Today is Charlotte Bronte's birthday. I read Jane Eyre, oh, so many years ago, when I was maybe twelve or so. I know it was before high school, when I was still in that terribly romantic phase of reading. I loved that book, probably much more than Bronte's sister Emily Bronte's Whuthering Heights. Jane Eyre encompasses so many different feelings of longing for love and acceptance, and a keen and sad awareness of a young woman's lack of beauty. Throw in a few dark secrets, sweeping landscapes, and a young, bookish girl has all she needs to content herself.
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