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Cecily's Reviews > Jane Eyre
Jane Eyre
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by
Cecily's review
bookshelves: classics, historical-fict-pre-20th-c, aaabsolute-favourites, mental-health-victorian-madness, sexuality-gender-lgbtqi, race-people-of-colour
May 30, 2008
bookshelves: classics, historical-fict-pre-20th-c, aaabsolute-favourites, mental-health-victorian-madness, sexuality-gender-lgbtqi, race-people-of-colour
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 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/Bluebear....
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/...
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.
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/Bluebear....
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/...
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.
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Quotes Cecily Liked
“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”
― Jane Eyre
― Jane Eyre
“I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.”
― Jane Eyre
― Jane Eyre
“No sight so sad as that of a naughty child," he began, "especially a naughty little girl. Do you know where the wicked go after death?"
"They go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer.
"And what is hell? Can you tell me that?"
"A pit full of fire."
"And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?"
"No, sir."
"What must you do to avoid it?"
I deliberated a moment: my answer, when it did come was objectionable: "I must keep in good health and not die.”
― Jane Eyre
"They go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer.
"And what is hell? Can you tell me that?"
"A pit full of fire."
"And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?"
"No, sir."
"What must you do to avoid it?"
I deliberated a moment: my answer, when it did come was objectionable: "I must keep in good health and not die.”
― Jane Eyre
“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are!”
― Jane Eyre
― Jane Eyre
Reading Progress
May 30, 2008
– Shelved
June 9, 2008
– Shelved as:
classics
January 2, 2011
–
Started Reading
Finished Reading
December 14, 2016
– Shelved as:
historical-fict-pre-20th-c
December 14, 2016
– Shelved as:
aaabsolute-favourites
March 8, 2017
– Shelved as:
mental-health-victorian-madness
March 8, 2017
– Shelved as:
sexuality-gender-lgbtqi
February 3, 2020
– Shelved as:
race-people-of-colour
Comments Showing 1-50 of 122 (122 new)
Thanks, Mandy. I enjoyed the discussion too.I've read it several times since I was 15, and I get something different every time. Yes, I forget some details, but that enables it to retain a degree of freshness on rereading.
Ugh, just the thought of being married to St John Rivers *shudders*
Yes, I quite agree - that anxiety put me off the book, till I saw the tide was turning.
I know Brocklehurst is the obvious choice, but I go with the unsuggested villain of St. John Rivers. Thank God Jane had the strength to refuse him. The supposibly good guy who does some good things, but is such a bear to deal with. If I had a pastor like that I fear I would become an athiest. Those poor people he's going to be a missionary to.
I'm not sure that St John is the "unsuggested villain" (Bronte clearly detests him), but I agree that on balance, he is probably worse than Brocklehurst - and more dangerous because of his relative subtlety.
By unsuggested villian I just meant that in your question you listed 5 choices, but did not include St. John.John Reed, Aunt Reed, Mr Brocklehurst, Blanche Ingram or even Rochester. Glad to see I'm not the only one disturbed by him.
Ah, an oversight on my part. Well spotted; I will now rectify it.
Love this review. A triumph.
Great review, Cecily, have you ever read 'Aurora Leigh', the huge poem by Elizabeth Barratt Browning ? I always think it has similarities to 'Jane Eyre'
Thanks, and no I haven't. Off to Google...
What an excellent analytical review of this novel!
Nice thorough investigation of JE!
Absolutely amazing review! Congrats!
Breathtaking! I particularly like your comment about magic realism, but the entire review is terrific.
Aspects of that may make it more accessible to modern readers from more secular backgrounds, but might have been shocking to devout Victorians.Oh, I think it WAS very shocking, to a lot of Victorians - and Jane defies not only Rochester but yes, St John, who I think really is the real "villain" of the novel - and in a typical novel of the time, he'd've been the hero, and Jane would have married him! And Bronte makes that absolutely repellent.
I don't think Rochester ever meant to marry Blanche -- he admits he was just using her to make Jane jealous, and when he does the crossdressing gypsy thing (HOW SAD am I that is invariably left out of adaptations) he puts Blanche off by implying he isn't rich, and she does seem very mean and shallow. It's great because his deception of Blanche (and Jane) foreshadows how he's going to try to deceive Jane even more -- and the sham, or false, "marriage" to Blanche is exactly what he's planning with Jane! and it would make him an actual criminal.
The pre-Thornfield part of the book has some of my favourite writing Bronte ever did -- it's a shame it's always so skipped over in almost all the adaptations. I think she was influenced by Dickens (some) when she wrote it, and it's just about as great as the beginning chapters of David Copperfield, or Great Expectations. I could be wrong, but I don't think many writers before Bronte and Dickens showed so vividly what the sufferings of children were like from a child's own viewpoint (just watch, I am probably not remembering some big classic here, hah).
