. Emma (smart wealthy gentlewoman) crosses the line between both: with Harriet (pretty but dumb schoolgirl of unknown parentage) and her father, she is a talker-at; with Mr. Knightley (intelligent wealthy-gentleman neighbor), she is a talker-to. Likewise, Mr. Knightly crosses the line. Mrs. Weston (Emma's ex-governess) is firmly a talker-to. I think there is also a cast of characters that might be defined as non-talkers: those who either mostly keep their mouths shut (Jane: elegant, impoverished niece of Miss Bates) and those whose thoughts are entirely manipulated by the person talking (Harriet). Frank Churchill (Mr. Weston's son, raised by rich relatives) is a talker-to who is also a secretive non-talker, which is why Emma misreads him.

Anyway, enough of this, which I'm sure makes no sense to anyone who has not read the novel. Now I am going to copy out my very favorite passage in the book, which has nothing to do with categories of talkers but offers a swift and lovely vision of everyday life in a small English town in 1800. It reminds me that nothing is too dull to write about, that we live in the midst of wonders. Here: I give it to you as a gift for a cold Monday morning.

Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement.--Much could not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;--Mr. Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the office door, Mr. Cole's carriage horses returning from exercise, or a stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her full basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling children round the baker's bow-window eyeing the gingerbread, she knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused enough.