Sunday 10 May 2020

Top Shelf Books #10 – Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

I have talked about Jane Eyre so often on this blog, I am surprised that I never got around to putting it on the top shelf. So although I doubt I have anything new to say, continuing the list of the best books I own, here is…

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, 1847

‘There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.’

I don’t remember exactly when I first came across Jane Eyre. While I was a teenager. I saw a TV movie of it. I liked it so much that I wanted to read the book. The Mother had an edition of it she’d had since school and I read that and found it to be the only classic I had ever attempted that was easy to understand. I loved it and reread it many times until the pages started to fall out.

One day at college, we had to read an extract from our favourite book in English class, so I read the scene in Jane Eyre when Mr Rochester’s bed gets set on fire, and since this page was no longer attached to the rest of the book, I just held up the leaf.

The good friend The Slayer soon after bought me a new copy of Jane Eyre which was when I discovered that the edition I had been reading for several years was ABRIDGED! I swear nowhere on that old book did it state that it was an abridgement. Surely that’s not legal? No wonder it was so easy to read!

So I kind of read Jane Eyre for the first time for real during college.

Very dog-eared, because I can't stop reading it.

Here is a pointless summary, because you all already know…. But… Jane Eyre is about an orphan who becomes a governess and falls in love with her boss, only to discover he has a big, bad secret.

He re-entered, pale and very gloomy. ‘I have found it all out,’ said he, setting his candle down on the wash-stand; ‘it is as I thought.’
‘How, sir?’
He made no reply, but stood with his arms folded, looking on the ground. At the end of a few minutes, he inquired in a rather peculiar tone: -
‘I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door.’
‘No, sir, only the candlestick on the ground.’
‘But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before I should think, or something like it?’
‘Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole, - she laughs in that way. She is a singular person.’
‘Just so. Grace Poole – you have guessed it. She is, as you say, singular, - very. Well, I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime, I am glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the precise details of to-night’s incident. You are no talking fool: say nothing about it. I will account for this state of affairs (pointing to the bed): and now return to your own room. I shall do very well on the sofa in the library for the rest of the night. It is near four: - in two hours the servants will be up.’
‘Good-night, then, sir,’ said I, departing.
He seemed surprised – very inconsistently so, as he had just told me to go.
‘What!’ he exclaimed, ‘are you quitting me already: and in that way?’
‘You said I might go, sir.’
‘But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgement and good will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life! – snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! – and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands.’
He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one, then in both his own.
‘You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation: but you; it is different; - I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.’
He paused; gazed at me: words almost visible trembled on his lips, - but his voice was checked.
‘Good-night, again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.’
‘I knew,’ he continued, ‘you would do me good in some way, at some time; - I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not – (again he stopped) – did not (he proceeded hastily) strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies. I have heard of good genii: - there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, good-night!’
Strange energy was in his voice; strange fire in his look.
‘I am glad I happened to be awake,’ I said; and then I was going.
‘What! You will go?’
‘I am cold, sir.’
‘Cold? Yes, - and standing in a pool! Go, then, Jane; go!’ But he still retained my hand, and I could not free it. I bethought myself of an expedient.
‘I think I hear Mrs Fairfax move, sir,’ said I.
‘Well, leave me:’ he relaxed his fingers, and I was gone.

Jane Eyre is my favourite book (probably). I don’t think it is perfect, there is some waffle that I struggle to concentrate on, but Jane herself is pretty perfect. The hero for introverts everywhere. Proof that just because you might be outwardly shy and reserved doesn’t mean you’re not fiery and passionate on the inside. The romance between Jane and Mr Rochester has become my staple for appreciating romance, which is admittedly maybe not great because it is a pretty screwed up relationship, particularly regarding the elaborate ‘make her jealous’ scheme which ends almost in gaslighting, which really feels unnecessary since the whole point is that Jane and Rochester get each other on this level that others do not, I don’t really understand how he failed to notice that she was already in love with him when he decided to make her jealous in order to make her love him. But anyway, while I wouldn’t let that kind of behaviour off in anything else, the point is that Mr Rochester's behaviour is inappropriate at this stage of the story and y'know, it's a sign of there being more going on and of Jane's weakness too, so that she is able to overcome it and stand up for herself, as he eventually overcomes his flaws and weakness too.

(I find it weird that some people get het up about Mr Rochester, who supports Jane being herself, and don't seem to focus at all on St John who is downright abusive and tries to entirely crush and oppress her, but whatevs, guess they never read that far into the book.)

As for adaptations, I have watched quite a few now, including rewatching the one I saw before reading the book and I hate all of them. Basically Jane Eyre is unadaptable because it is about what is going on inside Jane’s head and you just can’t portray that properly in a visual medium. Plus Jane and Rochester are so familiar and exciting to me that I can never accept any actors in the roles (they never cast ugly people either) and of course the three act structure so common in books doesn’t work in film at all. They always lose their shit once you get to the St John Rivers portion of the story. Sure, we all like the scenes with Mr Rochester best, but both the first part and the last part are still extremely interesting, relevant parts of the story, because this is JANE’s story, not Rochester’s. But movies can’t cope with that.

It’s weird that I love Jane Eyre so much. I mean, obviously I do, it’s brilliant. But I don’t like any of Charlotte Brontë’s other books and I don’t like Anne or Emily’s either, despite there being clear similarities between all their stories. It’s just like all the right pieces came together. You’ve got the darkness of Emily with the morality of Anne to balance it out, and a happiness and a passion that were missing from Charlotte’s later books and this strong, flawed central character and great love story that transcends everything.

If you’re interested, you can read my five star review on Goodreads here. (I'm quite pleased with this review.)




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