The Book Talks, Vol. 5
High School Teacher Andrew Campbell on Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre (1847)
The Book Talks features teachers and the books they love to teach. For Vol. 5,
spoke with me about one of his summer reading assignments—Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 classic novel, Jane Eyre. Andrew is an English teacher living in Chattanooga, Tennessee. He has taught at a local Christian school since 2005, and his vocational interests include language, literature, and teaching students to embrace a life of the Spirit.Are you a teacher at the K-12 or college level? Is there a book you look forward to teaching year after year, or a new book on your syllabus you’re excited about sharing with students? I hope you’ll consider being an interviewee on The Book Talks. There is an interest form here.
SLJ: I want to start with some questions about summer reading broadly. What have you assigned this year?
AC: Summer reading can serve so many different purposes, and to be honest, it’s difficult to decide what role I (and my department) want it to play in our teaching. Our rising sophomores read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; our juniors read Frederick Douglass’s Narrative, and our seniors read a nonfiction book of their choice to prepare for a major research project they begin in the fall. The seniors taking AP Literature also read Jane Eyre.
SLJ: As a teacher, where are you on the summer reading spectrum of “Read this book and enjoy it” to “Read this book and write twelve essays on it”? How much work do your students have to do on the novel, either over the summer or during August/September?
AC: I require nothing but an honest, thorough reading of the novel. I tell my incoming students that I hope they have a lot of fun over the summer—and to let some of that fun be reading. And as they’re reading outside the constraints of the classroom, let one of the books they read be Jane Eyre. The AP class is an option for the students: deciding to truly engage with the reading is what they’re signing up for. They know we’ll dig into it once school begins. It’s not a foolproof summer reading system, but it’s what we’ve got.
At a core level, I just want my students to be attuned to their feelings as they read the story. To be aware of and interrogate their initial responses. Jane’s interior life is so vividly on display—I tell them to just get to know her. Later, in August, we can take a look at it from Brontë’s artistic point of view.
SLJ: What do you love about Jane Eyre? Why is it your choice for a Victorian novel assignment?
AC: Victorian literature is generally not the first thing I reach for on my bookshelf. My tastes, for whatever reason, tend to be geared more toward the modern classics or back to the relatively ancient stuff. There’s an old, largely truthful stereotype about Victorian lit—it’s just about people going to different friends’ houses.
But here’s the thing: every time I pick up a novel by Dickens or the Brontës, I’m blown away. Reading A Tale of Two Cities in my early twenties was one of the most cathartic reading experiences of my life. So, while I don’t usually seek out Victorian novels, I have confidence that I’ll be reading something substantial from Eliot, Hardy, Dickens, etc. every few years and will be all the better for it.
What do I love about Jane Eyre? Of course it’s Jane herself—the fierce vitality of her character, the way she is distinctive and grounded from the very first sentence of the book, yet, simultaneously, we get to see her spiritual formation, the enlivening and deepening of her soul, through this tale of survival.
I assign it for a few reasons. For starters, it’s our only real chance to read a really long novel. To read it during the school year would be worthwhile, but it would take a long time. We would have to dedicate several weeks to it, and I like how summer affords students the opportunity to read it at their own pace—either leisurely throughout the break or more intensely in the last couple weeks before school starts again.
Brontë’s syntax is fairly digestible for a teen reader, at least compared to Dickens. That helps. The story itself, in so many ways, upends what we’re expecting from it. It’s wildly dark and disturbingly weird, but so imbued with light and redemption that I’m not against calling it one of the greatest coming-of-age stories we have. My students really enjoy debating Jane’s choices along the way.
SLJ: Spill the tea! Which of her choices are most contentious? Why?
AC: Probably the most contentious choice in my students’ eyes is her decision to return to Rochester. How could a woman with such an independent spirit spend the rest of her days with this problematic dude? As the kids say, he’s sus! They’re not wrong.
Part of the issue, I think, is that it’s difficult for many of them to see the charm of Rochester. I think the guy’s totally compelling. He has the intellect and mystery that Jane needs in her life. Also, I read him as an incredibly repentant figure, but I may be in the minority on that. Having a little background on the Byronic Hero type may be a big help in understanding Rochester. Most of my students aren’t privy to that archetype, and to be honest, I don’t think a simple explanation of what makes for a Byronic Hero helps that much. You have to encounter it.
SLJ: Say more about how your students respond to both Mr. Rochester and Mr. St. John.
AC: They generally hate both of them for a while. These men are so toxic, but such an interesting study in contrasts. Of course, Rochester is the more complex of the two, and it’s fun to discuss how manipulative he is in his attempts to woo Jane, which are pretty twisted.
But I think it’s important to remember how haunted he is—the man is cursed. Many of my students miss the symbolism along the way. Occasionally, I have to be like, “Y’all: his BED is on FIRE.”
I should spend more time trying to understand St. John. The man treats human desire as something repugnant. He’s not simply asexual, but something else. From my students’ point of view, they usually think it’s weird that he’s so cold—and super weird that he’s Jane’s cousin.
SLJ: I love the theological work this book does. It gets better and better as the novel progresses, and one of the joys of reading it, for me, was the synthesis of the romantic and theological climaxes.
