Jane Eyre: The Book That Is Still Beloved By Everyone

[WARNING: this contains MAJOR  spoilers]

Jane Eyre, originally known as “Jane Eyre: An Autobiography”, is a novel by British author Charlotte Brontë, published on 16^th October 1847, under the pen name of “Currer Bell”. Jane Eyre is an intricately detailed, realistically presented account of women and their social position in 18th-19th century England; it follows the experiences of its titular heroine, Jane, and outlines her struggles as she becomes an adult and falls in love with Mr Rochester, the moody, quiet master of a manor named Thornfield Hall. Dear reader, Jane Eyre is one of my absolute favourite books; it’s considered a masterpiece by readers and critics alike! The book clearly criticises society’s treatment of women, and since the beginning, Jane is seen to be a strong-willed girl who constantly breaks stereotypes and establishes herself as her own person. A strongly evocative novel, Jane Eyre is way ahead of its time as it deals with feminism, class, sexuality and religion in a straight-forward way. Jane is definitely one of the most relatable protagonists in the history of English Literature; she has been called one of the most influential female characters of all time, and I feel it’s safe to say that she carries the book on her shoulders. As the narrative is in first person, it’s easy to connect with her and feel all the emotions she experiences throughout the book. Even in the beginning, her POV reveals her to be a thoughtful, observant child.

The novel’s setting is somewhere in the north of England, toward the end of the reign of George the Third [1760-1820]. The reader is introduced to Jane as an orphan living at Gateshead Hall—she is physically and emotionally abused by her maternal aunt, Mrs Reed, and her cousins; at one point, she defends herself against her fourteen-year-old cousin, John Reed, and is severely punished for the same—she is locked up in the “Red Room” in which her late uncle had died. Critics suggest that this little scene, while played out subtly, is significant as it lays the ground for the “ambiguous relationship between parents and children”, which is even detected in Jane’s later interactions with male figures. She is eventually sent to a charity school for girls, named “Lowood”; as is to be expected, Jane’s experiences at this place are not healthy at all; she is relieved to be away from the Reeds, certainly, but is maltreated at this school due to Mrs Reed’s untruthful descriptions of her [she has been called “a cheat” and “a liar” by her “aunt”]. However, she does bond with an older student named Helen Burns; the two girls bond over their shared love of books. Helen and Miss Temple, the gentle superintendent, become Jane’s guardians and care-takers, guiding her and keeping her spirits up in spite of the harsh treatment she has received from many others—especially the director of the institution, Mr Brocklehurst. I love Helen; however, there is an epidemic of typhus at the institution, and she is among the first to catch it. In a particularly touching scene, she dies peacefully in Jane’s arms. She was Jane’s first and dearest friend…

Don’t worry, conditions at the school improve dramatically after Brocklehurst’s mistreatment of the students is discovered—they’d been subjected to malnourishment, cold and rooms, and thin clothing; now, several sympathetic big-shots erect a new building and reign Brocklehurst in.

What does the name “Lowood” suggest to you, dear reader? That’s right, it emphasises the hurdles in Jane’s life at this point of time; she has been grievously wronged, don’t you think? The chapters dealing with her time at Lowood are, in my opinion, the most graphic and poignant.  She completes her education and stays on as a teacher at Lowood for two years, but soon leaves in pursuit of a new life. There is a certain amount of uncertainty in these chapters, as she is about to spread her wings and fly out into the wide world for the first time; she decides to advertise her services as a governess, and the advertisement is soon answered by one Alice Fairfax, a housekeeper at Thornfield Hall. [Patience. Mr. Rochester will enter soon]. Jane accepts this position and begins teaching Adéle Varens, a bright little French girl.

