Jane Eyre

Child neglect, near death, a dash of magical realism, the power of love, the powerlessness of the poor, sexual rivalry, mystery, madness and more. It is as powerful as ever - but is it really a love story, given Rochester's Svengali-tendencies, or is it a life story? His downfall and her inheritance make them more equal, but is it really love on his part? I'm not sure, which is what makes it such a good book (just not necessarily a love story). I also like the tension between it being very Victorian in some obvious ways, and yet controversially modern in others: an immoral hero, a fiercely independent and assertive heroine, and some very unpleasant Christians (it's not that I think Christians are bad or like seeing them portrayed in a show more nasty way - it's Bronte's courage in writing such characters I admire).

Childhood

About the first quarter of the book concerns the tremendous hardship and abuse that Jane suffers growing up. It's often heavily cut from film, TV and stage adaptations, but despite the fluff about this being a great love story, I think there is merit in paying attention to her formative years as an essential element of explaining what makes Jane the person she becomes.

The Red Room, where young Jane is banished shortly before being sent to Lowood, is a very short episode in the book, but its significance is probably greater than its brevity implies. The trauma of the Red Room is not just because Mr Reed died there, but because of the associations of red = blood = death, compounded by cold, silence, blinds that are always closed and a bed like a sacrificial altar. Is it also some sort of reference to Bertha's attic?

Jane endures dreadful hardships: she is orphaned; her aunt says she is "less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep" and invokes the wrath of God who "might strike her dead in the midst of one of her tantrums"; she endures injustice as she strives to be good, but is always condemned, while the faults of her cousins are indulged or ignored. So, she is sent to Lowood, where she sees the hypocritical tyranny of Brocklehurst, survives cold and near starvation and witnesses her best friend's death. Nevertheless, "I would not have exchanged Lowood with all its privations for Gateshead and its daily luxuries." There is a dreadful irony in the fact that the first time a relative demonstrates any interest in her (John Eyre), it seems to ruin everything.

Villains and Christianity

Who is the worst villain: John Reed, Aunt Reed, Mr Brocklehurst, Blanche Ingram, St John Rivers or even Rochester?

Christianity gets a very mixed press in the book: Mr Brocklehurst is cruel and comically hypocritical (curly hair is evil vanity in poor girls, who "must not conform to nature", but fine for his pampered daughters); St John Rivers thinks his devoutness selfless, but is actually cold and selfish (his motive being to gain glory in Heaven for himself); Helen Burns is a redemptive Christ figure who accepts her punishments as deserved, helps Jane tame herself ("Helen had calmed me") and, of course, dies.

Jane's own beliefs (or lack) are always somewhat vague (though she's very moral) and controversially feisty. When, as a small girl, the nasty Brocklehurst asks her what she should do to avoid going to Hell, she replies, "I must keep in good health, and not die"!

Aspects the way Christianity is portrayed may make it more accessible to modern readers from more secular backgrounds, but might have been shocking to devout Victorians. Perhaps they were placated by the fact that despite the cruelty, Jane forgives Aunt Reed for trying to improve her errant niece, even though "it was in her nature to wound me cruelly".

Male Power, Feminism, and Relevance Today

Men had most of the power and respect in Bronte's time and often Jane has to go along with that. However, Bronte does subvert that to some extent by making Jane so assertive, determined and independent.

The story of Jane Eyre has parallels with the story of Bluebeard, albeit with a very different ending, in which the woman takes charge of her own destiny. Bluebeard was well-known in Victorian fables as a rich and swarthy man who locked discarded wives in an attic (though he killed them first). He took a new young wife and when she discovered her predecessors, he was about to kill her, but she was rescued by her brothers, rather as Mason wants to rescue Bertha. Jane even likens an attic corridor to one in "some Bluebeard's castle", so Bronte clearly knew the story and assumed he readers did too. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bluebeard#Plot_summary.

