Rochester: Oh my beloved forest sprite how you nourish my soul. My dear dear Janet, born of the wind and sky and forever in flight in my heart. Janet you marvelous fairie princess sorceress queen child woman.
Jane: My name is Jane.
Rochester: Yes Janet my enchanting mystical hazel eyed unicorn spirit.
Jane: Actually my eyes aren’t…you know what never mind.
The Victorian equivalent of a white male tumblr meninist. Fight his past newspaper blogger ass, though the guy does write about his own "tragic experiences", so be warned that a caricature of you will probably be appearing in his next novel.
idk they're from Yorkshire I wouldn't risk it
Yess he spends all his time in his room writing self-insert Bible fanfic and never goes outside, 10/10 would fight this nerd. You will win. Easily.
Why would you want to fight Mary Shelley???? She's nice and bad things happened to her and she invented scifi! Go reevaluate your life choices.
Don't. He will kill you otp viciously and then spend 38 pages describing someone's hat.
It's 50/50 you'll win, but you might fall asleep from his long-winded prose before you land a punch.
Little is known about him, other than the fact that he had free access to bears and swords and a penchant for revenge and mass murder as plot devices. If you're gonna fight him, watch your back.
Whiny and allergic to adjectives and allegorical and super racist. Fight Him. So long as your childhood can take it.
Shakespeare's biggest fan, so a total dork. Also old and shell shocked. Your call.
Him and his friends will get drunk and gang up on you. Not advisable.
He was once described as "the most generous, large-hearted being in the world" and had extensive military training. Just... don't.
Still alive, so she's got a foot up on the rest of them.
Total fuckin' politics nerd. Will keep a diary of the fight.
You'd feel too mean, it'd be like punching some harmless lana del-ray book club chic. Fight her if you want but be aware of the emotional consequences.
Constantly angry looking. Just look at that mustache. You want to fight him already, don't you?
The sassiest little shit ever. Be prepared for cane wielding sassmeister. You'll probably lose, but it'll be worth it.
I need someone to write a good, long post about how shitty it is to always compare Jane Austen to the Brontë sisters, for no other reason than that they’re women. No one ever asked me wether I was more of a Dostoyevsky or a Dickens girl, but the moment I utter either “Austen” or “Brontë” someone jumps out from somewhere to ask me wether I’m “an Austen or a Brontë girl”. Stop it. Just because they’re the only two female authors anyone ever thinks are worth noticing doesn’t mean I can’t like them both equally? They wrote very different books and there’s literally no reason to compare them. Just stop.
To get a few things straight, I would like to add that their authors’ styles are completely different, and people often make dumb comments such as “ho women’s literature”,
”they all are the same, it’s for women, romance and shit lol” (you know what i’m talking about, stop the book shame due to sexist shit)
The seductive nature of a happy ending can’t be disputed, and the two older Brontës provide it in spades. In Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff and Cathy are never united, but their children fall in love: Heathcliff’s behaviour is almost justified, as it has brought Linton and Cathy mark II together. Likewise in Jane Eyre, Mr Rochester falls in love with Plain Jane, attempts to commit bigamy, is thwarted, his wife luckily burns to death and they live happily ever after. Charlotte and Emily offered their fictional Branwells a form of redemption that in reality he failed to achieve.
Anne, the sister who spent the most time nursing Branwell, either refused or was unable to romanticise what happened to her brother. In The Tenant of Wildfell Hall an abused wife, Helen Graham, runs away from her alcoholic husband, Arthur Huntingdon. She meets Gilbert Markham and falls in love with him but is unable to marry him. Anne’s depiction of Arthur Huntingdon’s decline drew heavily on Branwell’s death and still stands out today as an unflinching depiction of alcoholism.
By romanticising their alcoholic, violent brother, Charlotte and Emily Brontë were presenting an optimistic view of the byronic hero. Anne Brontë, however, refused to wear rose-tinted glasses. As a novelist she is more honest than Emily and more unflinching than Charlotte, but that doesn’t make for great romance or cosy TV adaptations. It’s easy to say that because Anne refused to give us a brooding hero, her books are less widely read. But I would suggest that she was in fact just too honest about the nature of violence and addiction.