I've got a horrendous cold and have spent 3 days mostly in bed. So I started to read this again, starting at Thornfield. It's just so so so so so good. I love this book. It's a few years since I've read it, I can't believe I'm OLDER THAN MR ROCHESTER. When I first read it he was like an Ancient Old Man. It's so weird! He's 35! And there are loads of stout women in their 40s! I so don't want to be one of those stout women like Grace Poole!
I read books so differently now, I used to just skim landscape and interior descriptions, now I really read them. It's a different book.
Also, why does Jane accept his Parisien stories and the description of his general dissipation? Wouldn't a girl at that time be genuinely horrified? She's as unbothered as if it was 2009! Strange Brontes.