Tag Archives: Rereading
Letter to my nine-year-old self, on the occasion of my reread of Jude Deveraux’s The Duchess twelve years later
I. On a whim, I bought a brand-new edition of The Duchess by Jude Deveraux as a 21st birthday gift to myself. The copy you read — mass market paperback, scarlet, an embossed image of a portrait-ed brooch on the cover — has long gone. Somewhere. You haven’t bothered to look. This book was our […]
What I’ve Been Reading, October 01 – 10
Hello, all. I’m back. Largely an emotional cripple — have grown a tendency to yell at objects zooming past, a soft spot for all things lint-y, sobs at the drop of a hat, too much talking to self. Well. I’m taking a stab at this blogging thing again. I need the structure, oddly enough. So. […]
marginalia || Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte – pt. 03
Most true is it that “beauty is in the eye of the gazer.” My master’s colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth,—all energy, decision, will,—were not beautiful, according to rule; but they were more than beautiful to me; they were full of an interest, an […]
marginalia || Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte – pt.02
[For those inclined, here's Part 01 of the Rereading Jane Eyre series, which talks about: This long-awaited reunion. Things I've forgotten, things to remember. And, re the book itself (hee), Jane Eyre's childhood.] I have realized that I am now older than the Jane Eyre that most appears in the novel. I am twenty-one. [Present] […]
marginalia || Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte – pt.01
. . . I believed in the existence of other and more vivid kinds of goodness, and what I believed in I wished to behold. An Introduction. Of Sorts. — What follows is, I am afraid, a rather self-indulgent post. I have reread what has to be my favoritest-est book ever. I have loved this book […]
