Take a photo of a barcode or cover
4.11 AVERAGE
4.11 AVERAGE
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
emotional
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Diverse cast of characters:
No
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
A lot of beautiful lines written by Charlotte Brontë. I did feel uncomfortable at times but considering the era it was written and published, I was able to forgo it. However, that being said, the subtle racism that existed throughout the book needs to be acknowledged. Loved Jane as a protagonist, she is a smart, strong female character, and way ahead of her time.
Jane Eyre was read for a book club I’m a part of, and what a read it was. Our meeting lasted for over an hour as we talked through our impressions of the book, our understanding of the themes, and our fascination with Jane as a character. Jane’s narration holds such a strong, distinct voice, that after I finished the novel I found it quite difficult to get her reasoned, romantic, and exacting voice out of my head.
Jane Eyre is a quiet, dignified rumination on the agency of women, and what it means to be equal with one’s partner. It is about choices, and parallels, and about intuition. The story floats over moors and dark forests, containing within it all the colours and shapes of what we today would call the Gothic romance. The gloomy aesthetic, dark corridors within stately manors, heavy storms and secrets – they are all important, yes, but more so are the narrative and characters.
Edward Rochester is in all aspects not beautiful. His countenance and appearance are rough and ragged; he does not attract Jane through the allure of his features, or a flattering tongue. Even more interesting is how he differs from the typical romantic lead interest. There is perhaps no better word for Rochester than ‘strange’. His speech breaks into tangents, he name-calls, and his conversations are as irregular and raging as the British weather.
Of course, this parallels the fact that Jane herself is a very strange woman. She is a survivor of a difficult childhood that often lacked affection and has an unsympathetic but honest understanding of herself and her qualities. She is plain but determined, and in possession of an exacting eye that makes judgements and assertions – but always ones that are fair and based on the truth she sees.
This book offers an interesting glimpse into the lives of women in the 1800s. It is not necessarily a conscious proto-feminist work (particularly when considering the one-note portrayal of female 'hysteria' or madness), but is a novel about a woman finding her place in a society that she does not always agree with or fit into. Jane longs more than anything else to be free, and to have whatever measure of independence she can afford. Jane says of Mr Rochester: ‘Though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally with him.’ (p.244). Jane feels that beyond the physical body and possessions, she is mentally and spiritually equal to him.
Perhaps this is why she feels compelled to leave Rochester mid-way through the novel, resisting the temptation to accept a life with him that she knows would be comfortable and easy. Jane sees them as equal, but that does not mean their marriage would be equal. Jane does not have experience of the world, of what she wants, or of the different ways that a woman can be treated and loved. Rochester’s passionate pursuit of Jane, while not unwanted, does not allow her to experience love on her own terms. She does not want to marry Rochester for security or for fear of not having such an opportunity again, so she leaves him until she is ready to pursue love without barrier, without ego, without power.
After she leaves Rochester and the Thornfield estate, despite being exhausted and with no possessions or plans, there is such triumph in Jane’s proclamation that ‘life, however, was yet in my possession, with all its requirements, and pains, and responsibilities. The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibility fulfilled.’ (p.453.)
It feels significant to look back on how women lived through the eyes and pen of Charlotte Brontë. They were given a small allowance for thought and more often than not forced to pack up any dreams into boxes that were rarely ever opened. (It is interesting, as well, to consider whether Jane Eyre would have been received the same way if Charlotte Brontë had not published under a man’s pen-name.) Possessing the freedom to provide for yourself, to search out for fulfilment, to suffer these difficult privileges – is something that many of us take for granted today. Jane seeks out life, and her final trial is a man who is in many ways Rochester’s parallel.
‘I don’t think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to moral superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.’ (Jane to Rochester, p.188)
Whereas Jane many times showcases the emotional and mental equality between her and Rochester, and the fact that she is unafraid to counter, challenge, or even reject him, this is not the case for her relationship with St. John Rivers. After so many pages of watching Jane grow as a woman who fights for her choices and her individuality – to watch her knowingly fall under the manipulations of Rivers felt infuriating and deeply unsettling.
