The Many Faces of Jane Eyre

Charlotte Bronte is one of my favourite authors, so I thought it would be fun to write my last post comparing covers of her most well-known novel, Jane Eyre. It's the story of a passionate-but-reserved and strong-but-quiet girl who endures a difficult and lonely childhood, becomes a governess, falls in love with her employer, but runs away on the day of their wedding because she discovers a secret that makes it impossible for them to marry. Much more happens after this, but just in case you haven't read Jane Eyre before, I'm trying not to give anything away.

Anyways, this classic has inspired many different cover artists over the years. I'll show you a few, and comment on what I think are the pros and cons of each.

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This is a very conventional cover, and it gives a very good idea of the novel. Like the Anna Karenina cover we saw a few posts ago, the central figure of the woman makes it clear that it's a classic and a romance. Jane's expression is good (true to character, I think), but the book repeatedly describes her as plain and mousy-looking, so this cover fails in that respect.

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I don't know for sure because I haven't looked up any background about this cover, but I'd be willing to bet that it was produced within the last 10 years and marketed to two audiences: readers who already love Jane Eyre ("Look, we made a nice cover for your favourite book!") and romance readers who've never heard of the story before ("Look, another romance novel! We've made a really simple cover with a woman's silhouette so you know for sure that it's a love story."). Again, it gives a good idea of what the story's really like, but the silhouette downplays Jane's distinctive personality and just emphasizes her identity as the heroine who falls in love.

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This is cute and the font and (once again... I'm noticing a trend) Jane's solitary figure makes it really obvious that this is a romance novel. The art is kind of charming, and casual enough that I have no criticisms about the presentation of Jane. My only major complaint is that the story is a serious one, and this cover makes it look too light and cutesy.

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Well... This one makes the mystery element of the story really, really obvious, but there's no way to see that it's a romance novel, which I think is a pretty serious failing. Also, I really dislike the font, which is ugly and makes the story (and Jane, as the narrator and main character) look badly put together.

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I thought I'd include this last one just for fun, as an example of the worst possible Jane Eyre cover of all time. Seriously though, it's painful for me to look at, not to mention post it here so more people will see it. Anyways, this one has too many problems to list, but the key is that it completely misrepresents Jane's character and her relationship with Rochester... Jane Eyre isn't a soap opera. Hopefully seeing this won't turn you off from reading this "Story of Undying Love"... Remember, this one's from an abridged version. Maybe we can blame the horror of it on that.

Attacking Oz

In the same vein as my last post (looking at the difference between American and Russian covers of Russian novels), I wanted to compare multiple covers of a well-known fantasy: The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum.

Actually, I was looking for colour themes in fantasy novels, including The Wizard of Oz, when I came across this cover and decided to write about it instead:

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I was appalled. Yes, the cover is attractive, and yes, it relates to to the story (because of the scene in the field of poppies), but it leaves out so many essential elements of the plot. (Also, it makes it look like Oz is a story about opium, or maybe Remembrance Day, both of which are completely untrue.)

Take a look at the original cover. Without the title written on it (because those are kind of dead giveaways), they would look like two opposite stories.

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Here are 3 problems I found in the "revamped" cover, which aren't present in the original:

1. A fantasy cover should look fantastic. This is a story about magic, and the author hasn't tried to surprise readers by suddenly revealing the magic. It's something that readers deserve to know from the cover.

2. The Wizard of Oz is a children's book. The minimal illustrations and sleek text of the poppy cover are designed to attract adults, and would repel children. The green original cover looks like fun to read (which is what it's meant to be!).

3. The cover should give something about the story away. There's a place for covers like the new one: in a mysterious story where the author only reveals tiny bits of the plot at a time, a mysterious-looking cover would be appropriate, because it would give readers an idea of what they were in for. As a Wizard of Oz cover, the poppy image is deceptive, because it makes the story look like something it isn't.

Next time I plan to do some more comparisons of covers of the same novel... So long until then!

Great Russian Novels

Thinking about typical American novels in my last post made me wonder about another group of novels. I love Russian literature, and I've never thought about themes in their covers.

Maybe that's because I don't speak Russian, so I always read English translations, and the covers aren't original. They're Canadian (or, more likely, American) artists' representations of the story. That means they're not quite accurate, because they don't quite reflect the author's intention. In my opinion, Russian literature is a completely different genre, not at all like Western stories. In general, Russia is a cold, harsh country with a long and difficult history. Russia has been through so much, and so (now I'm stereotyping) Russians tend to be able to endure a lot more than Westerners, while Westerners probably have a more fully developed sense of humour. That's not always true, but in general I think it's fairly accurate.

So, I looked up Russian covers of two novels I really love:

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This cover of Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment is powerful because it's so bare. The one lone axe, a symbol of Raskolnikov's guilt, is pivotal in the story (he couldn't have killed the old woman without it), although Dostoyevsky doesn't spend much time talking about it the novel. The simple drama of this cover is perfect.

