A stormy, intense, and introspective novel that probes the psychology of passion and revolutionizes the scope of romantic fiction.

Contains biographical sketch of the author.

I was most pleasantly surprised with Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, which I just read for the first time. For some reason, I expected a combination of Wuthering Heights (which I didn’t like as well as I thought I would) and Dickens (who I generally don’t love). On the contrary, Jane Eyre is not derivative of anything – Charlotte Bronte has her own viewpoint and style, and with Jane Eyre she has created a unique coming-of-age tale.

SPOILERS

The book is divided into five major parts: 1. Orphan Jane lives with Mrs. Reed, her aunt, and the three Reed children. Mrs. Reed despises Jane and treats her terribly, eventually sending her away to school. 2. Jane goes to Lowood Institution, a Christian charity school that doesn’t seem to have a lot of Christian values or charity toward its wards. After a typhus epidemic, the school is much improved. Jane stays at Lowood, eventually becoming a teacher. 3. Jane wants to see more of the world, so advertises for a governess position. She is hired at Thornfield Manor, where Mr. Edward Rochester lives with his French ward, Adele Varens, the housekeeper Alice Fairfax, and his servants. Eventually Jane and Edward fall in love and Edward proposes. However, there is a slight problem – Mr. Rochester already married to a madwoman who lives on the third floor. 4. Jane runs away and is rescued by the Rivers family, three siblings who take her in and treat her well. In the meantime, through a series of coincidences, Jane inherits money. The brother, St. John, installs Jane as the village teacher. He also tries to convince her to marry him and accompany him on his mission to India. Jane does not love St. John and knows that he does not love her, so refuses. 5. Jane realizes who she truly loves, and journeys to find Edward Rochester, whose wife has since died in a deadly fire that also leaves Rochester blinded and without a hand. They marry and live happily ever after.

For me, one of the biggest surprises in reading Jane Eyre was that there was so much more to the novel than just the love story between Jane and Rochester. In reality, the section at Thornfield is about half the novel. Another surprise was that there were few scenes on the “wild moors.” In fact, Jane Eyre is much more of an internal story. Although “nature” is invoked, it is almost always human nature, not outside nature. And perhaps most surprising (at least to me) was that Bertha Mason, Rochester’s crazy wife, really didn’t play a major role in the novel. Yes, her existence caused some major problems, but for whatever reason I thought she would be a major character, too.

Charlotte Bronte explores many themes throughout the novel, including religion, love (romantic and familial), a woman’s place in society, the role of family in society, and the psychological reasons people do the things they do (human nature). On this first reading, I think I was most struck by Bronte’s exploration of the role of religion and its affects on people of different personalities, and the study of women’s place in society. With religion, it seems that Bronte is showing how extremes can be not only restricting and rigid (St. John) but downright cruel (Mr. Brocklehurst and his Lowood school). And the entire book is about Jane’s journey to find her place in society, and in so doing, Bronte advocates for women to be allowed to find useful pursuits that allow them to contribute to society. Of course, there is so much more here, but this is only a review!

I only had a few quibbles, mostly with the coincidences at the end. These strained credulity just a bit. However, by this time I was so absorbed with the novel that I was quite willing to suspend disbelief.

Overall, Jane Eyre is a great book, one I would happily read again. ( )

One of the best romance novels of all time.Charlotte was a gifted writer ( )

This is the first book in my memory that made me cry. I have only read it once for that reason, but it's been a while. I need to pick it up again and see if I like it as much. ( )

Jane Eyre was long, wordy and old. It was a recipe for instant dislike. While I didn't love the book, I certainly enjoyed it. The character of Jane Eyre was upstanding and brave. She showcased many qualities women strive for and find hard to reach even today. Mr. Rochester was both off-putting and strangely likable at times. The mixture of drama, romance and a bit of mystery was engaging. While I often put the book down, I never once thought of not finishing it. A deserved classic. ( )

(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted here illegally.)

