Eyre-y Fairy Bullshit

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

Narrative reliability is a heavy topic. A book like Jane Eyre shines a ridiculously bright light on the question of whether or not I can trust the person who is telling me a story. I like this book. But I do think Jane is an uppity, self-deceiving liar. This, some might argue, makes her no different from a lot of people we know in actual life. Perhaps no different from ourselves.

Jane, still a pre-teen, is inflamed by the beating she takes from her rich snooty cousin. She considers her readings of the History of Rome, considers  “Nero, Caligula, etc”. She even “had drawn parallels in silence, which [she] never thought thus to have declared aloud.” How clever and witty and intelligent this young girl is. Or, more likely, she’s full of shit. She’s reflecting back with the knowledge acquired later in life and buffing up her own pathetic and mostly meaningless existence.

She quotes her perpetrators as saying “you are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep. There, sit down, and think over your wickedness.” Now, if Jane weren’t our ‘hero’ of the story would we not find it easier to agree with this statement? Realistically, what the hell could she possibly be contributing to this household? I’m not arguing she isn’t the victim of her cousin. I’m merely wondering why it is so difficult to understand that this young girl really didn’t contribute anything of value to the house that is keeping her? She spends her time running around with her grandiose ideas of being better than everyone. She takes playing the victim to a whole new level.

She’s a free-loader. And as such: a burden. Her grandiose is matched only by her ability to deceive. She doesn’t do anything that we ought to punish her for though. How many people go through life without telling themselves alternate narratives to what has happened, or misconstruing a few details here and there to feel better? People do this to survive. It is easier to remember the slightly adjusted narrative than the reality sometimes. 

Really, I ought to be congratulating her for doing such a fine job. She tells the slight untruths with such determination that even she is convinced, which makes it easier for her to convince us. However, I don’t like a bullshitter, and my nose picks up a scent from this narrative that my being does not like. 

As for her ‘equal marriage’, well, don’t even get me started. Yet.