Jane Eyre
I was glad to see this original post was linked on The Bronte blog, a very nice literary criticism/all things Bronte blog.
On Thursday I tok a vacation from most of my life and spent the day reading (rereading, although it's been decades) Jane Eyre. I read it on my Kindle. I have seen five of the perhaps nine film versions. For some reason, it seems to be the actor playing Rochester who gets remembered or top billing!
1. Orson Welles/Joan Fontaine. She is too pretty for the part, too ethereal. I felt like it was a typical vanity piece for Welles, who directed also. It didn't include the whole story and felt very truncated. It left out the story with her newfound family; the Lowood portion is, as usual, given short shrift, except that Helen Burns is played by a very young and unbilled Elizabeth Taylor.
2. A TV one back in the 70s with George C. Scott, which I don't recall very well.
3. The Timothy Dalton one from 1983. It's long; I stayed up one night quite late in the early '90s and watched it on video. The actress I have never heard of again. He looked the part.
4. The William Hurt/Charlotte Gainsborough version, which I actually have. Whenever the filmmakers try to condense it into two hours, the film just doesn't work. William Hurt is no Rochester; too blond and comatose. Moody, but no passion.
5. The 2006 PBS version, which I loved and consider the best. I have not seen the 2011 theatrical version. The PBS one was long and did almost every part of the book, but the acting and chemistry was most natural and real. I felt much more Jane's resolution not to be a victim, either from Lowood or as a dependent female (read mistress); at the same time Ruth Wilson plays her vulnerability and youth. In this version, it is understandable why she falls in love with Rochester (really attractive man). This version portrays their physical passion without anything inappropriate. I am anxious to watch it again; it's on YouTube in pieces (how do people overcome the copyright infringements? by posting them in pieces?)
Jane Eyre is the first feminist in literature, I think. She is hard-headed in the Romantic era; she is no Romantic. She despises the frivolity and dependency of the woman of her times, the Blanche Ingrams. She doesn't run across the moors like a crazy woman. I am half convinced Charlotte Bronte had read Mary Wolstonecraft Shelley's, A Vindication of the Rights of Women, which advocates for women's education and ability to work to be self-supporting. Jane has every intention of providing for herself as long as she can. Jane refuses to be seen as Rochester's love on the basis of his money. She will be his equal, or nothing. She will not be his mistress because it violates God's law and because it violates her self-definition as an equal. Equal perhaps not in social class, but as a human.
I think discussions of the book often overlook the religion of it and Jane's feminism. It is a far more moralistic book than Bronte's sister's singular work. Rochester wants her back and is ready to get married when she returns, but he also confesses to a repentance and conversion from his former life, due to his humbling, blindness, and injury. Earlier, however, he seems to be saying, "Just be my mistress; it will be all right." He does, and he doesn't. He knows what makes Jane Jane is the fact she won't give in to being his mistress far away in Italy, and she is right: he will cease to love her if that happens. She is willing to live by a principle and her own self-definition more than to have the physical passion fulfilled which she desperately, probably as much as he does, wants. There is a lot of smouldering passion here, but no bodice ripper.
I find it interesting she calls him "my master." In terms of employment, this is an overstatement. In terms of her desire for equality, it is ironic. In terms of her heart, he is the master of her heart but not her mind and not her body. She is that master. I can't help but think of 50 Shades of Mommy Porn, where a master/subordinate relationship is celebrated. Biblically, we are "coheirs with Christ" in marriage, if believers, so subordination and submission are mutual.
Why does she love Rochester? To this point in her life, she has had no relationships with men, other than the horrid Mr. Brocklehurst and her equally horrid cousin, and a servant or two. Men have done little for her, so a desire for self-sufficiency is only logical; dependency does not fit her conceptual framework. Who falls in love first? Rochester does, but cannot act because of his position and age. We see her thoughts and think she is falling in love with someone who would never return it, but Bronte gives it away; Rochester's words, actions, and the way he censors himself tells us he is in love. Jane would not fall in love with a dandy, and it is not clear to me in the novel whether Bronte wants us to see Rochester as handsome or ugly. Is she falling in love with him because there is no one else? I don't think so. Anyway, how many of us is that true of? When another loves us first, do we not far more consider the possibility?
