Wake up from your Disney dream Munching.

Treasure.

Books.

Literary Lusts.

With Extra Pulp

He’s grumpy as hell. He treats his daughter as if she were an annoying little French pebble in his shoe. He’s also kinda disfigured on account of the fire that burned his house down. And he attempted to commit bigamy against his criminally insane wife.
Yes, readers, I have just described my long-time literary crush, Mr. Edward Rochester, eventual husband of Jane Eyre, and master of Thornfield house in the gloomy, angst-ridden England that is the creation of Charlotte Bronte.

Now, I must admit, when I watched that God-awful film adaptation starring Anna What’s-her-face from X-Men as Jane and a blonde (wtf?) William Hurt as old Rochester, my love for this character wavered slightly. Then I remembered that movies never get it right.
What exactly is so appealing about the broody Mr. R? Well, for one, he’s loaded. But of course that’s a fringe benefit. Secondly, he totally shows up the bitchy Blanche when he dresses up as a gypsy. (I wrote a really awesome* short story about this in grade 12 English that has since been lost…if I ever find it I’ll publish it here). Thirdly, he has a psychic connection with his one true love, his frail bird of a girl, plain little Jane. The Rochester I imagine is shaggy haired, dark, rigidly manly and handsome in an unconvential way. He also has mutton chops. But they would look really hot on him.

And he most definitely would NOT be former double-oh-seven, Timothy Dalton.

* I say awesome because Mrs. Kennedy gave me an A+, not because I actually thought it was awesome.