
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I read this book when I was 9 years old. And it, in a strange and beautiful way, became the written love of my life. Some of the other reviews speak to the romance in the story, and feminism, and female independence. As a 9 year old girl, this book captured all that and more, but more than anything, it reflected a yearning and loneliness borne of the very solemn state of being different and learning to accept and love oneself as different, in every sense of the word.
When I read this book, I recognized myself in both Jane and in Mr. Rochester. A girl, and then a young woman, seeking to believe in the world and finding it full of disappointments, petty and arbitrary betrayals, yet, here and there, glimmers of hope and beauty in human beings just when everything starts to become numb and hopeless, and you begin to believe that humans aren't worth the trouble.
Later on I took the university classes that covered and diced into little bits every possible nuance of the Bronte sisters and then even Austen, but I returned again and again to the pure emotion and sharp intellect of the woman who wrote this book, who in and of herself and in her characters returned again and again to the wild girl meme in Jane and beyond that will always capture my heart. Even today it captures our hearts in modern TV shows that feature determined, discerning, self-possessed, and independent female leads, and story lines like Arya Stark's in Game of Thrones. Women who stand out, and who aren't afraid to do it (or even if they are, they do it anyway :).
I believe every young girl should read this when she's ready, and approach it again and again at different times in their lives. It keeps unfurling little nuances. When you are young, Rochester seems omnipotent and devilish, St. James, pure and selfless. When you are wiser, Rochester seems broken and lost, and St. James not so flawless after all. Where Jane seems selfish and wild, later she seems more delicate and vulnerable behind a mask that's kept her safe and alive for years.
Jane Eyre is in many ways my prototype for the ideal female protagonist for any genre - not entirely likable nor predictable; always curious; always strong-willed and striving; doubting herself yet always seeking to grow; open to goodness and standing firm in the face of cruelty or injustice; loyal and giving; steadfast and honest. Plain or not, Jane in all these things taught me beauty when I, too, felt like an ugly duckling.
She made me believe in a real and honest self-love - and was one of the cornerstones of my strong belief that there really are no happily ever afters. That we are all flawed human beings striving, and in learning to accept that as the very point of why we are here, love is a matter of course, neither the goal nor the prize.
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