Check the chemistry.

I have to take Jane Eyre back today. I think the librarian will have to pry it from my cold dead fingers. My only consolation is Amazon.com.

The SSLP came over and watched with me - thank God. I needed to share it with someone who understands both the lure of this novel, as well as the workings of my brain. She never mocks my fixations, mainly because they usually suit her tastes. She's a fan of Jane. Years ago I coerced her into reading this novel just as I'm currently forcing Auntie Sister. I sent it to her as a Christmas present out of nowhere. She loved it. Of course.

While we were watching 2006, she said right off the bat that Toby Stephens was too handsome to be Rochester. I pointed out that he's handsome to us - we're 21st century women. Whoooaaaman. We like the rugged, earthy, physical, sensual/sexual male, because we want to have sex. A lot. The Victorians had different ideas about sex and what was attractive. First of all, I don't think you were supposed to admit that you liked sex - if you did, it was a one-way ticket to the insane asylum. Secondly, I think that you weren't supposed to be drawn to men who were dead-sexy because then you'd be admitting that you like sex. They idealized prettier men. The Grecian profile.

I found a couple of essays here and here to scratch the surface of these issues. They're a good start.

I need a library - I need resources! I need to get away from this computer for five minutes and feel the sky over my head. I'm starting to feel like a mushroom. And nobody likes mushrooms.