"Mr. Rochester" by Sarah Shoemaker

Head canon accepted.

Seriously.  This is so exactly what I wanted from a book about Mr. Rochester, the Byronic, enigmatic love interest from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.  Which happens to be my favorite book.  It fills in gaps, explains little quirks and questions, and fleshes out even more fully the man who loves my favorite literary heroine.

(This contains spoilers for this book as well as for Jane Eyre.  You've been warned.)

This book starts when Edward Fairfax Rochester is just a boy, rattling around Thornfield Hall, lonely and wishing for notice or affection from his older brother Rowland and their father.  It traces his youth at an unusual boarding school, his growth toward manhood while learning to manage a business, and then his disastrous trip to Jamaica.  It's there that he's swept up into a whirlwind courtship of the stunning Bertha Mason, married to her almost before he's aware of what he's doing, and then gradually overwhelmed by her growing madness.

Shoemaker beautifully explains things like why Mr. Rochester would bring his mad wife to England, why he would keep her in his own home, why he insists that Jane call him Edward even though everyone else calls him Fairfax Rochester.  She even softens his attempted bigamy in a way I hadn't expected, giving him a possible way out of his marriage to Bertha (which does not quite come to pass after all) that prompts him to propose to Jane.  That also involved a twist I wasn't expecting, but that definitely worked with the original book.

I also liked that it showed by Mr. Rochester was not fond of his ward Adele, even to the point of rudeness at times.  In this book, she is most decidedly shown not to be his daughter, rather having him decide to become her protector after her mother died so that Adele would not be turned into a child prostitute.

If you like books showing another person's point of view of events in a well-known, well-loved story, and especially if you love Jane Eyre, this book will probably delight you too.  Be aware that this IS a book for adults, however, as I will detail below.

Particularly Good Bits:

"That settles it!" Miss Kent interrupted.  "Music and reading!  What better way to spend an evening" (p. 107-08).

I shall say this for her: certainly, unlike some women, her view of marriage was not dictated by the fanciful romantic vision of a Jane Austen novel (p. 407).  (This made me laugh because Bronte was not an Austen fan.  I happen to think Austen has a particularly clear-eyed view of marriage, more than Rochester himself, but still, made me chuckle.)

If This Was a Movie, I Would Rate It:  R.  It has numerous discussions of people having sex, though it is not explicit.  It deals with slavery and the fact that some slave owners would force themselves on their female slaves.  It also has two instances of the F-word and some other bad language.  And the descriptions of madness, of mad houses, and of the usual treatment of mad people at that time are a bit hard to take at times.  There is also mention of teenage pregnancy and children born out of wedlock.

"Hood" by Stephen R. Lawhead

So, I'm in a little bit of an awkward position here.  A friend loaned me this book, and the two others in the series, about 4 months ago.  She said, "I just know you'll love these!  Here, you can borrow them."  And I was excited, because two years ago when I was doing My Year with Robin Hood, lots of people recommended these books to me.  So as soon as I'd finished my mountain of books from the library, I started in.

But... I didn't love Hood.  I liked parts of it, but not all of it.  

If a book doesn't grab me right off the bat, I usually give it 10 chapters or 100 pages, whichever comes first.  If it hasn't hooked me by then, I feel justified in quitting it.  Because this was loaned to me by a friend and I wanted to give it a very fair shake indeed, I decided to give it 150 pages.  And right around page 130, I started to get interested.  At least, interested enough to be willing to finish the book.

However, having finished this volume, I'm not at all sure that I care enough about these characters to spend another thousand pages or so with them.  I don't even like most of them much, aside from Tuck and Iwan.  

But that's not the main problem.  I mean taking 130 pages to get interesting, and only having two characters I like -- those are huge problems.  However, the main problem for me was the fact that, as I mentioned on my other blog a few days ago, I have come to realize that I need Robin Hood to be merry.  You can be dark and gritty, and I'm fine with that.  But Robin Hood himself, or whatever you're calling him (Rhi Bran Hud, for instance) -- he needs to be a cheerful, plucky fellow.  Don't get me wrong, I still love Byronic heroes.  Always will, I'm sure.  But I don't want Robin Hood to be Byronic.  Not at all.

