Like Susan, I considered writing a thoughtful criticism of Jane Eyre.  But, after reading Dr. Bump's article, I have a feeling the entry should be a little more personal. 

            In his article, Dr. Bump discussed the need for "the ability to identify and communicate emotion" (388).  It's interesting how communicating difficult emotions is generally linked with telling a story.  Jane Eyre doesn't tell Miss Temple directly about how she felt in her childhood with Mrs. Reed.  Instead, she engages in a personal story to bring the emotions to life, feeling that it made her emotions more credible to be backed with incidents.  Similarly, instead of saying "I felt ostracized from my family," we discuss the specific incident.  It's easier to talk about emotions in stories because they allow the listener to be more sympathetic.  It's easier to engage in a sympathetic imagination when you have a particular scene, as opposed to an abstract emotion, to engage yourself in.  For example, "one of the most important gifts Bessie gives Jane is the song of the orphan child who found a loving parent God" (390.  Jane is constantly able to relate to this song, to this story.

            How many of us can relate to the feeling of "I say scarcely voluntary, for it seemed as if my tongue pronounced words without my will consenting to their utterance; something spoke out of me over which I had no control" (Chapter 4, Page 35)?  I consider myself lucky that I didn't grow up in a family resembling that of Mrs. Reed's: a family resentful to accept outsiders or offer help.  Instead, I grew up in exactly the opposite atmosphere.  I was raised less than a mile from my cousins and my grandmother.  Hardly a week ever passed that I didn't see my extended family.  With the closeness, however, sometimes came the uncontrollable words.  Being one of two girls amidst five boys inevitably produced teasing and taunting.  We all know how it feels to be at the end of the rope, to have had a horrible day, and just want to relax in peace.  With a huge and close family, it's impossible.  I inevitably said things I wish I hadn't said without even thinking before I said them.  But, like Jane Eyre, I felt both a triumph and regret after silencing my two older cousins. 

            The phrase "some died at the school, and were buried quietly and quickly, the nature of the malady forbidding delay" (Chapter 9, Page 92).  It always seems that like the plague that captures Lowood, death comes suddenly and powerfully.  This sentence reminded me of the ongoing class discussions about not keeping the depression of the feelings bottled up.  When I was in elementary school, my best friend suddenly collapsed at her birthday party.  Later that night, she passed away due to heart defects that had never been detected.  Since that initial surprise, I've learned to grieve and move on "quietly and quickly."  Only recently have I looked back on that death and on others and learned to let go of the rapidity and truly heal.