Jane Eyre

Jane Eyre. Where to begin, where to begin? I read Jane Eyre for school last year as part of my 9th grade literature course and I was really excited to read it again for the classics club.

It was even better than I had remembered.

Jane Eyre is the story of a young governess who goes to live in the moor country of England in the stern mansion Thornfield. She is to teach the ward of the puzzling Mr. Rochester. Slowly but surely Jane finds herself falling in love with her stern master and occasionally even feels that he returns her feelings. But there is a mystery surrounding her master one that might blot out every hope of happiness Jane has.

This book is in the fourteen and up range.

That said I shall now proceed to try and convince those of you who are "up" to read this book.

I the first place Jane herself is an awesome character. I find her as a young girl to be very much like myself. Fond of books and thinking, impressed by beauty and capable of becoming almost rabid with rage when pushed to far. However as Jane grows up and comes under the influence of kind teachers and patient schoolmates she becomes meeker and more patient herself, submissive without losing her spark of independence.

I love reading about Jane. The way she talks to herself, her low opinion of her own looks, her art, her solitary walks, it all fascinates me. I never get bored reading about Jane, though on the surface she is most certainly a very boring person.

There is a certain quiet rustle to this tale that makes it hard to put down even when the story itself is quiet. And when the plot thickens....! Forget any laundry you may have had in mind you simply must read another chapter.

Mr. Rochester is another character I never tire of hearing about. This guy is just plane interesting, Rough, rude, and gentle mixed add some striking ugliness and a habit of beetling at people with his eyebrows and you've got Mr. Rochester.

The over all feel of this book is electric it makes you sit up and take notice. The first line alone "There was no possibility of taking a walk that day" is intriguing. Right away you know that Jane is not your normal heroine.

SPOILERS!
The ending... What can I say? Is there anything more beautiful then Mr. Rochester's words to Jane about his salvation? Some say that the transition was to fast. I disagree, we didn't see the transition because Jane didn't but we saw the result and I personally love it.

Oh and does this song remind anyone of what Mr. Rochester might have been feeling while Jane was gone? just replace the word "sing" with "surprise me with your blunt lovable ways"

  

Literature

Right now I'm reading Ben Hur, The Cat of Bubastes, and Hans Brinker right now. Very satisfying. You know what I love most about all these books? They immerse you so much in the world of the characters. For a little while at least I am in Roman Judea, or New Kingdom Egypt, or Holland. As a writer who is focusing on learning how to make places "pop" right now this is wonderful for me.

I never really read before I started writing. Oh I read physically and emotionally, I would swallow whole books in hours and be swallowed by them but I didn't really read. I didn't have the scope I have now. As a writer I am so much better able to wonder at the scope of grandeur that these fellow laborers bring seemingly with the sweep of a pen, can both sink into the story and sit back and marvel at the beauty of each individual sentence. Oh yes reading is much better from this side of the fence. I also feel more I think, since I started writing and exploring the feelings and emotions of my characters tears come more readily than they used to.

Reading used to be an escape from boredom, I used to be bored a lot. So I had two solutions. i could read, or I could pretend. Of course pretending is impossible with people watching so I could only pretend on sunny days when no one was in the back yard, this meant that I read a lot.

Now I'm hardly ever bored. Between new attitudes that I'm striving to cultivate, new pursuits{drawing, blogging, and writing} and new responsibilities I'm almost never without a lot on plate. After I started writing and that took a great hunk of my time my reading began to slowly but surely slacken. I barely noticed that it was happening until like February and then I only thought, "well that's good I was starting to spend to much time reading like four hours a day. That wasn't good." And then about three weeks ago I realized I hadn't read anything not one thing that wasn't for school in a week and a half.

WHAT!?!?!?!

What happened to the Anne that used to sit on the sofa nose buried in a book deaf and blind to the rest of the world? What happened to the girl who would sleep with Son of the Black Stallion under her pillow just so that she could be near it? Where is the Anne who took twenty books with her to Disney world even though she knew she wouldn't read all of them just because she felt safer with provision for emergency near her?

Where is Anne? Stuck in front of the computer screen eyes barely seeing the words she types as the scene plays out before her. This is not bad, I need to write.

