#There is a scene in Jane Eyre where Jane approached Rochester to ask him for leave for a few weeks to see her sick aunt

[softly-and-suddenly]

People are so boring about classic literature sometimes. Like I know it’s cool to be critical of men in books from the 19th century or whatever but it just leads to ripping out all of the nuance in favor of “Uh all of the Brontë men were evil and abusive and that’s all there is to those characters.” Say something interesting. I’m begging you

[hotchnerbby]

“Why won’t you come to me”

Kylo Ren x Female Reader (previous Ben Solo x Reader during Jedi Temple days)

Summary: After killing Snoke, Kylo asks you to join him and to rule the galaxy by his side, but something keeps you from accepting.

Author’s Note: This is my first time every publishing  my work, so please me gentle. My inspiration for this piece came from a scene I watched from the 2011 Jane Eyre where Mr. Rochester confesses and Jane ends up leaving him out of respect for herself. No use of Y/N (obvi.). I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 798

My Masterlist

     Pain, pain is all you feel in this very moment. Not from killing Snoke's guards, but from standing in front of the man you once loved. Those stolen kisses in the middle of the night, sacred promises you and Ben told each other you would keep, memories you shared while as students at the Jedi Temple, now laid in tainted tatters.

     Only Kylo stands before you now. No longer the Ben you loved. No longer the Ben you shared your first kiss. No longer your Ben. Your body feels heavy, the pain in your throat throbbing unbearably, and the tears that you have shed countless times for Ben are threatening to fall once again.

     Kylo approaches you, pulling you out of your trance. He embraces you tightly. What surprises you the most is not his touch but the fact that he still feels like Ben, still smells like Ben. It only mocks your pain and pulls you into the possibility that you might not have known the true nature of Ben Solo.

     "It’s time to let old things die, Snoke, Skywalker, The Sith, The Jedi, the Rebels. Let it all die. I want you to join me." Kylo pleads. There is a desperation in his voice, something that you had not heard since the night he destroyed the Jedi Temple and asked you to leave with him and join Snoke.

     "We can rule together and bring a new order to the galaxy. Please join me." Kylo is caressing your face now, there is a gentleness in his voice, one reserved only for you. You almost all fall for it allowing yourself to melt into his touch, but the image of dead students appears in your mind. The blood of innocents, your friends, soils the Jedi Temple grounds, it is what keeps you from falling for Kylo's words.

     "I can't." You say weakly, tears now falling freely down your face. “Not after everything you have done.”

     Realization dawns on his face at your words. “You are still upset about that night. You must understand, Luke was going to kill me. I did it to protect myself, to protect you!” He says earnestly.

     “But those kids, my friends. How could you?” Your voice cracks now, any attempt you had to control your emotions is long gone.

     “That is all in the past now. Please you must believe me. Together we will bring peace to our new order, and no one will need to die. We can live happily, together and I will love you until the end of my days. Please join me.” He pleads once more.

     Overcome with too much emotion to speak, you frantically shake your head no. You can’t bring yourself to do it.

     “So you would rather drive me to madness then? You would rather leave me than to be with me, at my side, as my wife, as my Empress?” He agonizes.

     “I must respect myself. I cannot be with you when I know the lengths you have gone through to ensure our happiness.” You gasp, suddenly feeling that pain in your throat throbbing even harder now.

     Kylo is weeping now, tears streaming down his face. His hands then move down from your face to softly grip around your neck.

     “I could bend you with my hands.” He whispers through gritted teeth and tearful eyes. “A mere reed you feel in my hands.”

     You backup now as Kylo collapses to his knees and painfully grips your waist. “But whatever I do, I cannot get at you. Why won’t you come to me of your own free will?” He confesses. Finally releasing himself and baring his innermost desires to you as sobs rack his body.

     Kylo’s confession suffocates you, here kneeling before you is the man you once loved, promising to give you everything you could ever dream of, but the weight of condoning his actions eats you alive. You are tempted to accept; you desperately want to accept. Glimpses of a future with him flash before your eyes, intimate moments you could share, a family you could build together.

     But the screams that night, the blood on his hands and face when he found you. These memories have plagued your thoughts and nightmares all these years. These memories alone are enough for you to muster up the little strength you have to pry his hands off your waist.

     You tell him goodbye, barely above a whisper, and proceed to turn your back to the man you once loved. You hear his crying get louder and yours does too, but you march onward never allowing your steps to falter. Finally accepting the fact that your Ben died the night that the Jedi Temple was destroyed, and it was Kylo Ren that killed the man you loved.

[themetaphorgirl]

This isn't in the list of prompts, but I was wondering what a good situation would involve "you're okay" with CM?

I just needed some to write something cuddly and nice. I hope you like it!!

----------

Alex flipped through her notes and frowned as a paper airplane sailed over her head. “Derek, give it back!” Penelope shrieked.

“Derek, you heard her, give it back,” she said absently as she compared the notes with her copy of Jane Eyre. It was pouring rain outside, destroying everything they had planned for Saturday, and everyone was bored out of their minds, leaving Penelope to break out every craft supply she owned. Hotch was at an RA meeting and David and James were off campus, so she and Emily had been left to keep an eye on the common room and make sure the younger kids didn’t blow anything up. Not that Emily was much help.

“Gimme the red sharpie,” Emily said. She took the paper airplane and drew along the wings. “It won’t fly right if it doesn’t look good.”

“Oh, wait, let me get my glitter!” 

“No, Penelope, no glitter. You remember what happened last time,” Alex said. She shifted around in the armchair to look at Emily. “You could help keep order, you know?”

Emily was lying on her stomach on the floor, busily coloring. “What do you mean?” she said. “Nothing’s broken yet.”

“Yet,” Alex mumbled under her breath, surveying the chaos. Paper and markers spread across the floor; JJ was reading a book but Derek, Penelope, and Spencer were surrounded by half-folded planes. 

“Here, kid, like this,” Derek said, reaching over to help Spencer.

“No!” Spencer said. “I can do it myself! I know how to do it!”

“I’m just trying to help, pretty boy, calm down.”

“I don’t need help!” Spencer said. The notebook paper caught in Derek’s hand and tore. JJ looked up over the pages of her book. “You ripped it!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Derek said. “Here, we can make another one.”

Spencer clutched the the rest of the rest of the paper plane in his tight grip. “You ripped it!” he said again, his voice rising. He was pale but his cheeks were getting a little flushed, and his eyes were rimmed in dark circles. “I could have done it by myself!”

Emily pushed herself up to sit crosslegged. “Hey, hey, slow down, champ,” she said. “Don’t get cranky, it’s just a stupid airplane. You can make another one.”

“He shouldn’t have touched it!” 

“Spencer, it’s okay, sweetie,” Penelope soothed. She held up another piece of paper. “See, we can-”

“No!” Spencer yelped.

Alex set her notes aside. She had an idea of what was really bothering the youngest of their group. “Hey, Spencer,” she said. He whipped around to face her, the paper crumpling in his fist. “Can you come help me with this? I could use another pair of eyes.”

“Fine,” he huffed, throwing the paper down on the floor. 

She shifted her books around to make room on the oversized armchair. “Come sit with me,” she said. She caught Emily’s eye, and thankfully, Emily understood.

“Hey, who else wants to go on a coffee run?” she said, getting up off the floor and brushing off her pants. “Let’s go. My treat. Come on, you too, blondie.” JJ set down her book with a sigh, but followed Emily and the other kids out of the room. 

“Get us something too,” Alex called.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, already on it.”

Spencer climbed onto the armchair next to Alex. “What are you working on?” he asked.

She tucked her arm around him and held the book so he could see it. “Jane Eyre,” she said. “I’m analyzing the scene where she meets Mr. Rochester for the first time.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’s important,” he said. “It really shifts the action of the narrative.”

“It does,” she said. “Here, I’ll read some of it, and you tell me what you think, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, shifting around until he was almost sitting on her lap.

She held the book open so he could see it. “The ground was hard, the air was still, my road was lonely,” she read aloud. “I walked fast till I got warm, and then I walked slowly to enjoy and analyse the species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and situation.”

The older kids had discussed Spencer’s relentless insomnia often- Hotch was at his wit’s end trying to figure out how to get him to actually sleep at night. Spencer survived on naps, usually in strange place at inopportune times. And Spencer fought back when they tried to talk to him about it and insisted he wasn’t a baby, he didn’t need them to tell him what to do.

“On the hill-top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily, she looked over Hay, which, half lost in trees, sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys,” she read, keeping her voice soft and warm. Spencer leaned closer to her and his head dropped to her shoulder. “it was yet a mile distant, but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thin murmurs of life.” 

They could always tell when he was exhausted, but they had to make him think that sleeping was his idea or he wouldn’t do it. As of yet, this was the only thing that seemed to work, and she was the only one who could pull it off.

“The din was on the causeway: a horse was coming; the windings of the lane yet hid it, but it approached,” she read. Spencer had crawled into her lap by then, his eyes struggling to stay open, and she rested her chin on the top of his head. “I was just leaving the stile; yet, as the path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by.”

She read until she was sure he was asleep, his breath catching in little snores and warm against her neck. Carefully she turned the page to the part she was actually supposed to be studying. 

After a while he started to shift, mumbling something unintelligible. She set her book down and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re okay,” she said softly. “You’re okay, go back to sleep.”

He mumbled something that almost sounded coherent, but he started to settle back down, burrowing against her. She tried to pick her book back up, but she couldn’t quite wrestle it back, so she gave up and let Spencer sleep.

After a while Hotch peeked into the common room. “Hey,” he whispered. “He asleep?”

“Out like a light,” she whispered back.

Hotch walked over to her, sidestepping the craft explosion on the floor. “I saw everybody else getting coffee, they told me he was about to freak out and you were trying to get him to take a nap,” he said. 

“Yeah, he was being a real brat for a while there, but I’m guessing he didn’t sleep at all last night,” she said.

“Not a bit,” Hotch said grimly. “Here, let me take him.” 

Alex kept her hand under Spencer’s neck as Hotch scooped him up; her arms had started to prickle and fall asleep under his weight. “You need a hand?” she asked.

Thankfully Spencer stayed asleep in Hotch’s arms, his cheek pressing into his shoulder. “No, I’ve got him,” Hotch said. “I’ll be right back.”

She stretched out her arms and went back to her homework. The others came back not long after that, but Penelope and Derek cleaned up art supplies and JJ turned on the common room TV. Emily handed Alex her chai latte.

