One of the nifty things about being friend with Lady Pole, among myriads, is her excellent taste in literature, and her openness about discussing books. So a little while ago, we came up with the idea of a book discussion here at the Free For All where we could air our real views about some of those “classic” books that everyone is “supposed to read”…and supposed to value/treasure/enjoy.
The truth of the matter is that even when two people read the same book…no two people read the same book. They bring their lives with them into the text, and that totally influences how they perceive, digest, and remember the book. And this was something Lady Pole and I discovered as we chatted about some of those classics that we had encountered in our lives. So here is a much more mature, adultish version of that discussion for you to enjoy. While we are very pleased with our own opinions, what we really hope you, dear readers, take away from these discussions is the realization that: 1) Reading “classics” can be really fun and meaningful and significant (that’s part of what makes them “classics” after all!), 2) That you are under no obligation whatsoever to enjoy the classics that you read, as you’ll soon see, and 3) That your own story is critically important to how you read any book. So here is our chat–we sincerely hope it encourages you to have a conversation of your own!
The next book in our series is Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, first published in 1847.
First Encounter:
Arabella: I first discovered Jane thanks to the fortunate combination of a summer reading list and a family vacation gone awry. I was heading into my freshman year of high school, my father had business in Italy, and my mother and I tagged along to enjoy the culture and the atmosphere….it turned out we were in something of an industrial area without a ton to do, and few transportation options. So I spent a good deal of that vacation plowing through the list of books I had been provided by my new high school. We could choose three off a pretty long list, so I chose The Picture of Dorian Gray, Jane Eyre, and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which made for a very interesting trip, at least literarily speaking…And I think being somewhat alone with Jane on that trip made my reading of her story that much more intense.
Lady Pole: I was embarrassingly late to the game on this book. As in, I finished it this summer, having gone my entire life so far without having this classic in my repertoire. I’ve had a beautiful leather(ish)-bound copy compiled with Bronte’s sisters’ works on my shelf since high school (having gone through an intense classics phase after my encounter with Pride and Prejudice) and Waldenbooks (remember them?) was nice enough to fuel my newfound passion with beautifully bound discount classics that looked just beautiful on my shelf. And that’s where my copy of Jane Eyre stayed for a disconcerting number of years. Having seen a poster from the delightfully named project Recovering the Classics (http://recoveringtheclassics.com/) with the quote: “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will” from said classic, I fell in love with the quote, grew covetous of the poster and was determined to read the book to which this fantastic quote belonged.
First Impressions
Arabella: I had been told by a number of educators in my life that I had to read Jane Eyre, but while I was excited to make them happy, I was also expected something of a 19th-century moralistic slog, like a number of other books I had been assigned to read over the years (I’m looking at you, Little Dorrit). And, I’ll admit, the early part of the book was much of what I had been expecting, particularly the scenes at Lowood School, where there is a considerable amount of discussion about being good and virtuous…but then, I realized that something very different way happening here. Jane wasn’t terribly interested in learning how to behave. Or to please others. She had a moral compass that was far stronger and far more discerning than that. And it meant that her story was going to be vastly different from what I had expected. And by the time she left Lowood to take up residence at Thornfield Hall, I loved seeing the world through her eyes. Especially, I loved how honest she was. I remember very distinctly a chapter opening when Jane admitted she loved Rochester, even though she knew she could never do anything about it because of the huge differences in power and class that stood between them. She didn’t downplay her feelings, or deny them to make things easier, which made her a startling voice in literature, even as a twentieth century reader. I myself had (have) an enormous crush on Rochester, so the parts of the book without him were a bit of a challenge for me then (though not so much now), but, like Lady Pole, I thought their reunion was perfect and satisfying and wonderful.
