Finally finished reading the
Jane Eyre book Evie tossed at my head during last month's quarantine. Didn't much fancy it, to be honest. First of all,
my god, poor Jane. That woman was cursed from the start then, wasn't she? Glad she managed to go to school after her wretched turn as her family either abused her or died of typhus, but then she got assigned to the middle-of-sodding-nowhere with Mr. Rochester and the swamp ghost family.
Terribly sorrowed that she didn't join forces with the madwoman in the attic, who
clearly got the worst end of every deal, and probably just needed some hot tea and to be talked to until she felt much better. 'Madwoman', Christ. Is that an early 19th century euphemism for possessing an opinion? At any rate, there's a fire that conveniently kills her off and winds up blinding Rochester, and Jane goes away for a while, and then she comes back to be with Rochester forever because somehow it's not a deal-breaker that your love's first spouse got shoved into the attic with out-of-season winter coats and old army paraphernalia. Also, Jane has prophetic dreams and hears voices and whatnot which they never really sorted out, so I'm hoping that a few weeks after she marries Rochester she has a dream in which she adapts a flaming sword and avenges the abused, and then she leaves Rochester a note that says "it has all been very fun, and you have been quite good to me, Edward, but I desire to see the world and leave you in my wake before you poison my ev'ry thought" or whatever it is she'd have occasion to write. And then she'd train with a sword and hone her magical powers and have adventures and settle down with a nice person who doesn't keep their spouse in the attic, because again,
how is she okay with that?
I don't
get gothic romance.
And of course reminder that
Fight Club's happening on the 19th, if you want to pop in and cheer for your mates or enter the ring yourself. I got my arse positively
handed to me last month by one Faith Lehane, and I'm still
dying to take on one of you nine feet tall types, so come on by! All's welcome.
Unless you're Edward Rochester, in which case, piss off.