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There isn't much to say about this one. The cover isn't nearly as powerful as Crime and Punishment, but Tolstoy's Anna Karenina has a very different kind of drama. It's probably significant that Anna is so alone in the foreground, even in a crowded ballroom. Unfortunately, the image is so common (lots of covers are images of faces, as I want to talk about next time) that it feels uninteresting and unexciting.

Great American Novels

Looking at some of the great American novels of the 20th century, I noticed a pattern. Maybe you will too:

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I don't know about you, but I see a lot of yellow and brown here... And I think it's telling. Honestly, when I think of American novels around the 20s, the Depression, or the World Wars, I think of the colour brown. Why? There's probably a cultural reason, and (although I have very little background, and I'm just speculating), I think it has to do with American values of that not-so-long-ago era.

Americans value hard work, the kind of work that a person does for an entire lifetime, struggling nobly against obstacles. The settlers who came to the States from Europe (like the settlers in Canada) primarily farmed the fields, drove cattle, and made their living off the wild western land. It follows that, for a long time, farm-related imagery was (and maybe still is) a symbol of hard, persevering work. 

When the "great American novels" aren't about professional work (as in Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn), they're usually still about a struggle. Sometimes, it's literally a struggle for survival, but it can also  be a struggle for meaning, ambition, friendship... The key point, in my opinion, is hard and enduring struggle, and brown covers highlight that theme.

But not all brown covers are American, of course...

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An Easy Target

What goes into the making of book covers? As a long-time wanna-be author, I've spent many night lying awake pondering the question. (I wrote a novel in junior high, and I wanted it to make me famous, so I went through a phase of obsession with this topic...) Covers tell us a lot about the stories between them, and a team of professionals designs each one very carefully.

Stephanie Meyer's publishers, for example, probably sat down and discussed which disembodied part to feature on Twilight's front cover. Seeing it, readers immediately know to expect a breathless teen romance (and some edgy bits, from the obvious apple symbolism). The title font, which looks like really irregular, spooky candles (right?), tells us that there are supernatural elements to the story... And the back background echoes the apple of temptation symbolism, making young readers feel grown-up and pleasantly rebellious.

"What about a blue/green/gold eye with long lashes?"
"No, too obvious. How 'bout... Arms?"
Original image here.

It probably wasn't fair to start with such an easy target, but the point is that covers give tons of information about their stories. Next time I'll look at something less obvious... The idea applies to more than cliched vampire romances.

Heart and Soul Writing

Helen Keller is fascinating to me, because she was (by necessity) a very reflective, "interior" person without in any way hiding from the world. Her autobiography makes that obvious. Again and again, she would put herself into new and often intimidating situations to gain knowledge and understanding, finding out as much as she could about the situation and reflecting on it extensively.

I think that comfort she felt in the quiet of herself impacted her writing in a huge way. Beyond the obvious external silence of being deaf, Helen Keller wrote with thoughtful, concentrated care. I wish I had that habit, but really, I often end up writing something superficial or flawed because I give in to the distractions of Facebook, music, or the "noise" of unrelated worries, ideas, and daydreams in my own head. Imagine sitting down and writing something straight through, putting all your thoughts, feelings, sense, and attention into it!

Maybe my distractibility is why I prefer typing. I like to skip sections of a paper, or jot down ideas, or scroll up and rewrite the beginning of my work any time without messing up the page and having to make copy after copy of the same paper. The technical limitations of the typewriter and the complications of her blindness made that impossible for Helen. Yes, she edited her work, but not by flitting superficially from section to section and idea to idea. I wonder whether she would have liked to write and edit like I do, if the technology of the moment had made that possible. Was the difference between our experiences of writing caused only by the physical constraints of Helen's situation, or by a more fundamental difference in willpower, distractibility, and personal depth?

The Truth in Masks

Oscar Wilde once wrote that “man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” Wilde is known for his epigrams and paradoxical quotes, but – as usual – this phrase is not as ridiculous as it initially appears. Anonymity frees us to say what we think without fear of retaliation, making us much more likely to present ourselves as we really are. In many situations, anonymity actually leads to more truthfulness, not less.

Anonymity makes us brave. No one knows who I am behind my computer screen, so I can say whatever I want without anyone screaming at me for it. If I want to say something controversial, it’s much easier to post it on my blog than to stand on a soapbox and announce the same thing at a busy intersection downtown. Yes, some commenter might start fuming and try to refute me, but that’s much less intimidating than a 300-pound wrestler screaming the same argument in real life – even if the commenter gets really angry and pulls out caps lock.

The braver I am, the more truthful I’ll be. The confidence my anonymity gives me makes me increasingly likely to present my most heartfelt, even secret, beliefs. I’m more likely to write in my own voice, without the, “Well, I think…” or “…but if you disagree, that’s fine too” buffers I’d add if I were speaking in person. I can use very personal anecdotes to illustrate my points, because I’m not afraid of boring anyone, or of being contradicted in the way I remember events. I can bare my soul because the mask of anonymity protects me.

