We Look for Different Things

 

Sunny Juliet and I go for a long walk every morning, each of us exploring in her own way. My eyes are my foremost sense. For her, I suspect it’s her nose, but she uses her eyes, too, to spot something interesting up ahead, a reason to run up and inspect with her nose and then, often, give her teeth and taste buds a workout. 

The glove I dropped yesterday! I was looking for that!

Sunny notices visually either movement or novelty. If something appears that wasn’t there before, that’s something she has to check out. And if birds fly up out of a mesquite shrub or a cottontail or jackrabbit breaks its frozen pose to run, she’ll give chase – with equal success, I might add, in case of birds or bunnies. I’m looking at forms of mesquite, abandoned nests, seed pods of different sizes and colors, and speculating about remnants of old stone walls. I’m told that some of these courses of stonework were built to direct the flow of water during monsoon season, and that’s intriguing, but I also see pictures in my memory of two beloved former dogs posed on one particular section of wall.

Mesquite dragon growing from hackberry embrace...

...found life ended where it began.

Long a landmark for me, this one.

This more recently stumbled upon.

Sunny does not share my fascination with effects of light and shadow on distant mountains, and I do not share her enthusiasm for cow poop. Does she have memories of other times in the wash, from last spring or earlier this winter? I’ll never know.

 

While our interests are not identical, however, they are more or less compatible, and we both enjoy our rambles over the range together. At least, in our own fashion of “together.” It’s a bit the way the Artist and I enjoyed our books together. Each of us had literary loves not shared by the other, and we also enjoyed considerable overlap in our reading tastes, which is what allowed us to take such deep pleasure in reading aloud to, and being read aloud to by, the other. Of the three first books I’ve read in this new calendar year, I think he would have enjoyed most certain parts of On Trails but might have preferred the book I’m reading now, Washington Irving’s A Tour on the Prairies, about a frontier expedition made in the 1830s. For the rest of you, here is my beginning-of-the-year recap:

 

1. Spragg, Mark. An Unfinished Life (fiction). I picked up this novel because I was absolutely crazy about the author’s memoir, Where Rivers Change Direction, but I hadn’t gotten very far at all into An Unfinished Life before I realized I’d seen the movie based on the book, and then as I read, I kept seeing scenes from the movie. The author and his wife worked on the screenplay, I read on the dust jacket. But I’ll say to you what I always say in cases like these, which is – if you haven’t seen the movie, read the novel first. And if you haven’t read the memoir, be sure to do that. It’s a completely different story but one not to be missed!

 

2. Moor, Robert. On Trails (nonfiction). I wasn’t sure I would read this book in its entirety. Thought maybe I’d dip into it, give a few pages a try. Well! Moor’s prologue tells of his hiking the Appalachian Trail, but the very fact that he put that in a prologue should have told me he had much, much more to say. Not only does he hike beyond the North American continent, not only does he investigate how animals other than human beings make trails, but he also investigates the notions of spiritual paths and introduces the idea of “desire lines,” as well as giving details of how public hiking trails are con- structed, so that as I read I kept thinking of more and more friends and family members and bookstore customers who would appreciate this book. He writes of how every hiker alters a trail:

 

Here is where the notion of the spiritual path, as portrayed in countless holy books, falters: scriptures tend to present the image of an unchanging route to wisdom, handed down from on high. But paths, like religions, are seldom fixed. They continually change—widen or narrow, schism or merge—depending on how, or whether, their followers elect to use them. Both the religious path and the hiking path are, as Taoists say, made in the walking. 

 

This is exactly what Henri Bergson said about life and about arguments of free will vs. determinism that depend on an image of a forking path and Moor has such a lovely philosophical turn of mind that I wish he had not dismissed Bergson as quickly as he did, but that was my only disappointment in a book that I highly recommend.

 

3. Brontë, Charlotte. Shirley (fiction). My admiration for Charlotte Brontë has grown by leaps and bounds through my reading of this novel. Set during the time of Napoleon, the story more than touches upon economic disruptions brought about not only by machinery but also by the war itself, the plight of those thrown out of work highlighted without demonizing factory owners struggling to avoid bankruptcy and ruin. Had I written the novel (there’s a dream for you!), I might have called it Caroline and Shirley, because it’s hard to say that only one of the two main female characters is “the” protagonist. In fact, Shirley comes into the story long after the character of Caroline has been established. Friendship between the two young women is based in large part on the recognition both have that their interests and values and thoughts are not those of other young women in their social circle. 