But I also need to read. If I don't put words in my tank I won't be getting many out, and besides that reading is just to great an opportunity to miss!

This blog is my journey-my new journey- through books. How they fascinate me and inspire me and what I think of them. Right now that journey is being slightly outlined by my Classics Club list { page at the top} but that by no means limits it. So open up them pages and put down the mouse! It's time to read!

Screeeeeeeech!

This blog is, to say the least, boring. It may not be boring to you, in fact I've gotten some very nice comments on here that seem to point to the fact that this is not boring.

But it is. It is boring me.

You see my other blog my writing blog is a part of me, when I feel down or in need of companionship I write a post on there about my writing or feelings about writing. In the ten months I've been a writer writing and blogging about writing have become such a part of me that if for some reason that blog got deleted I think I would be in tears, correction, I KNOW I would be in tears. This blog though I don't feel much affection for. I feel formal and stiff when writing on it, like I've got to live up to some standard. I steer away from spoilers and try my best to sound profound. And it's not working

So I'm calling a screech. Instead of blah de blahing about the different books I've read trying desperately to sound like an official book blogger I'm just going to write what I feel like writing. Book reviews yes, but my kind of book reviews, the kind where I just talk about what this book meant to me not try to sound scholarly. Oh and this blog is getting a make over too. 

You see Jillian, a blogger I greatly respect and the founder of the Classics Club, writes about her won personal Journey through the classics about how the classics are her "room of her own" her peace and quiet and her time to herself. She started blogging as she started reading the classics, both things together.

I on the other hand started book blogging cause I thought the Classics club sounded cool. Now I'm thinking a little differently.

A lot of people talk of reading and writing as a journey. well that may be cliche but I like it. So now this blog is my journey, my four fold journey through Classic Literature, History, Poetry, and Plain Old Good Books.

The next four posts will be detailing how I see these panning out and all that good stuff. Hopefully in the next three years{my years left in high school} I hope these four rather separate personal studies will roll themselves into one since I consider all these to be similar and part of each other and best studies together.

Peaceful nonsense to you all!

With love,

 The Anne girl     

A Tale of Two Cities

Where to begin? What to say? This is my beloved Dickens. This is Sydney Carton. This is the French revolution. This book is the one I almost picked for my favorite classic.

This book broke my heart.

Read it please. It will break yours.

France is flowing with blood and rage, gasping for more of both. Among it's throngs several characters are brought out of the red mist to play out there story on the bold relief of it's curtain.

A girl comes to claim her father from a decrepit wine shop where he was being cared for. He had been taken from the Bastille where he had lost his memory. Escorted by an old family friend Mr. Lorry, Lucie Manette and her father leave for England never expecting to come to France again. 

Their paths cross two men, Charles Darnay and Sydney Carton, who look remarkably alike and yet could not be more different...except in their love for Lucie. 

Charles is gentlemanly, eager, and industrious. Sydney is sloppy, rough, and he drinks. It is Charles of course who wins the love of Lucy. But when the characters are once again drawn to the bloody streets of France the true meaning of "hero" becomes apparent 

Read this book with a growing lump in your throat.

Sydney Carton is the point of this book. I loved other characters I held my breath for other characters, and I was fascinated by the other plot lines, but Sydney was something different.

Miss Havisham, Estella, Steerforth, Lady Dedlock. I begged for them, I pleaded for them, I cried for them. Sydney put them all behind him. I was almost praying that the book would end different then I knew it would.

So what's so special about Sydney Carton? He's no John Ridd.

No he's not. And that was what hurts so much. He could have been one of the most brilliant men who ever lived. He could have been the one Lucy loved, he could have been epic. But he wasn't. And it was his own fault. He was to lazy to develop hid enormous brain capacity. To lazy to make something of himself. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Why does that hurt so much? Why? Why cant we just put him down as Tip Dorrit and move on? It's because he knows it. And because I see myself in him. I'm lazy, you're lazy. Every human is lazy. Sydney went under because of it.

And he knew it. But to late. I cried my way through the second half of the book. I wanted a second Valjean. Valjean turned to God and changed his ways before it was to late.  

