Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë - dramatic and layered feminist classic / Books Teacup and Reviews

Jane Eyre is a slow, dramatic, but deeply layered feminist classic. Its themes give the story remarkable depth and its heroine remains one of the most admirable, complex women in classic literature.

Jane Eyre

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

First published October 16, 1846

Read Date : September 13, 2025

Genre : Classic

Pages : 578

Source : Own

Synopsis

A gothic masterpiece of tempestuous passions and dark secrets, Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre is edited with an introduction and notes by Stevie Davies in Penguin Classics.

Orphaned Jane Eyre grows up in the home of her heartless aunt, where she endures loneliness and cruelty, and at a charity school with a harsh regime. This troubled childhood strengthens Jane’s natural independence and spirit – which prove necessary when she finds employment as a governess to the young ward of Byronic, brooding Mr Rochester. As her feelings for Rochester develop, Jane gradually uncovers Thornfield Hall’s terrible secret, forcing her to make a choice.

Should she stay with Rochester and live with the consequences, or follow her convictions – even if it means leaving the man she loves? A novel of intense power and intrigue, Jane Eyre dazzled readers with its passionate depiction of a woman’s search for equality and freedom.

Review

Jane Eyre turned out to be a surprisingly feminist classic. It follows the life of orphaned Jane Eyre from childhood to her coming of age, as she grows into a young woman who not only finds a respectable career to support herself but also a place to belong, people who love her, and a man who changes the course of her life.

The writing is lush, descriptive, and a little flowery. The plot hooks you right from the beginning and pulls you into Jane’s world. I wouldn’t call it completely unputdownable, but it had a quiet charm that made me want to savor it rather than rush through.

Jane Eyre is bursting with themes—loneliness, belonging, the craving for love, social class, moral integrity, Christianity, self-government and dignity, defiance of dependency, societal expectations of women, secrets, the psychological scars of childhood, control, confinement, and male ego. There’s a lot here to unpack and ponder, and together these threads paint a vivid picture of life in the Late Georgian and Victorian eras.

The settings—Gateshead, Lowood Institute, Thornfield Hall, and later Moor House—each carry their own melancholy, whether born of oppression, grief, or buried secrets. They’re not just backdrops but crucial stepping stones in Jane’s journey. Each place challenges her, but also gives her opportunities to grow.

As for Jane herself—what a heroine. I rooted for her from the very beginning. Her miserable childhood at Gateshead, unloved after her uncle’s death and despised by her cruel aunt, Mrs. Reed, was both touching and infuriating. The fact that her aunt not only sent her away but branded her a liar to the schoolmaster so she would be treated harshly—that was especially cruel. Jane’s suffering at Lowood genuinely broke my heart.

But those hardships shaped her into who she became: curious, intelligent, imaginative, principled, and independent—yet also docile and submissive in ways. She longed for belonging and love, and her fear of loneliness often drove her choices, even when they felt like a step down from what she truly deserved.

What I admired most, though, was how she always knew her worth. She refused to compromise her dignity—whether with Mrs. Reed, the harsh Lowood system, Rochester, or even St. John Rivers. Jane always had a fire within her. Life dimmed it at times, but whenever pushed, that passion roared back. She would not settle for anything her conscience rejected. She never sought wealth, not even after inheriting her fortune. What she wanted was respect and love—and that, to me, makes her the perfect feminist heroine.

I also loved how Mrs. Reed eventually got her comeuppance. The son she favored—the one who tormented Jane—lost his life. The wealth she was so proud of disappeared. Her daughters spent their days bickering and miserable, and yet Mrs. Reed still refused to admit her guilt. And Jane? She forgave her anyway. That moment showed just how far Jane had come—from a furious, rebellious child to a calm and compassionate woman.

Now, what I never fully understood was what she saw in Rochester or St. John. Both men were patriarchal, controlling, and manipulative in their own ways.

Rochester wasn’t even conventionally attractive, and his manipulative tricks to make Jane confess her love felt cruel. And hiding a whole wife in the attic? That was beyond awful. Yet Jane still loved him, even after his downfall. Why?

At least he had some redeeming qualities—despite his flaws, he provided for Bertha and for a child he believed wasn’t his. His desperation to escape a loveless marriage and to feel genuine love gave him something in common with Jane. She even preferred him blind and broken, saying she liked that he depended on her—a bit twisted, honestly.

St. John, on the other hand, was harder to stomach. Cold, zealous, and obsessed with duty, he valued self-sacrifice above love, which worked for his missionary goals but not for human happiness. I found it ridiculous that he pursued Jane, his cousin, not out of love but because she fit the “missionary wife” mold better than Rosamond, the woman he truly loved.

His proposal wasn’t for partnership, but for utility—and then he guilt-tripped her with religion when she refused. I hated how manipulative he was, far more than Rochester. And still Jane respected him, admired him, and even considered marrying him. Why?! The man literally tried to erase her individuality.

For me, neither man was worthy of her. She could easily have lived independently as a governess or even run her own school with her inheritance. That would have been the most satisfying ending. But Jane wanted love, and she got it, in her bittersweet happily-ever-after. Fair enough.

Overall, Jane Eyre is a slow, dramatic, but deeply layered feminist classic. Its themes give the story remarkable depth and its heroine remains one of the most admirable, complex women in classic literature.