Book: “Jane Eyre,” by Charlotte Bronte
Jane Eyre is an orphan. She was brought up and tortured by her bitter aunt, thrown into a strict academy where she was publicly humiliated, and later hired to be payed to sit alone in a room and tutor a french girl for seemingly the rest of her life. Mr. Rochester, the owner and her boss at Thornfield Hall, seduces all the young society girls and keeps his deranged wife locked up in a lofty room. Jane doesn’t know about this and continues for the bulk of the novel to suffer attachments to Mr. Rochester. Why/how does this happen? Well, it turns out Mr. Rochester was really just manipulating a young and impressionable orphan tutor. Ha, and it worked. Maybe it had something to do with the mad wife he had locked away?
Anyway, the romance was done with conviction. I cried several times. It is obviously a masterpiece and I do assert that I think it lives up to it’s name. The whole time, I related to Jane, however it did often occur to me that she could never be fat. Almost all of her actions have a Christlike appeal to them. Jane can do no wrong. She makes all of the appropriate decisions a hero should. She doesn’t make/have much money so if she were fat she’d have to sneak into the Thornfield kitchen several times throughout the novel. We’d have scenes where Jane keeps snacks hidden in places nobody could find them. She’d be in the garden, snacking. She’d be distracted by food at times when she should be forwarding the story. We’d have less sympathy for her because of her greedy food habits. She would be less of a morally righteous person and she’d have to take time out to warrant why and how she was fat. It’d almost be criminal. A fat Jane Eyre is no Jane Eyre.