So yeah... I didn't have a problem with this being set in Wales (I like Wales!  Ioan Gruffudd and Luke Evans and Richard Burton are Welsh.)  I didn't have a problem with it being set a long time earlier than most Robin Hood legends.  I didn't have a problem with all the not-quite-usual names.  I just Did Not Like the Robin Character.  And I kept getting bored.

I'm kinda bummed that I didn't like this book, because I really was expecting to dig this series.  Sigh.

If This was a Movie, I Would Rate It:  PG-13 for a smattering of bad language, quite a bit of violence, some creepy moments, and a very mild bit of innuendo.

This is my last contribution to Robin Hood Week hosted by Meanwhile, in Rivendell...  

And this is my fifth book read and reviewed for the Adventure of Reading Challenge.  Yippee!

Jane Eyre Read-Along: Chapter 15

One of the things I dislike about Mr. Rochester in this section of the book is his tendency to think of himself as a victim.  "Oh, poor me, I was wronged by my mistress," (never mind that having a mistress is a sin) "and my father tricked me into a terrible mistake when I was young," (never mind that he's been using that as an excuse to behave badly ever since) "and now I'm just going to pity myself to the end of my days, or I was, until I had this great idea of how to be happy," (which is also bad) "and when that goes all wrong too, it will be the fault of the people who messed up my plans, not mine for making bad plans to begin with."  

The man has a lot to learn.  But I've said that already, haven't I?

So anyway, here we learn the long, detailed story of how Mr. Rochester's grande passion for Celine Varens died when he found her in the arms of another man.  And then he casually mentions he fought a duel with the other guy and wounded him in the arm, la la la.  That part goes by much too quickly for my taste, whereas we have to spend absolute pages on him hanging out on the balcony smoking and eating chocolate (mmm, chocolate) and eavesdropping.  So I always have to spend a bit of time imagining out the duel, complete with hazy dawn mists and lots of stoic resolve on Mr. Rochester's face.

Anyway.  I had totally forgotten that by the time Mr. Rochester broke with Celine, Adele was six months old!  Huh.  Though he denies his paternity of her, I do still like him for pitying her and taking her in, though it seems he did it out of stern English conviction that France is slimy and England is pure.  Hmm. 

But enough of all that!  Because the second half of the chapter is so much more interesting.  Creepy, demonic laughing in the night, a candle left unattended in the hallway, and then Mr. Rochester in Deadly Peril!  And Jane having the great presence of mind to douse the fire herself!  Movie versions always seem to have Mr. Rochester wake up and finish putting out the fire, but nope, Jane does it all in the book.  And then I have to grin and chuckle over how Mr. Rochester just doesn't want her to leave.  He almost confesses he loves her there, that he has loved her since he first beheld her, but instead he says she "strike[s] delight to my very inmost heart" (p. 180), which I think is one of the sweetest, most romantic things he could have said anyway.

Lastly, I love it when Jane muses that she "grieved for his grief, whatever it was, and would have given much to assuage it" (p. 176).  That's a lot of what draws me to Byronic Heroes -- their sadness makes me sad, and I want to cheer them up.

Okay, not really lastly.  Jane has that dream at the end that is full of Portents of Things to Come.  She floats on a sea "where billows of trouble rolled under surges of joy" (p. 181), and she can't quite get where she wants to go.  How Very Prophetic.


Favorite Lines:

My thin-crescent-destiny seemed to enlarge; the blanks of existence were filled up; my bodily health improved; I gathered flesh and strength (p. 175).

Gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see.  His presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire (p. 175).

"My cherished preserver, good-night!" (p. 180).


Possible Discussion Questions:

Mr. Rochester says that his ideas, no matter how twisted or wrong, cannot harm Jane's pure and healthy mind, that in fact, "while I cannot blight you, you may refresh me" (p. 172).  Do you think he's right?

It seems fairly obvious that Jane is falling in love with Mr. Rochester, and he with her.  Do you think Mrs. Fairfax has noticed yet?

Jane Eyre Read-Along: Chapter 12

Jane settles nicely into her calm, comfortable life... and gets bored.  So very bored.  Jane, honey, it's not like you've had a calm and comfy life up to now -- why are you bored so quickly?  Is it just so weird and different?  No one's beating you or humiliating you or starving you, so life is now too dull?

Sigh.

However, here to rescue Jane from domestic dullness, and us from a suddenly whiny narrator, we have Mr. Rochester.  At last.  Finally.  My goodness, the man takes forever to show up!

