Today, I once again have to sing a song that has been the bane of my college career and it has now followed me into my adult performing life. If any of you know “Painting Her Portrait” from Jane Eyre the musical, this is the song. The acting is an incredible challenge for this song. One that I…
On the train, there was a girl carrying one of those Madewell New York state tote bags, and for a while the only bit that was visible was a corner that said, “You can thank Rochester for s’mores!” and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize it meant Rochester, NY, and not Mr. Rochester,…
“and this piece of shit is actually hailed as being “feminist” but what the fuck no.
Jane leaves after finding out about Rochester’s marriage, yeah great A+ good job. But then she goes and lets St John walk all over her and control everything, the only reason she doesn’t give in to marrying the wanker is because she “hear’s Rochester’s voice” (which, fucking amazing story telling there, well done, top marks) and goes back to the guy that lied to her for the entire time they’d known each other. And then it’s like “but she was an independent woman! They met as equals!” except no, because she marries him. And this was what, 1850? Everything she owned became his. She gave up all rights to anything and everything. Woo! Feminist literature! A dude manipulates and control you but it’s okay because it’s done for love!”—Fuck.:
“Women are supposed to be very calm generally; but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is …
“I don’t think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.”—Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre.
“I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.”—Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte (via thefantasticalimpractical)
“I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have shunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but antipathetic.”—Charlotte Brontë - Jane Eyre (via abscondita)
“‘I cannot see my prospects clearly to-night, sir; and I hardly know what thoughts I have in my head. Everything in life seems unreal.’
‘Except me: I am substantial enough - touch me.’
‘You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all: you are a mere dream.’”—Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë (via a-cautionary-tale)
“Not many months ago, the New England States were visited by a distressing mental epidemic, passing under the name of the “Jane Eyre fever” … The hero, Mr. Rochester … became a great favorite in the boarding-schools and in the worshipful society of governesses. That portion of Young America known as ladies’ men began to swagger and swear in the presence of the gentler sex, and to allude darkly to events in their lives which excused impudence and profanity.”—“Novels of the Season” by E. P. Whittle, North American Review, October 1848 (via a-wild-condorcet-appears)
It should not be possible to read nineteenth-century British literature without remembering that imperialism, understood as England’s social mission, was a crucial part of the cultural representation of England to the English. The role of literature in the production of cultural representation should not be ignored. These two obvious “facts” continue to be disregarded in the reading of nineteenth-century British literature. This itself attests to the continuing success of the imperialist project, displaced and dispersed into more modern forms.
If these “facts” were remembered, not only in the study of British literature but in the study of the literatures of the European colonizing cultures of the great age of imperialism, we would produce a narrative, in literary history, of the “worlding” of what is now called “the Third World.” To consider the Third World as distant cultures, exploited but with rich intact literary heritages waiting to be recovered, interpreted, and curricularized in English translation fosters the emergence of “the Third World as a signifier that allows us to forget that “worlding,” even as it expands the empire of the literary discipline.
It seems particularly unfortunate when the emergent perspective of feminist criticism reproduces the axioms of imperialism. A basically isolationist admiration for the literature of the female subject in Europe and Anglo-America establishes the high feminist norm. It is supported and operated by an information-retrieval approach to “Third World” literature which often employs a deliberately “nontheoretical” methodology with self-conscious rectitude.
i’m never going to be able to finish reading jane eyre. every time i read it i am so in awe of how charlotte bronte writes that i am always reluctant to move forward with the text for fear that i’ll forget something that i was particularly impressed with. her sentence structure is so sharp and…
“No; you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you: you shall yourself pluck out your right eye; yourself cut off your right hand: your heart shall be the victim, and you the priest to transfix it.”—
“It was near: and as I had lifted no petition to Heaven to avert it—as I had neither joined my hands, nor bent my knees, nor moved my lips—it came: in full heavy swing the torrent poured over me. The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, my hope quenched, my faith death-struck, swayed full and mighty above me in one sullen mass. That bitter hour cannot be described: in truth, the waters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I felt no standing; I came into deep waters; the floods overflowed me.”—
“My eyes were covered and closed: eddying darkness seemed to swim round me, and reflection came in as black and confused a flow. Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river; I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, and felt the torrent come: to rise I had no will, to flee I had no strength.”—
He’s got you blindfolded and won’t let you peek because it’s a big surprise. When he finally lets you peek you’ll see he bought you a rare, early edition of Villette by Charlotte Bronte because one of the lies you told was that your senior thesis at the college you…
Unexpected delays will push the ebook publication of THE JOURNAL OF JANE REED EYRE back to early summer, 2013.
Premise: The story of Jane Eyre’s parents is revealed through the journal of Jane’s mother, Jane Reed, an affluent regency beauty. She weds Matthew Eyre, a poor clergyman, against the protests of her family and friends. Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre never knew the full story of her parents’ situation—thanks to the jealousy of her Aunt Sarah Reed. Faithfully adapted characters from Jane Eyre come to life again in THE JOURNAL OF JANE REED EYRE as well as characters that Jane Eyre was not able to meet due to distance and death. I look forward to introducing you to the carefully researched and imaginatively explored origins of one of literature’s most beloved characters.