Midnight Sun

Midnight Sun
by Stephenie Meyer

Blurb:

When Edward Cullen and Bella Swan met in Twilight, an iconic love story was born. But until now, fans have heard only Bella's side of the story. At last, readers can experience Edward's version in the long-awaited companion novel, Midnight Sun.

This unforgettable tale as told through Edward's eyes takes on a new and decidedly dark twist. Meeting Bella is both the most unnerving and intriguing event he has experienced in all his years as a vampire. As we learn more fascinating details about Edward's past and the complexity of his inner thoughts, we understand why this is the defining struggle of his life. How can he justify following his heart if it means leading Bella into danger?

My Reaction:
This was a shared read with Donald, for the 372-Pages podcast/book club.  It completely slipped my mind to write a review right after we finished it, so these aren't my freshest reactions...

It's been a long time since I listened to the audiobook of Twilight. (I don't believe I ever read it, just listened to the audiobook.)  I remember finding it entertaining for what it was-- a young adult paranormal romance, part of the vampire-and-zombie-obsession / cultural phenomenon that I'll cheerfully admit I enjoyed. 

So yes, I thought Twilight was fine.  I'm not sure what my opinion would be if I read it today, but I suspect I'd still think it was at least "okay".  This, on the other hand, drags.  It's unnecessarily lengthy, painfully repetitious on some points, and generally-speaking, it lacks charm.  A super-fan might enjoy reading the same story less skillfully told from Edward's point of view, but the casual reader won't enjoy the experience.  Edward doesn't come across well, the plot is thin and slow-moving, and there are even a few instances where you may have trouble following the story if you aren't already familiar with Twilight.  

It's more or less what I expected.  No real surprises.  

Reading Midnight Sun reminded me of why I'm not a fan of "reunion shows" or new seasons of old TV shows.  There's a reason why I still haven't watched the "new" episodes of Gilmore Girls.  You can't go back, and if you try, the results are almost always depressing.  Everyone looks so much older.  Some of the actors have died.  That makes me feel older and sadder, too.  That ineffable something that you loved about the original is missing, never to return.  You can't bring it back, and no attempt to recapture the past can ever truly succeed.  It's really better not to try.  

But hey, at least we got some laughs out of it with the 372-Pages podcast!

Bryony and Roses

Bryony and Roses

by T. Kingfisher

Blurb:

Bryony and her sisters have come down in the world. Their merchant father died trying to reclaim his fortune and left them to eke out a living in a village far from their home in the city.

But when Bryony is caught in a snowstorm and takes refuge in an abandoned manor, she stumbles into a house full of dark enchantments. Is the Beast that lives there her captor, or a fellow prisoner? Is the house her enemy or her ally? And why are roses blooming out of season in the courtyard?

Armed only with gardening shears and her wits, Bryony must untangle the secrets of the house before she—or the Beast—are swallowed by them.

My Reaction:
Yes, this is a retelling of "Beauty and the Beast"-- and the author acknowledges in a note at the beginning that she read and loved Robin McKinley's Rose Daughter, an earlier B&tB retelling, which I read for the first time fairly recently (within the past year).

I imagine that-- with the exception of the lesser-known tales-- most of us read these fairy tale retellings because we love the original story.  (Otherwise, why bother, right?)  Maybe we want to see the story from a fresh perspective; maybe we just want to reread an old favorite without knowing exactly what will happen-- and when and how and why.  Usually the author puts a new twist on the old story (with varying levels of success), but for the most part, you go in knowing the gist of the story (unless there are very drastic deviations from the source material).

There's a fine line authors walk between either simply regurgitating the traditional story in a predictable, pointless paraphrasing of the tale or changing things to the point that it confuses, disappoints, or alienates many readers who, again, are probably reading the book because they like the original version.  Bryony and Roses does a decent job of walking that line.

