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I'm feeling very virtuous for having listened to Jane Eyre. I despised this book when it was assigned in high school--my ancient paperback copy was marked with complaint after complaint about what a stupid book it was--and haven't read it since.
I listened to a version read by Wanda McCaddon, which was free from SYNC some years back--I figured a great narrator might make it more palatable, and she did, though the production left something to be desired, as the sound level was annoyingly inconsistent--I had to keep fussing with the volume.
Apparently I've mellowed a bit in the eons since high school, because I felt only mild distaste this time around, and elements that incensed me back then merely made me roll my eyes now, though I do still wish I could smack Rochester upside the head.
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