The first book I read this year was one that was highly anticipated—perhaps the most anticipated book on my TBR. After reading Wuthering Heights in early 2022 and it securing a place as my favourite book, I watched as it again and again was pitted against Jane Eyre, most people seeming to side with Charlotte Brontë as the better author of a better book. I was apprehensive and yet could not wait to pick it up, would I feel the same way? Would it manage to overtake Wuthering Heights as my favourite book ever? Would I find Charlotte’s writing as breathtaking as Emily’s? I was excited to find out, and also sad at the thought of Wuthering Heights being dethroned by the more popular Jane Eyre.

That did not end up being the case, but it came very close. It’s easy to see why Jane Eyre has maintained such a high popularity and why it shows up in so many people’s ‘top 10’ lists—it’s a masterpiece of literature. It effortlessly blends realism with gothic technique, it has a perfect pacing even when jumping around from one age and location to another, it never drags, every page seems necessary, and not only that, but it’s exciting. It feels like it’s going to be one of those endlessly reread-able books for me, and I would assume many others feel the same. As heartbreaking as some of the book is, it also feels like a warm and comforting blanket.