I have sinned, for I have never read Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I am currently working on the repenting process by reading it this week when I get bored of watching TV (since I have no job and my roommates aren't here and I have nothing else to do but watch and read). I'm in the middle of chapter 9 right now, when Jane's friend Helen is dying from consumption. I've seen the Masterpiece Theatre version of the movie, so I already know a lot of what happens, and I already knew anyway that schools like Lowood at this time period were bad situations in many ways. What bothers me isn't the location of the school being a breeding ground for diseases like typhus, but rather the attitude of the owner of Lowood Institution. He talks about instilling in these orphan girls humility by their plain dress and simple food, but "humility" is just a nicer word for poverty in this case. Jane has already been at the school for a month, and readers know that her plain dress is inadequate for January weather, even when she's inside the building; readers know that her food isn't just simple but inedible and malnutritious, both in content and amount. Then in the very next paragraph after he talks about "humility", his wife and daughters come in the room, obviously at the opposite extreme of the spectrum from the orphans. It just makes me sick. I almost cry every time I read a paragraph containing a similar attitude, similar use of acceptable words to cover up an inexcusable crime. This makes me think of the orphanages in China where girls are sent because they are not wanted, and are therefore basically condemned to die (I'm sure this happens in other places too, to both boys and girls; this is just the first example I thought of). This makes me want to donate books to rebuild schools in Uganda (see the posters in the TSC bottom floor), but I don't think I have any books in my apartment that they would appreciate my donating.
Okay I'm done ranting. I feel better now. *sniffle*
On another note, I've been blog-hunting recently and I found one worth mentioning. It's called My Castle in Spain and I love reading it. The writer, Lala Ema, has a calming kind of blog style that almost reminds me of Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes: many of her recent posts talk about rural places and traditions (she also has pictures; I'm still trying to figure out what kind of pictures I can post when all I talk about are books and movies). I'm also amazed at how many languages this woman knows. She's from Provence, France; lives in southern Spain; blogs in English; and just recently blogged about learning German and Latin. Someday maybe that will be me. Anyway, give her a visit. Let me know what you think.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No. Watching the movie doesn't count. But if you're reading it right now, I'm not angry anymore. Not that I was in the first place. It's truly riveting, dark, and suspenseful. You'll like it even more once you get past Lowood. :)
ReplyDelete