A friend told me to reread Austen, which is of course wonderful, but the women in Austen for the most part (perhaps because it is about 40 years earlier) have one goal in life: to find a husband. It has to be the right kind of husband, of course, but finding a husband is the goal. Jane is not looking for one; love surprises her; as I think it should.
Much could be made of the second part of the book. Many film versions ignore it, and skip to Bertha falling off the flaming mansion, the only impediment to a happy ending. But Bertha is not the only impediment, really. It is what she means; Rochester's past, and that includes the cruelty he has done Jane. How can we like him when he is trying to marry a second wife? He is a wannabe bigamist trying to keep it from an innocent. Is she stupid and a victim and codependent because she loves him anyway? The love is not the problem; the submission to him would be. And she does not. I have grown to believe that we cannot help who we love, but we can help who we associate with and give ourselves to. Bronte understands that emotions are strong but not over strong.
Does Bronte make the ending too easy, with Jane becoming relatively wealthy and finding her family? In a way, but if she is going to get help from anyone in her destitution, it's going to be a minister, and Bronte plants the seed of her fortune much earlier, so it doesn't come out of the blue. The fact that the minister happens to be her cousin is a bit far-fetched. It's interesting that marrying one's first cousin was not seen as a problem, but we see this in other English literature.
In terms of the second part also, I see St. John Rivers as what she could be, without her passionate heart: disciplined, self-contained, a person of integrity who goes too far in that. What I love, in the end, about Jane Eyre, is that she doesn't give in, even when pressured, either way--to cold religiosity or sexuality that will end in loss of self-respect.
Beyond that, I marvel when I read Dickens and Bronte versus reading contemporary writers. Surely their descriptive powers surpass ours today, and their vocabularies--I didn't know there were so many words in the English language. The characters are real and human. I don't get to read much fiction anymore, and have to be selective. I think I'll stick with the founders of the novel form.
On Thursday I tok a vacation from most of my life and spent the day reading (rereading, although it's been decades) Jane Eyre. I read it on my Kindle. I have seen five of the perhaps nine film versions. For some reason, it seems to be the actor playing Rochester who gets remembered or top billing!
1. Orson Welles/Joan Fontaine. She is too pretty for the part, too ethereal. I felt like it was a typical vanity piece for Welles, who directed also. It didn't include the whole story and felt very truncated. It left out the story with her newfound family; the Lowood portion is, as usual, given short shrift, except that Helen Burns is played by a very young and unbilled Elizabeth Taylor.
2. A TV one back in the 70s with George C. Scott, which I don't recall very well.
3. The Timothy Dalton one from 1983. It's long; I stayed up one night quite late in the early '90s and watched it on video. The actress I have never heard of again. He looked the part.
4. The William Hurt/Charlotte Gainsborough version, which I actually have. Whenever the filmmakers try to condense it into two hours, the film just doesn't work. William Hurt is no Rochester; too blond and comatose. Moody, but no passion.
5. The 2006 PBS version, which I loved and consider the best. I have not seen the 2011 theatrical version. The PBS one was long and did almost every part of the book, but the acting and chemistry was most natural and real. I felt much more Jane's resolution not to be a victim, either from Lowood or as a dependent female (read mistress); at the same time Ruth Wilson plays her vulnerability and youth. In this version, it is understandable why she falls in love with Rochester (really attractive man). This version portrays their physical passion without anything inappropriate. I am anxious to watch it again; it's on YouTube in pieces (how do people overcome the copyright infringements? by posting them in pieces?)
