Charlotte Brontë — Jane Eyre

Another book I had written off in my callow youth as being boring. I think I tried reading it in elementary school (I went through a period where I tried reading books that ended up being a little too much for me to really appreciate) and thought it was boring, but read it again in high school and ended up loving it.

Reading it again, now that I am old and cranky, I found that it still holds a curious power over the reader. There’s something very compelling about how very strong Jane’s voice is, such a slightly odd character, but so convincing. It’s easy to get lost in the dark world of Thornfield and spend so many hours there. Considering the time period, too, Jane’s stubbornness and desire to stick to her guns is pretty admirable, even if the book does end, too, in marriage.

Not a whole lot else to say about this, as I’m sure it’s been said far more eloquently than I have ever done, but while I am generally more of a Burney person than a Brontë person, there is always a little place in my heart for Jane and Mr. Rochester.

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