Lady Pole: I tried to read this book a few years ago. I have had wonderful discussions with Arabella about digging into a dense, rich book in the wintertime and felt Jane Eyre was to be that winter’s book. I started it. I enjoyed it. I put it down. I didn’t pick it back up again. If you press me for the reason why I didn’t finish it I really couldn’t give you one. My best guess is that I had a moment where I turned into Dug from Up and another book (or my Netflix queue, or something) caught my eye and… squirrel! That was it. The lovely ribbon bookmark that came stitched into my edition was still in the same place where I left it, but I’m happy to say that Jane, ever the stalwart heroine welcomed me back to that place and guided me on through the rest of the book. This time, there was no stopping me. I can’t tell you how fascinating I found Jane. I didn’t always agree with her choices (I guess I have more human foibles in me than her; let’s just say the story would have been much shorter had I been in her shoes…), but I’ve yet to come across a literary heroine that I respect as much. Bronte didn’t take the easy way out; Jane didn’t have the looks, money or other Victorian qualities that would make a heroine successful, but she had her morals, her own brand of plucky perseverance, and a willingness to withstand multiple hardships fairly stoically and this, to me, made her one of the best heroines I’ve read in a long time. Yes, there was a certain amount of deus-ex-machina in the ending, but nothing seemed out of character for Jane and, even though much of her late fortune came seemingly out of nowhere, it still felt as though she earned it, making the ending ultimately very satisfying. Oh, and the marriage proposal scene easily ranks as my favorite of all time in literature (and that includes both proposals in Pride and Prejudice).
Outside Influences
Arabella: I knew nothing about this book going into it, except for the fact that it caused a big scandal upon its release because it advocated for an independent woman, and for a moral, fundamental good over social “goods” and “evils”. But I never expected to find such a frank, self-confident, and marvelous heroine in its pages, or a love story that still strikes me as a wholly unique one, even today. Since then, I’ve seen a number of adaptations of the book, none of which do it real justice, though the one with Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens comes pretty close, especially in terms of Jane’s whole story.
Lady Pole: Though I hadn’t seen any movie interpretations of this book, I was well familiar with the “madwoman in the attic” trope that stemmed from this story. I also knew that this book had a Gothic tone to it, which is something I’ve gravitated towards since my childhood reading, making my late arrival to actually reading this book that much more puzzling. Aside from knowing it was one of Arabella’s favorite books of all time, I new scant little else about it.
Recent Reflections:
Arabella: As someone who feels very strongly about portraying equitable and honest relationships in romance I have to admit, in an attempt to be an adult here, that Rochester is a lying ass who treats his ward despicably (see the cartoon below). And in any other hands than Charlotte Bronte’s, I think I would hate him. But I also have to admit that she does such remarkable job showing his torment, and the trap in which society (again, with it’s ideas of “good” and “evil”) has caught him and Bertha, that I still sympathize with him..and still love him (if Jane can admit it, so can I). I also love their relationship because Jane doesn’t tolerate any of his emo nonsense, chipping away at his woe-is-me veneer until we get to see that there is a decent man with a surprising sense of humor underneath. I’ve also learned to feel a lot more towards St. John than I ever did as a younger reader. I hate love triangles, and was so terrified that Jane was going to forsake herself and run off with him that I hated him on sight and sound. But now I can see what Bronte was doing in creating his character, and showing how trying to be “good” can literally kill you, while following that higher sense of right and wrong can be your true salvation–and I try to feel for him the way Jane did. It’s a work in progress.
Lady Pole: Considering that these reflections are all recent because I’ve only just read the book, let me just add that the Jane Eyre poster from Recovering the Classics now hangs on my office wall, nestled comfortably among posters of other favorite classics. I think that pretty much sums it up.
One of the nifty things about being friend with Lady Pole, among myriads, is her excellent taste in literature, and her openness about discussing books. So a little while ago, we came up with the idea of a book discussion here at the Free For All where we could air our real views about some of those “classic” books that everyone is “supposed to read”…and supposed to value/treasure/enjoy.
The truth of the matter is that even when two people read the same book…no two people read the same book. They bring their lives with them into the text, and that totally influences how they perceive, digest, and remember the book. And this was something Lady Pole and I discovered as we chatted about some of those classics that we had encountered in our lives. So here is a much more mature, adultish version of that discussion for you to enjoy. While we are very pleased with our own opinions, what we really hope you, dear readers, take away from these discussions is the realization that: 1) Reading “classics” can be really fun and meaningful and significant (that’s part of what makes them “classics” after all!), 2) That you are under no obligation whatsoever to enjoy the classics that you read, as you’ll soon see, and 3) That your own story is critically important to how you read any book. So here is our chat–we sincerely hope it encourages you to have a conversation of your own!
