Introductions

Looking back, I believe myself to have been the most unremarkable girl to have ever stood in well-heeled shoe-leather.

My father claims that he always knew I was destined for greatness. I can only view such outrageous flattery as a father's conceit; for I have always viewed myself as a 'plain Jane', as much in manner as in name.

A few years ago, you would not have been able to pick me out in a soiree of cosseted and corseted London girls. At the first-rate finishing school that I attended in my youth, I was taught how to speak well, act politely, dress properly, and maintain a high standard of propriety at all times. As such, I was made in much the same shape as any other young English lady. I was physically moulded by the latest in bustles and laces, while my psyche was refined enough to allow me to include a few appropriate quotes from the classics in conversation. Compared to my sister schoolmates, I was relatively handsome, reasonably intelligent, and moderately accomplished; neither obviously lacking, nor outstandingly admirable in any particular way.

At least, this is the surface impression I perceive myself as having cast at the time. Truth be told, if I was able to so convincingly disguise myself among my peers, it was only done to hide my inner eccentricities. I confess that I was always much more interested in primates than in parties. Any young man who made bold enough to speak to me at a dance would find himself in the company of an awkward, flat-footed dullard, whose only redeeming feature was that she possessed an encyclopaedic knowledge of dinosaur species. I was a born zoologist, not an anthropologist; I was always happier in the company of specimens, than in the stifling presence of polite society.

I do not know why this was the case. Perhaps a great deal of it must be attributed to my father's influence; I was always very proud of his work, and wished to help contribute to it in any small way I could. Besides that, I must admit that my interest in such things manifested itself of its own accord. If my circumstance offered me the opportunity, it was my own inclination which prompted me to enter the same field of study as he. Any other debutante would have cringed at the thought of mouldering away in dust-festooned archives, or lingering for hours in sterile, acrid-smelling laboratories; I, on the other hand, flourished in such surroundings. What I really longed for, however, was a proper field expedition: an adventure in the wild, exotic climes, far beyond the boundaries of dreary old England. I dreamed nightly of some unspoiled paradise which I was sure existed in some remote outreach of the earth's sphere, where assorted wonders of a botanical and zoological kind were just waiting for me to come and document them. This blissful fantasy was never too far away from my waking thoughts; and yet, I do not think I ever quite believed that I would find such a close approximation of this idyll anywhere in life. What I did find far surpasses any expectation I could ever invent.

Perhaps Daddy is right; maybe I really was destined for other things. I find it ironic that I once prided myself on having some higher purpose in life other than keeping abreast of the current fashions, hosting successful dinner parties, or acquiring for myself a suitable spouse; and yet, I now count my marriage as the greatest accomplishment I have thus far - or will ever - manage to achieve in my lifetime.

I cannot even begin to put into words what meeting Tarzan did for me, and how much he means to me. Other brides might despair at the prospect of having to give up many of the comforts of civilized life, to sequester themselves away with their betrothed - and to make their new abode up in a tree, no less. I gladly submit myself to such conditions, and would willingly endure far worse deprivations, if it only means that I can be by his side.

He is worth all of that; and far, far more.

There is so much to love about my husband. I would bore you, and have to begin a far thicker volume all of my own, if I were to attempt to list all of his admirable traits. Instead, I will merely sketch a quick impression for you, including those things that I adore most about him. Despite his many other more obvious attributes, such as his great physical strength, outstanding athleticism, and keen intelligence, his greatest asset, I would have to say, is his innate sensitivity. He is hardly the brute that most 'civilized' people would consider him to be; he has the noblest, most courageous, gentlest heart of anyone that I have ever met.

Anyone who knows him half as well as I do would acknowledge that this is in no way any exaggeration. I am utterly privileged that somehow, he has chosen me as his wife and his mate, and so I have come to know him better than any other. He sometimes claims that he could not have come to know his own self, without me there to help him fully realize it. I find this too ridiculous to believe; he would be his same, inimitable self, with a proficiency for English or without, whether walking upright or crouched on all fours. At times, I find it almost overwhelming that I could inspire such love in someone as incredible in every way as he is. I never dreamed that I would find someone who could care so much for a 'plain Jane' like me; nor that I could ever love someone as deeply, so utterly and completely, as I do him.

Living with him has opened my eyes to so many things. If I have imparted to him some useful instruction - things such as how to speak and write in English, proper etiquettes, table manners, and other trivial, human matters - then he has taught me the equivalent, and then tenfold. My father recently put it to me that these lessons would do well to be preserved, as an example to others. I hardly dare lecture on a topic which I am still far from mastering; my current life presents new challenges and discoveries every day, forever providing me with an infinite store of things I have yet to learn. Despite this caveat, I have come to agree that our singular experience might be worth making known to others. If I can inspire another young woman to dare as I dared, I will have achieved something grand indeed.