Regarding Rochester's intentions about Blanche: I see arguments on both sides, but can't ever make up my mind. He likes playing mind games, so telling Blanche he isn't rich could just be a test of her feelings. Given that things change when Mason first appears, I'm inclined to think Jane was only the reserve up till then. But on the other hand, he could just have let Bertha die, and Mason would have been no threat.I like your points about childhood. It hadn't really occurred to me how unusual that was in an adult book at the time, and like you, I think it's very sad that it's often overlooked.
Phenomenal review. I wish we would have become friends earlier. I love how you mentioned that dash of magical realism. I had not been expecting it when I read the book, so when I read about Rochester's voice, I had to go back and re-read it because I thought he had come to rescue her from the frightening St. John. I even asked a friend who loved the book whether I properly understood that he was not there.
I also was curious about the books reception with Victorian audiences due to Mr. Rochester's having been a man of the world and Jane's confrontation with religious oppression. But then I thought that Dickens poked some fun at fundamentalists (the mother) in Little Dorrit and missionary types (Mrs. Jelliby? sp) in Bleak House and orphanages with religious hypocrisy in Copperfield and Oliver Twist. Also, Trollope was not afraid to poke fun in the Barsetshire series.
I also was curious about the books reception with Victorian audiences due to Mr. Rochester's having been a man of the world and Jane's confrontation with religious oppression. But then I thought that Dickens poked some fun at fundamentalists (the mother) in Little Dorrit and missionary types (Mrs. Jelliby? sp) in Bleak House and orphanages with religious hypocrisy in Copperfield and Oliver Twist. Also, Trollope was not afraid to poke fun in the Barsetshire series.
When I first read it at school, I don't think the term "magical realism" had been coined, but even so, it leaped off the page as being very strange.The religious angle is a rich one, but I see more parallels with Dickens than Trollope, who pokes gentle fun, with less of a social conscience than Dickens does.
I really appreciate how well-organized this review is; I'm a big fan of structure. Very thought-provoking about my favorite classic novel, which I wish would have a higher profile so when I bring it up people wouldn't be like "Is that like Jane Austen?" given that I so detest Austen's writing that I've gotten into Jane vs. Jane debates.
Thanks, and yes, Jane Eyre is no Jane Austen character, thank goodness!
Love Jane Eyre (and this review), possibly my favorite classic.
Brilliant review and interesting analysis, Cecily. Loved it.
I always had mixed feelings about Rochester and the part where he disguises himself as a clairvoyant is the pits.
Katrina wrote: "I always had mixed feelings about Rochester and the part where he disguises himself as a clairvoyant is the pits."Clairvoyants were popular at Victorian gatherings, but I completely agree with you.
Awesome review that made me realise how much I missed when I read it long before I started writing reviews....
That's the joy of GR, for me. Since I joined, I've read much more carefully (taking notes) because I know I'll write a review. Then there's the stimulation of reading and discussing other people's reviews, and there are so many talented and original reviewers on this site. I think and analyse far more than I used to, and I've found it an exciting and educational process.
Yes, me too, I feel I have become a much better reader - I get much more out of my books. Only now I buy far too many!
There's no such thing as too many books (only too little time).;)
very true! but my books have burst their banks... there are books in my bed because I have run out of space for them everywhere else. I give away a lot though... and stash the keepers at my parents' house... lucky me = )
Magnificent review,Cecily. Very well written and appraised.
Thanks, Henry. "It takes one to know one", as they say.
I enjoyed your review, Cecily. I agree that this is not necessarily a love story; and though that is how we may have perceived it in our teens, we come to see that it's a limiting label for such a work.As to the 'magical realism' part, I remember wondering if that was meant to be a cry from Jane's own psyche.
Teresa wrote: "As to the 'magical realism' part, I remember wondering if that was meant to be a cry from Jane's own psyche."I rather like the fact that I can never decide between so many possible interpretations of that.
Cecily wrote: "I rather like the fact that I can never decide between so many possible interpretations of that."I like that too. It's one of my favorite things in literature. Have you read Villette?
Yes, but it was SO long ago, I remember very little about it.
I think I must've read it twice because I remember quite a bit about it. Its ending is also open to interpretation.
Cecily wrote: "I'm not sure that St John is the "unsuggested villain" (Bronte clearly detests him), but I agree that on balance, he is probably worse than Brocklehurst - and more dangerous because of his relative..."It just occurred to me that St. John's persistent and almost delusional proposals to Jane were a little similar to Mr. Collins' proposal to Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice. Both pastors refused to take no for an answer.