Early in the novel, there is profound theological tension between Jane and her childhood friend, Helen Burns. The girls seem to disagree about the nature and purpose of a good Christian life and they disagree about how to confront suffering with integrity. Jane rages on behalf of Helen, against the abuse her friend endures at their school, and yet Jane sees in Helen a model of goodness to which she aspires. Helen helps Jane mature, but Jane also, implicitly or explicitly, pushes back against the idea that all suffering and cruelty is divinely ordained.
You teach at a Christian school. I did too; first at a Catholic school in Boston, then an Episcopal school in South Carolina. How much work do you do with Jane Eyre’s theology?
AC: I consider Jane Eyre a profoundly Christian story. So much of it is about spiritual formation. It’s cathartic to see Jane’s rage targeted at Mrs. Reed—and rightly so!—but Helen teaches Jane about grace. It’s scandalous and beautiful. My students almost universally love Helen Burns. The sharp contrast of her devotion to a higher love compared to the cruel religious hypocrisy all around her is one of the best achievements of Brontë’s storytelling. And as the story continues we get to see Jane’s soul ascend, the process and events by which grace sets her free. By the end, Jane can serve and love as a free soul, bound to no duty but to God’s.
We should, however, keep in mind that the novel offers plenty for a believer to question. That’s part of what makes Jane Eyre such a thrilling read. The “cultural Christian” establishment of Brontë’s day was scandalized by it–usually a good sign there’s something true within the pages.
SLJ: Say more about this—what was most scandalous to Brontë’s contemporaries? The fact that Jane finds herself alone with men a little too often? Her bluntness? Her certainty that authority figures are not always right and do not deserve default obedience? Her assumption that economic class means little to nothing about the intellectual or spiritual compatibilities between people? Her refusal to marry St. John and her insistence to travel with him as a deacon? All of the above?
AC: I’m not an expert on this, but I think what shocked the critics was the overall tone of Jane’s point of view. Even today, the honesty with which she speaks is arresting. I get chills every time I read her “I am no bird” speech.
I tell you I must go! Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton? A machine without feelings? And can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! I have as much soul as you—and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh—it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal—as we are!
…I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you. —Jane Eyre, Ch. XXIII
The earnestness, the way Jane is able to name her precise feelings without decoration or flattery. It’s almost like she’s a less morbid Emily Dickinson. Does that make sense?
When it comes to St. John, I find it fascinating that the book ends with a word of praise for him and his mission. Some might say that it’s Brontë capitulating to the societal norms of the time, but that doesn’t track for me. I think Jane has the grace to see something in him that I can’t quite discern; I can’t stand the guy. I’m glad the book ends that way, though. It’s unsettling for me.
SLJ: This was my first read of Jane Eyre, and I was surprised and delighted by the narrative’s Christian feminism. Jane wants to, in modern terms, “have it all”—a vocation that serves others and rewards her spiritually and intellectually, friendships grounded on substantive conversation and connection, and a husband who respects her mind, body, and soul (two out of the three simply will not do; not in Jane’s eyes nor God’s).
Do your students read her this way? Do they register her desires as beautiful and scandalous?
AC: Some students struggle to see how a person with such gifts as Jane’s could find so much fulfillment in service, especially in presumably “lowly” service. They also struggle sometimes to see how Rochester is a match for her intellectually. But most students, I’d say, trust Jane’s knowledge of herself by the end of the book to know that she wouldn’t settle for anything that compromised her soul.
SLJ: Let’s go back to summer reading for a moment. I’m speaking with
later this summer about summer reading and the backlash against it that she’s observed among parents in recent years. Have you observed this in your tenure? If not, what about your school culture contributes to parents and students appreciating and valuing substantive summer reads?AC: The way I tried to pitch summer reading to my incoming students a few weeks ago was by framing it as an act of resistance. It seems like everything in the world is built for quick profit and easy entertainment. We’re awash in distraction. Everything is scheduled and measured. Reading a book for a couple of hours on your front porch is a pretty wholesome way to rebel against our fast-paced world. The kids know what’s up.
In terms of school culture, teachers need to be ready with a mini-sermon and a rationale. We try to keep the expectations moderate and clear. I think it’s wise for schools to tread lightly when it comes to summer work. Each family’s situation is different and we should respect that.
SLJ: I love that you use the term “mini-sermon” and I want to take that quite seriously for a moment. I think, as teachers, we live in a cultural/historical moment in which we can throw reams of evidence about the importance of reading and full-length books and device moderation (or abstention) at parents and students, and it will only get us so far in the resistance movement you describe. I’m wondering if you think there is a particular role Christian/religious schools can and/or should play in leading that resistance, or a particular rationale teachers in religious schools can offer that public school teachers may not be able to as easily.
AC: I love the term “mini-sermon.” It’s something I got from Dave Stuart, one of my go-to teaching gurus. Many teachers think they’re good at preaching the value of their discipline, but it’s actually way harder to do than most think. You’ve got to be brief and winsome. Most preachers aren’t.
For the Christian, we can ground our defense of the humanities in our understanding of humans as beings created in the image of God. People are set apart from the rest of creation in this special way. We are of intrinsic value—broken, but worthy of dignity. From that comes a whole theology of language and aesthetics. It’s no coincidence that Jesus is “the Word.”
In short, there’s a sacred foundation that goes beyond pragmatism or the typical “beauty for beauty’s sake” argument. I won’t get deep into it now, but a biblical perspective on embodied humanity makes it clear that we were made to be fully human—not machines, not animals.
SLJ: For which Jane Eyre is a stirring, timeless testament. Thank you, Andrew!
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