Despite her minimal contact with men, right from the outset Jane instinctively knows how to respond to the man she describes as "changeful and abrupt". When they first meet in the house and he is quizzing her, she consciously mirrors his tone ("I, speaking as seriously as he had done") and "His changes of mood did not offend me because I saw I had nothing to do with their alteration". Like many bullies, he enjoys a bit of a fight, rather than the nervous, prompt and unquestioning obedience his manner normally elicits, and Jane isn't afraid to answer him back and speak her mind. It isn't long before she can say "I knew the pleasure of vexing him and soothing him by turns". When Blanche arrives, Jane realises "he had not given her his love" and that "she could not charm him" (as she could). At this point, she realises her self-delusions in overlooking his faults and merely considering them as "keen condiments".

What should modern women make of this book? Bronte is radical in that neither Jane nor Rochester is conventionally attractive (it is personality that matters) and Jane is fiercely independent and assertive, even when she gives the impression of being submissive. She even says, "Women are supposed to feel very calm, generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint... precisely as men would suffer." On the other hand, Rochester's treatment of Jane, Bertha, Blanche and Céline is hard to justify (other than the fact he keeps Bertha alive - why not kill her?). Does disappointment and disability truly changed him, and does that, coupled with her independent wealth make them equals? Will they live happily ever after?

Rochester

What were Rochester's plans and motives for his relationship with Jane? Why does he insist that Jane appears in the drawing room every evening while Blanche and friends are staying, even though he fully understands and comments on how depressed it makes Jane? And would Rochester have married Blanche if Mason hadn't turned up, making a big society wedding impossible? If so, was Jane always in his mind as a mistress and backup in case marriage to Blanche was not possible, or did he only decide to marry her much later? What sort of basis for a happy marriage is that, and can the equalising effect of his later disability and her inheritance really conquer it? It's true that Rochester tells Jane "I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to render you as madly in love with me as I was with you", but that is after Mason's visit, so is it true?

Rochester's treatment of Bertha is even more problematic: divorce wasn't viable, and yet he didn't want to leave her behind in the Caribbean... very odd. In a funny sort of way, he might have felt he was doing the right thing by her, or at least, not the wrong thing.

In a society which condemns divorce and cohabitation, is Rochester's planned bigamy justifiable? As Rochester hints to Jane early on, "Unheard-of combinations of circumstances demand unheard-of rules". He also knows that Jane's integrity means she must be unaware of the details if he is to be with her (he says that if he asked her to do something bad, she would say "no sir... I cannot do it, because it is wrong"), though in fact there is a bigger tussle between her head and heart than he might have expected. Later, he ponders the fact that she is alone in the world as being some sort of justification, "It will atone" and extends to the more blasphemous and deluded "I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgement - I wash my hands thereof."

St John

Jane's bond with St John is very different, and she realise it, "I daily wished more to please him; but to do so, I felt daily more and more that I must disown half my nature". His proposal is positively alarming, "You are formed for labour, not for love. A missionary's wife you must - shall be. You shall be mine: I claim you - not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign's service"! Under the guise of serving God and man, he is irredeemably self-serving.

Magic Realism?

The strangest element is the small but hugely significant ethereal message from Rochester that might now be called magical realism. It sits oddly with the rest of the book, but I can never decide whether this is it a strength or a weakness.

Who Knows What?

A constant theme is "who knows what?". Is Aunt Reed ignorant of how awful Lowood is and has she truly convinced herself that her treatment of Jane is appropriate? How much does Mrs Fairfax know (and tell) about Rochester's wives, current and intended? Does Rochester know whether or not Adele is really his daughter, and what does Jane believe? Blanche appears to know very little, but is she only seeing what she wants to see?

Love?

Overall, there is so much in this book, it is well worth rereading, but I am not convinced that it is a love story. It is the easiest label to apply, and although Jane certainly finds love, I am not sure that love finds her. They're intellectually well-matched, and the sparring and physical attraction bode well. On the other hand, my doubts about his motivations when he was juggling Blanche and Jane make me uneasy.

Incidentally, I first read this book at school (a naive mid-teen enjoys and appreciates it for very different reasons than an adult). One day, we were at a point when Jane was with the Rivers and possibly being courted by St John. We were told to read to page x for homework, so I turned to that page to mark it and saw the famous words (not that I knew they were), "Reader, I married him" and was shocked to assume it referred to St John.