Mostly, however, this story is of, about, and written for my husband. Just as he has welcomed me into his life, I feel I owe it to him to share with him my own, revealing all that I was before our first meeting. I fear that he, and any other readers that this volume may attract, will find it unfeasibly dull; however, such is the story that I own, and I would willingly share it, if I may. I hope that whoever reads it might bear witness to the indescribable heights of happiness I have found here: surrounded by those I love most, in a place more beautiful than any other to be found.

This modest chronicle is dedicated to Professor Archimedes Porter, or Daddy, as I call him. You have always known best, dear father of mine. From the earliest times I can remember, you were my faithful teacher and explorer, leading me into the vast, undiscovered territories of scientific research; and guiding me through the even more fathomless matters of the heart.

Last, and by no means least, I dedicate this wholeheartedly to my husband, Tarzan. I love you more than words can say. I wish for nothing more than to share all of my life - past, present, and future - with you, forever and always.

- J. E. Porter

I am not accustomed to putting my thoughts into words. Until quite recently, I did not know a single word of English, let alone that such a thing as writing existed.

My wife assures me that I have been a fast learner. She says that in a few short years, I have managed what a lot of men take half a lifetime to master. It is true that I have progressed well past the first simple picture book I ever set eyes on, at twenty years of age.

All the same, I fear that am not yet up to this task. In the jungle, when one feels unprepared to take on something, it is far wiser not to attempt it. I say this not out of cowardice, but self-preservation; all my life, I have equated the threat of failure with the very real risk of death. Of course, putting my life down in writing does not cast it into any sort of peril. Still, I have some reservations about taking on this task. Having never come into contact with more than a hundred different men throughout my life, I find it disconcerting to think that these words might someday be read by many hundreds, if not thousands of people - all of London will want this publication, the professor assures me - who I shall never meet. I cannot imagine that I am currently addressing that many people through this writing. Also, I cannot believe that so many people would take an interest in me.

The only people I know of who would care to know that much of me are my wife and my father-in-law. Both of them have often asked me to tell them about my early years. They are convinced that I have led the most remarkable life of any man who ever lived. I cannot agree; it is my life, and I have never known any other. It is neither strange nor commonplace to me, it just is.

Be that as it may, I have agreed to do this, at their request. Since they have asked me so sincerely, and so persistently, I hate to disappoint them.

I hope any other readers will not take offence when I say that I am writing this solely for Jane, and no one else. She has promised to write out her life for me, so that I can know all the things I have missed, such as her life in England - everything that happened to her before she met me. I owe it to her to return the favour.

Please forgive me if I make some mistakes in this writing. The Professor and Jane have promised to correct some of the worst errors I make, so I won't embarrass myself too much. However, they say that any small mistakes that are left will give the reader a better impression of who I am. My story is so fantastic, they say, that unless I leave some evidence of how much I have had to labour to learn English, readers will not believe that what I claim is true.

Since I am told that it is customary to dedicate writings like this to someone special, I will dedicate mine to my family - especially to my wife, Jane. None of this would be possible, and would not mean anything, if not for you.

- Tarzan

Editor: it is hard believe that my son-in-law only learned how to write a few short years ago. Though my daughter and I offered to transcribe his spoken recollections for him, this prospect seemed to make him self-conscious, and he expressed a desire to write it down himself. I must say, his penmanship is admirable; though he still retains a preference for print over cursive script, his authorship is perfectly legible to the eye, if still a bit rough and utilitarian in style. To watch him write is, as with most other things about him, highly remarkable; he is quick, yet contemplative, putting careful thought into every word he sets down. This document is a credit to him, and to his adorable teacher. - A.Q.P.

Author's note: that gets the establishment of the characters out of the way. Next, I'll be starting at the beginning, with Jane and Tarzan's respective childhoods and familial backgrounds. I'll be tackling the events of the film chronologically from there.

By the way, if anyone has any particular scene they'd like to see included, please let me know; just give me a chance to get to some of the obvious ones, as I already have a fairly detailed plan of what I want to write, but I can fit further episodes in around it.

Also, Jane's words about Tarzan having 'the gentlest heart of anyone I have ever met' are taken straight from the 'Legend of Tarzan' episode that I mentioned; that line in particular provided a lot of inspiration, it was so beautiful. ~ W.J.