Sydney doesn't. He dies in peace but his life spilled and wasted behind him. For one day he is a hero. For only one day he stands tall as a man and does something that was worthy of Sir Percy himself.

SPOILERS
And yet to me the greatest moment of his heroism is not when he trades with Charles. To me his greatest moment is when he spends his last moments comforting the young seamstress who would proceed him to the guillotine. His life was a total waste but his death was not. Frankly though I care about poor Lucie and Charles  I think the greatest deed Sydney carton ever did was to comfort that poor trembling girl in the moments before the blade fell.
END OF SPOILERS

Sydney Carton made me want to live my life with purpose.

Read about him please. He'll do the same for you.

It is a far better thing.....               

Classics Club August Meme: My favorite classic

Captains Courageous, Lorna Doon, Anne of Green Gables, Johnny Tremain, Ivanhoe. These are all "my" books. The ones that are linked with something I love something that I will always cherish. And there are many more.

But I am supposed to pick one aren't I?

OK! I pick the french revolution!You know, Tale of Two Cities, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and Les Misrables.

I can't pick a time period? Rats.

I pick Charles Dickens! Little Dorrit, Bleak House, ect...

I can't pick an author either can I?

Fine!

Great Expectations.

My sister Amy is what you call a Janite. She pities the people who think Austen is a city, her favorite hero is George Knightly and she wants of those shirts that say "I'm waiting for my Prince Charming Mr. Darcy."

I sniff at the use of "Dickens" as an expression. The first time I cried while watching a movie was watching John Chivery propose to Amy{Dorrit}. My little sister calls me Handel.

I don't know if there is a word for a Dickens lover. So I'm making one up, I am a....

Pumblechookian

'cause that is a word Dicken's made up and he is awesome. In fact my sister says I should call him My Sweet Chuck {referencing my love of Robin Hood}. Please note the new page.

Why the Pumblechook book?  What makes them special to me?

When I was younger Amy read Oliver Twist. Well being the annoying little sister i was i got out the shortened version from the library and read it. Then Amy found it on my bookshelf and told me that it wasn't the real thing.

Oh the disillusionment.

The next time I was smarter. Amy read Great Expectations. Of course I had to tag along. I picked it up and at the age of somewhere between eight and nine {I think} read about half of it. Yawn. It was boring. It was depressing. And it made me feel like being in a great open cold place that had no colors except gray and dusky smoldering red{I think and feel in colors and sense images, unlike Amy who thinks in letters and words, an enviable talent since she can spell and I can't. Rabbit trail.}. Back then I didn't like red. Gray is the color you get when you rub hope out. Needless to say I hated Great Expectations.

So I started reading Shakespeare instead. After all I had to have something big girl and mature. BTW I'm now a big Shakespeare fan.

Then in 8th grade I discovered that I loved to learn. That school was fun! I begged Mom to let me read David Copperfield for school. I yearned for something thick to set my teeth into, to gobble and chew. A book I could slurp in great thick creamy gulps. A book colored rich brown and impressive shine-black. I adored David Copperfield.  Steerforth broke my heart, I fell in love with Ham, I beat my fists over Davie's misfortunes, wriggled with delight over Tommy Traddles, bit Mr. Murdstone with great relish and Davie's mother with mustard. I drew a picture of Agnes and shredded it. I wept over poor Dora, loved Emily, and learned how to do a perfect Uriah Heep imitation.

Then Amy and I watched Little Dorrit. I now knew that Dickens was something special. I read the book, then Bleak House. This year I took a deep breath and decided to retry Great Expectations. I expected to hate it.

And I didn't.

I loved it.

The gray was heartbreaking but I loved having my heartbroken. Miss Havisham had me in tears, Estella had me in tears, Pip had me in tears, Joe had me in tears. you get the picture. Every time I picked it up I speant the whole time with my hand pressed over my mouth trying to smother gasps of pleasure at the silver threads of imagery Dickens scattered in between the gray. Trying to smother tears when he picked up my heart a turned it in his hand along with the hearts of the characters. Trying to smother laughter when for half a minute the clouds broke and the Dicken's dry sunshine shone through in the form of wit.

