BLAME IT ON MR. ROCHESTER
It was a big mistake to let me read JANE EYRE in middle school.
That’s when I met Mr. Rochester, and that mope has been following me around ever since.
I know I’m not the only one.
Writers had created moody hot heroes before him – looking at you, Mr. Darcy – but that particular combination of danger, power, and appeal was new. It caused a sensation when the book was published, and it hasn’t let up since.
Even in the mid-19th century, the governess marrying the boss wasn’t groundbreaking on its own. Governesses were usually from respectable but poor families, so they often made perfectly acceptable wives. Not that anyone would let them forget about the governessing.
Plus, considering how thoroughly miserable the job was, it’s not hard to imagine a woman considering marriage a promotion, or at least a move to a better part of the basement.
That’s all in the room with Jane and Rochester, but it’s not the big emphasis. The emphasis is the danger, and that was definitely new.
A real governess – like Charlotte Bronte once was -- knew she was in the power of her boss, that he could do any number of awful things to her, and that she had no recourse. Bronte’s genius is turning that ugly real-life dynamic into something magical.
Or at least magical until the madwoman gets out of the attic.
Yeah, we’re going to have to at least acknowledge that whole thing.
As a kid reading the book, I took it as just part of the story, and didn’t think too much about the real, and horrible conditions that actual humans with mental health issues suffered at the time. As an adult, I’m glad that some fiction writers have taken on the first Mrs. Rochester.
She deserves it.
The point today, though, is that Charlotte Bronte set the standard for the brooding, dangerous hero. (And, let’s not forget, she made him pay dearly for his wrongs before the end of the book.) That guy, Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous, keeps popping up in all kinds of romantic and suspenseful fiction, to this day.
He’s pretty much the house love interest in Victoria Holt’s work, another of my middle school standards. My favorite of hers, MISTRESS OF MELLYN, even features a governess who ends up in all kinds of trouble when she – yep – falls in love with the boss.
Rochester is in every movie hero who leaves the heroine wondering if he’s going to kiss her or kill her. And leaves me wanting to buy the poor girl a good cannister of pepper spray.
Some of Rochester even shows up in my own characters. Ella’s swain, the Duke, has the power to do whatever he likes, but he’s a genuinely good man and wouldn’t take advantage. He’s also tall, dark and dangerous – looking.
There’s probably even a hint of Rochester in Will Ten Broeck, the love interest in my contemporary mystery. He’s a powerful and attractive man who keeps a big secret from the main character – even as they’re falling in…
Thanks again, Charlotte Bronte!
Got a ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
That’s when I met Mr. Rochester, and that mope has been following me around ever since.
I know I’m not the only one.
Writers had created moody hot heroes before him – looking at you, Mr. Darcy – but that particular combination of danger, power, and appeal was new. It caused a sensation when the book was published, and it hasn’t let up since.
Even in the mid-19th century, the governess marrying the boss wasn’t groundbreaking on its own. Governesses were usually from respectable but poor families, so they often made perfectly acceptable wives. Not that anyone would let them forget about the governessing.
Plus, considering how thoroughly miserable the job was, it’s not hard to imagine a woman considering marriage a promotion, or at least a move to a better part of the basement.
That’s all in the room with Jane and Rochester, but it’s not the big emphasis. The emphasis is the danger, and that was definitely new.
A real governess – like Charlotte Bronte once was -- knew she was in the power of her boss, that he could do any number of awful things to her, and that she had no recourse. Bronte’s genius is turning that ugly real-life dynamic into something magical.
Or at least magical until the madwoman gets out of the attic.
Yeah, we’re going to have to at least acknowledge that whole thing.
As a kid reading the book, I took it as just part of the story, and didn’t think too much about the real, and horrible conditions that actual humans with mental health issues suffered at the time. As an adult, I’m glad that some fiction writers have taken on the first Mrs. Rochester.
She deserves it.
The point today, though, is that Charlotte Bronte set the standard for the brooding, dangerous hero. (And, let’s not forget, she made him pay dearly for his wrongs before the end of the book.) That guy, Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous, keeps popping up in all kinds of romantic and suspenseful fiction, to this day.
He’s pretty much the house love interest in Victoria Holt’s work, another of my middle school standards. My favorite of hers, MISTRESS OF MELLYN, even features a governess who ends up in all kinds of trouble when she – yep – falls in love with the boss.
Rochester is in every movie hero who leaves the heroine wondering if he’s going to kiss her or kill her. And leaves me wanting to buy the poor girl a good cannister of pepper spray.
Some of Rochester even shows up in my own characters. Ella’s swain, the Duke, has the power to do whatever he likes, but he’s a genuinely good man and wouldn’t take advantage. He’s also tall, dark and dangerous – looking.
There’s probably even a hint of Rochester in Will Ten Broeck, the love interest in my contemporary mystery. He’s a powerful and attractive man who keeps a big secret from the main character – even as they’re falling in…
Thanks again, Charlotte Bronte!
Got a ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
No comments have been added yet.
