30 Day Challenge: Day 15

Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë



Charlotte Bronte may have been pipped into second place as my favourite author, but she sure as heck wrote my favourite male character. 


The man who makes Christian Grey look like a petulant spoiled child.  Who makes Heathcliffe look like a sociopathic madman.  And who makes Mr Darcy look like a stuck-up fop.


Yes, it's the one and only, Mr Edward Fairfax Rochester. 


I think I read Jane Eyre for the first time when I was about 12- or 13-years old; a very impressionable age where like most girls I was full of raging hormones and beginning to realize that boys weren't actually an alien species.  I'm sure if I had left it until I was in my late teens or early twenties, my feminist hackles would have been raised sky-high by Mr Rochester's high-handed arrogance and cavalier treatment of the women in his life.  But as a naive teenager, I'm afraid I just fancied the arse off him. He might not be as dashing as Rhett Butler, or as steadfast as Gabriel Oak (I always preferred Captain Troy anyway), but all that smouldering, broody, pent-up emotion made me go weak at the knees.  And thirty-something years later, it still does. 


(And it gives me an excuse to post a picture of Michael Fassbender.)