Dear Jane Eyre,
Although I appreciate your morals and discipline, I have to tell you that you awaken in me a violent need to slap you repeatedly. I wouldn't want you to think me a brute, so I will therefore explain my somewhat bitter opinion of you.
First of all, I thought you were a wonderful child, full of sound and fury, never letting anyone step on your toes or belittle you. Fine attribute that every child should posses. Well done indeed. Your education was quite frankly a nightmare and as we all know surviving an all girl's boarding school in England could only be compared to an evening with Jack the Ripper. You finished school quite the young lady, even though you were humiliated, lost your best friend and beaten. At this point, you are as brave as Conan the barbarian in spirit and vigor.
I begin to get agitated with you when you begin working as a governess at Thornfield Hall. Your employer, Edward Rochester, is a mysterious man and could even be compared to the "Beast" in Disney's fairytale. Rochester is a little frightening, I'll give you that, but he teases and flirts with you in such a romantic way that your dress should have been flung into the fire upon your first encounter with him. Well, not in the forest but when he invites you to sit with him by the fire and is clearly, as we would say today, "really f###ing into you." I don't care that religion, status symbols and the rules of society have been your bread and butter until now. You're supposed to be a strong, independent woman Jane!! You've had to fight all your life and now the undeniably sexy and verbally arousing Rochester wants to see you in your knickers and you play hard to get for the entire story. And in Hollywood's latest version of your tale, you immediately succumb to Rochester's undeniable longing for you, especially when it's being played by Michael Fassbender young lady!!
Yes, you're not a damsel in distress and you want to be true to yourself but even the trees and sheep outside are aware of his steadfast desire and love for you Plain Jane. Someone should have given you the Marquis de Sade to read. That would have been far more educational and beneficial than drawing portraits alone by the window or lonely walks in the rain. You must be a sadist somewhere, my dear.
And then you get jealous, in a composed manner of course, when he has female guests at his home. What do you expect? He's desperately trying to get a reaction out of that somewhat frigid mind of yours. You're so confident and pleased with your unshakeable poise buy you don't know how to live.
I love you Jane. I really do. You're a credit to your race, as Woody would say but loosen your imaginary emotional corset. You seemed pale, at least that's how they've portrayed you onscreen, during your quest. You should have drank more wine and frolicked around Thornfield Hall in the nude, teasing your darling Rochester until he was begging for your flesh. You should have shocked the staff with your bare assets and Jane.... allowing desire to crawl up your leg will give your cheeks the natural flush they so obviously seemed to crave.
Best Regards,
A Very Irritated French Woman
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