The CCLaP 100: In which I read for the first time a hundred so-called literary "classics," then write essays on whether or not they deserve the label

Essay #33: "Jane Eyre" (1847), by Charlotte Bronte

The story in a nutshell:
Originally published in 1847 under the masculine pen-name "Currer Bell" so that it'd be taken more seriously, Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre is in fact a largely autobiographical coming-of-age tale, or at least when it comes to the particulars and attitudes that inform this wholly fictitious storyline. In it, we watch our stubborn, nerdy titular hero progress from the age of eight to twenty, first as a put-upon orphan being raised by cruel relatives who don't want her there, then as an even more put-upon orphan at one of those notoriously harsh and unsanitary charity schools that the early Victorian Age is now so known for. But Dickensian reform comes to the school in Jane's teenage years, making it a much more pleasant place, eventually leading to her getting a decent education and even a few years of student-teaching under her belt; and that leads us to the meat of the story and the situation that takes up the majority of the novel's text, Jane's time as a governess at the dark, spooky, possibly haunted Thornfield Manor, which is where she meets for the first time the brooding master of the house, one Edward Rochester. Severe yet oddly compelling in appearance, cynical and brusque in manner, Rochester has been spending the last decade wandering among the artists and elites of continental Europe, trying unsuccessfully to find a romantic partner worthy of his keen yet sociopathic intelligence (in fact, this is how he ends up in custody of the French moppet who Jane is in charge of tutoring, the child of a dead opera singer who Rochester once had a torrid affair with); but it is plain ol' Jane who actually seems to be the very first person in Rochester's life to realize that what he really needs is someone who will simply stand up to his haughty intimidation, and serve back the same kind of witty repartee that he's so fond of dishing out, leading to entire chapters sometimes consisting of nothing else but flirtatious banter between the two, loaded with literary references and dripping with sexual tension. And thus do the two eventually admit their love for each other and make plans to marry, leading to what looks like will be a prematurely happy ending about halfway through the book.

(CAUTION: The next paragraph reveals important information concerning the end of this book.)

Ah, but this is a Victorian novel we're talking about -- of course there's to be no happy ending halfway through! Oh, and did I mention that it turns out that Rochester's actually already technically married? To a violent psychopath? Who's secretly kept locked in the attic for the sake of everyone else's safety? Well, of course he is! And thus does Jane react the way that most compulsive, upset 19-year-olds would under the circumstances, which is to leave all her possessions and run off in the middle of the night, using today's equivalent of her last twenty bucks to ride a random carriage as far as her money will take her, which turns out to be near the Scottish border; and it's there that she lives the life of a homeless beggar for nearly a week, until finally being taken in literally on death's door by a local liberal minister and his two fun-loving sisters, who slowly nurse her back to full health. And thus does Jane spend the next year of her life as the head of her own rural charity school, slowly bonding with the three until feeling that they are her own family; oh, and by the way, they are, when through an insanely improbable series of circumstances it's revealed that Jane has not only recently inherited today's equivalent of a million bucks, but that these three random friends are in fact her long-lost cousins. And so is Jane forced into a tough decision -- head off with her austere cousin to a life as a chaste missionary in far-off India, entering a loveless in-name-only marriage with him as a way to travel as a young woman without Victorian fingers being wagged? Or heed the ghostly voice she hears one night and rush off with her newfound money to check on the status of Rochester, just to find out that his crazy wife burned down the mansion six months ago, killing herself in the process and leaving Rochester blind and one-handed, but at least now in a position to finally consummate his still-burning love for Jane once and for all? Well, Dear Reader, this after all is known as one of the greatest love stories in history; which option do you think she chooses?