This is B&tB from a more humorous perspective, compared to Rose Daughter.  (However, it's not exactly a perfect match for my personal sense of humor...)  Though definitely set in magical Fairy-Tale Land, it has a much more modern sensibility than I was expecting.  It also has a faster pace than Rose Daughter-- a definite improvement, imho-- and it feels like there's more interaction between heroine and hero-- another plus.  Though I still didn't feel quite enough intense, building chemistry between the two, at least there was an effort.

The female protagonist (Bryony) is an essentially practical character who stands up for and takes care of herself, but she also has her share of flaws and weaknesses.  (No Mary Sues here.)  Don't read Bryony and Roses expecting major character development, though; the story happens to and around Bryony and the Beast, but it doesn't change them much, beyond their feelings for one another.

Unfortunately, there were several things that annoyed me or made me roll my eyes (which I'll address in the "Specifics" section).  While I liked it well enough, I didn't love this book, I'm sad to say.  It's probably a 3 to 3.5 (out of 5) for me.  I'd probably rank it higher than Rose Daughter, because though that retelling had some beautifully written passages, it also put me to sleep with its slogging pace and a dearth of interaction between Beauty and the Beast.  Going on my memory of McKinley's Beauty, I'd still rate that one the best of the three, but that may be an unfair comparison, since I'm viewing Beauty through the rosy-tinted lens of nostalgia.  (I plan to reread it, one of these days, after I've had time to work up an appetite for more B&tB...)

I'd recommend Bryony and Roses to readers who can't get enough B&tB or fans of fairy-tale retellings with more modern-seeming heroines.


Specifics (with SPOILERS):
--  I'm a gardener, like the author and her heroine, so I probably found that aspect of the book more interesting than would a non-gardener.  That said, some of the gardening bits were just odd or silly or irritating.  For instance, why did she just have to take home pieces of all the plants from her garden at the manor house, even though they all came from plants that she still had in her old garden?  (Seems like a lot of effort for nothing, to be honest.)  Oh, and her ridiculous decision to stop and pull weeds (or whatever) before going inside, when she finally got back home!!

--  It's an interesting angle, to make the rose the "bad guy" of the book.  I don't know that it works particularly well, imho, but it's interesting... And the thornier ones can definitely be mean when you're trying to prune them.

--  The decision to do away with the father character is another interesting choice.  He does bog down the story, sometimes.  In this version, Beauty/Bryony is responsible for her own fate, which is an improvement.

--  There were quite a few instances of crudeness in this book that felt out of place-- and all too often, they were played for juvenile humor.  It starts with Fumblefoot pooping on the floor of the manor house, but it only gets worse from there.  Bryony pees herself the first time she sees the Beast, and as if that's not bad enough, it's referred to again later on (because I guess once wasn't enough).  Then there's the whole thing about how she's not a virgin.  Um, ok.  Good for you?  It seems a really odd thing to include in this story.  Why did it need mentioning at all?  Then there was more "light cursing" than expected... I mean, compared to the last novel I finished (You, by Caroline Kepnes) this was all the tamest of the tame, but still, not what I was expecting.

--  Bryony goes too quickly from wetting her pants in terror to speaking jokingly/sarcastically with the Beast.  A slower transition would've been nice.  As it was, the Beast isn't really very scary at all, and even though Bryony says she's still afraid of him, for a while, it certainly doesn't show in the way she speaks!

--  Far too often, when I was supposed to be laughing at Bryony's wit and humor, I ended up rolling my eyes instead.  And when Bryony describes the Beast to Holly: "And-- and-- he's funny.  Like we are.  Sarcastic."  Just ugh.  You're really not that funny, Bryony.  Not to all of us, at least.

--  When Bryony returns to the manor house, she somehow ends up in a nightgown, in bed with the "man" from her dreams.  Which is pretty weird, since she was fully dressed before that... But ok, whatever.  So she needs to get dressed to go fight the rose and find the Beast.  Well, despite the desperate circumstances, she decides to dress under the sheets because she doesn't want the roses at the window to see her naked.  ...???  Yes, that's very important.  Mustn't have the evil, sentient rose seeing you naked when you're about to fight for your life.  (Bryony's priorities are kind of messed up, is what I'm saying here.)

