Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë and Sherri Browning Erwin
Okay, so I haven’t read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies yet. (Sidebar: how disappointed am I that Natalie Portman will no longer be playing Lizzie in the film adaptation of that book? Very disappointed.) I do own a copy of it, but I just haven’t gotten around to it, and at this point in the year, I might as well wait for October, no? So I’m much more familiar with the absolute legions of knock-ups it produced—including, of course, Jane Slayre. I’m actually kind of baffled that I had to buy it; I’d been so sure the public library would have a copy! Still, it’s a small price to pay to actually cite this in an academic paper.
Do you have a favorite quote from a book?
I have a lot of favorite quotes; my room at my parents’ house actually has them taped up. But, at the the moment, two quotes leap to mind.
From Natalie Angier’s Woman:
Stride away in full strength, but remember that time and space are curved and you will come back to talk again to me, your friend, your daughter, your mother, your love. (366)
This one has stuck with me ever since I read the book; I know Angier’s poetical approach to the book makes it a hit or miss, but it works for me, and I adore the idea of someone yelling this at someone as they leave.
From Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre:
“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.”
I’m rereading Jane Eyre for my senior thesis. I reread this bit on Tuesday and started bawling a bit; I’ve been feeling all warm and fuzzy since I saw Rock of Ages on Friday (if you’ve seen it, the reason involves Russell Brand and Alec Baldwin), and this was kind of perfect.
- Angier, Natalie. Woman. New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1999. Print.
- Brontë, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. London; Service & Paton, 1897. Project Gutenberg. Web. 1 March 1998.
I’ve never mentioned it, but I absolutely love poking at my site stats. How people get to my blog (I’m apparently linked on my college’s website! This is completely new information to me!), which posts people read the most (my review of the film adaptation of Atonement and my review of A Clash of Kings), and, of course, the search terms that lead people to my blog. There are many paths to my establishment, it seems, and several of them are paths trod by very confused people. Today, then, I will help these poor souls by answering their search terms, as culled from search terms that led actual people to my blog this September.
based on Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
Despite the frankly astonishing amount of adaptations of Jane Eyre (16 films and 9 television series), I’ve never encountered any of them—probably because I hadn’t read the book until last month for class. But timing provided a wonderful opportunity for my class, fresh from analyzing Jane Eyre, to go see the film and see how it fared against the book. We went as an optional field trip down to a remarkably tiny movie theater here in Atlanta to go see it. Normally, I try and write my reviews of films pretty much directly after I’ve seen them, but I had to digest Jane Eyre. (This doesn’t mean a thing about the film—I adore Heavenly Creatures, but I also had to digest it.)
And–the reverse of last week’s question. Name one book that you hope never, ever, ever gets made into a movie (no matter how good that movie might be).
Any novel that’s very internal ought to be shied away from—any examples of books I hope will never be made into a movie have, unfortunately, already been filmed; Atonement, The Lovely Bones, Jane Eyre (that review’s going up tomorrow), just to name a few. Film is a visual medium, which makes it extremely difficult to get the internal narratives across clearly.
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
Jane Eyre, like the works of Jane Austen, is one of those novels that you feel you know from cultural osmosis. For instance, I knew the basic plot of Jane Eyre well before I tucked into the novel for class—I’m a literary critic-in-training, for Pete’s sake! But I’d never read it—or, if I did attempt it at an early age (y’all know how bad my memory prior to fourteen is), I didn’t get very far. So I felt a little cocky as I began Jane Eyre; there couldn’t be any surprises in store for me. And then I couldn’t stop reading it—I had to know what happened next. The moral of the story is—don’t trust cultural osmosis. (Except when it comes to Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a work ruined by cultural osmosis. Whoops.)