As a pastor and soon-to-be missionary, Rivers views Jane in scientific impartiality, dissecting her diligence, plainness, and good moral character into traits that he would wish in a pastor’s wife. When the familial connection between them is revealed, and Jane finally has cousins who can offer her a familial type of love that she has never experienced, Rivers uses Jane’s desire for affection to control and abuse her. Despite in many ways being socially and monetarily equal – particularly after Jane choosing to share her inheritance with them out of generosity and principle – the relationship between the two shows that equality in a partnership is a rose of many thorns, and never quite as simple as meets the eye.
Freedom is living; it breathes, it has wings, it must contain the capacity for thought and transformation. Jane sees Rochester as a ‘lion’ (p.441), an ‘eagle’ (p.602) – a wild creature that perhaps holds danger, but claws and fights for life as she does. Rivers is ‘marble’ (p.573), his questions ‘ice’, and his anger an ‘avalanche’ (p.575). He is dangerous but lifeless, never capable of bringing Jane pleasure or comfort – only cold. While not a straightforward villain, St. Rivers embodies the metaphysical villain of a gothic novel: the looming danger of the future that lingers in the air like poison, the illusion of cruelty as beauty, the jagged edge of power.
Jane’s journey in this novel is not about ‘choosing a man’. It is about the journey of an orphan girl faced with a life of servitude and labour, choosing to allow herself to live and experience love the way she deems right. It is in all ways about choices. Jane, presented with the opportunity to serve God as a missionary’s wife and give herself entirely to faith, proclaims that ‘God did not give me my life to throw away’ (p.578). To see a female character in a novel published in 1847 choosing to experience love and faith on her own terms and entirely for herself, is incredibly empowering.
Brontë writes masterfully, with a wit that never overindulges but often made me laugh out loud, and with an earnest poetry to her descriptions that truly lifts you out of your own world and into one where forests have souls and the wind is full of whispers.
Jane as a character is not easy to put down. In many ways, I hope to take her qualities into myself, and feel capable of choosing love, and choosing my life.
Jane Eyre is a quiet, dignified rumination on the agency of women, and what it means to be equal with one’s partner. It is about choices, and parallels, and about intuition. The story floats over moors and dark forests, containing within it all the colours and shapes of what we today would call the Gothic romance. The gloomy aesthetic, dark corridors within stately manors, heavy storms and secrets – they are all important, yes, but more so are the narrative and characters.
Edward Rochester is in all aspects not beautiful. His countenance and appearance are rough and ragged; he does not attract Jane through the allure of his features, or a flattering tongue. Even more interesting is how he differs from the typical romantic lead interest. There is perhaps no better word for Rochester than ‘strange’. His speech breaks into tangents, he name-calls, and his conversations are as irregular and raging as the British weather.
Of course, this parallels the fact that Jane herself is a very strange woman. She is a survivor of a difficult childhood that often lacked affection and has an unsympathetic but honest understanding of herself and her qualities. She is plain but determined, and in possession of an exacting eye that makes judgements and assertions – but always ones that are fair and based on the truth she sees.
This book offers an interesting glimpse into the lives of women in the 1800s. It is not necessarily a conscious proto-feminist work (particularly when considering the one-note portrayal of female 'hysteria' or madness), but is a novel about a woman finding her place in a society that she does not always agree with or fit into. Jane longs more than anything else to be free, and to have whatever measure of independence she can afford. Jane says of Mr Rochester: ‘Though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally with him.’ (p.244). Jane feels that beyond the physical body and possessions, she is mentally and spiritually equal to him.
Perhaps this is why she feels compelled to leave Rochester mid-way through the novel, resisting the temptation to accept a life with him that she knows would be comfortable and easy. Jane sees them as equal, but that does not mean their marriage would be equal. Jane does not have experience of the world, of what she wants, or of the different ways that a woman can be treated and loved. Rochester’s passionate pursuit of Jane, while not unwanted, does not allow her to experience love on her own terms. She does not want to marry Rochester for security or for fear of not having such an opportunity again, so she leaves him until she is ready to pursue love without barrier, without ego, without power.
