This is how we spend our Sunday afternoons. Stretched out on couches, relaxing and resting after a long week's work of school and all the other activities which loom around the corners of each day.
Despite that, my evenings the past few night have been very pleasant. With reading. With the comfort of a book in my lap and pages filled with words before my eyes.
There is a wealth of feeling in a Dickens book, alongside the comedic and lightheartedness, there are dark corners of despair and heartache. In Austen, I find joy in family life and friendships, all wrapped in starched up social customs and the irony and comedy found in life. In Bronte, I find everything: desperation, happiness, loneliness, morality, love, anguish, and an unbearably riveting plot.
If I could ever mimic someones writing style, I would love to be like Charlotte Bronte. Her story Jane Eyre is my favorite novel, and I feel a deepness to her words and a sorrow-filled purpose to her character's personality's. The storyline to her novels is ever gripping and ever-so touching. Her characters are generally melancholy and multifarious -- seeking love and fulfillment in life, but facing constant challenges and feeling a lack in their abilities.
Bronte's language comes alive on a page. There is her share of fancy words, of quotes and analogy's, but the simplicity of her sentences is usually what gets me. How she can draw up emotions of heartache in a reader through the weaving together of fictitious words and the development of fictitious characters on a page gets me.
Makes me want to attempt the art she mastered so well. I do attempt it. I strive for it.