“Thanks for reading my mind,” Alex said.

“Oh, believe me, it was pretty obvious,” Emily said. “He was either going to spontaneously combust or fall over asleep. And besides, I wanted coffee.” Alex laughed. “Is he doing okay?”

“I think so, but I have a feeling we’ll need to come up with a new trick to get him to sleep,” Alex said. “It’s only a matter of time before he figures out what we’re doing.”

[warrioreowynofrohan]

The Four Loves - Eros

Lewis very specifically distinguishes eros (romantic love, being ‘in love’) from sexual desire (which he calls Venus). (This is, by the way, very helpful for my understanding the concepts of asexuality and aromanticism and the distinctions between them.)

Lewis starts off the chapter with noting that he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with people marrying without eros and in fact that’s been the nature of most marriages through history. (So we can conclud he’d be okay with ‘friends-with-benefits’ provided that it was committed, monogamous friends-with-benefits. In fact, he initially married Joy Davidman - in a civil ceremony, not a religious one - so she could retain her UK residency, when they were close friends but not yet in love, though given his convictions they probably didn’t sleep together at that time.) Nor is there anything inherently ‘right’ about eros, and it is certainly capable of leading to wrong and hurtful actions.

Lewis describes eros in this way (his entire discussion of the subject is from the male perspective):

Very often what comes first is simply a delighted pre-occupation with the Beloved - a general, unspecified pre-occupation with her in her totality. A man in this state really hasn’t leisure to think of sex. He is too busy thinking of a person. The fact that she is a woman is far less important than the fact that she is herself. He is full of desire, but the desire may not be sexually toned. If you asked him what he wanted, the true reply would often be, “To go on thinking of her.”...In some mysterious but quite indisputable fashion, the love desires the Beloved herself, not the pleasure she can give.

...The reader will notice that Eros thus womderfully transforms what is par excellence a Need-pleasure into the most Appreciative of all pleasures. It is the nature of a Need-pleasure to show us the object solely in relation to our need, even our momentary need [e.g., a glass of water when we are thirsty]. But in Eros, a Need, at its most intense, sees the object most intensely as a thing admirable in herself, important far beyond her relation to the lover’s need.

Without Eros sexual desire, like every other desire, is a fact about ourselves. Within Eros it is rather about the Beloved. It becomes almost a mode of perception, a mode of expression. It feels objective; sonething outside us, in the real world. That is why Eros, thoigh the king of pleasures, always (at his height) has the air of regarding pleasure as a by-product. Anyway, whose pleasure? For one of the first things Eros does is to obliterate the distinction between giving and receiving.

I’ve quoted the passage at length because I am trying to get a clearer understanding of the ideas here; it is less easily understood, to me, than the other forms (and not something I’ve personally experienced). But the last line draws me to something from George MacDonald’s writings that I’ve often applied to my understanding of romantic love and how it differs from others. Friendship, or philia, is the enjoyment of someone’s company because you share the same interests. Eros is the enjoyment of the Beloved’s interests because they are the Beloved’s. MacDonald expresses this in his short story “The Day Boy and the Night Girl”, about a boy who is raised to only ever see the day and never experience night or darkness, and a girl who is raised in darkness and never sees the day. They meet, they fall in love, and it concludes with:

Hardly had one [year of their marriage] passed, before Nycteris had come to love the day best, because it was the clothing and crown of Photogen...and Photogen had come to love the night best, because it was the mother and home of Nycteris.

In the story of Aldarion and Erendis in Unfinished Tales, their marriage falls apart because they don’t have this: each of them values their own pursuits, preferences, and desires more than they value being with the other (though I think Aldarion is far more to blame, as she makes many, many allowances for him, and he makes very few for her). Likewise with the Ents and Ent-wives, who both prefer being in the lands that they love over being together.

In contrast to that, Lewis says that the goal of eros is not happiness, but valuing togetherness over being happy:

Eros does not aim at happiness. To Eros all calculations are irrelevant. Even when it comes clear beyond all evasion that marriage with the Beloved cannot possibly lead to happiness - when it cannot even profess to offer any other life than that of tending an incurable invalid, of hopeless poverty, of exile, or of disgrace - Eros never hesitates to say, “Better this than parting. Better to be miserable with her than happy without her. Let our hearts break provided they break together.” If the voice within it does not say this, it is not the voice of Eros.

It is in this respect that Eros can give us a greater understanding of our relationship to God:

This love is really and truly like Love Himself. In it there is real nearness to God (by Resemblance [in its willingness to give up everything for the Beloved]). Eros, honoured so far as love of God and charity to our fellows will allow, may [also] become for us a means of Approach. His total committment is a paradigm or example, built into our natures, of the love we ought to exercise towards God and Man. It is as if Christ said to us through Eros, “Thus - just like this - with this prodigality - not counting the cost - you are to love me and the least of my brethren.”

...In one high bound [eros] has overleaped the massive wall of our selfhood; it has made appetite itself altruistic, tossed personal happiness aside as a triviality and planted the interests of another at the centre of our being. Spontaneously and without effort we have fulfilled the law (towards one person) by loving our neighbour as ourselves. It is an image, a foretaste, of what we must become to all if Love Himself rules in us without a rival. It is even (well used) a preparation for that.

Yet, as noted above, this is not to say that eros is intrinsically good. In fact, Lewis considers it one of the more perilous forms of love, precisely because it is so overpowering that it can lead lovers to think that everything they do for the cause of love is right or justifiable. If amor vincit omnia refers to eros, then Lewis disagrees with the assertion (and so do I). The rejection of it is one of the things I love about Jane Eyre, where in the scene after Jane finds out that Rochester has a living (and insane) wife, and Jan and Rochester are still as deeply in eros as they have ever been, she chooses to leave because staying and living as his mistress would be wrong, defying both his passions and her own. Lewis describes the destructiveness of unrestrained eros, “ready for every sacrifice except renunciation,” and with the particular danger that “temptations speak with the voice of duties” - to go against romantic love feels wrong even when it is right. This doesn’t just refer to love-affairs. We see it in Les Mis when Marius determines to detach Cosette from Valjean (whom he regards as a criminal and danger, and whose wealth he suspects is ill-gotten) for love of her, and Cosette is wrapped up in love for Marius enough to forget Valjean.

And despite the overwhelming demands that eros makes, it is “notoriously the most mortal of all our lives; the world rings with complaints of his fickleness.” People promise very sincerely to be in love forever, and the feeling fades shortly. Lewis notes that “Between the best possible lovers this condition is intermittent” - which is not the case for affection or for friendship. Between those intermittent times, a committment that goes beyond momentary feeling, along with affection, and (ideally) philia between partners must be able to sustain the relationship. (Lewis, probably thinking of his relationship with Joy, asks anyone who is fortunate enough to have true philia with their spouse, in addition to eros, and who had to choose between the two loves, which they would choose; I think the implication is clear that he would choose philia, which was the intial foundation of their relationship.) Which is to say that, if we mean eros (rather than nonsexual physical affection) when we say ‘romance’, almost all people are aromantic most of the time.

[eyreguide]

A recap of the Brontë2020 Virtual Conference

On Friday the very first virtual Brontë conference was held and included a program of various talks and presentations by people knowledgeable on many different aspects of the Brontës. And reader, I had a wonderful time.  

This post is just a brief overview of the event, with some commentary on the different topics and comments that were discussed and that I found interesting. This conference was held as a way to help support the amazing Brontë Parsonage in Haworth as they are going through a difficult time with the impact of Covid-19. If you are able, please donate whatever you can to the Parsonage by visiting this site. Help them reach their goal!

I live in the United States so I wasn’t able to attend all the panels - I decided to make my first one the discussion with Sandy Welch (screenwriter of the 2006 Jane Eyre adaptation) which was 5 am my time! I was so excited to hear what Sandy had to say about writing Jane Eyre that I was wide awake by the time her panel started.

Special Guest: Sandy Welch

First off, I didn’t realize Welch had also written the screenplay for North and South (one of my absolute favorite period dramas!) so I was pretty much in awe of her talent, even though the 2006 Jane Eyre isn’t exactly my favorite. If you read through my reviews of all the adaptations here. I have a few issues with the scenes after the failed wedding where Jane and Rochester are on her bed. And also I felt like the dialogue and added scenes did not always feel true to the novel. But Welch talked about her approach to adapting Jane Eyre and I agreed with all of her comments. Jane is a modern woman in that she is making her own way in the world, and that her thoughts and prose in the book are direct and clear to the reader. And Welch was glad to give more time to the conversations between Jane and Rochester so that the humor and intelligence that connects them shines through. The emotions were allowed to develop and we can see how Rochester changes with Jane.  

There was some discussion about the character of Rochester and how the audience needs to see that they deserve each other and are equals. So you see more of Rochester’s vulnerabilities and emotions in this adaptation. It’s important to remember too that Charlotte made Bertha irredeemable so that Rochester could not make his situation better, but he tried his best to take care of her.  

A question from the audience did bring up that scene where Jane must say goodbye to Rochester and they end up on her bed - I was very keen to know what Welch would say. She acknowledged that it was a bold choice, but there is that sensuality in the book, and Rochester wants to “impress” himself on Jane, and throughout the novel, Jane is very passionate. It seemed natural to Welch to have that shown on screen. It’s a bit of artistic license that still doesn’t sit easily with me, but I am glad to know the thought process was grounded in trying to take a realistic approach to how that scene would develop.

Another question also asked about the addition of the twins and the doubles theme in the adaptation. Welch included that to give Jane an opportunity to participate in the conversation around her since she is intelligent and able to hold her own. And to show that not all of the people in Rochester’s party are horrible. It also gives a little foreshadowing to the call across the moors between Jane and Rochester near the end.

The last topic I want to mention is when someone asked what the difference was between approaching Margaret Hale’s character (from North and South) and Jane Eyre. Welch worked to make Margaret more sympathetic and Thornton a little less so, so that they were equals in the story - much like Jane and Rochester already are.

A Day in the Life of the Parsonage

I was very excited about this next panel, where Ann Dindsdale, the collections manager of the Parsonage, and Rebecca Yorke, the communications manager, talk about what it is like to manage the Parsonage day to day. It made me long to be able to work there myself! Just think how lovely it would be to be up early in the morning at the house, preparing for the visitors that day.

On my last visit to the Parsonage, I was able to take the VIP tour (which I talked about here) and I have to say seeing a glimpse of the place behind the scenes and led by a knowledgeable docent was amazing. They do wonderful work there!

