688aadad9e8015cc4f35…

JMM, I like Jane Eyre’s anger, too, and her ability to stand up to Rochester and others (in this, I find her much more interesting than sweet, demure Fanny in “Mansfiled Park”). It’s her superiority, as you say (great way of putting it) that makes me lack sympathy for her. In particular, the attitude toward Adèle by everyone in the novel (including, it seems, the author) really rankles whenever I return to the book. Many of the film adaptations soften this and have Adèle integrated into the family, which I much prefer.

One of the things I love about the Peter Wimsey/Harriet Vane romance is that so much of is about finding a balance between two autonomous individuals. There’s that lovely exchange about harmony and counterpoint when they go to the concert at the end of “Gaudy Night.”

On the other hand, I disliked her attitude of superiority. Not to mention her barely concealed contempt for poor Adele, who commited the crime of being pretty, French (horrors!) and illegitimate.

“The autonomous agenda makes a heroine “flawed” of course, because when you act you make mistakes, because you can’t predict everything and pursuing your own agenda does collide with other people’s.”

As usual, you said it better than I ever could, Dorthe. That’s why heroines are often so passive (or PC foot stomping fiesty); the author/screenwriter/director is often too afraid to offend anyone.

And if a heroine’s goals put her in conflict with the hero, guess who gives up her goals? If the hero’s goals put him in conflict with the heroine… guess who stays on course?

I must admit, I’ve always had trouble balancing her fantastic backstory with the selfless and trusting nurturer that she is at heart – it’s as if her career on stage, and her role as revolutionary mascot from her salon, were roles that she was trying on, to see what fit, or appropropriate ‘masks’ for her to hide behind, but that she was only waiting for another male ‘crutch’ to trust and truly devote herself to. She is not coldly independent, like Becky Sharp in ‘Vanity Fair’, but rather self-contained; with Armand, and after she meets Percy, she is able to reveal her true nature and abandon the defensive tactics of her life alone. (When of course, she goes from one extreme to the other, and her enemies are able to take full advantage of her trusting and generous nature!)

I think what you describe as a “loving heart” is what my dad, a social psychologist, called empathy, which he thought was so important in the development of a healthy personality and way of relating to the world (I used to run a lot of character situations past my dad). You’re right of course, that Milady didn’t have a loving heart/empathy, but I kept wishing she did (and thinking that if I’d written the story I’d have written her that way . I too was thrilled, as a young girl, that a character like Marguerite got a happy ending–it seemed as though those sort of powerful, interesting women usually ended up as villainesses. I actually think Mélanie has a fair amount of empathy, which is why I think she’d be a fairly good friend despite her ruthlessness, a topic I’m trying to blog about now.

Dorthe said – and I agree – some women like to read the “perfect heroine with the jerk hero” books because it gives them a sense of superiority to the male of the species.

It’s safe. The hero will always mess up and be forgiven by the Noble Long Suffering Heroine. It’s a form of power.

I don’t like “Gary-Stu” heroes, either.

Sarah, “The Crimson Petal and the White” is an amazing book. So rich and vivid. The characters really came to life (you’re right, I can imagine finding them on a census or walking down a London street and finding the Rackham house still there).