Jane Eyre is the first feminist in literature, I think. She is hard-headed in the Romantic era; she is no Romantic. She despises the frivolity and dependency of the woman of her times, the Blanche Ingrams. She doesn't run across the moors like a crazy woman. I am half convinced Charlotte Bronte had read Mary Wolstonecraft Shelley's, A Vindication of the Rights of Women, which advocates for women's education and ability to work to be self-supporting. Jane has every intention of providing for herself as long as she can. Jane refuses to be seen as Rochester's love on the basis of his money. She will be his equal, or nothing. She will not be his mistress because it violates God's law and because it violates her self-definition as an equal. Equal perhaps not in social class, but as a human.
I think discussions of the book often overlook the religion of it and Jane's feminism. It is a far more moralistic book than Bronte's sister's singular work. Rochester wants her back and is ready to get married when she returns, but he also confesses to a repentance and conversion from his former life, due to his humbling, blindness, and injury. Earlier, however, he seems to be saying, "Just be my mistress; it will be all right." He does, and he doesn't. He knows what makes Jane Jane is the fact she won't give in to being his mistress far away in Italy, and she is right: he will cease to love her if that happens. She is willing to live by a principle and her own self-definition more than to have the physical passion fulfilled which she desperately, probably as much as he does, wants. There is a lot of smouldering passion here, but no bodice ripper.
I find it interesting she calls him "my master." In terms of employment, this is an overstatement. In terms of her desire for equality, it is ironic. In terms of her heart, he is the master of her heart but not her mind and not her body. She is that master. I can't help but think of 50 Shades of Mommy Porn, where a master/subordinate relationship is celebrated. Biblically, we are "coheirs with Christ" in marriage, if believers, so subordination and submission are mutual.
Why does she love Rochester? To this point in her life, she has had no relationships with men, other than the horrid Mr. Brocklehurst and her equally horrid cousin, and a servant or two. Men have done little for her, so a desire for self-sufficiency is only logical; dependency does not fit her conceptual framework. Who falls in love first? Rochester does, but cannot act because of his position and age. We see her thoughts and think she is falling in love with someone who would never return it, but Bronte gives it away; Rochester's words, actions, and the way he censors himself tells us he is in love. Jane would not fall in love with a dandy, and it is not clear to me in the novel whether Bronte wants us to see Rochester as handsome or ugly. Is she falling in love with him because there is no one else? I don't think so. Anyway, how many of us is that true of? When another loves us first, do we not far more consider the possibility?
A friend told me to reread Austen, which is of course wonderful, but the women in Austen for the most part (perhaps because it is about 40 years earlier) have one goal in life: to find a husband. It has to be the right kind of husband, of course, but finding a husband is the goal. Jane is not looking for one; love surprises her; as I think it should.
Much could be made of the second part of the book. Many film versions ignore it, and skip to Bertha falling off the flaming mansion, the only impediment to a happy ending. But Bertha is not the only impediment, really. It is what she means; Rochester's past, and that includes the cruelty he has done Jane. How can we like him when he is trying to marry a second wife? He is a wannabe bigamist trying to keep it from an innocent. Is she stupid and a victim and codependent because she loves him anyway? The love is not the problem; the submission to him would be. And she does not. I have grown to believe that we cannot help who we love, but we can help who we associate with and give ourselves to. Bronte understands that emotions are strong but not over strong.
Does Bronte make the ending too easy, with Jane becoming relatively wealthy and finding her family? In a way, but if she is going to get help from anyone in her destitution, it's going to be a minister, and Bronte plants the seed of her fortune much earlier, so it doesn't come out of the blue. The fact that the minister happens to be her cousin is a bit far-fetched. It's interesting that marrying one's first cousin was not seen as a problem, but we see this in other English literature.
In terms of the second part also, I see St. John Rivers as what she could be, without her passionate heart: disciplined, self-contained, a person of integrity who goes too far in that. What I love, in the end, about Jane Eyre, is that she doesn't give in, even when pressured, either way--to cold religiosity or sexuality that will end in loss of self-respect.
Beyond that, I marvel when I read Dickens and Bronte versus reading contemporary writers. Surely their descriptive powers surpass ours today, and their vocabularies--I didn't know there were so many words in the English language. The characters are real and human. I don't get to read much fiction anymore, and have to be selective. I think I'll stick with the founders of the novel form.
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