I'm on a quest for pre-2015 contemporary romances to give in to certain nostalgia. This did it's job. Cute, fiesty, and fun. I'm on a quest for pre-2015 contemporary romances to give in to certain nostalgia. This did it's job. Cute, fiesty, and fun. ...more
In my impressionable youth, I probably would have loved this book more. Now, on the cusp of turning 30 (the same age Jane is when she ends the book), In my impressionable youth, I probably would have loved this book more. Now, on the cusp of turning 30 (the same age Jane is when she ends the book), I find my appreciation for the story impeded by the imprints of disappointments, shadows of heartbreak, and a not-so-healthy dose of cynicism.
I pick classics first for the writing, then the story. Charlotte Brontë doesn’t disappoint me in this account. She is a genius writer with a brilliant command of her language and narration. She is a classic Victorian writer who shows why her works have transcended the contemporary to become classics. Though not my favourite Victorian writer, I immensely enjoyed her writing and gothic storytelling.
Now, coming to the story. My impressions are a little complicated. I am an avid enjoyer of regency romance novels, and reading Jane Eyre was like reading one of the original blueprints for this genre. I experienced a hundred light bulb moments when I was reading Jane and Mr. Rochester's interactions. ‘Oh, so this is where the ‘trope’ originated? Wow.’ It was humbling.
Then the Byronic hero in his prime was a shock to behold. Edward Rochester wasn’t easy to understand and accept. He was never meant to be easy, sure, but I sadly couldn’t accept and like him even after the end. I cannot condone any of his actions. Ironically, his and Jane’s romance was my least favourite part of the novel. What should have been passionate appeared superficial and exaggerated. While reading, I did have moments where I was smiling and rooting for the two, but once I finished the novel and took a step back, my smile fell, and their story left a strong impression of uneasiness in me.
Let’s keep aside Mr. Rochester for a while and focus on Jane. She is a brilliant heroine. If I look at Jane Eyre as only a bildungsroman, I have no objection. I was thoroughly invested in her humble beginnings, resilient rise in society, staunch self-respect, and formidable will. There was never a moment when I wasn’t rooting for her. I was on the sidelines cheering her to win every step. If she weren’t as compelling or as inspiring, I would have given up on the book halfway.
Along with Jane’s character, I was invested in the central themes of the novel. The writing posed questions before passing judgments. Rooted in religion, the story expands on universal concepts of poverty, liberty, love, and principle. Jane, in large parts of the story, is in contention with two warring elements of nature. To choose poverty or liberty? To choose passion or principle? Her quest to live the best life as sanctioned by God is commendable.
–x–
Now, let me rant. I have a lot of screaming thoughts in my mind about this book. I cannot contain them for much longer.
First of all, Edward Rochester is definitely creepy, and I cannot understand Jane’s undying love for him. Does he have sex appeal? Sure. He is a captivating enigma of a man who has seen more of the world and experienced a lot of life’s vices and temptations. Jane, being an 18-year-old when she meets him, is just something I cannot swallow. Nothing about the relationship between these two is romantic. It reeks of grooming and abuse. I just can’t pretend that this is the greatest romance ever written when seeing them together feels like I’m witnessing something illegal. Let that girl go! All these strong feelings before even taking into consideration the first wife locked up in the attic.
The man is plain twisted. I lost all respect (if I had any) for Mr. Rochester (god, I can’t stand this man) when he uses another woman to make Jane jealous. This was surreal because, readers, I have witnessed this trope in so many historical romance novels. To see it in a book from that very period seemed like some kind of tear had appeared in my timeline. It was so unnecessary and ugly. Why do you need to make a 19-year-old (a teenager, sir!) jealous? Just woo her, be kind. You are already having all these supposed conversations that connect your souls. Why not rely on that? And please bear this in mind that he isn’t making her jealous to test her. It has nothing to do with his past traumas, he just wants to ‘make love spring within her’ I just cannot go on after this. This man is sus, and if I had a sister or friend who’s 19 and she even comes near such a man’s shadow, I’m calling the police.
This is where it gets tricky, right? I like Jane. She is brilliant. Most of the time, I trust her opinion and accept her decisions. She is no idyllic, uninformed 19-year-old. She had had to grow beyond her years and face the hardships of life very early on. She is an enigma in her own right, and I want to, no, seriously, I do want to give her the benefit of doubt. I want to tell myself she knows what she’s about, and if loving Edward Rochester makes her happy, I have to accept it. I tried to. I really did.
Secondly, I’m not a fan of the magical resolution of hardship in stories. It dampens everything for me. Jane turning out to be an heiress and finding solace with her cousins? Yeah, unbelievable. Now, I love stories and imagination. I can go along with pretty much everything for the sake of the story. This is sadly a bad time in my life to ingest this trope. There is no magical cure to our hardships. No ill relative is waiting to die to make you an heiress, and I have no tolerance for this in literature. This one is on me.
–x–
Ultimately, Jane Eyre is a brilliant bildungsroman but a tiring romance. I am not being appreciative enough because it’s difficult for me to take into account the merit of its original brilliance in retrospect. It was one of the novels that pioneered stream of consciousness storytelling. I do want to give it its due. Yet, this is a time when the story has left a sour taste and moderated my appreciation of the writing....more
We all know Kristen Ashley has a formula. Sometimes it works (I still have a ritual of re-reading Motorcycle Man every year) and sometimes it doesn't.We all know Kristen Ashley has a formula. Sometimes it works (I still have a ritual of re-reading Motorcycle Man every year) and sometimes it doesn't. This time, not so much. The characters were caricatures of her past ones. The mystery was token and no substance. And the social cause flags we're planted in every chapter. I'd stopped reading her new books because I've outgrown her writing and she refuses to evolve. I thought I'll try another to test that theory. And yes, it still holds....more