Lockdown Memory 2️⃣
I lost interest after the interrupted wedding.
Everything up till then, captivating. Then downhill all the way. Including “Reader, I married him.” I didn’t even notice the iconic ending when I was twelve. My memory of Jane Eyre is much darker.
The Aunt; the school; the Red Room.
Mainly the Red Room.
Oh, and I adored Blanche. I wanted to be Blanche.
Anyway, the Red Room. I’ve seen films and television adaptations of Jane Eyre. They must’ve depicted it. But the most horrific, the darkest, most troubling Red Room was in my mind.
The Aunt made me angry; the school made my spine tense. But nothing came close to the horror of the Red Room.
Blanche was perfect. I didn’t read the book in the way I would later, as an adult. I read it in pure black and white, as children do. I didn’t see Blanche as opportunistic; I didn’t realise her dislike of Jane came about because she was beggin’ of her, please don’t steal my man.
Blanche was beautiful, as were her clothes. Abusive partner Mr R was used to telling pretty women what to do. We found out what happened to his previous partner once she ceased to be Eye Candy.
The wedding, the brother in law (an actual hero, sticking up for his sister) interested me. Tense and excruciating. Then Jane ran away, and the story ended.
Except it didn’t.
Jane found a family, inherited money, and returned to her abusive boyfriend. Nah! It didn’t work for twelve year old me.
Jane Eyre affected me. I only loved half of it, but that half is perfect.
Thank you for reading my blog. You’ll probably enjoy my Musical Lockdown Memory.
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