Sorry.  Jane's whining is probably rubbing off on me.

It's just that... I love Mr. Rochester.  A lot.  He was my first Really Major Literary Crush as a teen.  I have horrible taste, I know.  He's damaged goods.  He's barely nice, even when he wants to be.  I don't care.  I fell for him when I first read this, when I was probably 16 (I really should look back through my records and journals and see if I can figure out when I did first read it), and I read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier soon after, and between Edward Rochester and Maxim de Winter, I was hooked on Byronic Heroes but good.  Have been ever since.  Fictional ones, of course.  In real life I'd probably be very annoyed with them and tell them to get a grip already.  But fictionally, I can't resist them.  They're so sad!  So tortured!  So desperately in need of a good hug, of someone to love them despite their flaws.  They need someone to help them be happy again.

That's all I want, really.  I want my Byronic Boys to be happy again.  Is that so much to ask?

Um, yeah, sorry.  Rochester has barely shown up, and I'm rhapsodizing already.  Let's talk about Jane's great little feminist manifesto for a minute, shall we?  

"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 narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing the piano and embroidering bags.  It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them; if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex" (p 130-131).

Well, amen, sister-friend!  I don't generally consider myself a "feminist," simply because that title seems to involve all sorts of man-bashing these days.  But although I myself love knitting and playing the piano, I also enjoy writing novels and not having to publish them under a male pseudonym because they won't be taken seriously if I don't.  I'm anti-stagnation for anyone, regardless of their gender, and want my daughters to grow up knowing that if they want to become farmers or lawyers, they can, even if there once was a time that those professions were relegated to the males of the world.  Similarly, I want my son to grow up knowing that if he wants to knit or embroider, make puddings or play the piano, he can, even thought there was a time when they were considered only for females.

I'm not saying men and women are interchangeable.  I firmly believe they are not.  But I also firmly believe that most activities in this world are perfectly acceptable for either gender to enjoy, practice, or learn.  Which, I think, is what Charlotte Bronte is saying here.  What do you think she means?  Is she an "early feminist," as people these days often claim?  Those can be our Possible Discussion Questions for the day.

Also, randomly, I love that it's Rochester's gruff frowniness that sets Jane at her ease and makes her insist on helping him.  She reminds me of myself there, and my oldest daughter.  

Favorite Lines:

It is vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquillity; they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it (p. 130).

In those days I was young, and all sorts of fancies, bright and dark, tenanted my mind (p. 133).

My help had been needed and claimed; I had given it; I was pleased to have done something; trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of an existence all passive (p. 137).

Another Possible Discussion Question:

Did the whole idea of the "Gytrash" remind anyone else of the "Grim" from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban?

"Jane and the Man of the Cloth" by Stephanie Barron

At first, I was afraid I would be disappointed by this book.  For the first few chapters, it felt like the plot was too obvious -- clearly, the brusque, roguish Mr. Sidmouth was the smuggler everyone was talking about.  Then the plot seemed like it was going to follow a bit of Pride and Prejudice, with Captain Fielding playing Wickham to Mr. Sidmouth's Darcy.

But then, about 5 or 6 chapters in, all of that was clearly not the point at all anymore, and I got sucked in.  A Byronic hero, a bit of swash and buckle, and a plot so tangled I never did figure it out before I was supposed to -- I loved it!  Much more so than its predecessor, Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor. That was fun, but this is delightful.

This fictional Jane Austen is presented as a resourceful, bold, and spirited woman of twenty-nine.  I should like to be friends with her, very much.  There are many footnotes that bring in things from the real Jane Austen's letters or the society she lived in, which makes this book sound dull (footnotes being the thing of college research papers, after all), but it's anything but dull.  Even if the main character wasn't supposed to be Jane Austen, I would still have enjoyed this book.

EDIT:  I forgot to add my favorite parts!  Here they be:

Particularly Good Bits

And so I cross the room to peer out at the unknown, stretching before me like all the days I have yet to live; and can discern nothing beyond my own wavering reflection in the window's glass.

The day broke quite stormy, as though all the seacoast mourned the Captain's passing; and the inmates if Wings cottage lay abed, hugging their dreams close against the rawness of the day.

Full many a midnight thought I have entertained with alacrity, only to reject it over my breakfast chocolate as excessively disordered.

(Originally posted on Hamlette's Soliloquy on Sep. 12, 2012.)