Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

Jane Eyre is another one of those classics that I should have read before now. It is an entertaining novel of great depth, and worthy of its status. It is also one of those books about which literal acres have been written, so I’m not going to attempt to say anything new about it.

Brilliant prose and extraordinary Gothic plot notwithstanding, the story ultimately relies on character. Jane herself, whilst being an endearing narrator, is rather idealised. Despite her tendency towards self-criticism and self-doubt, she’s never in the wrong, her judgment is usually presciently correct. This is forgivable in the narrator of such a tale, and doesn’t detract from the telling. Many of the other females encountered are positively saintly, St. John’s sisters Diana and Mary certainly, and Helen Burns whose impossibly detached and selfless standards Jane cannot hope to live up to. Even crazy Mrs Rochester isn’t condemned for her deeds, due to her diminished responsibility.

The principal men have a much harder time of it at the hands of the author, and the tale really pivots around them. The focus naturally falls on Rochester, but Brontë’s treatment of the dreadful St. John is significant and it is not until we encounter this later character that Rochester’s true nature becomes clear in contrast. St. John serves as an antithesis, a demonstration of how intent and will are insufficient, worthless without the human warmth that defines Rochester. Both men are unworthy of their women, but after Rochester pays heavy dues to atone for his mistakes he is redeemed, and is allowed to find a sort of peace. He is broken down brutally for his failings, but he is entirely aware that he has done wrong, and accepts his punishment. St. John, on the other hand, is unrepentant, unable to accept that he is in any way in error, and is duly destroyed completely, off stage, despite the smaller magnitude of his actual sins. The author’s protestant theology is all over this story, but the themes of atonement and redemption through suffering and penance are intriguing: Charlotte Brontë seems happy playing a rather vengeful, Catholic god to her creations.

I now intend to have another go at Villette, which my wife tells me is the superior work. It has defeated me twice before, but perhaps with the perspective of having read Jane Eyre I’ll be able to enjoy it this time.

2 comments 2008-02-14 21:10 Categories: Books, Reviews