--  When I read Rose Daughter, I was not altogether pleased with the fact that the Beast kept his beast-form.  Here's part of what I wrote then, and it applies to this book, too (since once again the Beast remains a beast):

I have mixed feelings about this twist. On the one hand, it always felt odd for Beauty to finally realize she loves the Beast, only to have him change into a complete stranger (physically, at least). However, the whole point of the story is that she loves him for his personality/heart/spirit/soul, no matter what his appearance. (You can't judge a book by its cover, etc.) Also, in the original tale, the Beast is only a Beast because he's being "punished"/taught a lesson for his bad past behavior. The fact that Beauty loves him demonstrates that he's grown as a person, and his change for the better is rewarded by the breaking of the spell.  In this version, he hasn't really done anything very wrong, so he's not being punished...

At least in Bryony and Roses there's a more legitimate reason why the Beast needs to keep his beastly body-- he's lived so long as a beast that if he changes back to his frailer human form, he will die almost instantly.  I mean, yeah, it's still just an excuse to keep him a beast, but it's an improvement over the explanations offered in Rose Daughter.

Also, in this version, I guess the Beast is (kind of) being punished for his behavior-- for not loving the sacred birch tree that nursed him back to health-- but it's not quite on the same level as in the classic version, where he's punished (albeit very harshly) for something worse than just failing to love some bizarre magical tree.

--  In the note at the end, the author thanks her editor, who had her remove "about sixty percent of the dashes".  So even if we obviously would have our differences on a number of topics, we have dash addiction in common...  And gardening, of course, though I don't hate roses, even if I do live in a hot, humid climate.

Rose Daughter

Rose Daughter
by Robin McKinley

Publisher's Blurb:

It is the heart of this place, and it is dying, says the Beast. And it is true; the center of the Beast's palace, the glittering glasshouse that brings Beauty both comfort and delight in her strange new environment, is filled with leafless brown rosebushes. But deep within this enchanted world, new life, at once subtle and strong, is about to awaken.

Twenty years ago, Robin McKinley dazzled readers with the power of her novel Beauty. Now this extraordinarily gifted novelist returns to the story of Beauty and the Beast with a fresh perspective, ingenuity, and mature insight. With Rose Daughter, she presents her finest and most deeply felt work--a compelling, richly imagined, and haunting exploration of the transformative power of love.

My Reaction:
I remember reading this author's earlier novelization of the "Beauty and the Beast" fairy tale (Beauty)-- either in middle or high school.  Whenever it was, it left a very positive impression, so I was excited to read another re-telling of the tale, curious about what new spin she might put on things.  It's been so long since I read Beauty that I don't have many definite memories from it (time for a re-read, soon), so I can't make strong comparisons between that novel and this one-- but I'm almost positive that Beauty was far superior to Rose Daughter.

If you're only going to read one, I'd suggest Beauty.  If you're a huge fan of all things B&tB, maybe they're both worth a read.  (But don't go in expecting a tightly plotted page-turner or you'll be disappointed.)


Details (with SPOILERS):
-- My main complaint with this novel is that it drags.  (Some parts had me literally nodding off to sleep!)

There's not enough conflict-- not enough of a driving force.  A few times, there are suggestions that something "big" might be coming up (references to "the curse", for instance), but all too quickly, any hint of drama or excitement fades away.  There are no high stakes-- particularly after Beauty has been living in the Beast's castle for a couple of days.  By then, she knows she's not in any danger from him.  She misses her family, but... Well, honestly, that's kind of boring to read about, after a while.  Besides, she sees them in visions every night, so it's hard for the reader to miss them, even if Beauty does.  (I actually resented their constant intrusion into the story.  How are we and Beauty supposed to get to know the Beast when she spends most of her time either alone in the glasshouse or asleep, dreaming about her sisters?!)

When one of the heroine's biggest problems is finding a source for compost, you know the book's not quite edge-of-your-seat reading.  I mean, I'm keenly interested in gardening right now, and even I found myself tapping my foot with impatience, at some points.

