Jane Eyre and feminism

I read Jane Eyre recently. This was necessary because I'm reading Simon Callow's excellent biography of Orson Welles, and I'd got to the part where Welles appears in that movie. I had to see the movie before reading that section of the biography, and I had to read the book before seeing the movie. So it fit in well with my desire to enjoy some of these famous works as I get on in years. Call it a literary bucket list.

For most of the book, I found myself laughing at Jane and the rest of the characters. It's hard for me to imagine real people speaking and thinking in this way. I'd love to hear how they talk after the collective stick had been removed from their asses.

But at some point, I simply accepted the style, and I enjoyed the book far more. The plot was just as ridiculous, however. Mr Rochester goes from talking about marrying Blanche and sending Jane away to clasping her in his arms in the space of a paragraph or two. I never did understand the reason for or in fact any evidence of a transition in his intent. One sentence Blanche - next sentence Jane. We were all expecting it, of course, but it certainly made no sense.

Then there's the amazing coincidence of the house Jane stumbles upon, which just so happens to contain her nearest relatives. She's apparently half-dead by this time from exposure and hunger, but as near as I can tell, she was only away from a soft bed and a hot meal for about three days. Not very stern stuff, one feels.

But the reason I wanted to make this blog post was to react to the statement in the (modern) introduction that Jane Eyre is "one of the most intensely erotic books in the English language." First, it's good of the writer to concede that there are eroticer books in other languages (too bad she doesn't mention what they are, or I would by all means start a course of study in those languages). Second, what the fuck? It is impossible to imagine Jane even possessing a clitoris, much less any kind of erotic feeling.

The writer of the introduction is from feminist school of the 1980's. I am all for feminist schools. I consider myself a feminist and have done since the age of 12. I am so feminist, in fact, that I know that I'm sexist. But besides being erotic, this novel is, according to the writer of the introduction, a triumph of feminism and female power. How can it be, when all Jane does is serve and obey? True, she twice obeys her God over her male masters, but this is hardly empowerment. Throughout the book, Jane is either a slave or trying to become a slave.

I still enjoyed the book. The character was foreign enough to make her interesting. And I did read on, wondering what would happen next. As for the movie, it was fun to see Orson Welles play Mr Rochester. He certainly played the part in my imagination as I was reading the book.

And now I've moved on past that part in Callow's biography of Welles. Tonight I watch The Lady from Shanghai.