A review by mariekejee
Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë
dark
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.5
Over the last two weeks, I have accidentally become inundated with media concerning the autonomy of women. Sometimes, as in the case of the wonderful television series Fleishman is in Trouble, I find myself angered and moved. Other times, I just find myself angered, or worse, annoyed. Unfortunately for me, reading Jane Eyre only led to the latter.
I so badly wanted to dnf this book, but dnf'ing one of the greatest novels of the 19th century, and one with such a high rating at that, felt sacrilegious. Even after my mom had looked me in the eyes and implored me to pick a happier book, I stuck with it. Am I glad I did? Kind of. For sure, I'm glad I have a classic and feminist book like this under my belt, and I appreciate having a wider knowledge of classic literature. But that's a shallow reason for suffering through this book, for suffer I did.
I absolutely, absolutely hated reading about Jane's struggles as a kid. I hate reading about child abuse, and especially that which is so completely unfair, unreasonable and unwarranted. The first few chapters there is so little relief from it, that I could not help but feel angrier as I kept reading it. Of course Jane gets blamed for the abuse she suffers for no reason. Of course the school she gets sent to is so poorly run that the kids go hungry more often than not. Of course the teachers are strict and abusive. Of course her first friend dies within a couple of chapters of meeting them. After a couple of chapters, I almost became numb from the constant misery and injustice; I no longer had any expectations of a happy or comfortable future for Jane, or an enjoyable reading experience for me.
I don't need a happy book to be able to enjoy reading it. I read through I'm Glad my Mom Died and found it a great read, despite the majority of the book chronicling the abuse Jeanette McCurdy suffered at the hands of her mother. But therein lies the difference: I kept being angry at Charlotte Brontë for making me suffer through exhaustive descriptions of Jane being cast aside, unfairly treated, going hungry, wishing for death. She chose to write that, and while I understand why she did, I just plainly hated it. The actual, real world is highly unfair for so many people; I am not interested in fictionalised accounts of this injustice, and I'm especially uninterested in reading about the unfair treatment that women have historically suffered at the hands of men and further society.
As for the plot itself, I found no joy in reading it other than the few chapters Jane seems to settle at Thornfield, because at that point I had spent hours listening to Jane suffering through life and this is the first time she has finally found some peace for herself. There were some surprises for me in the plot, but most of them I had anticipated long before I got to read them. The surprises I did find were in the way she keeps being treated by the men in her life. There are four men of note in this story, and all of them () are abusive douchebags. Even St. John, the one man for whom I had hope, makes a 180 and spends the last pages of this book refusing to take no for an answer.
I so badly wanted to dnf this book, but dnf'ing one of the greatest novels of the 19th century, and one with such a high rating at that, felt sacrilegious. Even after my mom had looked me in the eyes and implored me to pick a happier book, I stuck with it. Am I glad I did? Kind of. For sure, I'm glad I have a classic and feminist book like this under my belt, and I appreciate having a wider knowledge of classic literature. But that's a shallow reason for suffering through this book, for suffer I did.
I absolutely, absolutely hated reading about Jane's struggles as a kid. I hate reading about child abuse, and especially that which is so completely unfair, unreasonable and unwarranted. The first few chapters there is so little relief from it, that I could not help but feel angrier as I kept reading it. Of course Jane gets blamed for the abuse she suffers for no reason. Of course the school she gets sent to is so poorly run that the kids go hungry more often than not. Of course the teachers are strict and abusive. Of course her first friend dies within a couple of chapters of meeting them. After a couple of chapters, I almost became numb from the constant misery and injustice; I no longer had any expectations of a happy or comfortable future for Jane, or an enjoyable reading experience for me.
I don't need a happy book to be able to enjoy reading it. I read through I'm Glad my Mom Died and found it a great read, despite the majority of the book chronicling the abuse Jeanette McCurdy suffered at the hands of her mother. But therein lies the difference: I kept being angry at Charlotte Brontë for making me suffer through exhaustive descriptions of Jane being cast aside, unfairly treated, going hungry, wishing for death. She chose to write that, and while I understand why she did, I just plainly hated it. The actual, real world is highly unfair for so many people; I am not interested in fictionalised accounts of this injustice, and I'm especially uninterested in reading about the unfair treatment that women have historically suffered at the hands of men and further society.
As for the plot itself, I found no joy in reading it other than the few chapters Jane seems to settle at Thornfield, because at that point I had spent hours listening to Jane suffering through life and this is the first time she has finally found some peace for herself. There were some surprises for me in the plot, but most of them I had anticipated long before I got to read them. The surprises I did find were in the way she keeps being treated by the men in her life. There are four men of note in this story, and all of them (
Spoiler
even the one she ends up marrying!!There are quite some things which are remnants from the time it was written, such as the classism and xenophobia, and the obsession with beauty. I can't fault the book for it, because no doubt it is just a relic of its time, but god, is there ever so much emphasis on the beauty of women as a signifier of not just their worth but their character.
Is it an important book? Most definitely. Is it well written and contains nice prose? Absolutely. Would I ever willingly expose myself to it again? Not a chance in hell. It's a good book - just definitely not for me.
(also: I love this comic of the Bronte sisters http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=202)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse
Moderate: Emotional abuse, Fire/Fire injury, Abandonment, and Confinement