The two talked about the work that goes into maintaining the house - especially during the month-long closure in January where they clean every book and check every piece of furniture! When asked how they decide what to display, Ann said she puts out “what she likes” (lucky!) but it was also good to rotate everything regularly.  

The Parsonage feels it is important for guests to “engage with the Parsonage” - a wonderful way to describe how the guests are made to feel when they visit - as a part of the experience. And with social distancing right now due to the pandemic, visiting the Parsonage couldn’t be a more personal and intimate experience. I so wish I could make the trip across the pond right now and visit!

Author Roundtable: The Brontës, the 21st Century and Us

This was a fascinating panel with talented authors. I’ve read some of their books so I’ll link to my review of their work when possible. The panel was moderated by Rowan Coleman (The Vanished Bride) and included Finola Austin (Brontës’ Mistress), Syrie James (The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Brontë), Sarah Shoemaker (Mr. Rochester), Julie Cohen (Spirited), Lucy Powrie (The Paper Hearts Society) and Nikita Gil (a well-known poet, although unfortunately I am unfamiliar with her work.  

The conversation was dense and thought-provoking. The authors touched on many topics and ideas beginning with how each author felt about the Brontës’ work. Their books are about identity and who we are as people - we can live by their ideals, said Lucy. Sarah said that women are still not equal to men in how they are treated today and she loves how Jane does not hesitate to tell Rochester that she does not think him handsome - it’s an unconventional answer, the unexpected one, and it shows how they are opening up to each other and on their way to being equals. Syrie is fascinated by the almost mythical story they lived in their little place in the world. And how you can feel their rage against patriarchal societies in their work. Nikita pointed out that patriarchy erases the role of women, but the Brontës have endured in spite of that.

In their approach to writing stories that revolve around the Brontës and their work, they try to be as reverential as possible and stick to the facts because so much of their lives are known, and their stories can be very autobiographical.  

Julie talked about how we read the Brontës to find out about ourselves. With Villette especially there is a sense with Lucy Snowe that she is hiding a part of herself from the reader and people can relate to that.

The talk ended with thoughts on publishing bias - how women may not need to publish under pseudonyms today, but there is still a bias against what a woman writes and against race, sexuality, and many other things. We as readers need to show that we are interested in reading about a variety of lives and experiences.

In Conversation with Adam Nagaitis

Adam Nagaitis played Branwell Brontë in the film To Walk Invisible and talked with the organizers about his role. They opened by asking him trivia questions about Branwell to see how much he remembered from his research. Adam mentioned that he is still in touch with the actresses who played his sisters which I think is wonderful. They seem to all have gotten along very well.  

Adam read all the classic works on Branwell to prepare, but he also dived into documentaries on alcoholism and it’s gruesome realities to understand Branwell better. Branwell wasn’t mature enough to deal with the vicissitudes in his life - with his relationship with Lydia he was excessive and consumed. He thought that turned her off from him, and that started a cycle where he blamed himself for the failed relationship and his failures in his art.  

Because he was always surrounded by the people who knew him best, he was always reminded of his failure. Adam’s approach was very sympathetic to Branwell and tried to understand him mentally. Adam also talked about how he felt Branwell was never free as an artist. He always needed to work for the family or money but he could have been a brilliant newspaper satirist - something that might have been more along with his interests since he made wonderful biting cartoons.

In Conversation with Sally Wainwright

The last panel of the conference was a talk with Sally Wainwright - the writer and director of the superb Brontë biopic To Walk Invisible. Sally was approached to write this back in 2010 but she didn’t have time until 2016 which coincided with Charlotte’s bicentenary. It was a tough shoot for her as she felt she didn’t get all the shots she wanted, but the set was fantastic. They recreated the Parsonage as accurately as they could, resulting in a place that is bleaker and more isolated than the actual Parsonage today.  

Sally also mentioned something that I found interesting - that she felt like the “Victorian” speak that people use today in period dramas probably didn’t really exist. We have constructed people in our period drama adaptations to speak in a particular way. And that the inclusion of curse words in her program showed that the characters were very like us - of course Branwell would curse and say the F-word.  

Her approach to adapting the story was always to show it as realistically as possible and she wanted to show how the family was an interdependent team. For people who felt that Branwell was featured too much in the story - it’s important to remember that he was the leader of their gang as children and that when they were older, living with an addict affected their work as can be seen in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Wuthering Heights.  

And speaking of Tenant of Wildfell Hall, apparently, Sally is working on a screenplay for the story, although it is on the backburner at the moment. She is having a hard time empathizing with Helen - especially because it is difficult today to empathize with a character who behaves in a certain way solely because of their religious beliefs. I do hope we get to see her adaptation of Anne’s work someday soon though!

[brightingales]

Mr Nightingale (5k)

Rated: T, No Warnings  Read on AO3 here 

Harry and James decide that breaking up and moving on is the right thing to do. Harry is fine with it; until he really, really isn’t.

Or – James steals one of Mr Rochester’s schemes from Jane Eyre to try and drive Harry wild with jealousy. Spoiler: it works. 

#Wedding Planning #Anglst with a Happy Ending #Jane Eyre References #Pining

“Ah, Harry!” James says as he sits down at the coffee table. “Just the man I wanted to see!”

Harry finds that hard to believe; ever since their break-up they’ve been doing a very good job of ignoring each other. Harry has finally been able to build a life for himself – no longer in Ste’s shadow or held within James’s clutches. He’s mending his relationship with his family. He’s enrolled in a course at a University in Liverpool. He’s got his own place (or, at least, he’s living off his student loan and sharing a house with four other lads who are all even younger than him).

“I can’t,” he says, trying to disappear into his Tort Law textbook, “I’m waiting for Dad. Dee Dee’s last chemo treatment is today, and I wanted to take him for coffee afterwards.”

“A noble idea,” James says with a smile. “It’s only a quick question that I need your help with.” James is using that tone of voice that means he’s just going to sit and badger on until he gets his way. Harry sighs and closes his book.

“You have a sort of… youthful flair with fashion,” James says, “and you’ve always dressed better than your peers. You’ve got quite the eye for design, actually, when you put your mind to it. Anyway, I was wondering if you would give me your opinion on this.”

James reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a file which he opens to reveal a collection of scraps of paper. It takes Harry a while to piece together what he is looking at.

“Is this a mood board?” Harry asks. The thought of James flicking through magazines, cutting things out, and painstakingly sticking them down is so unlike any image he has of James in his head that he briefly wonders if he has somehow gained a concussion in the last few seconds.

“No. Well, I suppose it is in a roundabout way.”

“Are you decorating?”

“No! It’s for the wedding, of course!”

The entire world stops for Harry.

James is getting married. He’s really moved on. Harry has lost his final chance to win him back. He chokes down the bile rising in his throat and takes a deep breath to cover the fact that he feels like he might burst into tears like some scolded schoolboy.

“Oh… Cool…” Harry can only say one word at a time. “Wedding… Wow…”

James seems amused by Harry’s mental breakdown but thankfully allows him time to process the information.

“Yes, well, it was a bit of a shock to me. I’ve never been the marrying kind. But this is the right thing to do! I love him, I want to commit to him, and I plan to give him the kind of security that he’s never had before.”

Hearing James declare his love for someone else is like a knife in Harry’s chest. Everything else is just salt in the wound.

“I want every detail to be perfect for him,” James continues not noticing the way Harry is wincing every time James mentions his fiancé. “Which is why I need your help picking the colour scheme.”

Harry would literally rather do anything else. But he knows James: he’s not going to let this drop. It’s better to give him a quick answer and escape the situation than spend ages arguing about it. He takes the folder in his hands and tries to hide his face with it so that James won’t see the angry blush colouring his cheeks. James has shown a surprising amount of artistic flair here: there are colour swatches, photographs of different suit cuts, even a peacock feather stuck to the page labelled ‘for inspiration’.

“Emerald,” Harry eventually chokes out. “It will match your eyes. Then maybe a lighter green for him. Or Purple for you both. And white. Everyone wants white at their wedding.”

“And the flowers? Roses or…”

“I’ve got to go,” Harry interrupts, utterly desperate to get away. “Good luck with the wedding planning,” he says as he haphazardly packs up his things and throws himself towards the exit.

It’s the least sincere thing he’s ever said.  

--

There’s a sort of commotion coming from around the corner and Harry alters the path he is jogging on so that he can find out what the cause is. It becomes immediately clear. A gang of the village’s teenagers is ‘ooohing’ and ‘ahhhing’ over a dark silver Aston Martin parked outside James’s flat.

The car is gorgeous. So is the man standing beside it. James is perfectly matched to the sleek and beautiful machine. The curves of his body, that Harry once knew so well, are hugged by a new charcoal coloured suit. James’s favourite chequered pattern is delicately woven into the material and a blood red tie bringing together the whole scene with an elaborate flourish.

Harry aches at the sight of him.

“Harry!” Damn James and his ability to spot Harry in a crowd. “Just the man I wanted to see! What do you think of my new wheels?”

“Yeah, they’re great,” Harry admits through gritted teeth. “Who doesn’t like an Aston Martin?”

“Who indeed?” James says with a wry smile. “So, you think this will make an acceptable carriage for the new Mr Nightingale?” Another mention of James’s fiancé is another bruise on Harry’s heart. James either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Won’t we look good together, driving off to the wedding venue?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry replies.

“Of course, you’ll look good; you look good in everything,” remains unsaid.

--

The only way he can avoid James is to spend as much time as he can away from the village. Which is fine; he doesn’t really have any reason to be there except for the occasional cautious visit home. He’s doing well for himself in Liverpool. Sure, making friends is a bit difficult; he’s not yet found anyone who he shares any ‘common life experiences’ with. But that’s ok. He’s got his law books to curl up with in the evening and a new city to explore in the day. Harry’s even challenged himself if he can find a new coffee shop to go to whenever he needs a caffeine fix.

So how is it possible, that out of literally hundreds of different coffee shops in this city, Harry walks into the only one where James Nightingale is sitting. He almost turns on his heal and storms out. James hasn’t seen him yet. It would be so easy to just quietly slip away and pretend that none of this has happened.

“Coward” a voice within him calls.

Harry could move to Timbuktu and he would still look for James around every corner. He would still dream of bumping into him and seeing him smile once more. He would still find things that made him think of James and made him want to talk to him, even if they were living thousands of miles apart. Separation clearly isn’t helping him get over James. He needs another approach. Perhaps, if they can’t be lovers, they can at least try to be friends?

