Gag and bound
One of the reasons i dearly love Jane Eyre, from the moment i held it, was its name. Something about it was foreboding and it drew me to read it. I did the typical book dance of flipping it around a few times. I scanned the inside jacket and left the store with it. I admit that from the first scentence i connected with the story and self inserted. Jane was a strong girl with a will of iron. I admired her character in a way i could not with other "romantic" novels. She wasn't vain (some could say uninterested in her looks or slightly lacking self awareness in the lack of importance of if she lived up to the socities standards of beauty). She stood for something. The thin branches on a dying bush refusing to break. Maybe i have connected to the frailty of being at two ends. The inability to discuss with others the "ills" of a questionable childhood. The willingness to admit your weaknesses and frankness is neither a symptom of mistreatment but a refeshing dose of reality. Jane's ability to keep her reserve until the end despite being lied to. The problem i have with Jane Eyre is Mr Rochester and his wife. His narrative is one of the silentlt abused. His abuse is off screen. It is a tale that only he can wax. I dont dispute the dispagre he faces caring for his young daughter.