After she leaves Rochester and the Thornfield estate, despite being exhausted and with no possessions or plans, there is such triumph in Jane’s proclamation that ‘life, however, was yet in my possession, with all its requirements, and pains, and responsibilities. The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibility fulfilled.’ (p.453.)
It feels significant to look back on how women lived through the eyes and pen of Charlotte Brontë. They were given a small allowance for thought and more often than not forced to pack up any dreams into boxes that were rarely ever opened. (It is interesting, as well, to consider whether Jane Eyre would have been received the same way if Charlotte Brontë had not published under a man’s pen-name.) Possessing the freedom to provide for yourself, to search out for fulfilment, to suffer these difficult privileges – is something that many of us take for granted today. Jane seeks out life, and her final trial is a man who is in many ways Rochester’s parallel.
‘I don’t think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to moral superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.’ (Jane to Rochester, p.188)
Whereas Jane many times showcases the emotional and mental equality between her and Rochester, and the fact that she is unafraid to counter, challenge, or even reject him, this is not the case for her relationship with St. John Rivers. After so many pages of watching Jane grow as a woman who fights for her choices and her individuality – to watch her knowingly fall under the manipulations of Rivers felt infuriating and deeply unsettling.
As a pastor and soon-to-be missionary, Rivers views Jane in scientific impartiality, dissecting her diligence, plainness, and good moral character into traits that he would wish in a pastor’s wife. When the familial connection between them is revealed, and Jane finally has cousins who can offer her a familial type of love that she has never experienced, Rivers uses Jane’s desire for affection to control and abuse her. Despite in many ways being socially and monetarily equal – particularly after Jane choosing to share her inheritance with them out of generosity and principle – the relationship between the two shows that equality in a partnership is a rose of many thorns, and never quite as simple as meets the eye.
Freedom is living; it breathes, it has wings, it must contain the capacity for thought and transformation. Jane sees Rochester as a ‘lion’ (p.441), an ‘eagle’ (p.602) – a wild creature that perhaps holds danger, but claws and fights for life as she does. Rivers is ‘marble’ (p.573), his questions ‘ice’, and his anger an ‘avalanche’ (p.575). He is dangerous but lifeless, never capable of bringing Jane pleasure or comfort – only cold. While not a straightforward villain, St. Rivers embodies the metaphysical villain of a gothic novel: the looming danger of the future that lingers in the air like poison, the illusion of cruelty as beauty, the jagged edge of power.
Jane’s journey in this novel is not about ‘choosing a man’. It is about the journey of an orphan girl faced with a life of servitude and labour, choosing to allow herself to live and experience love the way she deems right. It is in all ways about choices. Jane, presented with the opportunity to serve God as a missionary’s wife and give herself entirely to faith, proclaims that ‘God did not give me my life to throw away’ (p.578). To see a female character in a novel published in 1847 choosing to experience love and faith on her own terms and entirely for herself, is incredibly empowering.
Brontë writes masterfully, with a wit that never overindulges but often made me laugh out loud, and with an earnest poetry to her descriptions that truly lifts you out of your own world and into one where forests have souls and the wind is full of whispers.
Jane as a character is not easy to put down. In many ways, I hope to take her qualities into myself, and feel capable of choosing love, and choosing my life.
“Am I hideous, Jane?
Very, sir: you always were, you know.”
Has there ever been a book I've loved more? No!
Such an old story, yet it feels so modern. Love love love!
Very, sir: you always were, you know.”
Has there ever been a book I've loved more? No!
Such an old story, yet it feels so modern. Love love love!
challenging
emotional
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
Yes
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Booooooooo boring!!!
challenging
emotional
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I started this book a couple of times this year and didn’t go far before I stopped reading. Until some days ago when I decided to give it another try and listened to the audiobook and simultaneously read my physical copy from the very start. It had a slow start and a lot could have been omitted throughout the book but I liked it for what it was. The romance, even if it was an important aspect no doubt, was secondary to Jane’s perseverance and character. She has effortlessly become a most loved and admired character for me and her story one that I’m overly pleased I finally got to this year.