A few weeks ago, while visiting a used book store not far from my apartment, I found a cloth-bound copy of Jane Eyre, a book I didn’t know much about but was on my reading list. This copy in particular was published by the Book League of North America, and has no date. The text on the cover is incredibly faded, and the pages are foxed and some are a little torn and coffee-stained. It’s certainly the oldest book I own, and the second-most beautiful — besides the copy of Gideon the Ninth my girlfriend gave to me as a birthday gift.
Charlotte Bronte’s captivating prose gives Jane a rich and vivid inner world that is a delight to relish in. I can imagine Jane’s independence, sense of self, and passion would disinterest or startle readers in 1847 England, as it reads quite feminist for the time.
Throughout the acts of the book, Jane explores more-or-less every social strata in England, as well as the major Christian sects at the time, and it seems to me that Jane’s experiences and ability to adapt to different social situations combined with the intimate first-person narrative creates a critical view of class and, to an extent, religion. While Jane has her own Christian faith, it seemingly exists in contrast to the Hawthorne-esque preachings of Brocklehurst and St John’s self-flagellation; her Christianity does not stop her from being independent, resolute, and loving who she wants, much to the frustration of the aforementioned characters. This was a pleasantly surprising theme to stumble upon, as someone who grew up in a high-control Christian fundamentalist sect and had to, and still has to, unlearn most of the I was taught in that environment.
Bertha seems to exist as a representation of women trapped in patriarchal societies: confined, filled with rage at the world, and desparate to escape. Of course, I can’t escape the fact that Bertha, being an indigenous, or descended from indigenous populations, went “insane” and is of a family of “insane” people, and that Edward felt tricked by this, reads as racist, as it seems plausible that Bertha could be white-passing and Edward was not aware he was marrying someone that people in this time period might consider an inferior. Contrast this with the persistent comments on Jane’s physiognomy; others treat her more fairly and give her opportunities she might not have otherwise gotten due to her skin and appearance — other characters constantly discuss Jane’s physiognomy. I wonder if, upon further analysis, I’d infer an anti-racist meaning from this.
Regardless, the book was so enriching and lovely, and I learned a lot about literature in the time period. I definitely plan to hunt for other books by the Bronte sisters, and I want to read Jane Austen soon as well!
