re-reading : jane eyre

Either because there is an upcoming movie or because I have a new edition of the book, I have decided to re-read Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre.  It is my second favorite book but for some reason, unlike my first favorite book Pride and Prejudice, which I have read at least 20 million times, I have never re-read this.  It may be because, as much as I love this book, there were those painful moments I just cannot re-live again too soon.  I guess it is a testament to how great and lasting its impression on me that despite the many books I have read, and perhaps better understood (I mean, I got older so my understanding was better), great books by their own right, Jane Eyre remains to be one of my most cherished books.

I have gone through a few chapters already and I have forgotten how very good the writing was.  Parts of the story may be too fantastic and improbable, and the whole series of events not likely to happen to one person; but the book’s power does not lie on the story alone but mostly on the strength of the narrative.  Charlotte Brontë will always be one of my favorite female authors, if not my favorite author.  The pain,–the inexpressible pain!– and daily hardships of a person oppressed and miserable, she is able to put into words whilst some, like myself, may die trying but will never be able to put to light or make alive like a burning flame of a feeling: piercing and strongly felt…

I felt it was time for a Charlotte Brontë.  And I was right.


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