There is never a real, solid enemy, or at least not one who lasts long enough to build up a feeling of dread.  There's the Beast, but of course he turns out to be harmless.  There's the young local nobleman (or whatever he is) who wants to marry Jeweltongue (and tries to cause trouble for her family because she rejects his offer)-- but we hardly see him, and he, too, is almost immediately said to be unable to inflict serious harm.  The most dangerous foe is the wicked sorcerer (Strix?), but apparently he's gone, too.  Even his vengeful spells hover in the distance; they never feel like a serious threat.

-- Then there's the romance (or lack thereof).  "Beauty and the Beast" should always (imho) be a romantic tale.  It's the essence of the story-- that love can exist against all odds.  Fear/hatred turning into understanding; compassion growing into companionship; friendship finally blossoming into love.   But for this startling reversal (from fear to love) to feel genuine, we need to see the characters together more than a handful of times.

This retelling was far to stingy with interactions between the Beast and Beauty.  I'd have happily traded in some of the "other stuff" (animals returning, gardening talk, dreams of her family, descriptions of the castle and Beauty's clothes) for more dialog between the Beast and Beauty.  As it is, it's not easy to care whether they end up together or not.  Beauty is a little too perfect, and as for the Beast, we hardly get to know him!  He doesn't feel real.

-- The author can write prettily.  Sometimes that's enough to hold my attention, but at other times, it feels like rambling.  No series of pretty pictures or fascinating symbols, no amount of interesting contemplation can make up for a lack of plot or dialog.

--  Beauty praises the spider's "most radiant and well-composed web".  Definite Easter egg-ish reference to Charlotte's Web, right?

--  I don't care for the fact that, in this version, the Beast hadn't really done anything to deserve being turned into a Beast.  He made the mistake of going too far in his (~yawn~) pursuit of "philosophy".  Oh, and he told a wicked sorcerer that he "believed magic to be a false discipline, leading only to disaster".   :o/  Another anticlimactic moment.

--  Almost the only suspenseful part of the book comes when Beauty (mysteriously) doesn't remember the Beast's warning about the rose and his impending death as a result of her prolonged absence.  When she finally remembers and manages to get back to the Beast's castle (after the detour to the garden at Rose Cottage), her forward momentum slows to an agonizing crawl.  Ugh!  That whole scene!  Endlessly wandering here and there!  It took forever to read.

-- When we finally get all the explanation that we're going to get, in the form of a disembodied voice in Beauty's head (...snore...), it leaves too much unexplained.  For instance, who was Beauty's mother?  Strix's daughter (or grand-daughter) by one of his mistresses?  ...So, the Beast exiled himself?

-- Then there's the book's biggest twist on the fairy tale:  Instead of returning to his human form upon Beauty's declaration of love, the Beast stays a beast.  It's Beauty's choice, ultimately, and she'd rather live a normal(ish), cozy, mortal life with the Beast in his beastly shape than live a much different, grander, stranger life with the Beast as a handsome, wealthy, powerful philosopher-sorcerer.

I have mixed feelings about this twist.  On the one hand, it always felt odd for Beauty to finally realize she loves the Beast, only to have him change into a complete stranger (physically, at least).  However, the whole point of the story is that she loves him for his personality/heart/spirit/soul, no matter what his appearance.  (You can't judge a book by its cover, etc.)  Also, in the original tale, the Beast is only a Beast because he's being "punished"/taught a lesson for his bad past behavior.  The fact that Beauty loves him demonstrates that he's grown as a person, and his change for the better is rewarded by the breaking of the spell.

In this version, he hasn't really done anything very wrong, so he's not being punished...

However, I'm confused as to why the Beast in his beastly form would behave differently from the Beast in human form.  Why would he be any different as a man than as a beast?  Couldn't he be wealthy and powerful and still be the same good "person" he would be as a beast living at Rose Cottage?  If not-- if his goodness/personality is somehow tied to his physical form... Doesn't that basically fly right in the face of the usual moral of the story?