I can imagine readers who would be impatient at the long speeches the author sometimes puts in her characters’ mouths, more like carefully written and smoothly edited mini-essays than realistic conversation. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed them. And at other times dialogue moves swiftly, in short bursts like the thrusts of a fencing duel. There is even a passage in which I saw Caroline and Shirley as a kind of Greek chorus, delivering a description of a scene the author could have described herself more directly, and that struck me as a brilliant and fascinating experiment. 

Charlotte Brontë’s views of gender equality and social justice were way ahead of her time, and this book deserves a broad new modern audience.

 

Lose yourself in a book!

What do you look for in a book when you are reading purely for pleasure? Story, character, social commentary, mystery and surprise, crime and punishment, or something else entirely? If something else, what?

JANE EYRE Was Inspiration For MR. ROCHESTER

Charlotte

In the classic English novel Jane Eyre, written in 1847 by Charlotte Brontë, we meet the protagonist narrator as a child on the book’s first page. Both her parents having died, she was taken in by an uncle, but when he also passed away, responsibility for the orphan girl had fallen to his widow, Jane’s aunt by marriage, who finds the child a terrible burden. Her three cousins bear her no love, either. The boy particularly delights in tormenting her, knowing his mother will always take his side.

The resentful aunt unburdens herself by sending ten-year-old Jane away to a residential charity school. Lowood School is a harsh environment at first, and the girl has no vacations away from it, but she does make one close friend and finds a kind and sympathetic teacher. In time, life at the school improves. Eventually, at age 16, Jane becomes a teacher there herself.

Having achieved through education the means to be independent—and longing for a world beyond Lowood, which is all the world she has known other than the home of her unloving aunt—at age 18 Jane advertises for a governess position with a private family. Her ad brings in a single response, and so Jane travels to Thornfield Hall for an interview and gets the job. After her first quiet, introductory weeks, the master returns to his residence. Life at Thornfield grows much more interesting! The master is, of course, the enigmatic Mr. Rochester, one of English literature’s most mysterious and compelling male characters.

This is the story we all know. Jane and Rochester meet in the twelfth chapter of Jane Eyre, when he is 35 years old to her 18. So much for background.

But what was Rochester’s life before Jane Eyre came along? How different was his childhood and youth from hers? Why did Jane appeal to him so strongly? What were his motives and inward thoughts and feelings as he fell in love with and courted the plain, solemn governess while concealing from her a prior, still-binding marriage? And what allowed him in the first place to think himself justified in locking his wife away, keeping her very existence hidden from the world?

One reader, Sarah Shoemaker, kept asking herself, “What kind of man does such things?” Of all these matters, Charlotte Brontë has told us next to nothing, because her story all comes to us through the eyes and ears and from the heart of Jane, leaving Rochester a tantalizing mystery.

Edward

Shoemaker, however, probably because she is a writer as well as a reader, could not silence the questions in her mind. The mystery of Rochester’s earlier life would not let her go. And because she felt compelled to imagine a past for the man who, by the end of Charlotte Brontë’s book, finally marries the literary world’s beloved Jane Eyre, we now have a companion novel to the nineteenth-century classic. That is, we will have it very soon, for Sarah Shoemaker’s Mr. Rochester, from Grand Central Press in New York, is due for release this coming May 9.

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As Brontë did in giving us Jane Eyre’s childhood and girlhood, Shoemaker gives us Edward Rochester as a boy and young man. In the end we are brought to Brontë’s familiar conclusion but from a very different starting point and along a very different, much more exotic path of adventure and misadventure.

We meet Jane first as a poor orphan, while Edward is to the manor born. But his mother is dead and his father so cold and so seldom at home that Edward’s boyhood is mostly solitary until he is sent away to school at the age of eight. Informed that he is to be sent away, rather than tutored at home as was his older brother, the boy is shocked. Schooling, however, turns out to be one of the happiest periods of Edward’s young life. The friends he makes in the course of his studies, the freedom the boys enjoy, and the eccentric teaching of their master, Mr. Lincoln, who loves maps and battle strategy, combine to make this part of Shoemaker’s story a sheer delight. Edward’s only sorrow while at Mr. Lincoln’s establishment is that, unlike the other boys, he never goes home over vacations. In that, his experience mirrors Jane’s at Lowood, although it is different in almost every other respect.

