Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Eons ago, err... almost two months back, I blogged about joining my first-ever read-along, the Septemb-Eyre: A Jane Eyre Readalong, to be specific, hosted by Entomology of a Bookworm. We were supposed to write every week about the experience, dividing the book into clusters of several chapters each. Guess how I fared...
The Good: I finished the book in less than a week. Nothing new, nothing unexpected of it, as I have a very low EQ when it comes to resisting the urge to read. There were even times when I skipped work for one whole day just so I can finish a book I was reading. But you didn't hear it from here, ayt?
The Bad: I wasn't able to write a single post after the intro I made earlier last month. No excuse at all. It's just that... Two Words: LIFE HAPPENED.
Thankfully, it really isn't my habit to give blow-by-blow accounts of the books that I read. So, like always, I will simply give an overview about my short, uhm... vacation with Ms. Eyre.
Honestly, I wasn't so impressed about the story. Maybe I found it too cliche. Frankly, it reminded me of a very popular local soap opera we have here in the Philippines, with more or less 90% of the population raving about it. Sorry, I won't name it because I don't want to add to its positive ratings. LOL
BUT, what I liked most about it is Ms. Brontë's writing style. It's the first time I've read her work and I really enjoyed the light manner in which she strings together words. And of course, her descriptions of everything! AMAZING! I couldn't help but see/smell/hear/feel every situation, every emotion she described throughout the novel. So yes, even if this particular story of hers made me want to puke due to its cheesiness, her writing style saved the day. Funny how most writers nowadays tend to forget about sharpening this very important writing skill - effectively describing stuff.
Lastly, no book review of mine will be complete without a rundown of the most memorable lines I got from it. Here goes my selection from Jane Eyre...
Feeling without judgment is a washy draught indeed; but judgment untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglution.
Reason sits firm and holds the reins and she will not let the feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms. The passions may rage furiously, like true heathens, as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things, but judgment shall still have the last word in every argument, and the casting vote in every decision. Strong wind, earthquake-shock, and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience.
Sacrfice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms around what I value - to press my lips to what I love - to repose on what I trust; is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice.
Now, off to find my next Charlotte Brontë story... :)