This is where the paradox comes in. The more secure I am in my anonymity, the more I show myself as I really am. The more I show myself as I really am, the less anonymous I become.

Race is a perfect example. Ethnic background, traditions, and habits are a deep part of identity, and they affect us in many ways – but they’re either out of place in the conversation, or mentioning this is a catalyst for a lot of stupid jokes and misunderstandings. Those concerns don’t matter in an anonymous setting like a blog, though: anonymity shows us for who we really are better than face-to-face interaction, because in person, we feel compelled to hide parts of ourselves anyways.

Of course, this doesn’t work in all situations. People are generally smarter and kinder than they appear in YouTube comments or cyber bullying websites. Neither is a good place to get to know another person in a deep or lasting way. On a blog or website devoted to the informal exchange of ideas, though, initial anonymity may be the best way to learn the truth about others.

What better way to learn the truth about someone than to look at them “dancing like no one’s watching,” as the old song goes? Anonymity could be the most truthful mask of all.

Canadian Health Care

Many people have a problem with the Canadian health care system, and I am one of them. It’s inefficient and inconsistent. Doctors are mostly apathetic professionals making rounds through the small, dingy rooms of public clinics. Success is measured by the number of people they manage to send home from their clinics – cured or not.

It’s obvious that this is important. The health care system is meant to care for our health, and if it doesn’t do that, we have a serious problem.

Shouldn’t health be the main priority of the health care system? Shouldn’t doctors want to make their patients well again, as soon as possible? Shouldn’t efficacy, not ease, be the criteria by which doctors evaluate treatment?

You might ask what right I have to be talking about this. Well, I’ve been in and out of waiting rooms and doctors’ offices and labs pretty often in the last few years. In April of 2011, I caught a virus. At first, it seemed like a run-of-the-mill thing. I was tired, and spent my entire Easter break in bed, thinking it would go away on its own. When it didn’t, I booked an appointment with my doctor. She sent me for a few standard blood tests, and then… I waited.

The policy with these tests is that the doctor’s office will only call if the tests come back positive. Mine didn’t, but I was still sick three weeks later, when the results were supposed to have come in, so I went back to her office. She confirmed that none of the tests had come back positively and sent me for a few more tests.

The cycle repeated itself, with all the test results coming in negatively, the doctor failing to contact me, and me revisiting her office every few weeks for the next two and a half months.

At this point, I was completely fed up with the system. I had been sick for two and a half months, and I hadn’t been diagnosed. My doctor was sending me for two or three blood tests at a time, and she didn’t seem to be concerned about how long my illness had lasted. I had been home from school for the entire duration of the sickness, barely able to do anything except for lie in bed. I was having brief hallucinations and my memory was faulty. I was scared, and she didn’t care.

That was went I walked into the office. When I walked out, I was infuriated. Since none of the tests thus far had come back positively, she told me, she thought it was a rare virus. She specifically told me that it must be “one that isn’t often tested for.” Then she sent me home.

I had no prescription. I had no blood test requisition sheet. All I had was my doctor’s feeble assurance that it would probably go away on its own in a little while: the health care system had given up on me. I was no longer a priority, and it didn’t matter that I was sick and scared and insecure.

I am not the only person who has been treated this way by Canadian medical professionals. The system is inherently problematic, and it fosters an environment of coldness and indifference. Ask someone who has experienced it firsthand – when patients are not truly cared for and health is no longer the first priority, can Canadians still boast about our health care system?

I say no.

The Gum Thief

      I was the kind of kid who read the Brothers Grimm at five. At six, I puzzled over the difference between crocodiles and alligators (and came to the conclusion that one was a brand name for the other). And at seven, when my friend told me to look out the window, I gave him a blank look and asked, “Window dot com?”
      In other words, from the very beginning, I loved to read and think, and was mostly not very good at either. I tried to be smart, and instead I just managed to sound like a fool. Once, when my dad was doing renovations and sawing some boards in the basement, I sat on the stairs and sighed, “My heart is breaking, for the master is making so much noise.” (More likely, my head was splitting, but in elementary school those details aren’t really important.)
      I liked to curl up in unobtrusive corners of the house and read and mutter witticisms to myself. I dreamed of what my life would have been like if I’d been born to royalty instead of lowly peasants, and thought I was a martyr for cleaning up my clothes when my mom told me she couldn’t see the floor of my bedroom.
      This is probably why I find young children with over-active imaginations and grandiose vocabularies so funny today. (The five-year-old who used the word “salutations” when greeting me is a really good example of this.)
      Also, not long ago (to get to the point of my story, at last...) I witnessed a mother confiscating her young daughter’s gum – and saw the daughter promptly run out of the room and into her own bedroom. I followed her, and saw the little girl open a drawer and pull out yet another piece of gum from a package in the bottom.
      I was pretty sure this gum was stolen from the same place as the first, confiscated piece (the mother’s purse), so I asked, “What do you have there?”
      The child spun around, her face red and guilty. But she recovered quickly, and, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, she told me: “You know what? I like you, but you are so nosy!”

Hello World!