Not on the subject of coffee

I have done the impossible: I have read, and enjoyed, Jane Eyre. I first read Charlotte Bronte's book when I was nine or ten or somewhere around there, and the crazy woman in the attic gave me nightmares for a long time. A year or two after that, I thought, "I am older and wiser. I will try to listen to the book on tape." But again, I had bad dreams. And yet, a few more years later, I thought, "I am older and wiser now. I will watch the movie." And so I watch the 2006 mini TV series of Jane Eyre...and had nightmares.

Ruth Wilson as Jane

After watching the movie, I finally learned my lesson and swore I would never again try to read, listen to, or watch Jane Eyre. For many years, I stayed faithful to the lesson I had learned.

But my college roommate loved Jane Eyre, and I could not completely brush away her opinion. Many times, she told me that I should give the book another try, and eventually, I relented, reasoning that I could put up with a few nightmares to prove to her that I should never have anything to do with the book.

However, I was not haunted by a lunatic Bertha Mason this time. Perhaps it was because I took care not to read late at night; perhaps it was because I was trying to understand why K., and many others, loved the story so much; perhaps I truly am older and wiser now. But whatever the reason, I have changed my opinion of Jane Eyre. It is a thrilling and passionate love story, not the horror tale that I have long thought it to be.

There is only one thing left to be decided: should I risk watching the movie?