After one week of science fiction-free reading: 20 chapters of Jane Eyre down, 18 to go; roughly halfway through by page count. I'm not as far behind as I thought, as the beginning of the week was slow reading, and I've picked up the pace considerably in the last couple of days.
Oh, yes, this is late Victorian literature, all right: it's hip-deep in orphans. Not to mention wicked foster families, abusive schoolmasters, gruel, and innocent waifs dying of consumption. I would be rolling my eyes at the piles of clichés, if I didn't know that books like Jane Eyre were the ones that started the clichés.
To this point, Jane has been sent to a charity school for orphaned girls. After finishing school she becomes employed by wealthy bachelor Mr. Rochester, serving as governess to his young ward Adele.
There's a sort of love triangle, and a mystery: someone in the house tried to set fire to Rochester's bed, and attacked one of his house-guests. Oh my. I hope there's not a mad woman in the attic!
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