The thing I loved about it was that I felt for all the characters. All of them. From Pumblechook, to Pip to Miss Havisham. The only one I would have scooted off the scene with a right good will was the avenger. That kid made me want to scream and tare things. Yet I loved the feeling. Great Expectations helped me understand the importance of purpose driven writing. Of having your characters{even your villains} twine themselves around the readers heartstrings.

It taught me that gray is good.

Remember. Gray is the color you get when hope is rubbed away. Gray is so that the hope shows up even brighter. That it tinges more welcome and more rosy. After all why did God allow sin? So that man should see his need of him. Why does a writer allow hopelessness into the book? Same reason. That the reader will see the need for hope.

Dickens is awesome. 

Book Three: The Triumph of the Scarlet Pimpernel

The Formal

Plot: Chauvalin and Robespierre are once again trying to lure The Scarlet Pimpernel in to be captured this time using a woman to try and get under his protective awesomeness.

Age Suggestion: Teens and up This is pretty intense stuff. Nothing objectionable though just a lot of suspense.

Rating: Eight out of ten.

The Informal

We must blame the lateness of this post on the business of my life. I had time to blog but reviewing for some reason is harder for me then just sitting down and writing a normal blog post so though i continued to read my book review's got pushed farther and farther to the back of my mind.

Anyways this book was wonderful. There was this one part where Percy is helping some young hotheads escape the will of the people and it was like so totally awesome my mouth was hanging open at the end of the scene. Superman? pfff! Give me Percy and chocolate.

The cravat scene! You all know the scene above from the movie? Well it's in this book! Almost exactly the same words. I love when Percy and Chauvalin have a face off. Unfortunately this revue must be cut short because I read the book over two days about three months a go and I don't remember much. To make up for it I will direct you to the awesomest Percy blog Evah where you can here me and my sister sing about the wonderfulness of the pimpernel.

The Whys and Wherefores

Of why I have never read Narnia, Twilight, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or Harry Potter.

A little while ago on Scribblings I mentioned that I don't read Narnia and LOTR and I got a few shocked comments. I was at a history competition last week and was discussing books with someone I met there and when LOTR came up I had to say that I knew nothing about it. Not surprisingly this got a shocked response. Then Petie posted her vlog about Snow White and the Huntsman and that got me thinking about stating opinions and telling others about what you believe.


So here I am this is my second opinion post on Scribblings and my first on Rustlings and I'm beginning to think I should do this more often.    

First of all lets deal with Twilight and Harry potter. I am a christian and I believe that witchcraft and vampires and other things of evil to be off limits. The Bible says no so I won't read books about them. End of story.

LOTR and Narnia however are a different matter.  You see most people I know have read them. Most christian girls my age have read them. Most bloggers I know are looking forward to the Hobbit movie. So as you might guess I'm a little nervous that I might tread on some toes, but I am just going to be as considerate and thoughtful as I can and we'll see how it goes.

Both have magic in them. I believe that magic is not honoring to the Lord. But wait, isn't Narnia an allegory of the gospel or something?

I don't know I haven't read it. But even if it is does that make it right? The book is about another world one which God did not create and it uses a created being {a lion} to picture God. I'm sorry but to me that sounds to me a bit like violating the second commandment. Now I'm not saying that the people who read Narnia are bowing down and worshiping an idol or that C.S. Lewis was making one. What I'm saying is that it seems wrong to picture God as an animal.

Also the Bible says "what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? And what communion hath light with darkness?" now this passage is about being yoked with unbelievers but it really applies to everything. What business does an allegory about Christ have being mixed up with witches? 

So I'll get off my soap box now. But that's why I don't read Narnia & Co.

P.S I am not saying however that every little fairy tale is evil, just questioning whether Christians should be reading stuff about witches and dark magic. Oh go and watch Petie's vlog. She's talking about some of the same stuff only different.      

Book Two: El Dorado

I have a new favorite book! Seriously this was even better than the first TSP book!


Warning if you have not read The Scarlet Pimpernel and you don't want the story spoiled for you do not read this review. I will try not to spoil the ending of this book though.