The argument for it being a classic:
Fans claim that there's a simple reason Jane Eyre should be considered a classic -- it's one of the best examples ever of the Victorian Novel (otherwise known as the Romantic Novel), one of those early success stories that in fact helped define what the term even means. (Abused orphans! Byronic heroes! Gothic mansions! Proto-feminism! Lunatic women locked in attics! Ridiculously convenient twists of fate! Criticism of the British class system! White Man's Burden! Subliminally erotic dialogue comparing one's lover to pagan mythology! Anglican colonial missionaries with chiseled good looks! Holy crap, this book's got everything!) But on the other hand, in many ways this book is everything the typical Victorian Novel is not, which fans argue accounts for its longstanding popularity even while most other books from the period are now virtually forgotten -- it's not a simple morality tale, not designed to support the upper-class status quo, has a surprising amount of critical things to say about the abuse of organized religion, and in no way at all ends with our hero doing the "sensible" (i.e. "right") thing, unlike that dowdy ol' Jane Austen. (And in fact, although only 50 years separate their work, Bronte in many ways considered herself the "anti-Austen" -- she considered the former to be the last great writer of the rational, reserved Enlightenment, while considering herself firmly in the vein of the moody, emotional Romanticism so popular during her time.) And of course no conversation concerning this novel's strengths is complete without a mention of the beguiling Edward Rochester, considered by many to be the greatest romantic hero in history (or as one carried-away online reviewer put it, "I'd jump him like a stalled car any day of the week"), the ultimate "bad boy" archetype that has heavily influenced everyone from James Joyce to James Dean to those stupid "Twilight" books. If you want the ultimate example of why Victorian literature was so great, claim its fans, as well as a clear snapshot of what life in Great Britain in the mid-1800s was like, you could do a lot worse than to pick up this very definition of a literary classic.

The argument against:
Ironically, the main complaints that are made by critics of Jane Eyre (and they're out there, believe me) have little to do with the book itself, but rather are more critiques of Victorian literature in general -- like the fact that the day is ultimately saved by a ridiculously contrived deus ex machina ending ("Really? The random strangers in the random town where Jane randomly ends up at just happen to turn out to be the biological cousins she's never met? Really?"); or that Jane has a remarkably poor attitude about both race and the mentally ill; or that this was the novel that started the bad trend of legitimatizing the falling in love with abusive boyfriends under the justification that they're the only ones who "truly get him," that they will be the ones to mend the wing of this broken dove and allow him to soar in the way he was always meant to. But like I said, none of these things are really criticisms of Jane Eyre per se but more of all literature from the mid-1800s, so I'm not sure how valid they are as an argument against the book being a classic.

My verdict:
So I have to confess, reading Jane Eyre for the first time this month really brought out my inner 12-year-old girl, and I found myself literally swooning during big parts of this in a way that made me freaking disgusted with myself. And really, if you want to understand the almost supernatural popularity of this book (for example, as of today it's still the 900th most popular book on the planet according to Amazon, even as this year it celebrates its 162nd anniversary), simply understand that Bronte's masterfully subtle prose precisely brings out the inner 12-year-old girl in all of us -- the part of us that's in love with the very concept of love, the part of us that can look at the "I hate kids and I hate the rich and I hate you too" bluster of a passionate, misunderstood soul like Rochester and make us think that we too are the only ones who truly "get" him. (And in fact, all three of the Bronte sisters who survived into adulthood eventually became known as masters of Romanticism, creating a literary triumvirate that has fascinated the general public ever since -- for example, also scheduled for review a little later in the CCLaP 100 is Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights from the same exact year, just as famous as Jane Eyre and containing just as obsessively passionate a Bryonic hero at its center.)

Now combine this with all the exquisite Victorian details already mentioned, stuff that delighted audiences even then and that just continue to become more and more historically quaint with every passing year -- the echoing halls of centuries-old Gothic Revival mansions, the cold beauty of the northern moors, the desperate conditions of Jane's childhood orphanage, a time when people still died of things like "consumption" and "the humours." There's a very good reason this is known by many as the ultimate Victorian novel, even while it's quite factually also very atypical of what at the time was the average Victorian novel, the kind of flowery claptrap that long ago faded into out-of-print obscurity -- because both of these seemingly clashing facts actually end up feeding off each other, creating at the end both a fine historical document but also one that stands the test of time, precisely because of the unique details that hold together the stereotypes like glue. It's one of those books you don't simply read but literally get lost in, the kind that can literally shut off the distractions of the real world around you; and this is why people become fans of literature in the first place, why the novel format became so popular during the 19th century to begin with, because of its almost magical ability to shut out the real world in a way that nearly no other artistic medium can, to transport us to a place where our imaginations are free to run far and run wild. Bronte was an undisputed master at this; and in our visual, postmodern age where more and more artists are losing the very ability to do such a thing at all, such mastery over storytelling simply becomes more and more important to those who still love sitting down with a great book, accounting not only for Jane Eyre's continuing popularity but explaining why books like these are more important these days than ever before. Like its fans say, it is literally the definition of a classic, a designation I don't see it losing anytime soon.