Edward’s father has business interests in Jamaica and spends much of his time there, so it is not entirely surprising that the boy becomes obsessed with the island, anticipating the day he will join his father and brother there. “Jam,” the other boys and Mr. Lincoln take to calling him. (All the boys go by nicknames.) But when Edward leaves school, he is neither summoned home to Thornfield nor abroad to Jamaica: instead his father has arranged an apprenticeship for him in a mill where broadcloth is made. He is not to work on the floor himself but to learn the ways of the “counting house,” in preparation for his future. From there he goes off to university and earns a degree.

(In both novels, social class plays an important role. Jane’s parents had “nothing,” she attends a charity school, and as a governess, she lives on the uncertain middle ground between servants and gentility. Edward’s father, though titled, chose the active life of business, but because Edward’s older brother will inherit Thornfield and all his father’s properties in England, Edward must follow in his father’s footsteps in Jamaica and make his own way in the world. The head start his father gives him is education, experience in running a business, and a going concern, his sugar cane plantation in Jamaica. In both books, unlike those of the preceding century, the servants are given names and have visible presence in the stories.)

Part Two of Mr. Rochester, then, is set in Jamaica, where Edward finds he has inherited slaves as well as land. His marriage to the beautiful Bertha is all but arranged for him, and he knows little of her beforehand other than her beauty. The only other Brontë spinoff I know is The Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys. Also made into a movie, the Rhys novel tells the story from Bertha’s perspective but was not, for me, anywhere as satisfying or convincing as I found Mr. Rochester. (Maybe I should read it again, too?)

--But don’t look for a spoiler here! I have no intention of detailing the Jamaica section, which sets the stage for so much of what follows. No, you must wait for the book to come out and read every word for yourself, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?

Then there are the years that Rochester leaves the running of his plantation to an estate manager and allows himself a licentious, rootless life in Europe. Again, details await your reading. The child Adèle, I’ll mention, Jane Eyre’s charge, is one consequence of the European sojourn. Another, planted in Jamaica and afterward expanded in Europe, is Rochester’s suspicious attitude toward women, his belief that they are not to be trusted.

In Part Three we are on familiar ground, back at Thornfield Hall, where Jane is ensconced as governess to Adèle, and there unfold the events familiar to us from Jane Eyre--but different now, because we are seeing them through new eyes. In the older novel, we had access to Jane’s heart and saw the world through her eyes; in Sarah Shoemaker’s new novel, we see the world through the eyes of Rochester, and are privy to the secrets of his heart.

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I first read Mr. Rochester in manuscript almost three years ago, and before opening my advance reading copy this winter, I re-read Brontë’s Jane Eyre. Still, despite knowing that all would come right in the end, I found myself spellbound. I was gripped with anxiety through all Rochester’s turmoil! His many trials and setbacks, one after another, and the series of wrenching discoveries that are not over until almost the last page of the book all made any happy ending seem wildly improbable, even though I already knew the ending! This, of course, was the author’s challenge from the beginning: since all who have read Brontë’s novel remember Jane’s closing, “Reader, I married him,” how can the story be retold in such a way as to create suspense? Simple. All the writer has to do is to create a story that will fully engage the reader from start to finish, as if what is happening on the page is happening in the very moment of (or the moment just before) the reading. That’s all. Simple! Simple???

Sarah Shoemaker does much more than imagine Rochester from the inside. She imagines and lays before us entire worlds, notably Mr. Lincoln’s school, the broadcloth mill, and life on the island of Jamaica. To be believable and keep us immersed in the story, these worlds must be historically accurate and, at the same time, come across as immediate experiences to readers, not as history lessons. Shoemaker succeeds on both counts.

Then there are her original characters, individuals who people these other worlds of Rochester’s. You did not meet them in Jane Eyre, but you will not soon forget the boys Touch and Carrot at the school, Mr. Wilson at the mill and his motherly wife, the worker called Shap, and others.

Sarah

When Dog Ears Books hosts the party to launch Mr. Rochester and to celebrate author Sarah Shoemaker, it will be almost three years since I first gained entrance to this mesmerizing story. It was on the morning of June 1, 2014, that I read the last manuscript page, and since then I never doubted for a minute that this book would eventually be made available to a world audience. Now, the time is almost here!

So mark your calendar! It’s Tuesday, May 9, and the time is 7 to 9 p.m. I’m giddy just thinking about it!