The Formal

Plot: Young Armand St. Just-cousin of the famous St. Just, brother of Marguerite Blakeney and brother in law of Percy Blakeney the illusive Scarlet Pimpernel-goes to the theater and there falls in love with a young actress named Jeanne. Being young and headless he lets his love for her and fear for her safety get in the way of his duty putting her his beloved leader The Scarlet Pimpernel, his sister Marguerite, and the entire League of the Scarlet Pimpernel in horrible danger. That's the plot stripped down to the bare bones and robbed of the emotion. But emotion is never allowed in the formal is it?

Age Suggestion: 13 at least. This is pretty intense stuff. Nothing objectionable though just a lot of suspense.

Rating: 15 1/2 out of ten stars.

The Informal
Go read this post. And this one, and this one, and this and this. I'm serious! Read all of them. 


Now that you have been sufficiently briefed on the awesomeness of Sir Percy {or not depending on how much laziness figures in your DNA} we can talk about El Dorado. 

"Well, now, Armand, what is it?" asked Blakeney, the moment the footsteps of his friends had died away down the stone stairs, and their voices had ceased to echo in the distance."You guessed, then, that there was ... something?" said the younger man, after a slight hesitation."Of course."Armand rose, pushing the chair away from him with an impatient nervy gesture. Burying his hands in the pockets of his breeches, he began striding up and down the room, a dark, troubled expression in his face, a deep frown between his eyes.Blakeney had once more taken up his favourite position, sitting on the corner of the table, his broad shoulders interposed between the lamp and the rest of the room. He was apparently taking no notice of Armand, but only intent on the delicate operation of polishing his nails.Suddenly the young man paused in his restless walk and stood in front of his friend--an earnest, solemn, determined figure."Blakeney," he said, "I cannot leave Paris to-morrow."Sir Percy made no reply. He was contemplating the polish which he had just succeeded in producing on his thumbnail."I must stay here for a while longer," continued Armand firmly. "I may not be able to return to England for some weeks. You have the three others here to help you in your enterprise outside Paris. I am entirely at your service within the compass of its walls." 

My thoughts after reading ED were such. I was much strengthened in my belief that Sir Percy is the most wonderful thing since himself. 


Basically all I can say is that this was a book that had everything. An awesome hero, a deluded young enthusiast, loyal men, dastardly villains, a wonderful heroine, danger, adventure, but it was this that I couldn't get over.

Armand, I know. I knew even before Chauvelin came to me, and stood there hoping to gloat over the soul-agony a man who finds that he has been betrayed by his dearest friend. But that d--d reprobate did not get that satisfaction, for I was prepared. Not only do I know, Armand, but I UNDERSTAND. I, who do not know what love is, have realised how small a thing is honour, loyalty, or friendship when weighed in the balance of a loved one's need.To save Jeanne you sold me to Heron and his crowd. We are men, Armand, and the word forgiveness has only been spoken once these past two thousand years, and then it was spoken by Divine lips. But Marguerite loves you, and mayhap soon you will be all that is left her to love on this earth. Because of this she must never know .... As for you, Armand--well, God help you! But meseems that the hell which you are enduring now is ten thousand times worse than mine. I have heard your furtive footsteps in the corridor outside the grated window of this cell, and would not then have exchanged my hell for yours. Therefore, Armand, and because Marguerite loves you, I would wish to turn to you in the hour that I need help. I am in a tight corner, but the hour may come when a comrade's hand might mean life to me. I have thought of you, Armand partly because having taken more than my life, your own belongs to me, and partly because the plan which I have in my mind will carry with it grave risks for the man who stands by me. I swore once that never would I risk a comrade's life to save mine own; but matters are so different now ... we are both in hell, Armand, and I in striving to get out of mine will be showing you a way out of yours. Will you retake possession of your lodgings in the Rue de la Croix Blanche? I should always know then where to find you on an emergency. But if at any time you receive another letter from me, be its contents what they may, act in accordance with the letter, and send a copy of it at once to Ffoulkes or to Marguerite. Keep in close touch with them both. Tell her I so far forgave your disobedience (there was nothing more) that I may yet trust my life and mine honour in your hands. I shall have no means of ascertaining definitely whether you will do all that I ask; but somehow, Armand, I know that you will. I knew Armand would betray Percy. I knew he would sell him to Chauvalin. I saw it coming. What I didn't see coming was my deep feeling for him. I expected to hate him but I found because Percy didn't I couldn't.  Percy is a lot like Jesus. I'm not saying that Eldorado is an allegory and that Percy pictures Christ. I'm saying that Percy imitates our Lord as much as he can.  Jesus forgives and so Percy forgives. We are men, Armand, and the word forgiveness has only been spoken once these past two thousand years, and then it was spoken by Divine lips. Jesus loved and saved us and so Percy follows him, loving and saving as many as he can whatever the price. "Poor mite," he murmured softly; "he walked so bravely by my side, until the little feet grew weary; then he nestled in my arms and slept until we met Ffoulkes waiting with the cart. He was no King of France just then, only a helpless innocent whom Heaven aided me to save." Marguerite bowed her head in silence. There was nothing more that she could say, no plea that she could urge. Indeed, she had understood, as he had begged her to understand. She understood that long ago he had mapped out the course of his life, and now that that course happened to lead up a Calvary of humiliation and of suffering he was not likely to turn back, even though, on the summit, death already was waiting and beckoning with no uncertain hand; not until he could murmur, in the wake of the great and divine sacrifice itself, the sublime words: "It is accomplished." This is why I love Armand. Because I see myself in him and because of him I love Percy more. I have sinned against God  and the fact that he loves me anyway makes me love Him.  "Greater love has no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends." "To the praise of the glory of his grace, wherein we are accepted in the beloved." "The LORD did not set his love upon you, nor choose you, because ye were more in number than any people; for ye were the fewest of all people: But because the LORD loved you," The test of a great book is weather or not it turns us back to God and Eldorado does that. It has become my favorite book