Is it a classic? Verily, I say unto thee ( )

I resisted reading this book, and books like it, because I firmly believe that I shouldn't read because somebody decided they are classics, I only read what I like. I recently figured that I am not looking at a lot of books, merely because they are classics, without seeing if I might like them for their story.
So, Jane Eyre is my first classic. And I loved it! I loved the writing, the characters, the story. I highly recommend it, and I am glad I finally read it! ( )

I’d been wanting to read this book for quite a while and could never quite get motivated for it. I’m glad I read it. I appreciated the writing, and I get why it’s a classic.

But man, is it ever plot-driven. I had no idea there would be so little character development and so many extensive descriptions. The action is almost “blink and you miss it,” as Jane spends a hundred pages talking about day-to-day life and then makes a major revelation in just a few sentences. And she does that several times.

It also doesn’t help that going into this, my first reading of Jane Eyre, I already knew two important plot points: the big secret and how it ends. Now, I did enjoy seeing how the story unfolded, and I tried to be objective and think about whether a moment would have had tension if I hadn’t known what was going to happen, and the answer was usually yes. Brontë takes forever to build up to things, even after she’s given us plenty clues, and the revelations—quick as they are—are thoroughly satisfying.

If not for the antiquated language and all of the 19th century obsessing about propriety and social strata, I might have forgotten how old this book is, and that’s a good thing. Brontë’s writing is significantly less affected than that of many of her peers (Mr. Dickens, I love you, but I’m looking at you right now), and it allowed me to get pulled into the story rather than tangled up in phrasing. ( )

Gothic, passionate, intelligent, truly romantic. I'm tempted to say that everyone should read it. ( )

This was a good read, but I wasn't too impressed. Chapter 28 was my favorite. ( )

Jane Eyre, oh where do I start? This book isn’t one I just picked off the shelf. I heard about it in another book I was reading, so I thought I’d check it out. And now, it’s part of me for life.

Yes, I had to use my dictionary to dust off my French to get through it. I also had to guess at some Old English, but those are the only negatives.

As soon as I saw that Little Jane went to a private school, I was sucked in. As big of nerd as I am, I think I would have loved a private school.

From page one until the end, there is never a dull moment. And you grow with Jane from the time she is 10. You see a child become a woman. You also get to see a completely different world than we ever know or can even imagine. As soon as you think there will be calm, the plot thickens and you are left once more in amazement.

One of the things I like most about this book is the history. It’s 162 years old and written by a woman. Charlotte Bronte was not the only author in her family. Her two sisters were also writers and they all wrote under aliases. Many thought it was men writing these amazing stories.
This is a book I will read time and time again. One, I know I missed parts. Two, I just loved the story and don’t think it’ll ever get old.

I give Jane Eyre 5 bookmarks and if you haven’t read it, I highly suggest it. (Sorry, no bookmarks to add to this post. I can’t get them to go at the bottom of the page. Still learning blogger format.) ( )

Mixing drama, some horror, passion plus slightly portentous chunks of religion this is a yarn that keeps you hooked. Probably what a female version of Dickens would have penned. ( )

The story is good and interesting
Mariam ( )

It is sad story. Jane's life is hard. But she never gave up. I was very impressed. I warmed. ( )

Jane Eyre is, quite simply, one of the best books I have ever read.

I read Jane Eyre several years ago and thoroughly enjoyed it then. I remember liking Jane's strong narrative voice, the way that Brontë drew her characters, the dramatic storyline. I remember feeling the suffering that Jane describes (both at Lowood and after she flees Thornfield Hall) because of the powerful descriptions. But something in me was not quite awake yet, some faculty for fully appreciating the genius of this book. This time when I picked it up, I fell into it headfirst, devouring each word hungrily in total absorption. It took over my world in a way only a few books have. I wanted to call off work just to finish it; I could have stayed up all night lost in its pages.