Why couldn't the Beast return to his human form, but decide to give away all (or at least most) of his earthly possessions to those who needed them, then "disappear" to the relative obscurity of life at Rose Cottage?  Let's be honest; this was just a silly, convoluted excuse for Beauty to live happily ever after with the Beast in beast-form.  (...Is Beauty a furry? ~shudder~)

-- So, ok.  The Beast comes to Rose Cottage-- still in his beast shape-- and everyone is just okay with it?  ...But... I thought the reason he exiled himself was that he was so terrible to look upon.  No animals (except Fourpaws) could bear to be near him, and people weren't too crazy about him, either.  I guess we're supposed to accept the idea that Beauty's love has made him somehow less horrific-looking.  I'm not buying it.

--  The Beast is happily making plans for repairs he'll make to the house and bed (???), but I thought he lacked the dexterity even to eat "like a man".  Of course, though he can't wield knife and fork, he somehow manages to use a paintbrush for his amazing mural on the roof, so I guess consistency in this matter was deemed unnecessary.

--  The author's note includes a mention that the book "shot out onto the page in about six months", which apparently was an extraordinarily brief amount of time.  Interestingly, the author of the last "retelling" I read (Jane, by April Lindner), made a similar comment in a note to her readers.  It seems like a strange, almost boastful remark (one probably best left unwritten) that invites the less charitable among us to consider how much better the book might have been if speediness wasn't considered a virtue...  Only a thought!

-- Positives:  I liked the first part of the book fairly well.  The fact that the sisters actually do things is appealing.  As I mentioned before, I'm thinking a lot about gardening, these days, so I liked that element of the book.  The animals (particularly the dog and cat) are sweet additions to the cast.  Some of the prose and word pictures are quite pretty.

Jane

Jane
by April Lindner

Blurb:

Forced to drop out of an esteemed East Coast college after the sudden death of her parents, Jane Moore takes a nanny job at Thornfield Park, the estate of Nico Rathburn, a world-famous rock star on the brink of a huge comeback. Practical and independent, Jane reluctantly becomes entranced by her magnetic and brooding employer and finds herself in the midst of a forbidden romance.

But there's a mystery at Thornfield, and Jane's much-envied relationship with Nico is soon tested by an agonizing secret from his past. Torn between her feelings for Nico and his fateful secret, Jane must decide: Does being true to herself mean giving up on true love?

An irresistible romance interwoven with a darkly engrossing mystery, this contemporary retelling of the beloved classic Jane Eyre promises to enchant a new generation of readers.

My Reaction:
To be brief:  If you've never read Jane Eyre, do yourself a favor and read that instead.  If you have read it and enjoyed it... do yourself a favor and reread it instead.

Enough brevity!  Back to my wordy, wordy ways.
Alright, so some people evidently read Jane and liked it-- even loved it.  I don't understand why, but then again, people can be strange.

Okay, okay!  It wasn't the worst thing I've ever read, but it was not remotely a good read, in my estimation.  (This is the second JE modernization I've read.  The other was The Flight of Gemma Hardy, which I also disliked.  Maybe modernizations/adaptations aren't for me, though I did enjoy the movie Clueless...)

The premise-- Mr. Rochester as rock star-- never excited me, but the author's introduction gave me a little hope.  She sounded like someone who treasured and understood Jane's story, so maybe she could make this retelling work. Sadly, where Jane Eyre soars, Jane could only limp along with a broken wing.

In her introduction, Lindner writes that "the book practically wrote itself" and "whenever I got stuck, I would open up Jane Eyre for inspiration and ideas"... Well, maybe if it had been a little harder to write (necessitating more reworking and reflection and, you know, effort), the result would've been stronger.  As for going to the original for "inspiration and ideas"?  Puh-lease!  Most plot points are a direct copy from Jane Eyre-- with just a few tweaks to fit the modern setting-- and much of the dialogue is clearly lifted right off the pages of JE-- and again "modernized", which apparently translates to "dumbed down" and "coarsened".