“James,” Harry says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh! Harry!” James looks up from the magazine he’s flicking through. “You’re looking well! Law school must suit you.”

Harry knows that he must be blushing. Coming from James, this is high praise indeed.

“Do you want a drink?” James asks.

Harry feels like he is on the precipice of something. Sure, he has just had a full-on argument with himself about whether or not he should try being friends with James. But letting James buy him coffee feels like a line in the sand somehow. Still, Harry knows himself well enough to realise that he can’t walk away from James. Especially when the older man is looking up at him with a wide and genuine smile.

So, they have coffee as James listens to Harry talk about his University course. They compare the differences in their training and tell silly jokes about how Harry’s “experiences” with the legal system have given him an edge over his fellow students. Harry confesses that he doesn’t think he’ll ever understand Property Law and James swears him to secrecy when he admits that he once failed an exam and had to work the whole way through summer to retake it before any of his friends noticed that he was behind.

It’s so easy, it’s almost scary. Falling back into friendship with James is like rediscovering a favourite album. Everything feels familiar, Harry still remembers all the lyrical parts of the man sitting in front of him, even the tiny details that he thought he had long forgotten – like the crease at the corner of his eye or the precise tone of his sigh. He knows that he will be singing James in his head for the rest of the day.  

“What are you doing in Liverpool, then?” Harry eventually asks.

“Well, this might be old fashioned, but I was at the travel agents. I know: I’m a dinosaur. But I wanted some advice on Honeymoon destinations and it’s so much easier to talk to a real person about these sorts of things.”

Harry nearly chokes on his coffee. That warm and fuzzy feeling that has settled so nicely over their conversation suddenly turns lukewarm. The spectre of this hated fiancé hovers behind James and Harry curses himself for not running away when he had the chance.

“Anyway, I left the shop more confused than when I started,” James continues. “What do you think of Ibiza? I know I’d probably stick out like a sore thumb, but I’m sure the new Mr Nightingale will enjoy it immensely, and I just want to see him happy.”

Harry doesn’t know much about Ibiza, but he does know that he’s going to be sick. Still, it would be rude to throw up the coffee James has just bought him all over the man’s expensive leather shoes, so he gets a hold of himself. After all, James had to watch him swan about the village planning his disastrous wedding to Ste. Some might say this is Karma. He picks up some of the glossy brochures lying across the table. The bright colours and photoshopped pictures proclaim that the holidays featured inside are “great deals” that are “perfect for two!” He flicks through the pages trying not to imagine that he is the one James wants to take backpacking in Eastern Europe, or on a cruise around the frozen fjords of Norway, or on the road trip of a lifetime along the north-California coast.

Harry knows that he will dream of this tonight – a perfect nightmare where James leads him around the globe by the hand and shows him off as Mr Nightingale to every person that they meet.

Now is not the time for fantasy. He needs to give James his answer or risk appearing sullen and ungrateful. He’s too ashamed of himself and his continued pathetic crush on James to admit that he was wrong when he said that they should end things, that he couldn’t see a future for the two of them, that he was fine with James moving on and seeing other people.

“Your fiancé will enjoy the beaches,” Harry says eventually. He doesn’t actually know if this is true; he’s never met the man. But he has seen James hanging around with a tall, slim, boy who has a toned body, a snappy dress sense, and impeccably groomed facial hair. Harry shouldn’t judge –especially when he is hurt and wounded and looking for an excuse to hate something – but the boy seems to be the sort that would go on holiday just to display his body and work on his tan.  

“But…” Harry continues, “You’ll get bored. And sunburnt. You should go somewhere romantic. Classic. Somewhere where you can show off exactly how much you know about the local art or the architecture…”

“Won’t that be a bit boring for him…?” James asks with a strange sort of smile.

“Not if he loves you!” Harry says, almost too quickly. “I mean… healthy relationships are about compromise, right? You told me that once. He should want to let you soak up all the culture you can, and I know you’ll prioritise his wants without sacrificing your own because that’s how you always were with me…”

It’s a stupid thing to say.

Harry might as well have just carved his own heart out of his chest and laid it, still beating and bleeding, on the table in front of them. This isn’t fair. He wants James. And it was only through his own stupidity that he lost him. But that doesn’t mean that James should be miserable too. The least Harry can do is give James and his new lover his blessing.

He finds exactly the right page and hands it back over to James.

“Genoa?” the older man questions. “It’s a bit unusual.”

“It’s perfect. I thought of maybe Barcelona or Venice but they’re both too touristy. Genoa has the best of everything you want. Sun. Great food. Loads of things that you can do together…”

“This is perfect Harry,” James tells him. That strange smile Harry has noticed before blooms over James’s lips again and Harry aches to reach out and kiss him. James looks so pleased with the thought of marrying his lover and taking him off to Italy, but there’s something else there too. The gleam in James’s eye that he only ever gets when a plan starts forming in his head. The confident posture that James only relaxes into when he is sure that he has done the right thing. The blush on his neck that only appears when James is imagining something filled with pleasure and passion.

Harry is about to tear out his own hair with envy. But thankfully, before he can go completely mad, something distracts James.

“Christ is that the time?” James says. “Sorry, Harry. I’ve got an important appointment and I have to run. It was nice to see you. And thanks for the help – this honeymoon will be perfect!”

Harry doesn’t watch him leave. He just stares at the floor and wishes that it will swallow him whole.  

He stays there for ages, too paralyzed with jealousy to move. He knows he’s been there too long when one of the waitresses comes over to the table and pointedly asks him whether he’s going to finish the last dregs of cold coffee in his mug. He shakes his head but doesn’t get out of the way even when she starts to tidy up around him. He knows he’s being childish, but he needs to sit and sulk for just a little while longer.

“Oh! Your friend left his wallet on the table,” the waitress says. “Can you tell him we’ve put it behind the counter for him?”

Harry’s never been much of a masochist, but he must be in the mood for it today. Because before he can realise what a bad idea this is he’s saying: “No need. James and I live in the same village. I’ll take it back to his place now.”

He grabs the wallet – maybe a little too forcefully – out of her hand. For a second, she looks like she is going to argue with him, and Harry realises that he probably looks quite suspicious. “If he comes back, tell him Harry has his wallet,’ he says to reassure her before throwing his coat on and rushing out of the shop.

--

The whole journey back to Hollyoaks is spent worrying that he has made a massive mistake. After that disastrous attempt at friendship, Harry knows now more than ever that if he wants to get over James he needs to stay away. But Harry feels just as desperate to see James as he did back in the early days of their affair. It’s like there is thread suspended between the two of them, one end tied around the bones of Harry’s ribcage, the other clasped in James’s hand for him to pull and tug on however he wishes. If James lets go, Harry will drift away, like a balloon caught in the breeze, unable to find his way back to safety, drifting aimlessly away from everything he once called ‘home’.

James is in the flat; the light from the living room window tells Harry that. He should probably just post the wallet back through the letterbox of the front door, and for a moment that seems like the most elegant solution. But, of course, the wallet is too swollen with cash and ticket stubs to fit through. Harry will have to be brave.

He knocks.

For once, James looks surprised.

“Youleftyourwallet” comes out all in one word. Harry holds it out to James, who takes it. But rather than simply closing the door on him, as Harry half hoped that he would, James moves aside, implicitly inviting him in. Harry is helpless but to follow him.

“Thanks for this,” James says as he places the wallet on the breakfast bar. “You’ve saved me the journey back into Liverpool.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Harry mutters, ducking his head so that he won’t have to see the peculiar way James is looking at him. Something is off with him tonight. As he turns his head, Harry notices a pair of suits laid out across the back of the sofa. James catches him looking.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?”

“Special occasion?” Harry asks, half knowing the answer already.

“What else!” James replies. He goes over to unzip one of the suits out of its protective cover. The suit jacket he pulls out is a rich and deep purple. Harry can tell, just by looking, that it is made out of the finest quality wool. James holds it out to Harry as if he can see Harry’s fingers itch to touch it.

“I took your advice, with some adaptations, of course,” James tells him. “Purple for the wedding suits, emerald accents where possible. A darker shirt for me, something lighter and more youthful for him. I’d make a joke about that reflecting our personalities, but it would probably be too crass,” he says with a sly chuckle. “Here, help me with this.”

James seems to suddenly grow eight arms, because before Harry can even register what’s happening, James has taken him out of his coat and slipped the suit jacket onto Harry’s shoulders. He moves quickly, pulling the fabric this way and that, checking the fit and smoothing out non-existent creases. He drags Harry further into the living room, looking at him intensely under the light and circling him like a vulture.

“Stay there. I just need to check something,” James tells Harry, heading off into the bedroom and leaving Harry shocked and alone. He doesn’t even have the time to process what has happened before James is back, a large mirror in his hands. He holds it up so that Harry can take a good look at himself.

The suit fits. It shouldn’t – for all that Harry has always been a bit petite, there’s a breadth to his shoulders and a thickness to his chest that doesn’t match the scrawny frame of James’s new lover. It should be far too small for him, but instead, every dart, every seam, every fold, hits the perfect angle on his torso. The shade of purple is beautiful. Royal in its richness, Harry has never seen a colour that suits his skin so well or makes him look as elegant and as refined as this. The wool is just as heavy as he thought it would be. But rather than feeling like a comfort, the weight that presses down on his shoulders and hugs around his torso feels like it may suffocate him at any moment.

Finally, he stares his reflection in the eye. He looks like a dream. Like an impossible fantasy of the life he so wishes he could live.

“James…” he says, his voice thick with tears. “James, this has to stop.”

James has been admiring the suit from where he is holding the mirror. But when he sees the tears in Harry’s eyes his expression changes from one of pride to one of horror.

“You are many things, James,” Harry continues. “You are spiteful, and egotistical, and conniving. But you’ve never been cruel. At least not to me.” The tears flow freely, and Harry gives in to the urge to sob, “so why are you being so cruel now?”

“Harry… I….”

Harry tries to wipe some of the tears away ignoring James’s pity-filled eyes: “Look. I get it. I deserve this for what I put you through with Ste. And I thought I could handle it. Talking about colours, and flowers, and venues. It hurt but it was fine. I guessed it was karma. That I deserved it after all the pain I caused you. But this! Dressing me up like your fiancé, making me wear the clothes that he is going to marry you in, dangling the future I could have had in front of me and then snatching it away…? How could you be so vindictive? Don’t you feel anything for me?”