How did Charlotte Brontë create such an amazing work in this her first novel? From where did she draw her characters, her compelling plot? How did she, a sheltered clergyman's daughter, learn to distinguish so clearly between what is twisted and man-made in religion and what is truly good? Her preface to the second edition is simply astounding to me: "Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last." Brontë never once loses her way amidst the religious, spiritual, and emotional themes of the tale — and all this while telling a story in graceful, unerring prose, with powerfully conceived characters and storylines. She has no fear of pointing out hypocrisy, but she takes equal delight in showing us genuine goodness in her characters. It is always hard-won, never an artificial niceness.

Some readers complain that the time spent on the Lowood section of the book is too detailed and tedious. I drank in every word and didn't find it a moment too long, because it is crucial to understanding Jane later in the book. And there is something about the way that Brontë describes the conditions at the school that gripped me. I knew from the quick author bio at the front that Charlotte and her sisters went to one such school, where two of them (Maria and Elizabeth) died — and died, as Charlotte averred, from the treatment they received there. Her condemnation of Lowood is harsh, but it is always seen through the eyes of a child (albeit a precociously perceptive one). I think if it had been me, my sisters who died from malnutrition and illness in the name of a false charity, I should have ruined my story by my ranting. Charlotte takes the experience and transforms it into something compelling, without ever resorting to a preachy lecture on the social and moral ills of such institutions. Lowood never bored me because I was there with Jane. I burned with her indignation and was humbled with her at the faith of Helen Burns. Without understanding Lowood, we cannot understand our heroine, who spends eight years there.

And what a heroine Jane is! Really, all the characters in this book are simply amazing. Each is distinct, rendered quite clear to the reader through Jane's eyes, acting in perfect accordance with his or her nature. Brontë never harms the story by forcing her characters to do something foreign to their personalities. They are so believable that I feel as though I know them in real life. Over the past two days as I swallowed this story, they have become more real to me than many people I see daily!

Jane, oh Jane. She is a fascinating combination of strong moral conviction and deep passion. Her very name hints at her complex nature: she is Jane, plain and serviceable and responsible — but she is also Eyre, airy and eerie and ephemeral. Rochester calls her a sprite and an elf, and marvels at the strength of will and mind that is housed in such a frail body. Unlike heroines of morality stories, Jane struggles painfully with herself to do the right thing, and there is a very real chance that she won't. She is strong, but not without terrible cost, and she honestly admits her own weakness to us. Her morality is genuine; she doesn't flee Rochester because she is afraid of society's censure, but because she knows in her heart that it is wrong to live as his mistress, and that she will do so if she does not remove herself from his presence. I love the part where she argues with herself that moral precepts and laws are there for moments of insanity and weakness; if we do not obey them then, when all within us is urging us to disobey, of what use are they?

I have said that Jane is a combination of several contradictory traits and I love that complexity. She is firm enough about her boundaries some of the time, but other times she bows her head quite docilely to things that seem insupportable. Jane says that this has always been her way with strong natures antagonistic to hers; either she fights every inch, or is drawn into an artificial, fascinated submission almost against her will. Certainly we all have observed this seeming contradiction in our own behavior at times, and it only makes Jane that much more accessible and believable. If she had been strong all the time, she would become a one-dimensional character like so many in modern fiction.

And Jane is not beautiful — what a unique heroine she is, to attach us so thoroughly with no reference to her physical beauty. Many times in the story we are reminded of Jane's unimpressive appearance, especially as she contrasts her own looks with those of Blanche Ingram. The scenes in the parlour, when Rochester's guests are there and Jane sits humbly in a corner, are like the Northfield drawing-room scenes in Pride and Prejudice, only with more bite. Jane does not defend herself against the open hostility directed toward her (when they deign to notice her), and some parts of this section brought me almost to tears. I know what it is to feel envy, and have comforted myself as Jane does with the faults of my enemy. I know what it is to feel mortified and hated by all around me, to have no ally, to be limited only to myself in a group, with no other resource of dignity. If you haven't experienced that, I don't wish it upon you. But those who have, like me, may well find themselves moved to tears when a small kindness is finally shown. It's always kindness that breaks us in the end.

