The story is completely at odds to the character Jane was in "Jane Eyre" and completely skips over some of the parts that would have been vaguely interesting. There is a brief allusion to a "vision" she had on the night of Mr Rochester's death that piqued my curiousity...surely, the author would elaborate on such a thing? He did not.
There are many melodramatic plot twists, which is fine if this is supposed to be a parody, but if it's supposed to be viewed as a serious sequel there needed to be much more exposition. *spoiler alert* For example: Why does Jane fall in love with her cousin? The only thing they have in common is that they write...this is not enough to explain the link given the difference in their ages and personalities. And the "scandal" with the lieutenant was hardly a scandal at all.
I felt like the publisher told the writer to hurry things up at the end and things were quickly finished off rather than nicely rounded out. I'm going to have to re-read the original Bronte just to get the foul taste of this book out of my imagination. It's polluted my memory of a classic.
The best thing about it is the inclusion of different aspects of early New Zealand colonial life, which was quite fascinating to a person who lived there for many years.
If Johanna's World strives to convince the reader of its veracity, Mrs Rochester, from the outset, overtly signals its complete lack of historical truth. Other truths are, however, called upon instead. At the end of Charlotte Brontë's 1848 novel Jane Eyre, we left the narrator married to the gorgeous, albeit mutilated, Mr Rochester, celebrating the birth of their first child. The trouble with realism is that it convinces us the characters have life outside the pages that contain them. The trouble with autobiographical fiction such as Jane Eyre is that we want to know what happened after the conclusion. "Reader, I married him"-but then what? According to Warwick Blanchett, quite a lot. Mr Rochester finds recovery from the Thornfield fire difficult, and succumbs to an early death, though not before losing the family fortune. His children (Hugo and Helen) are safely at school, but what of poor Mrs Rochester? Out on the governess market again, alas, and this time, trying her luck in New Zealand rather than Yorkshire.
The most enjoyable thing about Blanchett's treatment is the firmness with which his tongue is placed in his cheek. Unlike the intensely mundane world of Johanna and her family, with Mrs Rochester we are always aware of inhabiting not just a work of fiction but a work which plays upon that fiction. Delightful literary jokes abound: Blanche Ingram has married and become Mrs Henry Lynn-a composite created from the real-life author Mrs Henry Wood and the title of her famous Victorian bodice-ripper East Lynne. Lost in a bush burn-off, Jane hears the voice of Mr Rochester calling to her, just as she did first time around, lost on the moors. The place-names of the new colony are strangely reminiscent of the geography of the Brontës' childhood games, and the bedroom the heroine is placed in is, of course, red. Jane is much as we remember her from the original novel: intense, feisty, and, for some reason, irresistible to men. In fact, the plot of Mrs Rochester consists almost entirely of Jane working her way through a list of suitors, from the dashing leutenant Trevelyan to the randy Archdeacon Parfitt to the bucolic/Byronic Caleb, son of Jane Eyre's Diana Rivers.
Blanchett is wonderfully true to the tone and style of the original. Landscape and setting are appropriately lush and exotic; storms and tempests appear on cue as the emotional weather of the plot demands. Manners and modes of speech are appropriately Victorian: Jane talks of "relieving the island's ovine population of their winter coats" instead of shearing sheep; women are described as being "the cynosure of all eyes"; Maori singing is described as "keening polyphony". All this could become a little tedious taken to excess. But Blanchett drives his plot along briskly, and judges exactly how long to play what is essentially an extended literary joke.
Literary sequels or spin-offs have become a little sub-genre of their own: from Emma Tennant's Pemberley (sequel to Pride and Prejudice) to Joan Aiken's Jane Fairfax (spin-off from Emma) to the truly dreadful Scarlett (Gone with the Wind Part II). Most confine themselves to a somewhat pedestrian delineation of "what happened next". Mrs Rochester's colonial setting (comparable perhaps to Peter Carey's Jack Maggs, a spin-off from Great Expectations) allows more scope, as Blanchett offers us not just an extension of Jane Eyre, but an imitation of the sort of Maoriland romance that was popular here in the second half of the 19th century.
It can be argued that the maturity of a national literature is measured not in its production of high culture, but in the ease and adaptability with which it processes and makes use of the popular. Romance was the dominant fictional form in colonial writing. Crude and mechanical as it was, romance helped the new population to read themselves, in all senses, into a landscape, in a way that was not just measured by complexity and seriousness of purpose, but by its ability to give play to adaptations of stereotypes of the popular. We need to do more of it today.
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The one thing I particularily did not like was the fact that Rochester wore an eye patch over his blinded eye. I just can't imagine him wearing one. Edward Fairfax Rochester was definitely not a pirate!
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