Questions asked by Jane Eyre

Inspired by the news of Jane Eyre now being a mandatory read for teenagers in China, a contributor to The New Indian Express discusses several aspects of the novel.

So, the novel asks a more interesting question. Can a person love deeply without losing herself? Jane’s answer is yes, but only on certain terms. She leaves when staying would cost her moral independence. She returns only when things have changed. Here her inheritance matters. Independence is not just a matter of courage. Money changes her position. Once she is financially secure, going back to Rochester is a choice and not a necessity. Rochester, for his part, has lost much of his earlier power. Jane’s financial independence and Rochester’s changed circumstances alter the balance of their relationship, bringing them closer to equality. 

This is also why the novel can be read beyond the question of female independence. Love, in Brontë’s telling, is something Jane chooses and not something she surrenders to. A young woman can ask what independence means in a relationship. A young man can ask what equality demands of him. Rochester is charming and emotionally gripping, but he is also used to having his way. He withholds the truth from Jane and tries to set the terms of their life together. The novel does make him face those limits, and it offers a useful distinction between love and possession.

Still, there is a reason not to treat this as a simple feminist text. What happens to Bertha Mason? We hear Jane’s voice throughout the book. Bertha hardly has one. Rochester’s first wife is locked in the attic and described mostly through the language of madness and monstrosity. Later writers have asked what the story looks like from her side. Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea is the best-known example. It brings race, colonialism, and gender into questions that Jane Eyre does not fully examine.

I will admit that for years, I did not push this question hard enough in my own classes. I spoke about Bertha, but mostly as a plot device or a symbol. It was easier to stay with Jane. That, I think, is the real lesson of my reaction to the Chinese decision. Familiarity can make us lazy. We teach a classic through the same categories each time, such as feminism, patriarchy, romance and Victorian society, and we stop looking for what is new. The text remains the same, but our reading of it need not.

A classic should not enter a classroom carrying one approved meaning. Students should be free to admire Jane and also to question her. They should understand Rochester without excusing him. They should ask why Bertha is denied the space Jane gets. And they should connect the book to their own experience of family, school, work and relationships. In that sense, teaching a classic is not simply about passing on an established interpretation. It is also about teaching students how to read critically.

This is important because many young people encounter ideas about love through films, social media and stories they read online. These tend to offer quick answers. Literature can offer something slower. It lets a reader stay with a complicated human situation and look at it from more than one side. That, to my mind, is the book’s real value for a young reader today. It does not hand over the right model of love or independence. It refuses to separate the two questions. Jane wants to be free, and she also wants to love. She wants equality without giving up closeness. The novel does not settle that tension. It makes it part of growing up.

Nearly two centuries later, that tension still feels familiar. Perhaps that is why readers in China, India and elsewhere keep returning to Jane. And perhaps this is why a decision made in Beijing is worth a second look for teachers in Indian classrooms. My first answer was “So what?” I no longer think that was the right one. (John J Kennedy)

The Guardian takes a closer look at lighting in theatre productions guided by designer Aideen Malone.

Do all directors understand lighting? “Not to name any names,” she grins, “but some are very visual, and some aren’t.” She prefers “somebody with nerves of steel who is prepared to try stuff” – like Sally Cookson, with whom she devised hit shows such as Jane Eyre and A Monster Calls. “Devised work is nerve-racking,” says Malone, “because you don’t know what you’ve got till the last week of rehearsals. You have to figure it out once you’re in the space.” (David Jays)

A recent episode of The Scholar's Armchair featured Deborah Lutz talking about her Emily Brontë biography.