Some readers (in fact, a surprising many) dislike the novel because they dislike Edward Rochester. I find this attitude especially prevalent in young and first-time readers, to whom Rochester's past excesses and evils overcloud everything else in his character. I never disliked him, but the broader life experience I brought with me to the book this time around showed me just how skillfully he is drawn. Brontë isn't afraid to create a character she cannot quite control, and she gives him the free rein that makes him come alive in the story. I think too that some people find it hard to identify with Rochester's repentance at the end. The story ends happily enough, but not according to the formula. The obstacle to their love is removed, yes, but they have been irrevocably changed as well. Rochester is no longer the powerful, virile, proud lord we came to know throughout the story... no, he is a broken man now. But I think the core of his character is retained after the purification. Rochester's repentance speech at the end of the book is probably the most moving thing of its kind that I've ever read:

"Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far more wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower—breathed guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff-necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead of bending to the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow of death. His chastisements are mighty; and one smote me which has humbled me for ever. ... Of late, Jane—only—only of late—I began to see and acknowledge the hand of God in my doom. I began to experience remorse, repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I began sometimes to pray: very brief prayers they were, but very sincere. ... I asked of God, at once in anguish and humility, if I had not been long enough desolate, afflicted, tormented; and might not soon taste bliss and peace once more. That I merited all I endured, I acknowledged—that I could scarcely endure more, I pleaded; and the alpha and omega of my heart's wishes broke involuntarily from my lips in the words—'Jane! Jane! Jane!'"

If that doesn't convince us of his sincerity, I don't know what will. What a change from his earlier self! And how brilliantly Brontë handles her characters and their motivations.

St John was another fascinating character. I used to think that he would have been much happier if he would have just submitted to his love for Miss Oliver and married her, continuing his work in the parish rather than going to India as a missionary. But this reread changed that opinion. I saw with Jane that his love for Miss Oliver was not really love, but lust; and that in marrying her he would ensure the misery of them both. He would never be satisfied with her average morality and mind, and she would grow to hate him and his autocratic demands cloaked in religious sentiments. There is nothing that could really "save" St John from himself, and he stands as a chilling example of the good deeds and upright character that profits nothing without love (1 Corinthians 13). What a delicate hand to draw such a character, sparing the reader nothing of either St John's true goodness or his awful severity.

I love how Brontë addresses me as "reader" throughout the book. I can see how some people might find this irritating but for me it provided a delightful intimacy and immediacy in the story. You know something maybe shocking and certainly honest is coming when she prefaces it with "Reader." I lean in closer when she addresses me like that, holding my breath. Don't miss this, it says. This is pivotal.

Self-respect is a huge theme in this story. As I have gotten older and brushed up against more situations in which I could easily compromise my own, the idea that self-respect is worth more than temporal happiness has become more resonant with me. I have never been asked to surrender my convictions quite so dramatically as Jane, but little things gnaw away and are sometimes more deadly because their effects do not appear at first to be so ruinous. I think Jane is right when she says, in effect, that a guilty conscience will spoil any paradise on Earth.

The book is rich with biblical and literary allusions, which I adored. I thought it was a bit odd how the story ended, with St John rather than with Jane and Rochester. But the verse that Brontë quotes, "Amen; even so, come, Lord Jesus," could also apply to the other characters in the story, not just St John. I think the point is that not everyone is formed by God for the same work. Jane has made her peace with that and feels no guilt over not sacrificing her life to missions work in India. She and Rochester are just as ready for Christ's return and the subsequent accounting of their lives as St John. The self-righteous, hypocritical religion demonstrated in Mr Brocklehurst did not destroy Jane's faith in the true message of the Bible. Somehow she is able to distinguish between the two and achieve peace of mind and soul.