Jane eventually meets the master of the manor in a most unlikely manner: his horse slips on ice and unseats him; despite the man’s surliness, Jane helps him out of the goodness of her heart and gets him back on his horse. At that time, she is unaware of the fact that the grouchy man is Mr. Edward Rochester. I don’t really know what to make of Rochester as a character—I neither like nor dislike him; he is clearly quite sullen and, as is soon revealed, arrogant, as well as morally ambiguous. Adéle is the daughter of a late French dancer named Céline, who was Rochester’s mistress; she was unfaithful to him, however, and claimed that Adéle was his child, though he did not believe her [quite understandably, I might add]. Céline abandoned Adéle [what kind of irresponsible mother was she?], causing Rochester to step in and adopt her.

Though Jane does not like Rochester’s cold, arrogant, devil-may-care manner at first, she slowly warms up to him [Rochester is clearly intrigued by her and enjoys conversing with her]. He was created to serve as a love interest as well as a character foil [as a Literature student, the latter is of greater interest to me]; he represents Jane’s unbridled side, while her cool and composed cousin St. John [who appears later in the novel] represents her calm, rational side. Honestly, Rochester is pretty graphic as a character, and I see him as a “force of nature”, if you know what I mean.

Right, so…. Rather odd things begin happening at the house—a wild laugh is heard; Jane literally saves Rochester’s life by putting out a mysterious fire in his room; a guest named Mr. Mason is

attacked [bitten, in fact. Brrrrr!]. The romantic tension between Jane and Rochester is increased when he gently thanks her for rescuing him; she reciprocates his feelings to a degree, but then—oh dear. She notices that Rochester seems to favour a beautiful, talented, rich, snobbish and selfish young lady called Blanche Ingram; she does not even attempt to disguise her contempt of Jane, who is, to her narrow mind, simply a lowly governess, a woman who has to work for a living.

At that time, as all of you probably know already, class and social status were extremely important—they were the basis of the hierarchy. Women who worked for a living were looked down upon by several of the “high-class” families; it was thought that women who had a secure position in society had no need to fetch for themselves [which, unfortunately, was true for women in those times].

There’s an incident that left a deep imprint on me. Jane receives word that her cruel aunt has suffered a stroke and is dying; she travels to Gateshead and devotedly attends to her dying aunt’s needs for a month. Mrs Reed asks for her forgiveness, admitting that she wronged her, and produces a letter from Jane’s paternal uncle, Mr. John Eyre, in which he asks for Jane to be sent to him to be his heir. Mrs Reed confesses to Jane that she, out of her resentment toward Jane, lied to Mr. Eyre, telling him that the girl died of fever at Lowood. A short while later, Mrs Reed passes away, and Jane returns to Thornfield after the funeral. [I’d like your opinions on this. What emotions does this incident evoke in you? Bitterness at Mrs Reed’s extreme mistreatment of a blameless, penniless niece? Marvel at Jane’s forgiving nature? Or just inexplicable sadness?].

Back at Thornfield, Jane frets over Rochester’s impending marriage to Miss Ingram; though she is normally self-controlled and prudent, she is unable to restrain herself and ends up revealing her sincere feelings for him. Noting that she is in earnest, Rochester proposes marriage; Jane does not believe him at first, but finally accepts his proposal after realising that he means it. She writes to her Mr. Eyre to inform him of this happy news. Oh, joy!

Alas! Jane’s happiness does not last long. During their [extremely quiet] wedding ceremony, Mr. Mason and a lawyer burst in upon the scene and declare that the marriage is unlawful, because Rochester already has a wife—Bertha, Mr. Mason’s sister; Rochester was tricked into marrying her by father, as she was a rich heiress. Once they were united, however, he discovered that she was fast slipping into congenital madness. He eventually decided to lock her up and hired a seamstress named Grace Poole to look after her. When Grace gets drunk [which she frequently does], Bertha escapes and rampages around Thornfield. I assure you, that is not an exaggeration.