I'll get into the nit-picking below, but the bottom line is that the book utterly failed to "enchant" me.  However, if this was aimed at the "YA" (Young Adult) market, I guess I'm not part of the "new generation of readers" referenced in the blurb, so maybe that explains it.

Far from adding anything new or interesting to the story, this version traded strong characters and powerful romance for weak, bland, washed-out replacements.


Specifics (with SPOILERS):
Attn: SPOILERS for both Jane Eyre and Jane!

--I was really annoyed by Nico's totally unnecessary cursing.

--Copilot.  WHY? 

--Nico's and Jane's exchanges are so dull-- especially when compared to the conversations between Jane and Mr. Rochester.  I can sense the chemistry between the latter.  Not so with Jane and Nico.  Their attraction doesn't feel real.  You are told that they're in love, but you don't feel it or see it for yourself. 

--I don't think a single person ever drinks plain spring water-- let alone water from the tap-- in this book.  It's always "mineral water" or "sparkling water".  That isn't of the least importance to the story-- but I positively loathe the taste of mineral/sparkling water-- blech!-- so it's another reason to turn up my nose at the book as a whole. ;o)

--Why name Maddy's mother (the French "singing sensation") Celine?  Every time she was mentioned, I thought of Celine Dion.  I know she's Canadian, but still...  Why not choose some other "French-sounding" name that isn't already associated with a "singing sensation"?

--Jane tells Nico that she can't swim.  Nico is stunned.  "'Nobody ever taught you to swim?'  His eyes narrowed. 'That's criminal.'"  Ha!  Is it really that uncommon for someone to not know how to swim?  Calling it "criminal" to fail to teach a person to swim seems like taking it maybe a little too far...

--The swimming suit discussion (no suit? are you a nun? -- some nuns swim -- if you're on a hilltop, do you spin around and sing that the hills are alive with the sound of music? -- hee hee, oh Nico, you remind me of Captain von Trapp *heart-shaped googly eyes*) is awk-ward!  I blushed for the characters force-fed such cringe-worthy lines.

--Jane comes right out and asks Nico if he's been tested for STDs, after he regales her with tales of his scandalous past.  That could never happen.  Nope.  No way.  But it felt like the "responsible and/or modern and/or politically correct" thing to do-- and so it was done.  That happens several times over the course of the book.  Things that don't feel "right" for the story or the moment are shoehorned in anyway, because Oh-Em-Gee We Are So Modern Now.

--Nico has had a paternity test, which reveals that, "Mr. Rathburn, you are the father!"  I get the feeling that the author is convinced that in Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester is the father of Adele, too, and was secretly thrilled to be able to do away with any shadow of a doubt of the child's parentage in this retelling. 

--I've always enjoyed the house party section of Jane Eyre, but this book's version of it left me ice cold.  How disappointing that Rochester's bizarre/brilliant dress-up-like-a-gypsy-fortune-teller scheme was reduced to a snooze-fest involving nothing more exciting than a pack of tarot cards!

--Jane's nuclear family doesn't feel real.  They're just too awful.  Yes, there are families out there that are even worse-- more abusive-- but these characters are such an odd mixture of normal and terrible.  They feel like pure melodrama.  In Jane Eyre, the awful family made a little more sense.  The aunt (by marriage) resented her late husband's fondness for his niece, so she raised her children to look down on Jane and looked the other way when her son mistreated the girl.  That's horrible, but it feels more likely than that an entire family would so blatantly single out one child/sibling for emotional neglect.  I'm not saying it could never happen, but it must be a rare set of circumstances.

--The "declaration of love" scene (under the large tree) is hilariously bad.  "Even as I was giving you shit and you were standing up to me in that quiet, stubborn way you have, I had this feeling about you..."  Oh, swoon!  Why didn't my own husband accuse me of giving him shit as a prelude to the first "I love you"?  Some girls have all the luck!

--The lurve scene continues: "'But that's still not the same as wanting me because they know and understand me and like me even though I'm a flaming asshole,' he said. 'Jane, you get me.  And I think I get you.  Now can you f*****g well believe me?'"  Now, that's what I call romance!

