" I read Wuthering Heights in college, loathed it, and promptly wrote off all the Brontes. When I shared that a few months ago, I was encouraged to try Jane Eyre, being assured that it was completely different. "Completely different"? No. It was still overwrought Gothic nonsense with language you sink in up to your ankles. But it was saved by Jane herself, who works against the sentimentality of the plot and Rochester himself, and St. John, who by his very loathesomeness makes Rochester seem a viable option. "
— Cherie, 2/8/2014