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I kinda wanted to dislike this book. Actually, to rephrase that, I was kinda predisposed to dislike this book. I don't like romance for the most part (Austen is the exception to this and romcoms are officially the worst of all things) and the Victorian-ish style of writing kinda grates on me as well, although I admit this is a prejudice from being forced to suffer Charles Dickens back in Year 10. Also admittedly, this is a prejudice that has not really been borne out apart from Dickens and the Great Gatsby, but I digress. I already knew what happened in Jane Eyre and I knew it was... kind of depressing. I mean, I like my woe as much as the next girl, but this book has had like two happy chapters out of twenty eight. I am like two thirds of the way through the book and things do not look set to improve soon.
And yet, I like it. I really like it! Jane is actually a surprisingly modern girl, Mr. Rochester has almost more manpain than Becker, both are flawed but likeable characters, their romance works, Mrs. Rochester is the creepiest ever and asdfjhskl; how is Jane going to get the happy ending, i must know unnnnn.
More depressing than any event in this novel: this shit was written like a hundred years before Twilight. stephenie meyer, how did you manage to set us back further than the fucking victorians
And yet, I like it. I really like it! Jane is actually a surprisingly modern girl, Mr. Rochester has almost more manpain than Becker, both are flawed but likeable characters, their romance works, Mrs. Rochester is the creepiest ever and asdfjhskl; how is Jane going to get the happy ending, i must know unnnnn.
More depressing than any event in this novel: this shit was written like a hundred years before Twilight. stephenie meyer, how did you manage to set us back further than the fucking victorians