As it turns out, Mr. Eyre is a friend of Mr. Mason’s and was visited by him soon after Mr. Eyre received Jane’s tidings of her impending marriage. Well, of course, the wedding ceremony is broken off, and poor Jane is shattered; Rochester asks her to travel with him to the south of France where they can live peacefully even if they’re not legally married, but Jane, a devout Christian and a thoroughly ethical person, refuses to abandon her strong morals. In spite of her love for him, she leaves Thornfield in the dead of night. [I honestly felt so bad for Jane. She deserved all the happiness in the world—she has endured so much already].

Seeking other employment, Jane travels as far from Thornfield as she can, using the little money she has [very prudently] saved up. She accidentally leaves her belongings in the coach and is forced to sleep on the moor. She manages to make her way to the home of two young ladies called Diana and Mary Rivers, but collapses on the doorstep, half-dead from exhaustion. The girls’ brother, St. John, a missionary [I told you about him at the beginning of this post, remember?] rescues her; after her health improves, he finds her a teaching position at a nearby village school. She quickly befriends the sisters, but St. John remains cold and unyielding.

… There is a high possibility that Jane could’ve been happy here; she has barely any hurdles to face here, and is well-cared for [she’s also able to support herself financially. She is in a fairly good position and is employed. Self-sufficient as ever!]. However, the sisters leave to apply as governesses, and St. John, who has learnt of Jane’s true identity [he was unaware of the fact that she was an Eyre] informs her that Mr. Eyre has died and left her his entire fortune of 20,000 pounds [ that’s right! That’s a lot!]. When she presses him further, he reveals that Mr. Eyre is his and his sisters’ uncle as well, but he has not left them anything. Of course, Jane’s joy knows no bounds; she is truly happy for the first time in a while, and she insists on sharing her new-found inheritance with her cousins.

I’m sure you can see the clouds clearing. She is now in a much better position than she was before!

St. John has been observing her deeply, and has noticed how pious and religious she is; he believes she will be a suitable wife for a clergyman and, purely out of duty, asks her to go with to India. She is excited at the prospect of going to India, but suggests that they travel as siblings [they are cousins, after all]. She mystically hears Rochester’s voice calling her name. Fearing the worst, she immediately returns to Thornfield, finding only black ruins in place of the stately manor. She learns that Bertha Mason [arguably the novel’s most graphic character] set the place on fire, then threw herself off the roof. While attempting to rescue the other occupants, Rochester lost a hand and his eyesight; Jane has an emotional reunion with him, but he is afraid that she will be repulsed by his condition, weakened and dependent as he is. He inquires, “Am I hideous, Jane?” and she replies, “Very, sir; you always were, you know.” She assures him that she no qualms about spending the rest of her life with him; Rochester proposes again, and she accepts. They are married, and the author leads us to believe that in spite of their significant age gap and Rochester’s frail health, they are happy. Indeed, he even regains sufficient sight to see their new-born son!

I hope this post has managed to do Charlotte Brontë’s masterpiece justice. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—while no character is less than incredibly satisfying, Jane obviously stands out, bringing out the author’s creative genius and helping readers see the social disparities of those times through her eyes. The novel focuses as much on emotions [such as love] as it does on Jane’s personal growth—that’s why I love it! Jane is a highly relatable, unforgettable character. Jane Eyre is a book that will endure for centuries to come, beloved by readers of all ages.

That’s all for now! See you next time!

Thank you!

Reviewing “Akame ga KILL!”: An Emotional and Psychological Roller-Coaster Ride

“Akame ga KILL!” is a manga that began serialisation in March 2010, and ran till December 2016. I read it for the first time not too long ago—July 2018—and as someone who keeps coming back to it, I’m qualified enough to review it [I suppose. Dear reader, do bear with me]. It’s an extremely impactful manga [as is obvious from the title itself, and those who’ve read it will agree with me], so I absolutely must talk about it. I shall do my best to be fair and consistent throughout. This I solemnly swear.