Harry’s knees buckle under him and he falls onto the sofa. He hides his face in his hands and, for the first time in months, lets all of the hurt and disappointment flow out of him. The sleeves of the suit jacket are wet with tears. His face is red and blotchy. He must look so disgusting to James.

“I guess you just feel contempt,” Harry murmurs through his sobs. “It’s all I deserve but… this is too much. I can’t stand being so jealous. And I can’t bear for you to be out in the world hating me as much as you do now.”

Through the tightness in his chest and the throbbing pain in his head from crying too much too fast, Harry becomes aware of the fact that James has moved and is now standing in front of him. Harry looks up at James looking down at him, so perfect and so handsome and so utterly out of his reach.

“James… Please…” Harry begs.

James’s expression is unreadable: “What are you asking for, Harry?”

“I don’t know…!” it comes out almost like a wail and Harry has to hide his face again; he’s so embarrassed.

The sofa dips beside him and James rests a hand softly on Harry’s back as if he is trying to soothe the sobs that still wrack his body. It’s a kindness that tastes too vicious for words.

“Come on now, no more tears,” James says quietly. “I’ve never liked seeing you upset.”

Harry does his best to pull himself together. James offers him a tissue and he does what he can to mop his face up and look a bit more presentable. He’s sure he looks a wreck though; he feels like the tears he has cried have left a trail of blisters down his cheeks.

“Harry, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to give me an honest answer, ok?” James eventually says. “What do you actually think of my fiancé?”

“Oh James, come on.”

“I know. Just answer me. What do you think of him?”

Harry tries to conjure an image of the young man in his head. “I don’t know him well enough. He’s handsome I guess. Young. Even younger than me…”

“And how do you feel when you see me touch him, or kiss him?”

“James…”

“Just answer,” James says, his voice still quiet and soothing.

Harry knows that watching James be with someone else makes him overwhelmed with jealousy and he opens his mouth to tell James that. But then… then he realises he’s actually never seen the two of them do more but walk around the village chatting, or sometimes sit and have a coffee together.

“I haven’t seen you,” Harry admits. “I thought you were trying to spare my feelings.”

“Even after all the things you’ve just accused me of doing?”

Harry shakes his head, utterly ashamed of himself.

“Look,” James says reaching over to take a photo frame off the coffee table. The picture is a selfie of James and his young man, smiling gently in the winter sunshine. “This boy here – his name is Romeo. He’s not my fiancé.”

Harry needs a moment to let the news sink in. He spent so long obsessed with the idea that this boy will one day marry his James that he’d never even considered the fact that he’s not actually seen them be affectionate in public.

“He’s my son,” James explains.

Really, it’s just made the whole scenario much more confusing. But the relief Harry feels is enough to make him accept the news without questioning it. Much.

“How?” he manages to say.

James shrugs. “It’s a long, complicated, and not particularly pleasant story. I’ve only known about him for 6 months or so and we’re still trying to figure out what kind of relationship we want to have. But that’s why I’ve been spending so much time with him. Nothing else.”

“But if he’s not your fiancé, who is…?”

James sighs. He gets up and goes to the kitchen where he pours two glasses of whiskey.

“You’ve accused me of being cruel, and you’re right,” James admits as he hands one of the glasses over to Harry. “I’m not proud of myself, but it was the only way I could think of to get through to you. You weren’t answering my calls. You were hardly ever in the village. I needed to be sure that you still wanted me, and I didn’t trust you to be honest with me if I asked.”

“James, what are you talking about?”

“I thought you might get the hint after the colours. Or that, maybe, you had figured it out when I asked about the honeymoon….”

“You’re not making any sense, James,” Harry interrupts.

“It’s you, Harry. You’re the man I’m going to marry.”

Harry pauses. And then: “Are you joking? Aren’t I upset enough for you, now you have to dig the knife in even more? Christ, when did you become such a sadist?” He knows he has to leave so he pushes the whiskey glass away from him and tears himself out of the suit throwing it at James’s head.

“You’ve never read Jane Eyre have you?” James asks.

“And now you’re taking the piss!”

“I’m not Harry!” James shouts. “I’m not. I promise. I’m just explaining myself badly. Please, hear me out.”

Harry considers his options. He can’t help but feel that he’s the centre of some massive cruel joke. But he also can’t say no to James when he is looking at him with such hope in his eyes.

“Fine,” Harry concedes. “But I need you to be clear with me, ok? What exactly is going on?”

James goes over to where Harry is hovering by the door unsure of whether he should cut his losses and run. They stand toe-to-toe and Harry’s vision is suddenly full of green eyes and rose-pink skin.

“I wanted you to be jealous. I shouldn’t have done. But I didn’t know how else to get your attention. I thought if you realised I had moved on you might try and fight to get me back. So, I sat down, I imagined what it would be like to marry you, and I constructed this fake engagement in my head so that I could ask you all sorts of questions about it and find out if you had really let me go. But then, you gave me such good advice. You were so thoughtful and so selfless. And I realised that I couldn’t deceive you like this anymore, that I was wrong to try and manipulate you like that. I was actually, just now, on my way out to come to find you and tell you the truth.”

“All of this,” Harry asks, “just to make me think you were marrying someone else? Just to make me admit that I want it to be me that you marry?”

“Do you?” James asks, his voice cracking with hope. “Do you still want that?”

After all the angst – the upsets, and the envy, and the bone-crushing agony of thinking that he had lost James for good – he knows now more than ever that whatever mistake James has made Harry will always find it within himself to forgive him.

He tells him so with a kiss. Harry reaches up and caresses the back of James’s neck. He pulls him down and presses their lips together, the touch as light as a pair of butterfly wings.

“Harry,” James sounds utterly broken when they pull apart.

“I love you, James,” Harry says to reassure him. “These last weeks have been hell, and I’m still cross that you put me through them, but I love you more than anything. And I’m so strangely flattered that you went to all this effort just to make me jealous. I mean – you ordered suits.”

James smiles at that. “I had your one made to your measurements. I couldn’t wait to see you in it, and when you turned up today I couldn’t resist. We can take them back though if you want to.”

“I’m not sure they’ll take them back; not with my snot all over the sleeves.” That, at least, causes James to laugh and helps him relax a little bit more. “Anyway. I love my suit. And I want to marry you in it.”

“Really?” James gasps.

Harry wraps his arms around James’s middle, pulls him closer so that he can rest his head against James’s chest and listen to his heartbeat there.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this recently. And there’s one thing I know for sure now. I want to be Mr Nightingale. I want all of the things you described to me. I want the security and the commitment. I want a ring on my finger that shows the world that you love me. I want to be part of your family. I want to belong to you, legally, and I want you to be mine.”

“Harry Thompson, are you proposing to me?” James asks with so much joy in his voice that Harry thinks he might burst.

“Mr Nightingale, are you saying yes?”

It’s James’s turn to kiss him now. Which he does. Over and over and over again.

[alpacasandravens]

First, Last, and POV!

first of all I love you for asking. this is gonna be hard.

First- Ona large island a day’s voyage from the mainland, a house perched in the middleof wide fields. Once, this house might have been called beautiful – and itcould still, though now it had faded to the somber air of something that oncewas grand.

Last- (the last 2 sentences I wrote are from 2 different scenes so.)

The blind panic didn’t fade from Jon’s eyes until late thatafternoon.

Jervis nodded absently and lost himself in the steady rhythmof his watch.

POV- I’m going to put this under the cut because it’s a bit long. I really loved writing this!! I adore Alice and I’m glad I finally got to write in her POV.

Some context for this scene: Jon is their mutual best friend, and Alice has had a deadly blood/heart condition since birth that is fairly magical in nature. With that being said, here goes.

Alice dropped five pillows onto the pile of blankets herbrother had carefully arranged. She flopped down among them, glad thistradition wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’tcurled up under this window to watch the lightning.

For several minutes, she watched the dark clouds flickergreen and the sheets of rain approach the house. The tree in the backyard lostthe last of its leaves to the wind, orange specks quickly lost to the wind. Thefirst storm of the winter was here, and it was beautiful.

But Jervis still wouldn’t sit down. Sure enough, he hadperched near the edge of the blankets and kept glancing at the attic door,looking far too much like a lost puppy.

“Just go talk to him,” Alice sighed, exasperated.

Jervis pointed at the window. Outside, the fence at the edgeof the yard was barely visible through the downpour.

“Tomorrow.” She couldn’t believe her brother. He’d sataround the house moping, waiting for Jon to come back for weeks.

“Will you come as well?” He asked, hopeful.

“No, I think this is a you problem.” Alice smiled sadly. Howcould he not see what was going on? She missed Jon too, of course she did, butat some point over the last eight years Jervis had hung his hopes for the worldon Jon, and he didn’t even realize. “And besides, I think I’ll be staying heretomorrow,” she added as an afterthought.

Jervis picked up a corner of one of the blankets around her.“Here?”

Alice nodded. Jervis had spent more time than usual in hishead the last several weeks. She didn’t blame him, the situation with Jon beingwhat it was, but when he’d withdrawn from the world, he’d stopped payingattention to her. At first, it had been wonderful—there was no one to worryabout her, to ask her if she was okay doing things she had always done. But whenthe cold had come, it had settled into her blood. She was transparent, everyvein in her body glowing a violent purple through her skin.

She pushed up her sleeve, and Jervis took her wrist in hishand. She counted out the seconds, one, two, three, four, five, six, while hecounted the beats.

“Thirteen.”

“It feels different, recently. I can feel it in my veins,everywhere it goes. Sometimes it’s warm. Sometimes I feel like I have iceinside me.”

Alice waited for him to ask her about it, for him to beconfused, concerned, anything. But it didn’t happen. She sat among the blankets,and he knelt next to her, still holding her wrist. He still held it when she leanedagainst him, hoping her physical weight would get rid of that lost look in hiseyes.

After a while, Jervis spoke. “Everything feels like it’sending.”

“How?” Alice mumbled.

“With Jon gone, and with you getting worse. And I don’t knowhow to help.” Jervis paused, waiting for her to speak. Alice did not. “It’slike this part has all just been the prologue, and chapter one is about tostart. Or like in Jane Eyre, and all this time on our island is the time beforeshe leaves her school.”

“Are you off to find yourself a Rochester?” Alice teased,and they both laughed.

