Strangely, my college does not have a copy of the book in it's library. A grave oversight, but I plan to find it and buy it as soon as I get a chance, so it matters little.
While I could go on about my frustrations with certain elements of the plot, that isn't what I want to say today.
There's a quote in it I've been telling myself a lot lately. I'm not sure if it's actually in Jane Eyre, but I'm pretty sure it is. If it isn't, someone kindly direct me to the originator.
This is as well as I remember it:
I suppose I should add that all of the things I hate, crying is probably among the top ten. But as is the case with most transitions, they come with tears.
I have told myself for years that crying is a sign of weakness. A message drilled into my head from a bullied childhood. I tell myself ferociously that you do not cry in public. Be strong, I tell myself. Never let anyone see you cry. Hardly helped that matters of true frustration and emotion are usually attached to my tear ducts.
Lately though, I've been feeling a certain amount of kinship for Jane. I'm not sure why. Maybe because right now, I'm in a position similar to hers--alone in a strange place, not sure where to go. Not really closely attached to anyone yet and wary of strangers.
No one's almost run me over with a horse and I haven't run into any broodingly handsome, enigmatic landowners, and I'm okay with that. Honestly.
Right now, I feel like Jane and I could sit over a nice cup of tea and commiserate over this weird period of transition. How you're trying to connect, to get attached and sometimes you feel a thousand times removed from the whole situation. How crying helps sometimes. And you hate that it helps.
Jane cries quite a bit in the novel (or from what I remember) and she never lets this stop her. She picks herself up and carries on. And for that, I respect her enormously. When I read the book the whole way through this time, I think I'll like her even more for that.
Anyways. Over & Out,