You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
kamrynkoble 's review for:
Mr. Rochester
by Sarah Shoemaker
As soon as I saw this book appear on Goodreads weeks ago with only two ratings, my heart flipped. Could it be true? Could my favorite classic have a spin-off from the mysterious and brooding Edward Rochester himself? Mr. Rochester by Sarah Shoemaker follows Jane Eyre's love interest from the time he's a boy to the time Brontë's novel ends.
I won't waste time walking through all that Shoemaker put in place for Edward's boyhood and adolescence. Sometimes it struck me how intrigued I was by three boys learning from a tutor, or a cocky young teenager running a mill. There was a certain ambiance that enticed me as a reader - or perhaps it was just a burning and not-so-secret fascination with Rochester himself. Regardless of my personal passion, Shoemaker's development of his childhood provided ample explanation for some of the mystery we see in him during Brontë's novel.
Despite this, the pacing seemed a little off and I couldn't help but wish the scope of the novel was different. Yes, we learned plenty about Edward during his time at the mill and in Jamaica, but it didn't all feel necessary to me. I would much rather have these pages telling more of Edward as a father and a husband to Jane in the end, or more elaboration of his French dalliances.
Alright, we need to pause and have a moment for Bertha Mason. Since my relationship with Jane Eyre that first began in elementary school, the madwoman in the attic has fascinated me. Her mental downfall is quite interesting in Mr. Rochester, to the point that her relationship with Edward was more interesting than his with Jane; although, more could've been done to evoke emotional response to this character rather than an intellectual examination. She felt flat, even if she was quite dynamic. When she was sane, all she cared about was balls, men, African magic, and sex. When her mind was completely lost, she was nothing but guttural screams and rage. I can forgive the insanity portion obviously, but would've liked to see more development during the "sane" portion of her life to cause more contrast with her time at Thornfield. The torture she caused Edward was a large component of his narration, and yet I felt nothing when she plunged off of the roof and never pitied her despite her heinous treatment during her descent into madness. Maybe she's one literary character that won't ever receive her dues.
Moving to Edward's relationship with Jane, I loved seeing someone else's perception of this beloved heroine. However, it read that his regard for her went from curiosity and indifference to oh-my-word-if-I-don't-have-this-woman-I-will-perish-and-my-life-is-meaningless in a matter of two pages. Not to mention for a man who supposedly loved her as much as Shoemaker's narration proposed, he was cruel to Jane about Blanche. It almost felt that Shoemaker's personal feelings differed from Brontë's and she chose to stick with Brontë's rather than take a risk. This is most likely a wise choice, but made these portions abrasive to read.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with Shoemaker's writing style, or her use of dialogue. However, the most interesting banter was pulled from Brontë's original work, not the new parts. Shoemaker's style is straightforward (I'm not seeing the deft and literary style the description speaks of), where Brontë's possesses more of an eloquent voice, turning toward poetic devices and flowery figurative language often. Perhaps this was a deliberate choice by the author to contrast Jane's narration from Rochester's, which makes sense. But the dialogue Shoemaker composed herself did not sound harmonious with Brontë's original statements from the same characters.
All in all, I do recommend this to any Eyre fans. It's not a flawless, breath-taking twist on the beloved classic, but it does provide good and plausible insight to one of literature's most infamous leading men.
Thank you to Netgalley for providing me a copy of this book.
I won't waste time walking through all that Shoemaker put in place for Edward's boyhood and adolescence. Sometimes it struck me how intrigued I was by three boys learning from a tutor, or a cocky young teenager running a mill. There was a certain ambiance that enticed me as a reader - or perhaps it was just a burning and not-so-secret fascination with Rochester himself. Regardless of my personal passion, Shoemaker's development of his childhood provided ample explanation for some of the mystery we see in him during Brontë's novel.
Despite this, the pacing seemed a little off and I couldn't help but wish the scope of the novel was different. Yes, we learned plenty about Edward during his time at the mill and in Jamaica, but it didn't all feel necessary to me. I would much rather have these pages telling more of Edward as a father and a husband to Jane in the end, or more elaboration of his French dalliances.
Alright, we need to pause and have a moment for Bertha Mason. Since my relationship with Jane Eyre that first began in elementary school, the madwoman in the attic has fascinated me. Her mental downfall is quite interesting in Mr. Rochester, to the point that her relationship with Edward was more interesting than his with Jane; although, more could've been done to evoke emotional response to this character rather than an intellectual examination. She felt flat, even if she was quite dynamic. When she was sane, all she cared about was balls, men, African magic, and sex. When her mind was completely lost, she was nothing but guttural screams and rage. I can forgive the insanity portion obviously, but would've liked to see more development during the "sane" portion of her life to cause more contrast with her time at Thornfield. The torture she caused Edward was a large component of his narration, and yet I felt nothing when she plunged off of the roof and never pitied her despite her heinous treatment during her descent into madness. Maybe she's one literary character that won't ever receive her dues.
Moving to Edward's relationship with Jane, I loved seeing someone else's perception of this beloved heroine. However, it read that his regard for her went from curiosity and indifference to oh-my-word-if-I-don't-have-this-woman-I-will-perish-and-my-life-is-meaningless in a matter of two pages. Not to mention for a man who supposedly loved her as much as Shoemaker's narration proposed, he was cruel to Jane about Blanche. It almost felt that Shoemaker's personal feelings differed from Brontë's and she chose to stick with Brontë's rather than take a risk. This is most likely a wise choice, but made these portions abrasive to read.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with Shoemaker's writing style, or her use of dialogue. However, the most interesting banter was pulled from Brontë's original work, not the new parts. Shoemaker's style is straightforward (I'm not seeing the deft and literary style the description speaks of), where Brontë's possesses more of an eloquent voice, turning toward poetic devices and flowery figurative language often. Perhaps this was a deliberate choice by the author to contrast Jane's narration from Rochester's, which makes sense. But the dialogue Shoemaker composed herself did not sound harmonious with Brontë's original statements from the same characters.
All in all, I do recommend this to any Eyre fans. It's not a flawless, breath-taking twist on the beloved classic, but it does provide good and plausible insight to one of literature's most infamous leading men.
Thank you to Netgalley for providing me a copy of this book.