I could so easily write a huge post all about why I love Jane Eyre so much. That post would most likely focus on defending it against critics who would accuse it of being too melodramatic and unrealistic, a book designed to make ugly girls feel good about themselves. (I once saw Jane Eyre dismissively referred to as “the plain girl’s Bible” and honestly I don't think I've ever really gotten over it.) I could also go on and on about why I think Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights pales in comparison to Jane Eyre in terms of psychological characterization, as well as just plain being a joy to read. But since it’s been a while since I read either of those books cover to cover, I’d like to talk instead about another of Charlotte Bronte’s novels, Villette, which I just recently finished.
Although primarily known and liked for her intensely passionate and deeply romantic novel Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte did in fact write three additional novels during her lifetime that for one reason or another never became quite as popular. Nowadays these three other novels, namely The Professor, Shirley, and Villette, are read mainly by people who are either really, really into Victorian literature, or are diehard fans of Jane Eyre looking to find some more of the same in the authors’ extended body of work. I totally admit to being in the latter category of readers in this instance, yet I found that I quite enjoyed Villette on its own merits, and had I read it first I might even even have prefered it to JE. That’s a pretty big “if” though.
Anyways, first to dispense with the requisite comparison: CB’s pretty singular narrative voice is easily recognizable to anyone familiar with any of her writing, which is great for her fans, but most likely irritating for her critics. The fact that these two heroines are similar to each other might bother me more, however, if they weren’t so fascinating to begin with. I particularly love how both Jane and Lucy, in spite of their relative isolation and loneliness, seem nevertheless to thrive on the inner life of the imagination. Charlotte Bronte seems to convey nothing in her writing if not the supremacy of the spiritual over the physical. I was particularly struck when Lucy confesses to us the readers,
Although primarily known and liked for her intensely passionate and deeply romantic novel Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte did in fact write three additional novels during her lifetime that for one reason or another never became quite as popular. Nowadays these three other novels, namely The Professor, Shirley, and Villette, are read mainly by people who are either really, really into Victorian literature, or are diehard fans of Jane Eyre looking to find some more of the same in the authors’ extended body of work. I totally admit to being in the latter category of readers in this instance, yet I found that I quite enjoyed Villette on its own merits, and had I read it first I might even even have prefered it to JE. That’s a pretty big “if” though.
Anyways, first to dispense with the requisite comparison: CB’s pretty singular narrative voice is easily recognizable to anyone familiar with any of her writing, which is great for her fans, but most likely irritating for her critics. The fact that these two heroines are similar to each other might bother me more, however, if they weren’t so fascinating to begin with. I particularly love how both Jane and Lucy, in spite of their relative isolation and loneliness, seem nevertheless to thrive on the inner life of the imagination. Charlotte Bronte seems to convey nothing in her writing if not the supremacy of the spiritual over the physical. I was particularly struck when Lucy confesses to us the readers,
I seemed to hold two lives – the life of thought, and that of reality; and, provided the former was nourished with a sufficiency of the strange necromantic joys of fancy, the privileges of the latter might remain limited to daily bread,
hourly work, and a roof of shelter. (Chapter 8)
How true those words rang for me when I first read them! Yes! I thought. Exactly so. My physical home and town are not the world in which I truly live. The world in which I truy live exists primarily in everything I read, in the videos I watch, in the music I listen to, and in everything that tickles my imagination. All throughout Villette Bronte seemed to articulate with deathly accuracy some of my innermost thoughts and feelings. It was uncanny, but still really cool.
Yet Lucy Snowe distinguishes herself from Jane Eyre in a number of significant ways. Almost ten years older, Lucy is more mature and perhaps a little less fanciful (as Bronte herself was much older when she wrote Villette.) Lucy is more secretive than Jane, withholding crucial information even from the reader, causing a plot twist part way through that really threw me for a loop. She is also less isolated than Jane from the society of other people, physically at least. While Jane lives in a remote and empty manor deep in the British countryside, Lucy lives and works as a teacher in a school located in a bustling coastal town of France. The cast of characters in Villette is therefore broader and richer, which makes for a different kind of story. All this is very interesting, of course, but I still might not have finished the book (it’s rather long you see) had I not been so thoroughly delighted with the hero, the incomparable Paul Emmanuel.
Now if this were an Austen novel, the handsome and charming Dr. John would end up being The One, and I confess that for the first leg of the book I though he would be. But fortunately, for me and for Lucy, The One ends up being Lucy’s short-tempered and short-statured, cigar-smoking colleague instead. M. Emmanuel is riddled with flaws: he’s abrasive and impatient, and sometimes downright rude, but Charlotte Bronte makes you somehow love him all the more for it with that special way she has. He’s not brooding like Rochester; on the contrary, he’s actually quite a social animal. And he has such a wonderfully playful dynamic with Lucy, he was sooo much fun to read. It’s difficult to describe, but if anyone wants to get a taste of how their relationship develops I would direct them to chapters 28 and 29, entitled “The Watchguard” and “Monsieur’s Fete”, respectively. I think I had a goofy grin on my face the entire time I read them.
One obstacle to universal enjoyment of Villette, however, is the use of French dialogue prevalent throughout the text. It’s mixed right in there with the English, without translation or explanations. Since I can read French it wasn’t a problem for me personally, but those who can’t will definitely want to get an edition with footnotes. Yet in spite of all the good things about this book, I did have several pretty significant problems with it. First of all, I was not a little taken aback at the xenophobia evident in this novel, so much more than in Jane Eyre. I don’t suppose it would have been that shocking at the time of publication, but I found the author’s obvious animosity towards anything unBritish to be pretty off-putting. Particularly if you’re Catholic and you read this book, prepare to turn a blind eye, or else to feel insulted, when the universal evils of Catholicism play a key role at some points in the plot.
My other major problem with the book, unfortunately, concerns the ending. (If you don’t want it spoiled, STOP NOW.) I don’t mind that it wasn’t happy, or even that it was ambiguous and left open to interpretation. What I do mind is that it felt sloppy. I know the author had some conflict over how to end the story and felt she somehow had to compromise, but I feel like she could have done a much better job. I just felt like the characters deserved better, especially since they were such great characters. But all in all, I would have to say I liked this book an awful lot. Did I love it as completely and obsessively as I did Jane Eyre? No, but I certainly enjoyed it. If you like 19th century Brit Lit, or if you’re a fan of Jane Eyre, or if you’re just looking for something a little (okay, a lot) different from Pride and Prejudice, give it a try.
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