Jane's Place in My Life

There are many reasons I love this book, including - but not limited to:

1. The cliché of first reading this at an impressionable age (15).
2. Coming with no preconceptions, other than knowing it was a classic - so I had a couple of big surprises in the plot.
3. Being at a boarding school myself at the time - though fortunately not (much) like Lowood.
4. Questioning my faith and the role of religion - then and since.
5. Questioning the roles and rights of women - then and since.
6. Jane, herself. That's a major one.
7. The fact the book is daringly subversive for its time (most of the Christians are bad, and Jane is fiercely outspoken and independent - most of the time).
8. I get something new from it each time.

Like many, I first read this at school. I was captivated from the outset. Jane was wild, and brave, and rebellious - all things we weren't supposed to be, and yet we had to read and write about her. I vaguely knew about the wedding scene, but everything about her time with the Rivers was new and unexpected. For all that I had doubts about Rochester, I felt (in a naive, teenage way) I shared a passion for him. When I thought Jane would end up with St John, I was devastated. The actual ending was a happy relief - all the more so because it had been unexpected.

I thought I understood the book, and got good marks for essays about it (apart from the injustice of being deducted marks for a comment a teacher refused to believe I hadn't copied from Brodie's Notes - a study guide I'd only ever heard of!).

But like all great works of art, it speaks differently on each encounter, and the more I've read it, aided by a bit of maturity along the way, and now discussions with GR friends, the more I've seen in it.

So no, this not a love story - on the pages. But there is a love story: between the reader and Jane.

Prequel

I finally read Jean Rhys' prequel "Wide Sargasso Sea", reviewed here: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/711331732

2011 Film

I was disappointed with the Jane Eyre film. Mia Waskikowska was good as Jane, and it looked right, but Fassbender as Rochester was awful. He didn't brood enough for my liking, but what I think is less excusable is that he didn't really change during the course of the story. Just as bad, Jamie Bell was too nice to be St John. In fact the whole episode at the Rivers' was very poorly done. Overall, it removed all ambiguity, making a complex story of truth and lies, divided loyalty and mixed emotions boringly straightforward. show less

It is highly likely that, like me, you are a re-reader of Jane Eyre. Why? The melodrama is risible; the coincidences beggar belief; the transformations in situation and fortune are almost like a fairytale. And yet something draws you back. Surely it must be the conviction of Jane’s narrative voice, her flinty unwillingness to be misused, her determination, her luck of survival, her daring to even consider love, but also her resolve not to submit to anything less than the equal marriage of (unfettered) true minds and hearts. It is Jane alone who draws us back. What a curious and singular character she is.

It is certainly true that Jane encounters her fair share of repugnant individuals in her short life. Nothing redeems the behaviour of show more Mrs Reed or her children, and Mr Brocklehurst is a sorry substitute, fixated as he is on an economic spiritual ideal of education mostly suited for shaping souls for the next life and not the one before them. But Jane also has luck. Whether it comes in the form of the inspirational Helen Burns, or perhaps her best mentor, Miss Temple, Jane somehow attracts the succour of the good and just individuals she meets. Even the otherworldly St John Rivers is counterbalanced by his more amiable sisters.

But of course it is Mr Rochester who fascinates Jane, and she him. He is both ugly in form and, at least initially, ugly in character – officious, peremptory, and dismissive. More ugliness lies beneath, too much perhaps. Rochester tempts fate by enticing Jane into a liaison that can only blacken his character. He tempts fate, and fate intervenes.

Brontë’s world is heavy with the clash of dark and light, good and—not evil perhaps, but—sullied nature. My temperament leads me to prefer Austen, but every once in a while, I find it necessary to come back and re-read this gripping tale. Recommended. show less

Relectura Julio 2020

Releer este libro se ha convertido en una tradición anual, regresar a él me reconforta, siempre tiene sorpresas escondidas para mi, no importa cuantas veces lo lea, nunca me cansa, siempre me deja un calorcito en el corazón y siempre me impacta.

En esta ocasión me he centrado mucho en Rochester, en su soledad, en su sufrimiento, en la injusticia de su vida y en lo que supone para un hombre como él encontrar a una mujer como Jane, ella llena ese vacio en él, con su sencillez, su inteligencia, su juventud, su ingenuidad y su rebeldia.

