Villette

I know I'm a selfish reader, but this book took more out of me than it could ever give back.
Maybe it's my fault for constantly returning to books that take me through so much emotional turmoil but always at the end of them, I await (and get) my gratification. The moment where our heroine says “reader, I married him,” and you pause for a moment, close your eyes and smile because, despite the hardship, all is well. This book was anything but.

I can't tell whether I should commend Lucy for having such a steadfast spirit or pity her for the way that steadfastness was more often than not, simply some form of hopeless self-restraint. It was her (perhaps rightful) cynicism that I struggled with the most. Hers was a character to accept all forms of torment as her cross to bear in this life. Never asking or hoping for anything more. There was not one time she did not resolutely drink her cup down to the dregs. I could not but grieve as I watched.

Charlotte Brontë has this way of painting a perfect picture of reticence, but with Lucy, it becomes so difficult because she shies away from you just as much as she does the others. I finished the book less than an hour ago and I could tell you more about any other character than I could her. She's a withdrawn, doleful little creature that you want to love but aren't allowed to. She assumes you won't care.

Can you blame Lucy for her inability to trust or receive love? Is it wrong to think she should yet hope? I really don't know and truthfully, I don't think she knows either.

4 stars because it hurt my heart and 500 pages of that is too much. Most passages are highlighted though so I will at least give Villette that