Squeaking it in under the wire today, folks. Mondays, am I right?
Today I spent most of my time reading “Jane Eyre”. I’ve never read it before. I quite like large swathes of it, and also have some problems with certain parts so far. I think that’s probably true for many books.
What I love so far is the notable influence of fairy tales, fables, and Shakespeare. I’m catching all those references, don’t you worry! Not to mention the ways in which it acts as a ghost story! I haven’t yet identified the woman in the attic, but I’m assuming it is the proverbial wife of Mr. Rochester’s youth who is likely the sister of Mr. Mason.
Unclear as to what happened to her, yet, but I’m pretty sure I will dislike it.
I’ve also been thinking about the many, many books I’ve read where (as in this book) I find the heroine is way too cool for her inevitable partner: Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Much Ado About Nothing (which isn’t technically a book, it’s a play, but just let me have this), Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Love in the Time of Cholera. I could go on. I won’t, but I could.
I don’t know what this says about me or writers or literature or heterosexuality or marriage, but that’s what I’m thinking about right now.
I’m sure I’ll have more riveting revelations on the morrow.
Until then, sleep well.