(Original Review, 1981-01-31)
Ever since my first reading of Jane Eyre I've always viewed it as an
account of the indelible effects of emotional abuse, and as such, a very grim
book indeed. The novel opens with a recall of the emotional deprivation the
8-year-old Jane receives daily at the hands of her aunt. The story then
continues with Jane's time at Lowood School, an institution devoted not so much
to teaching the children of paupers, as to teaching them their place in life.
By the time she reaches adulthood Jane is really quite damaged, and
she regards herself as a social inferior. This self-image is never really
challenged, much less altered or dispelled. The many reviews that praise Jane's
undoubted courage unfortunately gloss over this or omit it completely, giving a
misleading impression. It is apparent that Jane never ever overcomes the
effects of her ghastly childhood. Remember, she is only able to accept
Rochester after he had been brought down in the world by the loss of his home
and fortune, and his disablement. And while she does, in the end, reject St
John, the reader should note how close she comes to succumbing to this
emotionally remote, manipulative, hypocritical bully.
To my mind, the most astounding thing in Jane Eyre is Charlotte's implicit
(explicit?) criticism of the saintly St. John Rivers. He's supposed to be a man
of God, as beautiful as an angel, but with a will of iron and a heart of stone.
The way he bullies Jane, using his power as a man and as a servant of God to
try to force her to submit to him against her will, is horrific. It's as if he
sees an independent woman as a threat which he has to destroy.
Where did this terrifying character come from? Imagination, or did
Charlotte perhaps know someone like him?
I think it's Jane's raw, violent, unexamined sexuality. Having never
really had much in the way of human warmth, guidance, or emotional education,
Jane is quite literally wild. She seeks sensuality like a starving beast and
has an almost animal understanding of what constitutes a connection between two
human beings. Jane probably doesn't even know what sex is, yet she burns with
desire. Rochester - depraved, debauched, debilitated by vice and excesses- sees
this in her and in the purity of her passion, he is able to cleanse himself and
transcend his baser instincts. I completely buy their relationship, and while
it is, objectively, very iffy by today's standards (the gap in age, experience,
social status! the mad wife in the attic! the illegitimate child!), it is also
completely, viscerally believable. Jane Eyre still shows that lust within love
should still be the (moral) goal. She actually effectively teaches Rochester
this, as someone barely half his age. She teaches him some morals.
For me, the novel’s strength lies in vivid writing that brings the
people and the scenes to life, whether or not one likes them, or approves. The
style isn’t always to my taste (I don’t care for the 19th Century
habit of addressing the reader) but is compelling in a way that is the hallmark
of a great writer.
Maybe a modern politically-correct world that is obsessed with
conformity no longer recognises this kind of gift.
The inherent craft of a storyteller is to use invention to more
clearly express essential truths of ideas, emotions, impressions and events.
Sometimes fiction contains more truth than a fact. What else can a reader
expect from a group of authors other than some uncertainty between what's real
and what's not?