The only thing that gave me pause in the story was the too-neat coincidence of Jane stumbling upon her cousins, the Rivers, all unknown to her, and later becoming the sole recipient of their uncle's fortune at their expense. (Jane, of course, divides the inheritance equally among the four of them.) It's funny, though, that I can accept a dash of the supernatural with no problem and even love it — but I trip up a little over a mere coincidence worthy of Dickens!

Jane's painfully won moral strength, Rochester's broken, heartfelt repentance, the gorgeously Gothic drama of the mad wife shut away in the attic, the fantastic prose and gripping plot — all these come together to create something rather more than their sum. For me, this is a transfiguring piece of literature, probably one of my top five books of all time. If you haven't read it, either because of its "classic" status or for some other reason, I urge you to try it. It may not grip you as it did me, capturing the imagination so completely, but you will be the richer for having read this novel. I highly, highly recommend it. ( )

This is a book everyone should read at least once. It is amazing! (Rachel, Fall 2009)

Whenever I reread this book, I still have the same feelings I had when I first read it. I feel so sorry for Jane when she is at the school. I love Helen, and I tear up everytime she leaves Jane's life. I am always uncomfortable when Rochester shows up, and I always start to skim Jane's time with her cousins. I love this book. It reminds me of all of the good things about reading. ( )

It is over 25 years since I last read this book; it was one of our set texts for Eng Lit O-level, so I remembered it as a source of material for essay-writing rather than as an actual reading pleasure. I had forgotten quite a lot of it:

* that little Adèle is probably Rochester's illegitimate daughter
* the whole death scene of Jane's aunt
* Jane's inheritance from the uncle in Madeira
* that Jane is actually a rather sassy, assertive teenager, who knows what is best for her and, very gracefully, refuses to take crap from anyone (though like her author she is a bit of a snob and racist)
* the repeated instances of the supernatural - prophetic dreams, culminating in her hearing Rochester call to her from a hundred miles away - which make it a magical rather than realistic novel
* that it is actually a very enjoyable book.

My Penguin edition has an excellent introduction and a few well-considered endnotes by Queenie Leavis, which shed extra light on the text without showing off the editor's command of trivia. Brilliant stuff. ( )

This novel is better than I remembered - I appreciate it more now than I did as a teenager or college student. It is deeply psychological and philosophical, as well as being an enduring love story of two passionate soul-mates overcoming adverse circumstances. ( )

Jane Eyre, was a exceptional book. Charlotte Brontë, was an extremely talented author, who brought to life vibrant characters throughout her books. Jane Eyre in particular was a very memorable character, whose personality was intriguing and at times appears above her time, where you can see glimpses of a Victorian feminist. I was familiar with Jane Eyre from a “Women’s Writers" literature course I took in college, where we watched the movie version instead (I skipped that day not wanting to ruin the book). But I still knew the basic plot line of the book going into the book, and I’ve read the “prequel”, which is the story of Bertha, the woman in the attic, which was part of the story that intrigued me the most. Brontë, was able to build up a great mystery behind the woman in the attic, and in exposing Rochester’s dark secrets. It was different to have read “Wide Sargasso Sea” first, which tells Bertha’s side of the story, and then to read the other side of the story in Jane Eyre, both are approached very differently, but both are wonderful stories, full of rich characters.

I wasn’t a big fan of Rochester, he was very egotistical and didn’t think highly of others. And I don’t understand the love affair between him and Jane, they spent a lot of time together, but they are both so different in character, that it just didn’t seem right they were madly in love to me. Rochester seemed to take advantage of her passiveness when it came to men. Although I did enjoy him acting as the fortune teller, overall, he wasn’t a likeable character.

Reading some reviews, I seem to be in the minority, some of my favourite parts was when Jane was away on her own, running her own little school. I think she seemed the most happy there and she was more enchanting as an independent woman. Rather than her time at Thornfield, I would have rather end up working at the school, helping the local children. But nonetheless, I still enjoyed how the story went.

One other criticism of the book was I found Jane to bounce back and forward from being an energetic, out spoken women, who speaks her mind freely, to some one who is trampled on and gives in to the whims of others. Everyone has their faults, but Jane seemed to be a mixture of both sides, it confuses the reader, who Jane really is.