The next book in our series is Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, published in 1813.
First Encounter Lady Pole: I was in high school the first time I read Pride and Prejudice; I think it was sophomore or junior year. A friend of mine had read it and told me I would love it. It also helped that we were working together on finding material for a speech competition (yup, I was one of those kids) and the amount of dialog in the book lent itself to being a good option. We qualified for the state competition with our hand-picked excerpt, so this book brings back good memories, as well.
Arabella: I was in college, taking a course on The Early English Novel, which looked at novels from the 18th- and early 19th-centuries not only in terms of their stories, but in terms of their printing and distribution history. It was one of my favorite classes that year, even though (and this is the mark of a good professor, dear readers, none of the books were particularly enjoyable for me. Pride and Prejudice came towards the end of the semester, after Clarissa, The Mysteries of Udolpho, and Northanger Abbey, among others.
First Impressions Lady Pole: I fell in love. This was one of the first classics I read on my own that wasn’t part of assigned reading, so that may have also heightened my enjoyment of the text, but for me, Elizabeth Bennet was the be-all-end-all of literary heroines. In a lot of ways, she still is. She is flawed, but strong. Level-headed and yet somehow headstrong at the same time. She wants love and she wants it on her own terms. She was exactly what my teenaged-self was looking for at the time and continues to be a pretty high standard for my adult self when it comes to literary heroines by comparison. I also enjoyed Austen’s writing-style. The comedy of manners remains as one of my favorite types of books to read and Austen’s wit is a large part of why this book resonated with me.
Arabella: It took me a really, really long time to get into this book. I think some of that had to do with end-of-the-semester burnout, but I also think that Austen’s writing style and I just didn’t (and still don’t, to a large extent) get along. I appreciate her arch observations immensely, but I really didn’t enjoy her technique of stating characters’ opinions as if they were fact, as in the opening line of the book (“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”). I felt it put distance between me and the characters, which made it difficult to really get to know them. I also had a hard time liking Elizabeth…what stood out to me was how much she derided other women in the book, which is something Miss Bingley notes. She cares for Jane, who is very quiet, and Georgiana, who is very quiet, but is very scornful of all the other women around her–which made me think that she wouldn’t like me very much (and since I really appreciated her strength, this made me sad). As we see throughout the book, her kneejerk reactions are often wrong (Wickham, Darcy…), which she sort-of realizes at the end, but not in so thorough a manner as I was hoping to see.
Outside Influences Lady Pole: I went into my first reading fairly uninfluenced, which is rare for me with a classic. I have since read this book numerous times, including during a freshman English class in college with one of my favorite professors, where I learned just how funny Austen could really be (particularly through Mr. Collins’ absurdities) and on a cruise where it was a refreshing change to visit an old favorite after reading about the ill-fated cruise passengers in Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos. I know what everyone is probably thinking at this point: what about the BBC adaptation with Colin Firth??? That adaptation made me love Mr. Darcy. I had my trepidations about the character even after Lizzy got her happily ever after with him, but Firth brought a level of tenderness and depth to Mr. Darcy that went previously unnoticed by me in the text. Pride and Prejudice also helped me appreciate the humor of Bridget Jones’s Diary (book and movie, though less so the sequels), which in turn helped me to appreciate re-imaginings of classic texts more.
Arabella: I had seen the BBC adaptation before reading the book, and I think I was looking for the same level of accessibility in the text, which, as I mentioned, I certainly didn’t find. But it did help me understand some of the subtext in the book that I wasn’t getting from Austen’s narrative. The group of historical re-enactors that I worked with also had constant debates over the immortal “Darcy or Rochester” question, which meant I was definitely holding Darcy to a much higher standard than I think I otherwise might have done.
Recent Reflections Lady Pole: I’ve never stopped loving Pride and Prejudice and still return to the text in whole or in part when I need a literary pick-me-up. While I don’t consider myself a Jane-ite, dressing in Regency costume and going to conventions, I’m still (and I think always will be) a huge fan, not just of P&P, but of Austen in general. Pride and Prejudice is one of those books that made a strong emotional impression on me because it was a book that I read at just the right time. I know it isn’t that way for everyone, but even more discerning opinions have never wavered my enthusiasm.
