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Monday, February 13, 2012

My Favorite Romance: Jane Eyre

I know there's probably a few people out there who are falling over at the thought I'd praise anything about Jane Eyre. Especially in a blog series on romance and in the same sentence as "favorite." In case I haven't shocked my readers enough over the couple years I've been writing here, brace yourself. I don't like Jane Eyre. I've read it twice and can't make myself love it. Gah! I HATE it. Me, being the conservative, moral person I am--still all for Jane and Rochester shacking up until the mad wife kicks it. I can't help it. *hangs head in shame* Or seriously, why doesn't he just divorce her and still take care of her? Plllleeeeaassseee??

I digress.

There is still a romance scene that I love. It's not happy. {Really? WHAT about this book is except like the last five pages?? And even then, he's burned and scarred and . . . *deep breath* I'm getting off track again.} But it's emotional and tear-inducing.

Jane has found out about the mad wife and Rochester begs her to stay:
"You are going, Jane?"
"I am going, sir."
"You are leaving me?"
"You will not come?--You will not be my comforter, my rescuer?--My deep love, my wild woe, my frantic prayer, are all nothing to you?"
What unutterable pathos was in his voice! How hard it was to reiterate firmly, "I am going."
"Mr. Rochester!"
"Withdraw, then, --I consent--but remember, you leave me here in anguish. Go up to your room; think over all I have said, Jane, cast a glance on my sufferings--think of me."
He turned away; he threw himself on his face on the sofa. "Oh, Jane! my hope--my love--my life!" broke in anguish from his lips. Then came a deep, strong sob.
I had already gained the door: but, reader, I walked back--walked back as determinedly as I retreated. I knelt down by him; I turned his face from the cushion to me; I kissed his cheek; I smoothed his hair with my hand.
"God bless you, my dear master!" I said. "God keep you from harm and wrong--direct you, solace you--reward you well for your past kindness to me."
"Little Jane's love would have been my best reward," he answered: "without it, my heart is broken. But Jane will give me her love: yes--nobly, generously."
Up the blood rushed to his face; forth flashed the fire from his eyes; erect he sprang; he held his arms out; but I evaded the embrace, and at once quitted the room.
"Farewell!" was the cry of my heart as I left him. Despair added, "Farewell, for ever!"
Yes, heartbreaking. But I don't want to end it there. I tried desperately to find the final scene from Jane Eyre (the 2011 movie version) to end on a happy note, but couldn't. So instead, I'll seal this post with this:
"Reader, I married him."


  1. LOL! But you see! The amazingly wonderful thing about Jane Eyre, is that WE can see that progress has occurred where at the time it was written, poor Jane was trapped in this tale of dreadful angst and bitterness! There are so many options now to a modern Jane that do not end in woe and misery! She could become a vampire for instance! ;)

    For crying out loud, poor Bronte had to change her name to a man's to get published back then! Now days she'd already be self published, or maybe made a movie.

    Good choice for a scene, though romantic, (and I like the story in general) it's also very dramatic. *HUGS*

  2. I adore Jane Eyre. I was 12 when I read it the first time and it was the first book that really taught me what a book could be. I want to have "Reader, I married him" printed out nice, framed and hung in my library. When I get a library. Sigh.


About Me!

I've been writing since I was old enough to grasp a crayon--my grandma even has an early copy of a "book" I made her. I have a bachelor's degree in history from the University of Wyoming and will (hopefully) soon be starting a graduate program in English. When I'm not breaking up impromptu UFC fights in the living room or losing miserably to my boys at Uno, I'm ... well, writing or editing, of course! I'm married to my best friend, and we have three rambunctious but simply amazing little boys.


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