Por supuesto que no apruebo las actuaciones de él al intentar poner celosa a Jane, pero por supuesto que entiendo la época, aun y con eso, considero que el amor de Rochester hacía show more Jane es de los más hermosos que yo he leído nunca.

No puedo evitar agradecer que exista este libro, que hoy más que nunca ha resultado no solo un refugio de paz para mi, si no me ha devuelto el amor por la lectura, me ha recordado que siempre hay un libro digno de ser leído.

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Relectura Abril 2018

Este libro nos cuenta la historia de Jane Eyre una huérfana que queda a cargo de una tía que no la quiere y la envía a un internado donde pasa 10 años hasta que llega a trabajar a Thornfield como institutriz de la ahijada del Sr. Rochester.

Decir que es un gusto reencontrarme con Jane es decir poco, este libro lo leo por lo menos una vez al año y cada vez que lo hago encuentro algo nuevo, alguna cita, algo que me hace pensar y recapacitar sobre lo que se cuenta

Jane es una mujer joven, fuerte, rebelde, una mujer que expresa y reafirma su independencia, pero que al mismo tiempo es solitaria y muy necesitada de afecto y por otro lado tenemos a Rochester, un hombre maduro, fuerte, enérgico pero que sabe valorar la inteligencia, la sensatez, la independencia y la rebeldía de Jane.

Rochester se enamora sin remedio de Jane y todo lo que hace para lograr conquistarla puede resultar en algo malicioso y hasta chocante, pero que a mí me encanta porque sale a relucir esa parte de la sociedad victoriana donde había muchas mujeres que hacían lo que tenían que hacer para casarse bien, resalta la frialdad de la sociedad y la bajeza humana.

Sin embargo la tragedia esta ahí y sale a relucir en el peor momento posible y como siempre Jane saca su vena independiente, rebelde y sensata.

Como digo releer Jane Eyre es siempre enriquecedor, es un gusto que me doy, porque como dice el comercial ese de camisas "es un lujo, pero creo que lo valgo" jajajajajaja

Jane Eyre se publico originalmente en 1847 en tres volúmenes bajo el seudónimo de Currer Bell, en 1848 salieron dos ediciones mas ya a nombre de Charlotte Brontë que fueron revisadas personalmente por ella, en 1850, salio una quinta edición.

Esta edición que he escogido esta basado en la segunda edición de 1848, ésto, aunque no parezca importante, lo es, el año pasado tome otra edición que es muy diferente a esta, como una mala versión en película, muchas cosas faltaban, se cortaban años de Jane en casa de su tía y en fin... que si hay diferencias entre unas ediciones y otras y entre editoriales y traducciones hay muchos y hay que reconocer cuando tienes en las manos las buenas versiones del original. Este es uno de ellos.

Si no lo han leído, se están tardando y si ya lo leyeron les recomiendo la relectura, aunque a muchos no les agrada esto, al final siempre hay una primera vez y si van a releer algo que sea este libro. show less

The book is always better.

Finally, I read the novel! The years of watching film adaptations on lazy Sunday afternoons had been mere wispy entertainments, complete with a Victorian tea set of tropes. Mistreated orphaned relative? Check. Abused Dickensian school waif? Check. Self-sacrificing do-gooder? Check. And, last but not least, an innocent governess in love with a Byronian rake? Check!

But in the novel, along with those campy tropes and plot devices, there is firmly something more: the immediacy of being taken into the confidence of a contemplative, soft-spoken person. It's like listening to a friend telling you for the first time her life story while you each gaze into a roaring fire. She's lost in her nostalgia, recalling when show more things were different, when she was different.

There's no rush. You become lost too, mesmerized, listening.

Even sitting here in my 21st century sensibility armchair, alone and far removed from Jane's time, her story is immersive, compelling. I systematically let go of my retro judgements and postmodern fatigue. Reading bonded me with the novel like one bonds with a friend, slowly, then fully. I grew to care sincerely that this little person once was young, sensitive, and suffered.

I filled pages in my reading journal. So many thoughts. That was unexpected.

