When I first read Jane Eyre I was in high school. I had been given permission to go through my father’s office and take any books I wanted, and I did so eagerly. Looking back, I think there was a desire to prove that I really was a reader, that I could take books that I thought were suitably grown up and understand them and enjoy them. Those books sat on a shelf in my room for a little while as I tried to get my nerve up to find them interesting. They were all old, and most of them hadn’t been read in years.
So I picked one that, after a few false starts, seemed the least intimidating. Jane Eyre. I could read about a woman named Jane – that wasn’t too bad at all. So, to prove that I was absolutely very grown up and reading a grown up book and was really very smart, I went downstairs to read in the living room, just in case anybody wanted to see what I was reading.
I stubbornly struggled my way through the introduction, and eventually I got to the good part. I remember the exact moment that it clicked for me. I was sitting next to a window, I could hear the rain pouring outside, but I was dry and warm with a pillow on my lap, and I was reading about Jane Eyre. Except actually, I was standing in Gateshead Hall, reading about birds with Jane. I was standing at the top of the stairs confronting Mrs. Reed. I was sitting in the middle of the stream with Jane as she got to explore the outdoors of Lowood. I was walking away from Thornfield Hall with her and sleeping in the moors under the stars. And all of those moments coalesced into a beautiful feeling of nostalgia for all of the imagined scenes I created as a child, for every moment I had dreamed that I was experiencing these moments of exploration and nature that Jane was. I was absolutely transported. Although I didn’t understand the nuances of the novel, I enjoyed it and every moment of Jane’s journey took me along with her.
It was one of the first moments where I felt like I really related to people when they said that they were transported into a novel, where I was really present to that experience. And I had chosen it for myself, without any prompting. Of course I fell in love with it. Since that first reading I have read it a good many more times, and every time I have learned more either through class discussions and readings, or on my own through my own reflections. I have never not gotten something out of reading Jane Eyre, and I think that’s really special. Even as my understanding of the inner mechanics of the text have changed, I still find myself utterly fascinated by all the questions reading it inspires. I initially picked up Jane Eyre for reasons entirely beyond the text itself, but every reading beyond that first choice has been driven by a curiosity to learn more about everything within it.
I totally understand the sentiment of wanting to read/feeling you need to read classics to “prove” yourself as a reader. I definitely struggle with that still! But I love that Jane Eyre proved to be so transformative for you. I think for a lot of us, that’s the most we could ever want out of a book or any media. Something that transports us into another world and changes us for the better. I’m glad you’re writing a thesis on a text you love so much 🙂
This is so sweet! I feel like there’s a lot of societal pressure to read literary classics because they are ‘the best,’ and I know I often feel a lot of anxiety that they will be incomprehensible or I ‘won’t get it,’ so its so nice to hear how this ‘classic’ became so much more than a symbol of intellectualism for you. I think because of the status these books have, we often forget why they were beloved in the first place: their stories, their characters, and the way they can transport you somewhere else. I feel like this is such a nice story to encourage people to pick up that classic they’re intimidated by!