“I only picked that book because I know you read it!” Jervissputtered halfheartedly.

Alice kept laughing. “Yeah right. You used to read it allthe time.”

“I don’t want things to end here,” Jervis suddenly grewserious again. “I would stay here forever.”

But he couldn’t. Somehow, Alice knew Jervis didn’t know howright he was about things ending. Every morning, when she looked in the mirrorand saw herself, when she can still feel the burning cold inside her, she knew thingswere ending for her, and soon. “Forever is a long time, brother. And there’snothing you would change?”

“I would heal you,” he said, “and have Jon here likebefore.”

“If you could have anything in the world?” Alice asked.Where had the adventurer gone? When had her brother stopped wanting to explorenew lands, or fight dragons, or do any of the other things those heroes he hadalways admired had done? They’d grown up, she realized, somewhere along theway.

“That’s all I want.” Jervis sighed. “What would you wishfor?”

“I would see the world. Go everywhere, do everything.” Therehad always been the specter of death hanging over her, but it had stayed farenough away that she could ignore it. Now, it drew closer, and sometimes shecouldn’t help but think of all the things she had never seen, never done.

“We can do that, if you want. I can sell the house and we’llgo all through England and France, and in the summer we can go south and seeItaly, and from there—” Jervis rambled, slightly manic.

Alice brought her other hand over to cover Jervis’s, stilllightly holding her wrist. “There isn’t going to be a next summer,” she said,looking him directly in the eyes.

“How—” He paused, andAlice could practically hear him thinking. “There will be. There always is,” hemuttered to himself.

“I hope so,” Alice whispered.

Neither spoke again. Lightning flashed less often, with moretime before the crash of thunder. The sound of the rain pounding against thewindow grew fainter and fainter as Alice fell asleep, curled up in the blanketsnext to Jervis.

[rottenbrainstuff]

Last Jedi Thoughts

Everyone is chiming in with Last Jedi thoughts, so here's mine. Spoilers, obviously! Long and rambling and pointless discussion full of lots of spoilers below the cut.

In general I did enjoy the movie. I have some complaints about it that are really just technical in nature, a bit like reading a book with a good story that has a lot of spelling mistakes. You can still enjoy the story while you grumble about the spelling. And it's funny: watching the extremely negative reaction it's gotten from some people, especially fanboys, has had the effect of making me defend it more rigorously.

The one thing I was worried about was the characterization of Luke. Luke was always My Fav and the really important thing about him to me was his gentleness and compassion. I’m not sure this movie gave me exact the character I wanted, but like, I think I’m ok with it? It was different, and that’s ok.

Look, here's the thing. If you hate the new movies, and you think they're doing terrible things to your favourite characters, well, like, you always have the old movies, and you can ignore the new movies. Shit, you even have an alternate future laid out for you in the EU so like. Just ignore them. I fucking hate the prequels with a passion, you guys, but the prequels didn't ruin Star Wars for me. I just.... don't watch them. Ever. And I ignore everything that happened in them. And. I'm good. Like. That's all it takes? Anyways. The very best thing that I loved about the movie was all the playing with the audience expectations. (man though I think the stress shortened my lifespan. I'm telling you guys, if I watched Finn actually fly into that cannon I probably would have left the theater) Like. Man, I just about had a heart attack like three times. I think this movie shortened my life span. I really especially loved the plotline with Poe and Admiral Holdo, fuck I loved that so much. Guys I was just dying in the theatre when they set it up, DYING, my friends. That is probably my least favourite trope in the entire world, the hardass woman walks in like she owns the place and fucks everything up because she's a hardass, and the heroic rule breaking man saves the day by breaking rules because that's how it's won. I was dying. And Poe was WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. He got a lot of people in this movie killed. A lot of people. But like. It's not because Poe is a bad person. Leia AND Holdo can both see that. I really honestly think he learned a lot, and grew as a character. When he repeated Holdo's "spark of the resistance" speech later on I was so goddamned touched, obviously he has learned so much and has come to respect this person. I loved it. Oscar Isaac is a really charismatic and likeable actor but like, honestly Poe didn't have a whole lot to do in TFA. I feel like I know a lot more about Poe now and I like him so much more. I am kind of hoping the next movie keeps going with this "turn expectations on their head" thing because I really enjoyed it. Well it was sure funny watching Poe bullshit Hux on the comm, and funny to watch him get thrown around like the shit he is, but I'm not so sure... is it wise to set him up as the comic relief like that? I kind of feel like he could be a really sinister threat now, with Kylo Ren in charge and Hux ready to shoot him at the first opportunity... but I'm not sure I take him seriously. I feel like Hux probably had a job in customer service before he was a First Order Commander and that's why he's such a nasty little dogshit now. That sour face he has is the face of a man who has had to deal with a lifetime's worth of dumb customers. I can see myself as Hux in a few years... Ohhh that tricksy tricksy trailer, hunh?!? I was just about choking to death when Ren was in the cockpit and aiming at Leia’s ship, because!!! he presses!!!! the goddamned trigger!!! in the trailer!!! we saw it! Oh my fucking no! And then he TAKES HIS GODDAMNED THUMB OFF and I died. (well actually I started crying) Who else had a goddamned heart attack there????????? Rose was delightful. I wish she could have had more time with Finn cause they were delightful together. DJ (Benicio Del Toro's character) was just...... awful. Like, awful in a good way. Like. That character right there is everything that's really wrong in the world, everything that prevents us from being better. He's not "evil", he's not supporting the First Order because he believes it's the right cause, he's not even an ignorant asshole who doesn't know any better... he knows exactly what he's doing and he does. not. care. One of my favourite lines in the entire movie was Finn yelling at him that he's wrong, and he says, "maybe." Like, not in a sarcastic villain way like Kylo Ren telling Rey "we'll see" when Rey says she's not telling him anything. He means it absolutely sincerely. He doesn't even pretend he's right, like "oh kid, you're so naive, you'll see it my way someday," nope, just, you're right, he might be wrong. He doesn't care. That took my breath away. The porgs: I liked them! They were funny! I wasn't annoyed! And as for the stuff I didn't like.... welp, guys what I'm hearing is that you're hearing a lot about what's wrong with the movie and it's bumming you out a bit. So you know what, I don't know if I'm going to get into it. I do have some complaints about this movie but they're mostly technical. I have some issues with the plot and pacing, and I think the visual composition and visual narrative are weak, (and sometimes just downright bizarre) which is kind of a disappointment when traditionally, Star Wars has always been very big on the visual composition. There were a lot of moments were I was going "oh, that is a very odd choice". To be very honest, it reminded me a lot of the prequels, the prequels had the exact same problem. HOWEVER, the reason I actually liked this movie whereas I can barely even watch the prequels is that all of the characters are emotionally resonant, the themes of the movie are strong, and the playing with expectations was so delightful. Oh no wait, I do have one complaint: why the hell cast Gwendolyn Christie if you're not going to use her? What a waste. I'm hoping against hope she's going to be resting up in a med bay in the next movie and actually have some shit to do, but I'm not holding my breath. Guys I think I could have lived my whole life without that green milk. WTF Now here's some things I'm *confused* about. Why.... why are so many of you talking about Kylo Ren like... you seem to have split him into two people? Almost like Kylo Ren is this malevolent evil spirit occasionally possessing the body of the pure and lovely Ben Solo? It bothers me to see this and I actually kind of wish people wouldn't do it. It's all one single person, and like, that's kind of the point. Kylo Ren has fucked up, a lot. He's made bad decisions and has disappointed literally every single person who ever had faith in him. He feels conflicted by his actions though and hates himself down to his last atom. That's all him. That's BEN SOLO down there making these shitty decisions, and I feel like that's important. I don't like the character because I have excised all his faults and attributed them to some outside force, I like the character because he's complicated and struggling and because he has the capacity for compassion and darkness all in the same breath. I mean I feel like that's kind of why he insisted on Rey saying out loud what he had done. Say it out loud. I own it. That's me. And a monster, yes, I own that, too. I'm not your poor lost prince who just needs a hug and I'll come following you back to the Resistance ship. So guys, like, let's own it, too. It wasn't Ben's alter ego Countess Boochie Flagrante doing all the bad stuff. Life, and the decay underneath, that makes more life, right? I see some of you despairing about Rey closing the door and leaving without Ben, but I'm also a bit confused about that. Like... you didn't really think he would go, did you? This is only the second movie in a trilogy, and just like the original trilogy, it's ending on a low note with lots of conflict and unanswered questions for us to build up from in the next movie. Like, did you see the anguish in his face? Does this look like the face of a man who has lost the last spark of compassion in his heart, and is now ready to unhesitatingly rule the galaxy as the new Supreme Leader? And do you really think Rey has lost all that amazing compassion that she found? All that's happened is that she's realized that her approach didn't work, there's too much history there for her to just walk in and ask him to come with her. Honestly I agree with what a lot of you have said: Rey can't save Kylo Ren, he has to save himself. For as much as he talked to her about giving up the past, he is hilariously unable to do so himself. He can't forgive the people in his life for failing him, and he can't forgive himself for all the stupid shit he has done. He won't be able to go with Rey until he does that. I have no idea what he needs to be able to do that, or if it's even possible. I guess we'll see. Lastly I see some people saying Star Wars has become Pride and Prejudice in space. The comparison is funny but I don't know if I quite agree... Kylo Ren was haughty in the very beginning, but ever since the interrogation scene he's been pretty bluntly honest in his admiration of her. She's being pretty blunt about her intentions, too. And her journey hasn't been so much trying to see the truth about him, but rather becoming a strong and independent person on her own. The problem now is that they're both trying to convince each other to do what they think is right, so, as other people have pointed out, I am instead getting a JANE EYRE in space vibe. So we're at the part in the story where Jane has realized she can't be with Rochester and go against everything she feels is right, and she's left him to go and be her own person without him. ...the comparison is slightly worrying though because Rochester had to loose everything and also get seriously injured before Jane came back.............. (the whole "you're nothing" thing was... I don't see it as him insulting her out of a Darcy-like pride, I see it as...... a really big thing for him in this movie seems to be blunt truth. Yes, I'm a monster. I killed my father, say it out loud. Here's the truth about what happened with Luke that night. You know the truth about your parents, say it out loud. Accept the unpleasant truth. So here's the unpleasant truth she needs to accept. She's nothing, she came from nothing. She has no secret Skywalker or Kenobi parents who loved her. Accept that truth and then move forward.) So now let's talk about Rey, and let's talk about Kylo Ren. So, I think the big success of the Star Wars franchise has always been that all the characters are very emotionally resonant. It so happens that the two most personally resonant characters for me are Rey and Kylo Ren, and how lucky for me that the movie focuses so much on them. Rey just breaks my heart. She is so lonely and so desperately wanting to feel part of something. She doesn't NEED to be a part of anything, of course. She is beautiful and strong all on her own, all from herself. But goddammit it sucks being lonely. That wistful look she had watching Finn fuss over Rose at the end, "I'm happy for you but goddammit watching you makes me feel lonely" fuck man I know that face. Oh Rey. I'm so proud of her this movie, I'm so proud of her strength and her compassion. Man, she's a better balanced Jedi than almost every single person I've ever seen in any of these movies. I'm really glad she got to confront Kylo Ren about him killing his father, what a monstrous thing that is in her eyes, that a family was all she ever wanted in life and it's monstrous to her that he could destroy it like that. And Kylo Ren. I continue to be shocked at the development of his character, that an important Hollywood franchise would make a character so different like this, so emotional and vulnerable and complicated and downright ugly sometimes, and... yeah. My heart just breaks for him too. He has been failed by every person in his life who should have helped him, he's had no one on his side. This is a character who is completely fueled by his struggling and self loathing. Just... yikes. My heart was breaking. I was really interested by his thing in this movie, as I've said already, of being insistent on accepting uncomfortable truths. I think part of it has to do with his self-loathing... when you hate yourself, you delight in inflicting cruelty upon yourself. I think he gets a self-hating thrill out of being named a monster, and accepting the name. But part of it is...... accepting uncomfortable truths. Seeing things clearly for what they are, not what you want them to be. That's something I really personally value, and something I find fascinating about him. It's..... so, like. Lmao. I really can't overstate enough how I much I relate to Kylo Ren and relate to his struggle. With that in mind, I project rather a lot of my own personal experiences and thoughts onto him, so I'm sure it colours my interpretation, and I completely recognize that. But for everyone who was upset he didn't run off into Rey's ship, I don't think he's ready to go with her yet. He can't. I think he feels unworthy. He hasn't forgiven himself for his flaws and weaknesses. It's easier for him to hide in the dark rather than have it all exposed like that. He feels too dirty to be in the light like that. He needs some more time, some more character development. I think he has to forgive himself first, and he can't yet. It's.... a very interesting acting choice to have Adam Driver's face remain so impassive all the time. He took off his mask for the movie, and yes it was a silly mask but wow was that ever a cruel scene with Snoke calling him a child in a mask......... he took off his mask but it's almost like it didn't really help. His face is *so* impassive. When Rey is trying to convince him to go with her in the elevator, he has no expression at all in his face. You only see in the eyes what a furious conflict this makes for him in his soul, what hope and anguish it stirs in him. Obviously this is someone who has had it (probably literally) beaten into him that showing emotions will only get him hurt in the end. Well anyway. I'm rambling a bit now. He reminds me slightly of another very dear character to me in something else. This character, it is eventually revealed, had unfortunate beginnings and is actually on the path to her eventual self destruction because she is so angry at everyone, and so full of sadness, that she can't let it go. In the end she realizes the only way to save herself is to reach out and ask for help. She almost can't, because she feels she doesn't deserve it, and she's too afraid of the possibility of asking for help and no one comes. She does in the end and it's a happy ending and now I can never tell you the name of this thing because I just spoiled the entire ending, but I wonder if that's the key for Kylo Ren too... he can't bring Rey to the dark with him, he has to find the strength to ask for her help. Anyways. One last thought: It's really interesting how like... all the characters are really... really brand new. There's no character with an arc quite like Poe in the original trilogy, no character quite like Rose, no character quite like Finn. And then there's Rey and Ren, who are doing a beat-for-beat recap of the original trilogy plot points, but always with a twist. So we're set up with the scary bad guy in a mask working for an even scarier bad guy, and the dusty kid from nowhere. So first of all the bad guy kills her new mentor (so far so good) They have a dramatic first fight (except she kicks his ass and injures him) He dramatically reveals who her parents are (except it's nobody) Then asks her to join him (except she refuses) She decides she can save him so she turns herself in to the bigger scarier bad guy who tortures her, and he kills the big scary bad guy and saves her (except he still refuses to be a good guy) Well........ we've run out of movies, now. What happens next??? Honestly I don't know, I really don't know. I mean I would say that there's been so much buildup and emotional investment in Kylo Ren and his connection with Rey that obviously they are planning to have him redeemed, and the twist will be that unlike Vadar, he survives at the end. Then again I don't know. This movie was so hardcore about smashing expectations, and really hammered home the thing that you have to let go of the past. Maybe part of that is letting the Skywalker legacy die. I mean. Shit that also sounds equally likely to me, guys. I don't know. I mean I never ever thought we'd get so much character development in this movie either so like. I literally don't know. Anything is possible. Well.... there's a lot of pointless thoughts. If you want to chat about the movie, hit me up in my messages.

