I feel as if I know this novel from the top of my head - and yes, that is why I placed the book on top of my head for the photo. Here is another nineteenth century novel, which I had studied for my first year of A Level English Literature. While I feel sick of the site of the novel, particularly with the amount of white lines down the spine of the book and the notations inside reminding me of how excessively I had read its mainly lines; I can't knock it too much. The motifs and themes are so blatant and in your face that it made it a lot easier to spot the parts I needed for my essay. Putting that point aside, it's a good read and enjoyable as just that.
The language is easy-going in comparison to quite a lot of Victorian novels, which makes it a pretty easy read and almost ageless. While many look at the novel as a romance, which in some cases it is, its main focus is the independence of a woman throughout her life - something women did not have at the time because of the separate spheres ideology and sexual double standards present during the nineteenth century. For a piece of Victorian literature, it's pretty unconventional - though looking at society and how it is today, the issues manifested inside do not appear to be so out-of-the-ordinary.
Had I not been analysing the life out of the novel, I would probably still enjoy reading it to this day. As I said, my first read was pretty enjoyable - but after monotonous turning of pages and learning many quotes, even dreaming about them at some point, I don't enjoy it as much. This was the first novel I had analysed to such an extent, which is probably why the horrid feeling I had gained from the re-reading of the pages has stuck with me to this day. Maybe in the future I can look back at it in a different light and enjoy it again - but until then it will remain in my cupboard where I cannot see it.
Another from my blog.