I first came across Jane Eyre in a favorite YA series of mine: The Princess Diaries. In volume 4, Mia's autocratic grandmother gives her the book to read (for a reason I don't recall), and she quickly becomes enthralled in the romance between Jane and Mr. Rochester. I got the gist of Jane Eyre's plot from this and other books that referenced the novel, while I know little to none about Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey. I already knew about the romance, the crazy wife, and the fire. Perhaps this helped to lower my excitement about reading this particular novel.
I really enjoyed reading the first half: learning of her horrible childhood really put me on Jane's side, and she was very relatable with her strange and bookish behavior. The story was expertly written, since it was compelling and easy to follow, disproving the notion that centuries-old novels are somehow difficult to get through due to trivial differences in language and structure. I did get annoyed with the long-winded soliloquies of St. John (Jane's second suitor) and Mr. Rochester (though perhaps this was a commonplace writing style at the time). In spite of the gross age difference between Jane and Mr. Rochester, and Jane's passivity, I was able to enjoy most of the novel. Hell, even Bertha's appearance as a black monstrosity of a woman was tolerable, since that was the way most of English society thought of Black people at the time.
But as the novel progressed, it seemed to get more ridiculous, ruled by deus ex machina. First, Jane finds people who take her in after she runs away from Thornfield Hall, and they happen to be relations! And they like her a lot! Then it turns out that Mr. Rochester's wife, Bertha, had died in the fire that she had caused! He had even tried to save her, the noble man that he is! Now she can get back together with Mr. Rochester! Yay! A happy ending was produced artificially, forced by the author's hand. It seemed as if Charlotte couldn't stand to give anyone but the most vicious characters a sad end.
Even St. John, whom I detested for his orthodox prudishness (he refused to take Jane with him to India without marrying her first, though they were related, purely because he found it "improper"! I wished the whole time that Jane would just tell him off, and she did...but then she agreed, even though she had said that she didn't want to), was given a good ending - and the last three paragraphs of the novel! He was only in the last ten chapters of the book, so I do not get why he had to get the last three paragraphs. It talked about him dying, and ended with a quote about Jesus: a total non sequitor to the whole story, as I gathered that Jane was not a particularly religious woman.
And in spite of Mr. Rochester's injuries, he and Jane apparently had a happy marriage, and even had kids! (There is a mention of a firstborn on the last page, and nothing more, so I assume they had at least two healthy children.) While it sends a good message that a woman can love a disfigured man that she had known in health, Jane's willingness to return to him and care for him rubbed me the wrong way. Mr. Rochester had been a real jerk, and she was young yet: there could have been other suitors, had she sought for another post as a governess or schoolmistress. While Jane (the narrator of the tale) ended at a happy time in her life, unhappiness would surely be on the horizon. Mr. Rochester's aging, worsened by his injuries, could overburden her as a wife and mother, and the 20-year age difference will surely send her to early widowhood. And she doesn't seem to have a problem with that, which is kind of what bothers me most of all. Jane, in the end, was not strong enough to forge her own path (I chalk it up to her personality), and relied on a man, either St. John or Mr. Rochester, to help guide her way. Given that the novel was written in the 1840s, one can hardly think that it would be necessarily feminist as the term is defined today, (and Charlotte was certainly not unfeminist) but that was just one of the many things that irked me about Jane's character. The sentimentality of her narration, her passive attitude towards issues of great importance (like going to India with St. John - she lets how he feels trump how she feels about it!), and lack of a sense of adventure and curiosity (except when it came to Mr. Rochester) had me frustrated.
However, this novel totally PWN'd anything that Dickens ever wrote, as I actually liked it. I give it three out of five stars, and recommend it to anyone who feels like reading a 300-page novel from the 19th century.
Next up: Wuthering Heights, by middle sister Emily!
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