Book One: Great Expectations

This is the reason why I picked 51 books for the Classics Club instead of 50. I was almost done Great Expectations when I started and I wasn't sure if it counted.

So I have finished Great Expectations. And my thoughts are as such: I LOVED it.

Seriously this was better then Little Dorrit! Which, as those of you who know me well know, is saying a lot. Not the movie. It was not better than the movie of Little Dorrit{nothing but TSP is in my opinion}, but it was a little better than the book. You see there wasn't any of that going on and on and on that is so prevalent in Dickens. I really like all of Dickens writing but this seemed a bit more clean cut then any of his other stuff I have read so far.

So now down to the structured part of this review.

Note: This is a subjective review, I will rant I will gush and I will expound my opinion freely. There will be much spoilers. So be warned.

The Formal
{when I review a book from now on this section will hold a basic plot outline, age suggestion, and rating. Those of you who never read the last page first and don't like gushing rants can read this part only. Kindred Spirits may continue on to the informal as well.}

Plot: The marshes of southern England have seen many strange things but one of the strangest was the meeting of Pip the little blacksmith boy, and the escaped convict Magwitch. After Magwitch convinces pip to steal food for him and is later caught Pip's life returns to normal, but not for long. He is asked to come play by the eccentric Miss Havisham of Satis house. Pip finds Satis house a world of bitter, lightless, quiet, peopled only by miss Havisham and her beautiful ward Estella. Pip begins to loath his common life at the forge and long to be raised up in Estella's esteem. Then Mr. Jaggers comes to call and Pip's life is changed forever. Is he now to see the fulfillment of his Great Expectations?

Age Suggestion: 12 and up probably, it's a bit scary and a bit difficult to understand in places.

Rating: Ten stars! Absolutely wonderful!

The Informal

I think my favorite character was Joe. No Herbert. I don't know why but I really really loved Herbert. He was just so nice and understanding. And Wemmick! I loved the whole Walworth thing! I think my favorite part of the whole book was when he got married:

"Halloa! Here's a church! Let's go in! Halloa! Her's a pair of kid gloves lets put them on! Halloa! Here's Miss Skiffins! Let's have a wedding!' As if were all done right on the spot.

Back to Joe. The way he rubbed at his side whisker was very endearing. I cried when he came to visit Pip and cried when he helped Pip when he was sick{I cry a lot when I read books and watch movies}. I think Joe deserves hero status. The way he always loved Pip no matter what was hero material.

