Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte: A bit on the dull side anyone?

Before you go into an explanation of why this book is so good (“universally appealing love story”, a sucker punch from an equality-seeking proto-feminist, attacks on bigoted religion: all pertinent points), the fact is this book is….well, it’s a bit boring. Charlotte Bronte drags out descriptions and conversations over pages when anything more than a couple of paragraphs would’ve been pushing it . And before you say it’s typical of the style at the time, how come “Wuthering Heights” has much more intriguing occurrences and yet is considerably shorter?

There’s also the fact that Jane is blatantly Charlotte herself. All novels are broadly autobiographical yes; but in this case the author shamelessly uses this book to indulge in self-pity and wish fulfillment (i.e. the way people are all mean to her and the ridiculously brooding Mr. Rochester). Really, it’s too much having to wade through the fifteenth whiny, detailed description of how St.John Rivers is a prat (only in a more dignified, sophisticated and lengthy style).

Source: A Customer. Amazon.

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