In a nutshell, the manga is about a teenager named Tatsumi, who arrives at the doorstep of a vast city known simply as the “Capital”, intending to make a name for himself as an Imperial soldier and aid his poverty-stricken village. However, he quickly realises that the Capital is far from the dreamy, rose-tinted haven he figured it would be—while the countryside is dying, the Capital is blooming with decadence and is the centre of the rot seen throughout the nation. Furthermore, he encounters a group of [mostly] female assassins known as “Night Raid”; he is recruited by them after they witness him ruthlessly cutting down a girl, Aria, who tortured and killed his friends. … Sweet for him to be surrounded by beautiful and extremely powerful young ladies, right? [Just kidding, sorry].

“Akame ga KILL!” is about radical change. Night Raid is only one of several groups fighting to destroy the flawed hierarchy they live in— the Prime Minister, Honest, and his cohorts have made the nation a living hell, while the young and rather emotionally vulnerable Emperor is simply a puppet. [Talk about irony… seriously, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I learnt that the Prime Minister was called Honest]. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Tatsumi finds himself swept up in this revolutionary wave. What makes this manga stand out? I’m going to be very honest here. Nothing makes it “stand out” as such—after all, this isn’t the only manga talking about dissent. It has been called “a dark social commentary”, which I agree with, and it’s a great read for anyone interested in the study of human nature, but the plot is laughably bad at times and quite cliché—like any girl who’s had a traumatic past turns into an assassin? How does that make sense? Let’s face it—every one of us has been through trauma at least once before, right?

One of my hobbies is reading about revolutions and the socio-economic conditions that prompted them, so “Akame ga KILL!” [mind if I call it AgK?] is something I used to be super enthusiastic about.

… It is promising, yes. But it fell short of my expectations.

It’s more of a character-based manga than a plot-based one, and I must say, the characters are excellent. Especially the Empire’s Strongest, General Esdeath, and the deuteragonist, Akame [she can be pretty cliché too, but her characterisation is good, and the creator, Takahiro, evidently put a lot of thought into it]. Yeah, the title is misleading; Akame isn’t the protagonist, Tatsumi is. It’s almost like a bildungsroman, the way it depicts Tatsumi’s immensely satisfying personal growth. Honest is so well-sketched that Takahiro has succeeded in making me [as well as every reader, I dare say] hate him deeply. Oh, and about Esdeath—I have a love-hate relationship with her [ah, the tragedies of a teenager’s life!]. She’s one of the most graphic female antagonists in the history of manga and anime. Special shout-out to one of Night Raid’s most crucial members: Lubbock, an unsung hero. They owe him more than they can ever repay; his character arc’s a real tear-jerker [but I won’t narrate it here. Go check it out yourself].

Esdeath’s personal six-member fighter unit, the Jaegers, are pretty much up-to-the-mark as characters, too: especially Wave [one of my favourites], who serves as a great foil to Tatsumi [he really was simply Tatsumi 2.0 in the beginning, but he greatly evolved as a character later. I’m so proud of his development]; Kurome, Akame’s creepy little sister [… I actually kinda relate to this girl]; and Run, an extremely promising young man who learnt a lesson the hard way—do not try to tear down a system from the inside, no matter how messed up it is. That’s a naïve way of thinking, and there was no way he would have succeeded, even with his guts and formidable intelligence. He’d have had a good chance of success had he joined the rebel army. The poor guy paid for his folly with his life.  I really appreciate Takahiro’s portrayal of strong-willed women—we’ve obviously got Esdeath, who’s a major thorn in the rebels’ side, but we’ve also got the extremely bad-ass girls of Night Raid—they don’t need a man to swoop in and save them! Indeed, they frequently outshine Tatsumi [and every other male character]. Female power!

