Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre for the second time.
I got acquainted with Bronte back in the year 2002. I read the book because I had to write a paper on it and did not have the mind or the heart to savor the richness of expressions that the words brought to me then. It was just a novel like any other and I did not take time to relish the words that drew feelings of intense emotional spontaneity that are now overwhelming me. Now, reading it again I see what I had missed. I am grateful that I hold Bronte once more, I am reading it in a completely new purpose, letting the words form enchanting images of abstract and the known. The feeling that swells within my chest is immense with admirations for the word play that Bronte has so intricately unfurled in writing this simple and humane novel. I am amazed with her mastery of disposing words at such ease and grace in describing the deep emotional touches of a child who faces the worst tyrannies of the world and grows up fighting. I was reading Socialism is Great by Lijia Zhang...