[eyreguide]

The Sun and the Moon in Jane Eyre

(Art by Jane Freeman)

The symbolism of the sun and the moon in Jane Eyre is quite interesting to me.  I believe there have been many interpretive thoughts published on the topic - especially regarding the moon and femininity - but my thoughts on the subject run a little more specific to the characters of Jane and Rochester.  I feel like the moon and the sun represents the ideals of their romantic relationship in intriguing ways.

The Sun

“Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.” (Chapter IV)

The sun and the moon have traditionally symbolized the yin and the yang of dynamic relationships - with the sun embodying “masculine” qualities and the moon “feminine”.  It’s a very limited way of judging any of these constructs, but in Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë often represents Mr. Rochester by the sun, while Jane is represented by the moon.

The sun symbolically holds connotations of energy, determination, liveliness, and arrogance.  It represents force and the ego - elements that can easily be seen in Mr. Rochester’s character.  And it is something that Jane also finds appealing - an aspect of her personality that is not wanting exactly but not being sustained.  The quote “Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine” comes from early in the story - when Jane remarks that Bessie reading and singing to her brings a measure of happiness to her life at Gateshead she does not usually experience.  Here, Jane equates the sun with happiness, and it foreshadows Mr. Rochester’s place in her life.  

On her walk to post a letter in Hay for Mrs. Fairfax, Jane takes the opportunity to revel in nature, freedom, and sunshine as she “lingered till the sun went down amongst the trees, and sank crimson and clear behind them.” (Chapter XII)  Of course, this is the prelude to Jane and Rochester’s first encounter and sets the stage for them to meet when there is a “rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily”. (Chapter XII)  A meeting of the sun and the moon.

The Moon

“Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise.” (Chapter XXIII)

The moon’s “feminine” symbolic qualities are often seen as delicate, soulful, passive, and insightful.  The moon reflects the sun so there is an aspect of reflection - on the past and on emotions.  

In Jane Eyre the moon can sometimes be a mother figure to Jane - as in this description of Miss Temple finding Jane and Helen:

“Some heavy clouds, swept from the sky by a rising wind, had left the moon bare; and her light, streaming in through a window near, shone full both on us and on the approaching figure, which we at once recognised as Miss Temple.” (Chapter VIII)

Also in Jane’s moment of suffering and grief after finding out about Bertha Mason - when in her dream the bright moon resolves into a white figure that tells Jane to “flee temptation”.  (Chapter XXVII)  There is often a rising, brightening, or waxing moon described when Jane is about to experience or do something important.  Jane first sees Mr. Rochester in the light of the moon on Hay Lane: “Something of daylight still lingered, and the moon was waxing bright: I could see him plainly.” (Chapter XII). 

The moon gets its own chance to shine and seems to predict significant things for Jane’s character - bringing her insight and nurturing qualities.  Something she posesses but also needs.  Her balance in the relationship with Rochester feeds off of the moon’s energies, especially because Mr. Rochester so emphatically denotes the sun’s forceful qualities. 

When Jane wants to see Mr. Rochester clearly, it seems she needs her element to do so. When Mr. Rochester proposes, she is doubtful of his feelings and says “Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight.” (Chapter XXIII)  Many of the mysterious occurrences at Thornfield occur in the moonlight - obviously to enhance the shadowy Gothic angle of the story - but it is an opportunity for Jane to realize the truth and become perceptive.

Solar Eclipse

“What is the matter?” he asked; “all the sunshine is gone.” (Chapter XXIV)

During Jane and Rochester’s courtship, there are compelling and suggestive combinations of symbolism for the sun and the moon.  This indicates a true meeting of minds and as the story develops it shows what happens when the sun and the moon meet.  As in the case of the solar eclipse, the moon holds more “power” as it blocks the sun.  

Jane craves “the sunshine of feeling” (Chapter XXII) she receives from Mr. Rochester, and early in their relationship, Rochester seems to hold the most appeal and power as his kindness and geniality “warm[s] one like a fostering sunbeam.” (Chapter XVIII)  But in the scene where Jane finally gets to speak her mind and reveal her true feelings, the stage for the proposal is set with the moon coming into “modest” power:

“Where the sun had gone down in simple state—pure of the pomp of clouds—spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven.  The east had its own charm or fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a casino and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon.” (Chapter XXIII)

Even Mr. Rochester acknowledges Jane’s power when he says the next day: “You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal.” (Chapter XXIV)  And in one of my favorite moments in the book, Mr. Rochester quips with Adele that he will take Mademoiselle to live with him on the moon.

Yet the sun is not quite forgotten, as during their engagement, Mr. Rochester calls Jane a “little sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek and rosy lips.” (Chapter XXIV)   And much later, while blind and maimed he claims that “All the melody on earth is concentrated in my Jane’s tongue to my ear (I am glad it is not naturally a silent one): all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.” (Chapter XXXVII)

Jane seems to reflect the sun now, and takes on some of it’s aspects of commanding energy now that she is with Mr. Rochester. Their love is built on a compatibility that brings together their individual traits in ways that complete each other.  They temper each other and reinforce the idea of the yin and yang - two contrary forces that are a complement to the other and illustrate interconnectedness in a romantic relationship.

