Jane in her simple jade dress stood out in that mahogany room. The splendour surrounding her could not match the spark in her eyes, knowing this the chandelier, humbled, dimmed its light. Jane in her efforts to live freely always broke barriers and always lived freely. The shackles, when not shown any fear of, never dared to grab the fire named Jane Eyre.
She walked towards the window and half opened it; the gushing wind reminded her of a folk tale, of the times when a princess stared at the moon through a half open window, shared a secret and smiled. Jane Eyre could not help but smile then.
Title page of the first Jane Eyre edition.
Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre is a marvellous, striking Victorian novel which was originally published under a pseudonym ‘Currer Bell’. Many female writers in that era opted for a pen name, occasionally for anonymity, but mostly for their work to get a wider audience (if it is accepted for publication at all).
“We do not know who ‘Currer Bell’ might be, but his name will stand very high in literature.”
While all the reviewers praised the powerful story and imagination of the author, no one expected it to be a woman.
Charlotte Bronte, portrait by George Richmond.
“One great merit of the work unquestionably is its originality. The author deserves no slight credit for the ingenuity and success with which fact and fiction, reality and romance, have been intermingled and made to serve conjointly in maintaining deep and unflagging interest.”
Have you lived the life of Jane Eyre? If not, then you must.
A roguish year, 2020, I believe was a twist in our LIVE story. Terrible, oh, terrible things happened. Let us nurture hope, let us learn from our mistakes, let us help each other and contribute honestly to this change.
Let the old charm of stories work, let stories heal your tired heart.
This colossal twist proves that the great writer is planning to finish a chapter, but the story is far from over. Dawn is about to break, the sun rays will fall on a new beginning soon.
Come to Chiming Stories, pocket old and new posts and watch, along with me, the horizon.
Yes fly! For walking on the second track is dull and usual, but dreaming high, high, high requires tools. Tools like the right pair of shoes, a chirpy, gritty soul that eats butter-jam dreams, a soul that drinks milky-milky creams.