Arabella: I have really come to appreciate over the years what Austen was doing with her writing, and compare her in many ways to Oscar Wilde, at least in terms of her gentle, but unrepentant criticisms of society. And, in that sense, I can appreciate her. But I still haven’t been able to lose myself in her stories (except for Persuasion. I did actually enjoy that one). I still find her writing style too much for me, overall. I also think that, when it comes to “classics”, I tend to enjoy later 19th-century works that challenge and scandalize, rather than tease, which is a matter for another discussion, I think….
One of the nifty things about being friend with Lady Pole, among myriads, is her excellent taste in literature, and her openness about discussing books. So a little while ago, we came up with the idea of a book discussion here at the Free For All where we could air our real views about some of those “classic” books that everyone is “supposed to read”…and supposed to value/treasure/enjoy.
The truth of the matter is that even when two people read the same book…no two people read the same book. They bring their lives with them into the text, and that totally influences how they perceive, digest, and remember the book. And this was something Lady Pole and I discovered as we chatted about some of those classics that we had encountered in our lives. So here is a much more mature, adultish version of that discussion for you to enjoy. While we are very pleased with our own opinions, what we really hope you, dear readers, take away from these discussions is the realization that: 1) Reading “classics” can be really fun and meaningful and significant (that’s part of what makes them “classics” after all!), 2) That you are under no obligation whatsoever to enjoy the classics that you read, as you’ll soon see, and 3) That your own story is critically important to how you read any book. So here is our chat–we sincerely hope it encourages you to have a conversation of your own!
Our first book in this series is Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, published in 1868.
First Encounter
Lady Pole: I was a senior in college when I finally read Little Women as part of an American Literature course. Alcott was in good company here; this was the class where I learned to utterly adore Moby Dick, finally read (and enjoyed) Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage, got to revisit Edgar Allan Poe’s Narrative of A. Gordon Pym (in which I had an eerie experience of remembering memories and images I created when I first read the book) and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, among other books that are less memorable. What this brief history of my college experience is meant to elucidate is that Little Women wasn’t surrounded by books I didn’t like or I was somehow predisposed to dislike it because it was assigned reading. But I did dislike it. Perhaps not a burningly intense dislike that other books have instilled in me, scarring me for life (I’m looking at youZen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance & Catcher in the Rye), but this was definitely not a favorite from that course.
Arabella: I actually spent a great deal of my childhood in Concord, where Louisa wrote Little Women. It was my grandmother’s favorite book, and when she and my Grandfather found a plot of land right behind Orchard House (where the book was written), she negotiated the price of the land down by telling the seller (who was, incidentally, Margaret Lothrop, whose mother wrote The Five Little Peppers series) how much she wanted to live near Louisa May Alcott. I never got to meet my Grandmother, so when my Grandfather told me about her love of the book, and Concord, I decided to read the book as a way to be closer to her (I have her copy of the book, published in 1947, too!)
First Impressions
Lady Pole: For me, Little Womenwas sappy and a bit drawn out. Perhaps it was because I was nearing full-adulthood when I read it and didn’t have the fond childhood memories of this book that so many others have experienced. Maybe Alcott’s work is better appreciated by those in a younger mindset, or at least not an academic mindset, but I definitely didn’t appreciate it the way many others do. I didn’t like many of the characters, but the fact that I didn’t identify more with the heroine, Jo I think is what surprised me the most. Jo is a contrarian, determined to follow her own path, which bears a strong resemblance to my personality, particularly when I was in college. I should have loved her. I wanted to love her. I didn’t love her. Maybe I found her to be overshadowed by her fairly annoying sisters or maybe I spent so much of the book waiting for the scenes that I already knew about (more on that in a bit), but I didn’t have the pleasurable experience reading this book that I often get when reading classics, or books with strong women.
