Ever since High School English crammed Charles Dickens down my throat, I've had an awkward relationship with classic literature. Seventeen-year-old boys don't, as a rule, groove on stories they can't immediately relate to. The result? The blurry-eyed, when will this nightmare be over slog of skimming through chapters and pounding out semi-coherent assignments for books loaded up with antique language and populated by culturally alien characters. Doesn't exactly scream love affair, does it? Well, more the fool me because, it turns out, ten years on, I love this stuff! Jane Eyre has Gothic gravitas, sympathetic characters, emotional acuity and a delicate sense of horror. But all this is merely icing atop the cake, Jane herself, surely one of the best heroines in English literature.
Living at the sufferance of her aunt, Jane Eyre is an unwanted orphan girl whose existence within the Reed family is only tolerated because of her uncle's dying wish that she be given a roof over her head. Once her only advocate is dead, however, the Reeds prove to be merciless with Jane until, one day, the ten-year-old girl snaps and forces her aunt to confront the extent to which she has allowed, and participated in, Jane's emotional and physical abuse. Such disobedience cannot be tolerated, especially not in 19th century England, and so Jane is packed off to boarding school where our young protagonist is acquainted with the hardships of the outside world: disease, poverty, religiosity and cynicism. It's only when an eighteen-year-old Jane, now a governess by trade, is hired on as a servant in the home of the wealthy and mannerly Edward Rochester that life catches fire and she's plunged into a long and winding love affair with enigmatic Edward and his mannerly set.
Standing in the way of the union of Eyre with Rochester, however, are forces both predictable and supernatural. The former takes the form of Blanch, the elegant daughter of a wealthy family who would make Edward a fine but empty marriage. The latter is far more ominous, a demonic force which has taken root in the Rochester home, threatening to murder both Jane and her impossible love. Will the myriad impediments of class, jealousy and wounded pride prevail over Jane's and Edward's love, or will they find a way to unite in spite of a world dead set against them?
Though most everything about British, and Western, society has changed since the 1848 publication of Jane Eyre, Ms. Bronte's themes here are so universal, so strikingly relevant to the 21st century, that her lovely book wears its age better than most of its contemporaries. Jane is an exceptional protagonist who manages, somehow, to be self-assured, dignified and heroic, all without indulging in piousness or self-righteousness. She does not whine or fuss over the hand that life dealt her; admirably, she puts her head down and pushes onward, trying to succeed in a world that does no favors to women of her class. But it's Her cool disregard for the cruel conventions of British life I love most. Jane Eyre doesn't hesitate to attack the inequities of British society. Blanch may be a caricature, but her sense of entitlement has the echo of authenticity. Set against Jane's pragmatic but penniless goodness and there's little doubt of where virtue lies.
Good things come to those who work hard, expecting nothing but the results of their own labor. This doesn't mean be a pushover; one has to stand up for their beliefs, to be the best while demanding the best from those around them. Jane is the only one here who walks the walk and talks the talk and, as a result, she can't lose. It's so refreshing to read a well-written piece from a more cloistered time that features a heroine superior to those our more advanced society puts forward. Not to mention, Jane Eyre has, in St. John, the perfect villain. No violence, no thunder, no gratuity... Just a man doing wrong as a result of acting out of pure selfishness. The man virtually does nothing untoward, yet, Ms. Bronte succeeds in making him, in all his self-righteousness and moralizing, an infuriating figure.
This is superior fiction: tension, anxiety, horror, and even a little joy. For fans of Gothic fiction of the Sarah Waters ilk, a must consume. (5/5 Stars)
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