“I was in my own room, and sitting by the window, which was open: it soothed me to feel the balmy night-air; though I could see no stars and only by a vague, luminous haze, knew the presence of a moon.  I longed for thee, Janet!  (Chapter XXXVII)

[eyreguide]

The Evolving Jane Eyre 2011 Screenplay

I remember when the novel tie-in edition was released ahead of the Jane Eyre 2011 film, there was a bonus at the end of the ebook edition.  They added the screenplay of the film by Moira Buffini.  I have since tried to find my ebook copy but I think my move to a Kindle has led me to misplace it.  Fortunately there are screenplay databases online, and I found an older screenplay on this site.  Although I remember certain elements in the screenplay from the ebook bonus that is not in the version on the website, so I feel like there is yet another version floating around.  

The screenplay on the IMSDb site is the 2nd draft, dated 6 March 2008.  Quite a few years for the screenplay to go through revisions, and yet the heart of the screenplay writer’s vision seems intact.  The screenplay begins with Jane leaving Thornfield and wandering the moors - such a unique approach to adapting the novel.  The 2nd draft has more of the original story than the final product, with many interesting additions and actual scenes from the novel excised.  While the 2011 film is my favorite movie adaptation (not favorite overall though when you factor in miniseries) and I love how well it tells the story in two hours, it does make me sad that they couldn’t have made this movie two and a half hours to really bring more of Jane’s story to life.

The Changes from the 2nd Draft

If you’ve seen this movie trailer, the story seemed darker, more heightened and Gothic than the final product.  (Rochester with all black eyes at the very end???!!)  The trailer even shows a glimpse of Helen Burns in front of Moor House and that thread was entirely cut from the movie. Reading this 2nd draft, it was fascinating to see the vision Moira had for the story and the intriguing ideas she had for bringing out some of the inner life of Jane.  There are quite a few smaller moments that impressed me, so I will just highlight some of them in this post.

Helen Burns: Helen has more traditional scenes in the draft than she wound up with in the final movie, but the new idea that her “ghost” visually stays with Jane and brings her solace in times of trouble is both fresh and true to Helen’s role in Jane’s life.  When Jane is first running away from Thornfield, the viewer “sees” Helen with Jane, and at some points Helen leads Jane and encourages her to keep going.  While I’m glad they cut this for the film, I think it is an interesting visual and honors Helen as Jane’s first true friend.

Visuals of Jane’s Inner World: The 2006 miniseries adaptation with Ruth Wilson was the first to show what Jane was seeing by having the viewer see her in that physical world.  That 2006 miniseries begins with young Jane in a desert, as she is looking at an image of a barren land in a book.  Moira’s draft also includes this idea and early on has Jane in the setting of the pictures she is looking at.  Later, after the interrupted wedding, you see Jane by a river as the water overflows and visually the ‘torrent pours over her.’  This would have been a powerful moment in the film, but perhaps too jarring, so I understand why it was cut.

More Reordering of the Timeline: The film begins with Jane meeting the Rivers, then shows Jane at Lowood, then at Thornfield, before winding up at the beginning again with Jane as a schoolteacher at Morton.  The 2nd draft had even more flashbacks and flash-forwards with the most notable being changing the scene between St. John and Jane in Morton (which in the films shows up after you see Jane leave Thornfield and Rochester) to when Mr. Rochester leaves to see the Ingrams.  That flash-forward to Jane and St. John’s conversation about not looking back and St. John resisting the love he feels for someone he thinks is unsuitable seems appropriate to illustrate Jane’s confused feelings after saving Mr. Rochester from the fire, but it was another great choice to move it so that it is our first jarring moment back into Jane’s current life after the emotion of her leaving Rochester.

Nightmares: The 2006 miniseries might have inspired some of Moira’s approach to this screenplay as another element from the miniseries is shown - Jane’s dreams illustrating her inner turmoil and fears. I really enjoy this foreshadowing in the book, and I loved seeing the dreams dramatized in the 2006 version.  It might have worked well in the 2011 film as well - especially if they just did this to show Jane’s inner world, and not the landscape visuals I talked about above.  In one nightmare, Helen is the one to give Jane the crying babe.  And this particular nightmare is fantastic:

INT. DUSK. THORNFIELD / THE RED ROOM.                                  Jane, aged ten, is walking along the long gallery. She          opens a door and finds herself in the Red Room.                                  She stares into the mirror, searching the pale face of her          reflection, as if trying to find an answer. A murmur seems          to come down the gaping chimney; a woman's deep sigh.          Jane's throat tightens with fear. Something moves in the          shadows behind her.                                  She scans them, her eyes full of terror. Jane knows beyond          all doubt that something is there. She hears a low laugh.          It seems to be right next to her. She tries to scream -

And this occurs just before Jane hears Mason’s cries, which would have been pretty eerie to watch.  I really love this idea.

The Flashback to Thornfield Burning:  In the film, this is not shown, unlike SO MANY adaptations of Jane Eyre which does visualize this.  I love that they honor Jane’s narrative by not showing what she was not there to witness.  But in the 2nd draft, Mrs. Fairfax is telling Jane what she thinks happened, mostly through voiceover, but what was visualized in the draft was entirely different.  Instead of Bertha sneaking away, the viewer would have seen Rochester let her out, and then watch her wander around and eventually start a fire in Thornfield.  It shows Rochester as bleak, hopeless and uncaring.  The scene ends with Rochester readying himself to jump to his death until Bertha beats him to it -

EXT. EVENING. THORNFIELD - THE LEADS.                                  Bertha is watching the rooks. Rochester goes to the edge of          the roof. Bertha looks at him. The invitation is clear.          Rochester is ready to die.                                  Bertha sees the rooks wheeling away. She runs at the edge          of the roof. Rochester sees her intention too late. He puts          out his arm to stop her.                                  For the perfect fraction of a second, Bertha flies.          Rochester sees her fall; almost falls himself - saves          himself.                                  Life reawakens in him. Behind him, he sees Grace Poole,          coughing, crawling up through the door.                                                  GRACE           Antoinetta?                                  Responsibility floods over him. He goes to her side, lifts          Grace, helps her down the stairs.                                   MRS FAIRFAX (V.O.)           He didn't leave the house until           everyone was out. Some say it was a           just judgement on him for having           her confined there all those years           but for my part, I pity him.

Wow.  If this had been filmed, I don’t know what I would have thought.  On the one hand, it’s very powerful.  On the other it’s very different from what is in the novel, and shows Rochester carelessly endangering other people, and I don’t see that as true to his character.  But this is definitely a unique take on that scene.

Screenplay Highlights

There are a few scenes in the screenplay that particularly touched me or I found highlighted a great moment.  I love this quiet moment while Jane is just settling into her life at Thornfield (Adele’s song is the one she sings to Jane to show her accomplishments.)  The fact that Mrs. Fairfax gives a gift to Jane and knows that Jane would feel overwhelmed by it so hands it to her and leaves, feels true to Mrs. Fairfax’s gentle understanding.

INT. NIGHT. THORNFIELD - MRS FAIRFAX'S PARLOUR.                                  Adele's song continues as a voiceover. Mrs Fairfax is          finishing a shawl. Jane is showing Adele pictures of little          objects that she has sketched. Adele names them in English.                                  The song ends. Jane gives Adele a sketch of herself.                                                  ADELE           Me! It is me!                                  Mrs Fairfax shakes out the finished shawl and puts it round          Jane's shoulders, departing before Jane can protest.                                                  MRS FAIRFAX           Here. For you.                                                   Jane is delighted at the kindness of the gift.

Then there is this scene, where Jane is teaching Adele, and Mrs. Fairfax comes in to take Jane’s portfolio.  There’s discomfort in Jane as her work is being exhibited without her permission.  And a nod to the careless way men disregard women’s thoughts and opinions, even from Mr. Rochester, who is the character who is most interested in Jane’s mind.

INT. DAY. THORNFIELD - THE NURSERY.                                  Jane is by the blackboard, where she is writing sums.                                                  ADELE           Tonight I will have my cadeaux.           He always bring me a cadeaux.                                  Mrs Fairfax breathlessly enters.                                                  MRS FAIRFAX           Sorry to disturb. He's asked for           your art.                                  Jane looks at her in disbelief.                                                  JANE           What for?                                                                MRS FAIRFAX           He wishes to have it.                                                  JANE           Why?                                                  MRS FAIRFAX           To show to his company, I should           think. Is this it here? Thank you.                                  Jane watches helplessly as Mrs Fairfax takes her portfolio.

When Jane visits Mrs. Reed on her sick bed, there is a unique moment added to the script.  Jane’s sees a picture of her Mother, and reconciles her childhood fears of the Red Room.  The Caird/Gordon musical has a nod to Jane’s parents in the show (prior to the Broadway iteration) and even features them briefly in the beginning.  Obviously, this is a poignant way to show the growth of the little orphan girl, and I would have loved to see this dramatized.

INT. DAY. GATESHEAD - THE RED ROOM.                                  The morning sun is pouring in. Jane goes to the bed. She          puts her hand upon it, gently, as if thanking her uncle for          all he did. She notices a picture on the wall. A miniature          of a brown-haired woman with elfin eyes.                                  Jane takes it off the wall. Bessie comes in.                                                  JANE           My mother.                                  Bessie nods. A tear rolls down Jane's face. She clasps the          picture, looking round the room.                                                  JANE (CONT'D)           Why ever was I so afraid?

As is true of most of the roles in this version of the screenplay, St. John had more lines and in this section, we see more of his compassionate, persuasive side which would have really added to his character in the film.  He is harsh and cold,but this small scene would have made the viewer understand more why Jane admired and loved him like a brother.  I feel like the writing in this scene captures what Bronte wrote very well too.

  JANE           You're a good man, but you forget           the feelings of little people. We'd           better keep out of your way lest           you trample us.                                     St John's anger has faded. He is compassionate. This is far          harder to resist.                                                  ST JOHN           I wouldn't trample you. You'd           walk at my side towards God's           altar. He'd be your solace,           heaven your reward. We seek to do           the greatest work, to open           death's gates, to save souls.           Love God Jane, love God.                                  St John puts his hand on her forehead; Christlike. Jane is          falling under his power.                                   ST JOHN (CONT'D)           Give up your heart to Him. He is           love.

Final Impressions

After I finished the second draft, I have to say I admire Moira and the director and anyone involved in editing and refining the script.  Even as a purist, I am impressed at how well this second draft encapsulates the novel.  And then to have to further trim down and edit - what a difficult job!  And the final product is marvelously streamlined and an intimate portrait of Jane.  The sensational is pared back and the emotions are appropriately restrained.  In the editing process, there seemed to have been an instinct to keep the story to Jane’s perspective and to create something a little more realistic.  And I think they succeeded.