St John did overlook Jane's feelings and dismissed her right to happiness. And he did try to guilt trip her into marrying him, I think, going so far as to imply that if she refused to marry him and go to India as a missionary with him, she would be a bad person. This part of his character annoyed me the most, the way he proposed to her and expected her to obey him. But I don't think Bronte detested this character. She made the ending of the book about St. John, and Jane herself stated ' He is a very good man, I could not help liking him.'
Vedanti wrote: "It just occurred to me that St. John's persistent and almost delusional proposals to Jane were a little similar to Mr. Collins' proposal to Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice. Both pastors refused to take no for an answer."That's an interesting parallel, and not one that had occurred to me (though I last read P&P far longer ago than Jane Eyre).
Vedanti wrote: "She made the ending of the book about St. John, and Jane herself stated ' He is a very good man, I could not help liking him.'"
I reluctantly concede a good point. I dislike him so much, I tend to overlook that. In modern parlance "liking" is pretty weak, but in Bronte's I suppose it was pretty favourable. Then again, the passage when she says that is a typical spike teasing conversation between her and Rochester, so she may be overstating things. That's what I wan't to believe, anyway - and she goes on to describe him s "severe; and, for me, cold as an iceberg".
On the other hand, the very pious ending, is in sharp contrast with the less enthusiastic depictions of Christianity in the rest of the book.
Impressive review, Cecily. It seems that 'Jane Eyre' has a meaning for a lot of different women and it does accompany them during their different stages of live. I loved Jane Eyre as a teenager for other reasons than I do now as a middle-aged woman. This was the book which motivated me as a teenager to improve my English so that I could read it in the original English version. I was then swooning all over Rochester, of course. Now, my approach is different, thanks heavens. From lately I've been often wondering about the "woman in the attic" and its symbolic meaning. I like your interpretation using the Bluebeard story (even though I thought Bluebeard did lock them up in the cellar and not in the attic?). It's nice to learn that there are so many women all over the world for whom Brontë's masterwork is significant. Thanks again for your wonderful thoughts on this, Cecily.
Thanks for your kind words, Jasmine. It sounds as if you and I have had similar journeys with this book. (I think you're right about Bluebeard's wives being in the cellar or dungeon, rather than the attic, and they were killed, rather than kept alive, so the parallels are far from exact.)
What a triumph of a review. I haven't read Jane Eyre since my early teens. It is definitely time to take it off the shelf.
Thank you, Sue. I hope you do reread it. As you see from Jasmine's comments and mine, you'll probably find it just as good as in your teens, but in a totally different way.
Yes, Cecily. That's what I'm looking forward to.
Excellent review, Cecily. I'm not sure how I missed it until now. This is the first "real" book I remember reading. I was about eight at the time and I suspect it was an abridged version. I was haunted by the red room and Jane's school days until I read it again when I was in my teens, when the grownup Jane made more of an impression. Reading it on other occasions through my life I've been stuck by other aspects of the work. It's definitely a novel that means different things at different stages of your life.
Kim wrote: "Excellent review, Cecily. I'm not sure how I missed it until now. This is the first "real" book I remember reading. I was about eight at the time and I suspect it was an abridged version. I was hau..."Excellent point, Kim. Huckleberry Finn has that effect on me.
Wonderful review. I agree with your analysis, and it makes me all the more certain that I should take the time to reread it. Perhaps I will do so this summer, putting about 18 months between the two reads. With any luck, that is close enough together to be able to remember to do it and compare impressions in a meaningful manner and still far enough apart for my opinions to possibly change.
Thanks, Kim (not sure why I missed your comment until now). Reading this aged eight, even abridged, is quite a milestone. Even at 14 the red room and boarding school scared me (even though I was at a happy boarding school at the time)!Tristan, I think eighteen months is probably a good gap. Mind you, I expect you could leave it much longer and still find in flooding back. I look forward to seeing your revised review in due course.
I believe that your overall review of the book was very insightful. With your comments it is interesting you could relate to Jane Eyre because you too went to boarding school. I personally believe what Jane found at the end was true love. It may not be one-hundred percent a love story but with chapters in the book it can be seen as a love story by the way Mr. Rochester and Mr. St John and the tension of love that is shown. I thought that making Jane Eyre more of a feminist was radical in her era but I am enlightened by your readings that Mr. Rochester was not the stereo-typed man. From your writings it discusses many, if not all of the issues portrayed in the novel, and I felt it was very interesting to read.
I must say that my greatest villain is Mr Brocklehurst with his appalling cruelty in ensuring the girls at Lowood School have so little. It is interesting that after the deaths his management of the school is greatly lessened by the involvement of a board to supervise the running of the establishment.
Rochester's character seems perhaps to have been derived from other novels of the time. His behaviour is not what I would have assumed to have been usual even for the time it was written.
Reading it with the group after a gap of several years, I was shaken by the amount of detail I had completely forgotten.
Thanks for leading the discussion.