But over all the story was wonderful, Brontë’s style of writing is stunning and flowing, it is hard not to be pulled in to her stories, and I love how she often addresses the reader in her books, it adds a bit of intimacy between the author and the reader. She is quickly becoming my favourite Victorian author.

Review also on my blog: http://juliebooks.blogspot.com/2009/0... ( )

Jane Eyre is a perfect book for me. I have read many times and it is still full of atmosphere and excitement and suspense despite years of knowing the whole plot.

Wonderful book. ( )

A orphaned girl placed in an orphanage by her cruel aunt, grows up to be a very intelligent woman. She goes to work for an unusual man, who has a very troubled past and has trouble loving anyone. But with time he falls in love with her and she quickly finds that his past is in fact alive. The Movie is somewhat interesting. I love black and white films. ( )

How can one write a review of so popular a book? This is an ongoing favourite for me; I read through it 2-3 times every year, and I keep a little pocket copy in my locker at work at all times. It is truly a masterpiece.

To the new reader, it can seem both intimidating and clichéd- a thick volume told entirely in first person narrative. Even its themes borderline on the tired; a madwoman in the attic, a gloomy house with more going on than meets the eye, the May-September romance between a woman and a man separated by fortune and class as much as they are separated by their respective ages. Relatives come out of the woodwork at opportune and inopportune times, servants drop hints that they mysteriously refuse to clarify, and an air of foreboding hangs over the novel. Nowadays, these are pretty familiar literary techniques.

But Bronte was a pioneer. She was one of the first to successfully blend romance and gothic horror so flawlessly that one eventually finds oneself wrapped up in the story. Perhaps without intention, Bronte also threw into this novel some techniques that would become commonplace in the mystery genre- red herrings galore, broken-off sentences that seem to mean one thing but in the end turn out to mean something quite different, and so the list runs.

So Jane. Jane, with her “religious” ideas that sometimes ring hollow while other times holding true. Jane, the unattractive, poor, penniless, orphan abused by her guardian relatives. Jane, with her ability to love colliding with her inability to trust. Jane, with her feminine Victorian education which somehow equals and rivals her male counterparts’. Jane, who could be ridiculed as one of the most obvious clichés. What an honour and testament it is to Charlotte Bronte for her to have written a story which thousands have found worthy to mimic for centuries.

So, I hold to my conviction- this is a masterpiece well worth reading. ( )

touching: I am inspired by Jane's reslove to stick to what she believes in, even when it is the most difficult thing to possibly do. this book is beautiful.

This is one of the many books that everyone insists you must read it, and so now I have.

I enjoyed the beginning. Jane's trials and tribulations throughout childhood, then life and at the boarding school. I know that this book is very much a product of its time. Namely, the author was writing for an audience that expected a good long flowery yarn. But, I think for the modern reader the story begins to drag a bit when she becomes a governess.

Part of my own frustrations, I know, are based on the fact that I as a modern woman WOULD NOT put up with the crap this poor woman goes through. It is difficult to even begin to fathom the way these martyr-type female characters are willing to just put up with how awful they are treated.

One of the bright spots early in the book is when Jane gives her rotten aunt an earful about just what she thinks of her. This is later negated when Jane goes to her at her death bed and forgives her. The aunt breathes vitriol and venom at Jane until the very end, and in the classic Victorian Womens' style she takes it happily.

Jane seems to find happiness for a time with Mr Edward Rochester. But this too is taken from her because, evidently, the concept of divorce doesn't exist? Instead she and Edward must (for a time) sacrifice their happiness because Christian duty is more important that true happiness. I wanted them to run away together!

When, in the end, Jane does marry Edward, he is blind from an accident at the fire that killed his wife and destroyed Thornfield. I think the changes in his character, from rage and passion to meek and dependent were supposed to be a good thing? I hated it. Again the idea seemed to be all about tearing down the characters for the furtherance of the Christian ideal. Emasculating Edward, humbling Jane, forgiving the nasty Mrs Reed, bending and scrapping and bowing to all... just ugh.I doubt I'll read this book again. ( )