--And then.  And then.  ...And then Jane and Nico "do it".  *giggle-snort*  It's like so totally perfect and romantic and everything like you wouldn't believe!  There's like this tumultuous, totes symbolic thunderstorm going on outside-- really romantic.  I mean, the old Jane Eyre wouldn't have done that, but whatevs.  Who gives a crap about that, right?  This is MODERN Jane, and modern Jane is hot to trot, you guys.  To sanctify the palpitating delight, we are carefully informed (the morning after) that Jane and Nico were "safe" (bien sûr).  Nico keeps a stash of what he calls "standard rock-star equipment" (~barf gurgle~) in every room.  (No, I'm serious.  That's what it says.  I'm looking at it right now.)  'Cause you never know when or where the urge to merge will completely overpower your better judgment or self-control, apparently.  Rock stars are so gosh-darn cool.

--I guffawed at the thought of Mr. Rochester insisting that Jane Eyre get breast implants.

--Nico's reasons for keeping Bibi locked in the third floor of his home were extremely weak.  As so many reviewers before me have noted, you can make the argument that Mr. Rochester's keeping Bertha Mason under lock and key at Thornfield Hall is an act of mercy.  At the time, mental illness was poorly understood, and there were no reputable places Bertha could have gone and received professional, compassionate care.

In the modern world, with limitless resources at his fingertips, Nico could have found a better place for Bibi-- not only for her sake, but to protect the lives of everyone else living under his roof (including his daughter).  Before her final escape, she had already proven herself several times to be dangerous and capable of slipping out from under the not-so-watchful eye of her drunken guard.  It simply doesn't make sense. 

...Well, maybe it makes sense from the perspective of wanting at all costs to keep this tragic scandal under wraps.  Damage control.

--I'm sure we're supposed to be touched by the fact that Nico still loves Bibi and has been hoping that she might stay on her meds and re-emerge as the woman he fell in love with.  ...Ok, fine... But I much prefer the Jane Eyre version where Bertha was already going insane before Rochester's scheming father and brother tricked him into marrying her for her fortune.  He married Bertha before he truly knew her, and when he realized who/what she was, he was repulsed.  He made a foolish, hasty decision that nearly wrecked his whole life, but at least his affections aren't divided between Jane and Bertha.  He treats Bertha with a certain degree of kindness (rather than sending her off to languish in Ferndean's unhealthy atmosphere), but he's not kinda-sorta in love with her.  Call me selfish, but if I were Jane, I wouldn't want to share a man with the memory of his (still-living, but now insane) first wife.

I mean, Nico even calls Bibi and Jane by the same pet name, "Angel".  That is just creepy.  No, thank you.

--The St. John family's disdain for the suburbs is so refreshing.  "'Too smug,' Diana said. 'Too safe.'"  Isn't that anti-suburb garbage passé, yet?

--"Diana was looking for some kind of work that was better paying and more satisfying than her waitressing job, but she'd been a philosophy major and couldn't quite decide what direction her life should take."  *eyeroll*

--River St. John.  Betcha can't guess which character he was in Jane Eyre! ;o)  His own sister describes him as "socially helpless" and "kind of an idiot savant", and he definitely gives off a weird vibe.  St. John Rivers, though kind of scary in his cold severity, never struck me as autistic, though, and I don't know what to make of River St. John.  He gives me the creeps, to tell the truth.  It's one thing to have strong religious convictions, but there's just something off about this character (imho).   His "physical" moments with Jane give me the shivers-- and I don't mean the good kind! ;oP

--"...people dying of AIDS because drug companies like Davidson-Worth only care about profiting on the misfortunes of others."  A bit judgmental, there, River.  I'm pretty sure drug companies have to make money to keep running-- to pay their bills and attract investors-- to spend big bucks on experimental new drugs that might be even better, but oftentimes fail to pan out.  It's not quite so cut and dried as all that, Mr. Self-Righteous.

--"Don't you know that the ultrarich are the enemy of everything you've been working for these past few months?"  ...What?  ...The wealthy are the outright enemies of the poor and the homeless?  Hm.  That's news to me.