That brings me to Pip. What do I think of the Great Expecter himself? Well I liked him. I felt sorry for him. At the beginning of the book he's this cute little kid and I felt for him when he was stuck with Miss Havisham and Estella all that time.

Bunny path here: Who says Dickens isn't funny? The part where Pip makes up all those lies about Miss Havisham and the big dogs and the veal cutlets is a scream.

 "We played with the flags," I said. (I beg to observe that I think of myself with amazement when I recall the lies I told on this occasion)

"Flags!" echoed my sister.
"Yes," said I. "Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved a red one, and Miss Havisham waved one sprinkled all over with little gold stars, out at the coach window. And then we all waved our swords and hurrahed."

End of bunny path.

When Pip grows up I was prepared to hate him, I knew the story and I knew that he was mean to Joe and high and mighty. But I found myself liking and feeling for him just the same. The avenger had me in stitches and the way that he a Herbert handled debt made me shake my head and moan.

I found myself loving and feeling for every important character except for Orlick, Compeyson, and Mr. Pumblechook. The first I hated, the second I loathed, the third I despised.

I even loved Miss Havisham. Or rather I should say I especially loved Miss Havisham. That is what I love about Dickens so much. He makes you feel for characters you want to hate. He breaks your heart over these people.

Miss Havisham is a bitter twisted woman who has gone slightly crazy with grief and hatred, yet when she gets down on her knees and begs forgiveness of Pip who is there that doesn't cry? Read the book. I dare you not to cry. I dare you not to love her and forgive her.

Miss Havisham repents of what she did to Pip and Estella. And that brings me to Estella. Again. Someone it would be easy to hate on the surface but once you see a bit inside of her you can't. Miss Havisham raised her in ice. She trained her not to feel not to love. And Estella knows it. She has no feelings, only a sort of cold horror at her own coldness. You see a sort of pain in her that doesn't come out except in that one scene when she tells Pip to beware. I think that's why she married Bentley Drummle instead of Pip. With Pip she felt more human than she did with anyone else. And it scared her. Pip awakened a bit of the dormant feeling in her heart and her nature was to kill feeling. So she married Drummle. She did not want to be thawed. Thawing is painful.

Then her husband dies. Before he did he treated her horribly. The pain and bitterness of her life softened her and by the end of the book you can see that she is a different woman. Just maybe ready to love.

And I think she does. Great Expectations ends with these words. "I saw no shadow of another parting from her." I take that to mean that they kept on together. Pip carefully loving her and helping her, she slowly healing. Then when they were both in the middle of life they got married. Not a wild passionate romance but a quiet slow healing love that replaced Pip's early infatuation and Estella's earlier ice.

"We are friends," said I, rising and bending over her, as she rose from the bench."And will continue friends apart," said Estella.I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her. 

And I cried my eyes out.

It's Brillig!

According to Humpty Humpty, Brillig is teatime: about four in the afternoon. I don't have teatime. And his humptyness did say that words should mean what you want them to mean. So for me brillig is blogging time. The time when I sit down and tell my bloggy friends whats going on with me.

So welcome to the very first Brillig on this blog, A new adventure a new start.

I love to write{as those of you who read my other blog know}but I also love to read. And I love to learn. I like classic books and when I joined the classics club I wanted to have a place to record my progress. So I created this blog.

Here I will review the books I read and just gush about them the way period Drama bloggers gush about their favorite movies. I like subjective reviews so my reviews will all be subjective. I will say exactly what I think. I like {and invite} those little bloggy battles and discussions that are so much fun. So if your opinion is different than mine please comment and say so! We can discuss it and have fun with it.

My posts will be divided into basically three sections.  Book Reviews {which we have already talked about} Opinion Posts{which I will talk about in a minute} and Participation Posts{which I will talk about in two minutes}.

I am an opinionated person. I like expressing those opinions. Some of those opinions are about books. Like my thoughts on kindles{I'll be nice I promise}, or my thoughts on fantasy, or what I think of different genres.

So the opinion posts will be about books and reading but not book reviews.

A Participation Post is when I ask a question about reading or a type of book or something and I want to here you thoughts about it. I won't do that until we all get to know each other better though. It could also be a read along. I always thought those were cool.

So now this Brillig is over I bid you adieu and go off to read El Dorado!