Arabella: In the interest of full disclosure, I grew up as an (introverted) only child, who attended Catholic grammar school, which really emphasized being quite and doing what you’re told, which are two things I am not highly skilled at doing. So to have a book that deals heavily in strong, functional sibling relationships fascinated me from the beginning. What I took away from this book, though, that has meant an incredible amount to me growing up, was it was ok to want to be different from those around you (indeed, there could be virtue in it), and that it was ok to be angry. When Marmee tells Jo that she is angry nearly every day of her life, and that Jo could be, too, as long as she learned how to deal with it properly, meant more than I can say growing up. That she said it to Jo, who was the tall, awkward, literary figure in the book, was huge for me, a tall, awkward, bookish kid. The validation that all the girls in this book get for their choices in life really did give me a lot of courage and confidence growing up. I think a lot of this also had to do with knowing how much my grandmother (whose middle name was Josephine) loved this book, and reading it felt like talking to her.
Also, Theodore Lawrence was my first love. And the man against whom I still measure most men in my life. And I am not ashamed to admit that.
Outside Influences:
Lady Pole: I have to say I think outside influences had a fair amount to do with my enjoyment (or lack thereof) with this book. This being a 150-year-old classic (give or take), I knew at least a few things about this book so spoilers abounded. I’m not opposed to spoilers as a general rule, and when it comes to classics, they’re pretty hard to avoid, so this didn’t bother me. However, this was one of the few situations where I think a spoiler altered my potential enjoyment of the book. I knew that Beth the “sickly” sister dies, but I was under the impression that she dies fairly early on, or at least somewhere in the middle of the book. So in addition to the fact that I found her self-righteous prattling incredibly annoying, I spent much of the book asking the pages “WHY HAVEN’T YOU DIED YET SO WE CAN GET ON WITH THE STORY.” I ended up being so preoccupied with preparing myself for the death of this major character I really didn’t like to begin with, that it ended up consuming my consciousness during a large portion of the text. I also had seen parts of the Little Women movie starring Winona Ryder and I wasn’t a fan. I have a feeling that Ryder’s portrayal of Jo may have influenced my dislike of a character I might have otherwise identified with more.
Arabella: I spent a lot of time at Orchard House (where the book was written), because it basically across the street from my Grandfather’s house, and worked there for years as a historic re-enactor (nerd alert….). And I actually portrayed Elizabeth Alcott (on whom Beth was based) for years. So for me, a lot of outside influence was historic research and getting behind the characters to the women on whom they were based. As a result, a lot of the pontificating and moralizing in the book didn’t affect me, because I knew a lot of it was because Alcott was writing in the 1860’s, and you couldn’t write a book for children without morals, so I skipped these parts….although, that being said, Alcott’s very frank discussion on hitting children and being lazy are two things that I still carry with me….
Recent Reflections
Lady Pole: In recent years, I’ve come to admire Alcott’s other work (her little-known Long Fatal Love Chase is well worth a read). With respect to Little Women, while I’m not quite sure I’m up to the challenge of trying to read it with fresh eyes, I have come to greatly appreciate Alcott’s stand on not having Jo end up with the “popular” choice, Laurie, despite reader and editor pressure. Considering Professor Bhaer was actually one of my favorite characters, I liked that Alcott had the two of them marry and highly respect the author’s decision to follow her instincts as a writer. I will say that my impressions of the book will not prevent me from encouraging my future, hypothetical children from reading it if they desire, and I’m very grateful to know someone who has such a different opinion of the book, so I have a resource for them to turn to if they love it and simply want to gush in excitement, rather than examine the pros and cons. While it might not change my view, this type of disagreement allows for a deeper understanding of the text by being able to see it through different eyes, so I’m always appreciative when someone can broaden my perspective.
Arabella: Initially, I was devastated that Laurie and Jo didn’t get together, but the older I get, the bigger my crush on Professor Bhaer grows. This was helped a good deal by Gabriel Byrne’s performance in the most recent film, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But his encouragement of Jo and belief in her, without being smother-y or paternalistic about it still feels remarkable to me. Having also worked in a library that held Louisa May Alcott’s fan letters from school children around the country, I’ve also been really fascinated by how much this book has meant to readers for generations. The older I get, too, the more Beth’s death breaks my heart–I don’t think I could grasp the enormity of such a loss when I was young. But Beth’s quote to Jo, in their final chapter together, remains my favorite in the book, because it encapsulates the acceptance and encouragement that I found in Little Women:
“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”
"Once you learn to read, you will be forever free." ~Frederick Douglass