--Jane Eyre is a tower of personal strength.  She is subject to powerful emotions and passions, but she ultimately controls the impulses that would overwhelm her high principles.  She refuses to give in to desires that would lower her in her own estimation (and in the eyes of God, because she's a deeply religious character).  She is the epitome of the mentally, emotionally, spiritually, morally strong woman.

...By comparison, this modern Jane seems like a piece of dandelion fluff borne on the wind, going wherever the breeze takes her.

--The description of the Nico documentary was laughable and cringe-inducing.  "If there was a Mount Rushmore of rock and roll, he'd be on it." ... "...plying his trademark red Stratocaster like a man possessed..."

--The police chief laments the fact that despite a tip (from a mentally ill woman) that Jane was working in a New Haven soup kitchen, they failed to locate her.  "'Damn.  And there you were the whole time.  I imagine Nico will see to it that heads roll.'  'Don't worry,' I told him. 'I'll see to it they don't.' I may have sounded more confident than I was, but Chief Pettigrew looked relieved."

*GAG*
...First, Jane's an adult.  She was perfectly within her rights to disappear from Nico's radar without permission.  Second, why should it be in Nico's power to send heads rolling because they failed to find Jane and deliver her to him?  Third, UGH, Jane is so obnoxious!  And of course the chief is incredibly relieved to have Rock-Star Love-Slave Queen Jane speaking on his behalf!  Whew!  Thank goodness she's agreed to calm him down and save the world from the Wrath of Nico!

--Nico's wounds, compared to Mr. Rochester's, are negligible.  At first you may feel a slight twinge of "Oh, but he needs his hands to play guitar!  He's an artist!  It's how he expresses himself!"  Any pity of that sort is promptly smacked down by the news that if Mr. Lazybones would apply himself to his physical therapy, he can recover some (if not most) of his range of motion.  The only other souvenir of his fiery heroics is a small scar on his forehead, mostly hidden by his hair.  ...Yeah, cry me a river, Nico.

--In Jane Eyre, while Jane is away from Rochester, she discovers that a long-lost uncle has bequeathed her a fortune.  (No, it's not the most likely occurrence, but what is likely about the novel?)  When she returns to him, she does so as a woman of means.  The disparity between the two characters is (somewhat) reduced.  She's not vastly wealthy, like Rochester, but she's comfortably off, and she doesn't need his financial support, from a practical point of view.  She goes back to him as a free, independent woman.  Also, she is fully able-bodied, while he is now struggling to adapt to life with near-blindness and the loss of one hand.  In some ways, their roles have been reversed.  Meanwhile, Modern Jane comes back to Nico with... just a job.  She's started saving up to go back to college and someone has apparently filled her in on the existence of Pell Grants, but that's not quite on the same level as Jane Eyre's inheritance... Then there are Nico's injuries from the fire, which have been toned down significantly from what Rochester suffered.  Not much of a role reversal...

--Ah, the poetry of Nico's conversation when he's finally reunited with his One True Love (now that his old lady's officially kicked the bucket):  "For f***'s sake!  Am I losing my mind now, too?" ...  "This can't be real. ... This has to be an acid flashback."

--Jane tells Nico:  "Something just snapped.  I realized what an idiot I'd been, running away from the one person I value more than anyone else in the whole world."  ...O-kay, then.  So basically a huge chunk of the book was for nothing.  Great.  You learned nothing.  You didn't leave Nico to remove yourself from temptation.  Preserving your values-- your self-respect?  Meh.  You could care less about stuff like that.  You're such an endless joy, Modern Jane!

--There's an odd scene right at the end where Nico convinces a scaredy-cat Jane to look down over the edge of the top of the building for... some reason.  Just to check out the view, I guess.  I harbored a brief, wild fantasy that they'd trip and go flying over the edge-- but it was not to be.

--So is Nico basically just a fantasy version of Bruce Springsteen, then?  (And in that case, I think we all know who Jane's actually based on, given that she bears no legitimate resemblance to Jane Eyre...)