I'm sure it's a title well-heard of, though perhaps not so well understood. I, at least, had little to say of the name past the knowledge it was a book, one often adapted to many other varying forms: films, musicals, television series, but I had seen none of it. Jane Eyre, to me, was a mere name, and a name I wanted little to do with since it seemed to me, like Pride and Prejudice once had, something of a 'girly' book that most certainly would not interest me. But, as I read more and more titles - indeed, even going so far from my past self so as to buy all of Jane Austen's novels - Jane Eyre gradually became a main focus of my to-read list.
And how wrong I was! I'm not sure what I was expecting; perhaps it was a mere duplicate of Pride and Prejudice, though perhaps something else entirely. It matters not now, truly, for Jane Eyre is a novel that can be compared to no other.
"There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question."
I f ind it difficult to believe that one could feel even moderate dislike for the character of Eyre throughout this novel, for I fell in love with her instantly. She is a character I sympathised with from the very beginning and that is a state which only developed throughout the course of this "epic love story", as the back cover of my copy so eloquently puts it. I suppose it is such, but one cannot merely pass their eyes over that word "epic" despite its abuse today - Jane Eyre epitomises the word, as does the titular character, despite her outward appearance which is so utterly ordinary and far from 'handsome'; and, despite, too, her low social status and all the rest seemingly thrown upon her.
The story opens upon Jane as an orphan, 'cared' for by an Aunt who scorns her and a cousin who abuses her. Soon, life improves in that she is away from such cruel relations and sent to attend Lowood Academy, which, interestingly enough, is supposedly a stage of the novel based upon Brontë's own experiences at the Clergy Daughter's Shool in Lancashire. After learning of these autobiographical elements, it's odd to think that, while I admire Jane Eyre, perhaps I should instead be looking upon Brontë. I am not so delusional to truly believe it, but it certainly does feel as though Eyre is a real person - breathing, moving, acting. She is not so easily forgotten as others; I have thought about her for days following the novel. She is one character - one person, even - who I truly admire and would gladly seek to act in her shadow. Inspirational, perhaps, is the word.
I cannot divulge more of the plot, despite how desperately I would love to discuss it. There is far more to the story of thirty eight chapters than what I have talked of already, perhaps the most important being the introduction of Mr. Rochester. Ah, he! - so similiar yet far darker than the familiar Mr. Darcy! Perhaps it's obvious that this is the type of book that tears me away from my stance as the firm tomboy I used to be; this is the type of book that proves it need not be a thriller that is seemingly glued to your hands throughout the day and night; this is Jane Eyre. I have no criticism of it, for I cannot agree with any of the meager complaints of 'too much dialogue' and the like; the most I can say is that I am somewhat vexed that I had not found it earlier as I already eagerly await time to re-read it.
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