My biggest issue with AgK? In spite of everything I just said about the characters, the manga only spans 78 chapters, and it’s difficult to establish a connection with the cast at times. How do you expect me to connect with a girl who literally dies in the ninth chapter? I mean, the clue is in the title itself, so I was prepared for extremely graphic deaths, but Takahiro makes it a point to kill off my favourites. I take it as a personal attack. [Perhaps it’s my fault for getting attached to them…? Maybe not. I’ll just blame it on Takahiro].

Conclusively, it’s a manga that actually explodes with potential, and is good for a quick read. The art scenes are extremely beautiful; especially the focus on people’s eyes—very expressive. If you’re looking for an extremely logical or sensible plot, I wouldn’t recommend reading it. If you cry easily and are scared of the dark [like I used to be], you probably shouldn’t read it. However, if you enjoy reading about assassins, or you’re studying History, Sociology, or Psychology [and just desperately need to kick back and read something that’s not too long], go ahead and read it! If you don’t really like it [or my review], take it with a pinch of salt. That’s my take on it.

Thank you! I hope you liked my review!

A Secret Study of Shishio Makoto

Hello everyone! I’m back! Today, I feel like doing a brief character analysis for Shishio Makoto, the main antagonist of Rurouni Kenshin’s “Kyoto” storyline [if you’d like some more information, I’ve written a post on Rurouni Kenshin, as well as a separate post on its legendary protagonist, Himura Kenshin. You can go check them out!]. Rurouni Kenshin spans 255 chapters and has two major antagonists; both of them are terrifying and impactful in their own ways, but I greatly prefer Shishio to Yukishiro Enishi, the second antagonist [you’ll find out why when you read the manga. Heh]. RuroKen is a really old [and iconic] manga, and Shishio rightly occupies the role of one of the most unforgettable villains in the history of manga and anime. He’s an utterly graphic character [still not as graphic as Enishi, but yeah. Good enough to send chills down every reader’s spine]. As we delve deeper into this topic, I’ll give you an insight into Shishio’s past [it’s not right to talk about him without bringing up his dreadful past]. Alright, let’s do this!

Dude has the most ironic name ever. His first name, Makoto, means “Truth” [my sister would probably say, “one could cut this irony with a sword!”]. Shishio is an excellent representation of the darkness of human nature. He lives in the Meiji Era, but it’s hardly necessary to say that he does not agree with the Meiji Government’s peaceful ideology at all; he has a very warped way of thinking, and firmly believes that “in this world, the flesh of the weak is food for the strong.” [… Well. It is true that only the strong survive under the most severe and dire conditions; however, there are people who may initially be weak, but circumstances mould and strengthen them. Also, there are people like Kenshin, always ready to extend a helping hand to those who need it. So, I don’t really agree with Shishio’s philosophy. To each his own, I guess]. What went wrong in his life? What turned him into a cynical megalomaniac? He was a young and power-hungry assassin for the Ishin Shishi during the Bakumatsu; when the higher-ups found that they couldn’t control him, they sought to cover up their huge mistake by trying to burn him alive [I know. It’s horrible]. Unfortunately for them, he didn’t die; now, ten years after that incident, he’s terribly disfigured and covered in burns, and is unable to regulate his body temperature by sweating. He’s crazy powerful, but his fighting capacity is fifteen minutes at a time; he runs high risks of spontaneously combusting if he fights for more than the stipulated time period [that’s exactly what happens to him. The maniac combusts while laughing and shrieking about how he hasn’t been defeated yet.  I suppose that’s what we’d call “having the last laugh”].

Throughout the Kyoto arc, he is seen as a symbol of Kenshin’s own bitter past, “a phantom of the Bakumatsu and the Meiji Government’s wrongdoings.” You know, dear reader, Shishio is actually a perfect foil to Kenshin. They’re similar in some ways [both are infamous assassins, both were allied with the Ishin Shishi, both are insanely talented prodigies, both are extremely charismatic, even manipulative]. However, Shishio’s ideology and homicidal tendencies are a far cry from Kenshin’s way of living. Their level of connection is intriguing as well as creepy—would you believe Kenshin was able to decode and intercept Shishio’s over-elaborate plan of taking Japan by storm and overthrowing the government? And Shishio actually expected him to be able to figure out all those tiny intricacies and faults! Like both of them have stated, they tend to know what the other is thinking, because they were both assassins.

