Charlotte, Emily, and Ann Brontë didn't just pick random male pen names out of a hat; they chose matching ones. As Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, the sisters published their poetry and prose without giving away their gender. Their reasoning? They suspected women writers were judged unfairly, and they weren't wrong. 

Under those names came Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and Agnes Grey, leaving an indelible mark on literature. When the reality of their identity became public, it was clear that their experiment had paid off, as their novels were already widely recognized and respected. (Logan DeLoye)

   

Feather Theatre’s rendition of Jane Eyre was a production with some definite highs. The immortal words of Charlotte Bronte carried throughout, brought to life by the obviously talented cast. Many technical aspects were also pleasing to the eye, with the lighting being notably successful. Lighting colour shifted subtly between scenes, reflecting the emotions of the characters without being garish or glaring, truly utilising to the maximum the lighting facilities of the Assembly Rooms; the proposal scene did this particularly well with a beautiful pink flush.

As the titular lead, Estelle Pollard-Cox definitively stood out as Jane Eyre. Her accent was almost flawless, and for a character that is introspective like Jane Eyre, it can be difficult to adapt their inner thoughts for a performance, yet everything from Pollard-Cox’s gestures to facial expressions perfectly encapsulated this. Mr Rochester was played by Ross Killian, and he did not shy away from the more unlikeable aspects of the character, making him a truly intimidating figure, with Rochester’s domineering nature coming out from his first scene.

On the whole, the ensemble did what every good ensemble does, and truly brought their best, with many actors juggling multiple characters successfully; this was particularly seen with changes in accent and manner. Considering the small size of the cast, they really made the most of it, with quick changes happening with ease and fluidity. Lauren Williams did a notable turn as three characters: Bertha, Blanche, and Leah, differentiating each character with panache.

Co-direction by Nat Pryke and Nell Hickson was well-suited to the almost simplistic nature of the story. A minimal set and mostly constrained movements allowed for Charlotte Bronte’s prose to immerse the audience seamlessly. The different levels on stage were utilised to their full potential, allowing for the manor of Thornfield to be depicted dynamically within the constraints of a small stage. While the direction of the actors was energetic, this worked better in some scenes than others. It may have been more effectual for there to be a gradual build in energy towards the intermission, though this did help retain interest.

What limited this performance the most was the script. While I am no Jane Eyre sycophant, I have read the book, and it was clear the parts that deviated from it were the weaker portions. This was partially due to the dialogue becoming either overly expository or trying to force in humour where it was neither needed nor actually funny, despite the actors’ best efforts. The main virtue of the script was how it ruthlessly cut parts of the book that dragged, such as Jane’s childhood. The only time when this was perhaps confusing was when Jane’s time after Thornfield was not present, so she seemingly reappears with little context, missing out parts (while seemingly not key to the plot) are essential to her character development. To someone unfamiliar with the source material, this would likely be jarring.

Overall, Feather Theatre’s Jane Eyre was engaging and definitely brought up by the skill of its actors and technical team. While there were undeniably weaker parts, it was nevertheless rather enjoyable. All of these actors have immense amounts of talent and skill, and the pacing was snappy enough so that there was never a dull moment. (Emily Hatwell)

Nearly 200 years since Charlotte Brontë published Jane Eyre, her unconventional orphan Jane – with her intense emotions and sense of injustice – continues to captivate and intrigue readers. [...]

As an autistic woman*, I have long felt a particular affinity to the character of Jane Eyre. Like Jane, I have been perceived as unconventional and abnormal. I, too, experienced a childhood of unintentional error, in which “I dared commit no fault: I strove to fulfil every duty”.

But despite my efforts, I frequently found myself getting into trouble. I would speak directly and honestly, causing offence without intention. I would ask clarifying questions which were perceived as personal attacks. I, too, was perceived as “naughty and tiresome”. I often felt I was “not like other girls”.

As an adult, writing my master’s thesis on Jane Eyre, I was haunted by my undiagnosed autism. It threatened to escape at any moment – much like Bertha, Rochester’s mad wife imprisoned in the attic. A family secret. Through a lifetime of learning to mask – to conceal my “externally noticeable” autistic traits – I built a kind of attic within myself. Inside it, my autism, like Bertha, fought against its incarceration, threatening to reveal itself.

After I received my diagnoses of autism and ADHD in 2022, I began to see Brontë’s novel in a different light. Then, I discovered that reading Jane Eyre as autistic is not new.

In 2008, literary studies scholar Julia Miele Rodas first showed how Jane Eyre can be interpreted as autistic. Specialising in disability studies and Victorian fiction, Rodas later wrote that Charlotte Brontë’s narrative voice “resonates with autism”.

Charlotte Brontë’s biographer Claire Harman has suggested various members of the Brontë family, including Charlotte’s sister Emily (author of Wuthering Heights) and their father Patrick, might have been autistic.

In addition to autism, other forms of “neurodivergence” have been explored in the novel, from ADHD to complex trauma, mental illness and disability. (Although “neurodivergence” is commonly associated with autism and ADHD, the term’s true meaning is much broader.) Feminist disability studies scholar Elizabeth Donaldson pioneered interpreting Bertha’s madness as a form of mental illness and disability. Drawing from Rodas, disability and literary studies scholar Jill Marie Treftz interprets Jane’s childhood friend Helen Burns as having ADHD.

Opening up new ways of reading the text, the autistic Jane Eyre also transforms older interpretations, particularly of madness and gender. Most famously, Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar’s essay A Dialogue of Self and Soul: Plain Jane’s Progress (published in their collection of feminist literary criticism, The Madwoman in the Attic).

Gilbert and Gubar interpret Jane Eyre as the story of a woman who learns “to govern her anger” to survive Victorian patriarchal standards of femininity. In the process, Jane is “haunted” by her own repressed “hunger, rebellion, and rage”, represented through the literal haunting of Bertha, the “madwoman in the attic”.

This reading is transformed when Jane herself is interpreted as another kind of neurodivergent: autistic. Read this way, her story becomes more than that of a woman who learns to “govern” and eventually “kill” her unfeminine anger. It becomes the story of an autistic woman, learning to mask and stifle her autism to survive patriarchy’s ableist standards of womanhood. These standards are at odds with autism’s very nature. (Chloe Riley) (Read more)

   

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