My observations weren't just how impossibly hard historically it has been for women. My thoughts were about power, who has it and who doesn't, about manipulation and how it can be warped as superior wisdom, how perilous it is to navigate a world where those pitfalls abound. In too many ways, the world of 1847 is not so distant from the world of 2024 as one might think it would be. The world yet remains difficult and oppressive, and not only to women.

By the end of my purposefully slow reading, I was heartily ready for the reward of a happy ending for Jane, for her humility and forbearance. Half consciously I was rooting also for the living others with whom I currently share this world and wishing a happy ending to their struggles too.

Jane Eyre, or rather Charlotte Bronte, is a friend to me now.

I want to tell her that she deserved so much better than her often dreary life, beset by limitations, worries, heartbreak, and that life then cut far short of richer fulfilments. I wish I could thank Bronte for her genius and her fortitude. I wish that she could know that, through her trope-ridden Gothic of plain Jane, she got something she well deserved:

She got immortality.

How about that for a trite happy ending.

P.S. I have this wonderful illustrated edition from which I read this classic.
https://blogs.publishersweekly.com/blogs/shelftalker/?p=16 show less

This one didn't hold up to scrutiny fifteen years after first reading. I was a teenager the first time, and for all these years I've thought of Jane as a proto-feminist, an independent spirit. This time she read as masochistic and inane. And classist and priggish and even smug. And oh, Mr. Rochester, he is not Michael Fassbender, just a creepy, manipulative sociopath. Not Heathcliff-crazy, but too crazy for me. I think The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is basically last Bronte standing for me. This comic by Kate Beaton has been on my mind:

I have to say I am truly surprised. This is the third time I've read [book: Jane Eyre], and yet the first time I've found anything positive about the experience. I read it once as an 11/12 year old because my mother bought me a lovely red leather-bound edition (apparently she loved the book and thought I would too). I hated it- too hard to read, too much philosophical rambling, no action, annoying heroine, etc. I read it for the second time as a freshman in high school because it was required. I no longer found it hard to read, but I still found Jane annoying and unsympathetic, and I still hated the book.

Fast forward to this year and my decision to revisit the classics, including giving [book: Jane Eyre] one last try before forever show more consigning it to the "I just don't understand how people can like this book" pile. All I can say is thank goodness I gave it that one last try because the book is a masterpiece. All the philosophical rambling that bored me before is now a central element to the text, superior in many way to the storyline itself. I see now that there is a lot of action for a book of its time, and Jane is certainly not annoying so much as she is inspirational. I mean, she is still a bit pious for my taste, but even so she rebels strongly against the conventions of her time to try to live a life that she finds both emotionally and spiritually satisfying.

All of the things that annoyed me when I read this book as a child are the elements that resonate most strongly with me as an adult. I read this book too early, and was too dismissive of it at the time. Like with [book: Anna Karenina], I saw everything in black and white with the merciless clarity of a teenager; I now understand how wonderfully shaded with grey life (and good literature) often is. If you haven't read [book: Jane Eyre] since high school, I highly recommend giving it another try- definitely a 5 star! show less

I don't normally review classics, but here goes.

Here in the US, I'm fairly sure the works of the Bronte sisters are commonly dubbed as required reading alongside other classics, and for this reason are unjustly spared with naught but a single glance by young adult readers.

After being recommended this novel several times, I decided to give it a try. It hadn't yet been assigned for my English class as of yet, thankfully, so I was able to read the novel without outside force or the fright of a looming reading test. I read it at my own pace, with no pressure whatsoever.

And you know what? I'm so glad I caught the book before it was assigned for school. I was able to drown in the beauty of Charlotte Bronte's writing and gain the acquaintance show more of the wonderful protagonist, Jane Eyre (who is, ahem, my bestie). I swooned at Mr. Rochester and highlighted passages (something I NEVER do) and stayed up through the night discreetly turning the pages.

Some may complain of the pages upon pages of descriptions. I didn't love it - I adored it. Bronte's writing style is unbeatable in so many ways and kept me enthralled when the plot meandered.

I have found a favorite novel. Words cannot do this novel justice - and I say this without caring whether or not it is cliched because it is so utterly true. show less