Perhaps the most striking thing about Shishio is his utter lack of redeeming qualities. Yes, the government did horrible and inhumane things to him. I get it. But he brought it upon himself! He knows he did! There’s no need to sympathise with him—he doesn’t need or deserve it [still, I shudder whenever I think about those burns of his]. I want to say that I like the creation and development of his character very much, simply because—well—doesn’t he make a great villain?? He spices up the plot quite a bit! His conflict with Kenshin—the focal point of the Kyoto arc—is well-thought-out, even if it’s a bit rushed in a few parts [… yeah, Watsuki does that at times… RuroKen is still perfectly amazing though]. To Shishio, Kenshin is a puppet of the “irrational” and “weak” [lol “pacifist” and “weak” are two very different things, but he doesn’t seem to understand that, in spite of his great intelligence] Meiji Government; honestly, he’s the one who’s being irrational. Kenshin is not a puppet [but that’s just the way Shishio thinks].

I’m gonna talk about his death some more. I told you he combusted, right? His death was something I hadn’t really predicted. I knew all too well that the only way to stop him was his complete destruction, but I was also painfully aware of the fact that Kenshin wouldn’t break his no-killing vow… so, I have mixed feelings about that man’s death. The flames that should’ve killed him all those years ago consumed him at the end of the Kyoto storyline, and a lot of turbulent emotions were raging inside me while I was reading that chapter. I was kinda relieved, because he’d given the legendary Himura Battousai so much trouble [Kenshin was on the verge of death after he was done dealing with Shishio], but I was also a bit… disappointed? Indeed, Kyoto was one hell of an arc, and I guess I was a little sad when it ended [initially, though, I was hoping for it to end soon ‘cause it was terrifying, lol]. According to me, the biggest point of the last major battle was that there wasn’t a “victor”. There never is, in such situations. There are only survivors; in this case, Kenshin was the survivor.

I have always been struck by how good Shishio is with words. He doesn’t care about other people very much, but he has a vast train of followers, and most would willingly lay down their lives for him without a second thought. They’re all people who resent the Meiji Government for its hypocrisy and hidden darkness [a sociopathic seventeen-year-old boy, a beautiful and intelligent former geisha, a blind and highly skilled swordsman, an angsty fallen monk who believes in Shishio’s “radical” policies, an extremely unstable but highly capable strategist—these are the ones who struck me the most. There are more, of course].

… Whew. This is a “brief” analysis. I do hope you liked it!

See you next time! Toodles!

Thank you!

The Moonbeam of our Lives: Hope

Hello everyone! Today's post is going to be  a little different. I'd like to share one of my thoughts with you. At some point in our lives, I'm sure all of us feel like giving up and just coming to a halt, unwilling to move forward. Maybe things aren't going the way we want them to, and we're emotionally drained. I've felt that way loads of times (aah don't ask me to explain how irrationally I used to behave at such times); I can't do much to help you guys, but a thought came to me yesterday, and maybe-- just maybe-- I might be able to make you feel a little better. (Lol this explanation is too long).
"Hope is like a moonbeam: pure, silvery, bright, yet faint at times; still, at least you know that it's there, and that it won't disappear. It comforts and strengthens you, and manages to pull you out of your Slough of Despond. If you continue believing and hoping even when things are going horribly wrong, you will achieve whatever you're reaching for."
... This might sound a bit fanciful,  but it is true. It's based on personal experience. In a world of darkness, even a pale beam of light can work wonders. Every cloud has a silver lining!
(Next week,  I'll be back with a long post!). See you!
Thank you! I hope you like this post!
Toodles!