Wide Sargasso Sea

Jean Rhys’ novel Wide Sargasso Sea tells the untold story of two pre-existing characters, Mr Rochester, and the animalistic, dehumanised Bertha Mason from Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. Jean Rhys expressed in interviews that she chose to write this unofficial backstory to Brontë’s novel to humanise Bertha and show readers that there was more to her as an individual, and as a Creole, than her awful portrayal in Jane Eyre. Rhys reimagines Bertha as the young and sweet Antoinette, giving her a history, and explaining who she is and why she eventually becomes Bertha. As a Creole herself, Rhys is arguably able to capture a more realistic and sympathetic voice for Antoinette. In this way, Rhys is able to highlight not only the life of this fictional character whose voice was marginalised in Victorian literature, but also the voices of the Creoles and colonial people forgotten and left behind after the Emancipation Act was passed, never fitting into the native culture around them, and now also outsiders to the cultures in their heritage. The word Creole has multiple definitions depending on its context, but in this novel it means someone of European descent born into the West Indies which is made clear to the reader early on, but also can mean someone who is half black and half white; the latter of which is subtly hinted at throughout the book without ever being explicitly stated. Wide Sargasso Sea is my favourite novel, and every time I read it I am equally drawn in and deeply moved by the artfully written story. It is a story of pain, suffering, love, sex, voodoo, isolation, and obsession, and I think that any reader would find it hard to put down.

Jean Rhys immediately introduces the reader to Antoinette’s difficult childhood, provoking sympathy from the reader and creating an understanding that she is not the product of an easy life, and reveals the hatred and hardship that many Creoles might have faced. Her father is long gone when the story begins, they are outsiders in their community, and they have become poverty-stricken and the subjects of ridicule from the other residents of the island, particularly stemming from racial tensions. Rhys also explains Antoinette’s family’s position in society in the post-Emancipation West Indies as being widely hated, and that even as an individual Antoinette did not fit in to the society around her. Antoinette’s mother, Annette, also becomes distant after a doctor’s diagnosis of her disabled son causes her mental health to decline and she isolates herself from her daughter. The descriptions of Annette show signs of grief and depression in her dire and lonely position in society, yet explained through a child’s eyes seem unsettling and rejecting. This makes Antoinette reliable on Christophine, her black carer, and to an extent her stepfather and Aunt Cora, to be her protecting adult figures against the outside world where she is hated for a past industry that she herself never contributed to, having lost real relationships with both of her parents at a young age.

Additionally, Rhys does not shy away from illustrating how ignorant the English were when new to the West Indies, and how that created cultural barriers between them and colonials who had been living there for generations, such as Antoinette’s family. Rhys brings Annette's voice to the forefront during her childhood, confronting her husband Mr Mason's patronising beliefs of the black people on the island. He refuses to believe they are anything other than childish and lazy, and his lack of understanding of the extent of danger as a result of racial tensions is proved in a powerfully emotive scene when the locals burn down Antoinette’s home and her brother is killed in the fire. Annette reacts by throwing Mr Mason’s beliefs back at him, showing him how short-sighted he was for not believing her, and how useless his trust seems now. Although Mr Mason is shown as ultimately well-meaning, it is through him that the reader can see Annette’s voice being repressed and ignored as both a woman and as a Creole against the arrogant white English man who assumes he knows best. This character trait is also prominent with Rochester repressing Antoinette later in the novel, although Rochester does it in a much more deliberately cruel and malicious way than Mr Mason.

The racial barriers are explored further in Wide Sargasso Sea, in particular in relation to Antoinette’s childhood friend, Tia. As a child, Antoinette’s only friend her own age turns on her with the rest of the community when Antoinette’s home is burnt down. Rhys writes: ‘When I was close I saw the jagged stone in her hand but I did not see her throw it. I did not feel it either, only something wet, running down my face. I looked at her and I saw her face crumple up as she began to cry. We stared at each other, blood on my face, tears on hers. It was as if I saw myself. Like in a looking-glass’. Here Rhys shows how similar the children truly are, ‘as if I saw myself’, and how there shouldn’t be a barrier between them, but the historical cultural clash that past generations caused separates them. Rhys illustrates that they can never truly be friends in their community, even when it causes Tia emotional pain to conform to what is expected of her and harm her friend. This can also be interpreted to illustrate that, like Christophine, not every black person on the islands hated the white families, or blamed the children for the barbaric family histories that they were born into.

Following on from this, Christophine’s voice is powerful and influential in the novel, bringing to the forefront a marginalised race in Victorian literature. Christophine's character provides intelligence, reason, and protection, and remains the only person whom Antoinette can rely on as a friend throughout Wide Sargasso Sea, removing the racial barrier that seems so prominent between other characters. There is also, to a degree, a parallel between Antoinette and Christophine, as Christophine too is cast as an outsider to the black locals on the islands. Christophine is relied on heavily for advice and comfort by Antoinette throughout the novel, and she tries to defend Antoinette against her cruel husband, begging Rochester to be kinder to her and to reject Antoinette’s half-brother’s accusations that poison his mind against her. Christophine’s old age also contributes to how desperately Antoinette loves her, as she knows that when Christophine passes away she will be completely isolated from any humanity or empathy. Moreover, Christophine’s understanding of complex emotions and psychology extends far beyond her time, defending Annette when everyone calls her mad. She says: ‘They drive her to it. When she lose her son she lose herself for a while and they shut her away. They tell her she is mad, they act like she is mad. Question, question. But no kind word, no friends [. . .] They won’t let me see her. I try, but no. They won’t let Antoinette see her. In the end – mad I don’t know – she give up’. Despite being an uneducated woman in the traditional English sense, Christophine is arguably the most intelligent character in the novel. She has an ability to make logical reasons for why Annette and Antoinette suffer mentally, removing the blame from them and their ‘bad blood’. In this one character, Rhys brings to the forefront both a voice from a marginalised race, and a defense to those dismissed as insane in the Victorian times.

Furthermore, whilst all of these elements of the novel contribute to giving Antoinette a sympathetic history, it is during her marriage to Rochester that the reader fully understands how despairing her situation is. She is removed from the convent which she calls her ‘refuge’, and married to a man who deceives her into believing he cares about her for financial gain. Rhys writes: ‘it meant nothing to me. Nor did she, the girl I was to marry. [. . .] I played the part I was expected to play. [. . .] I must have given a faultless performance’. As the novel progresses Rochester is influenced by Antoinette’s half-brother, and he becomes callous towards her, changing her from a sweet, cheerful young woman who stands up for herself and defends her culture, to a shadow of her former self, filled with sorrow, desperation and hatred. Gradually, he starts to take away everything that made Antoinette herself, including beginning to call her ‘Bertha’, although initially she tries to fight against it: ‘Bertha is not my name. You are trying to make me into someone else’. He continues to destroy parts of who she is, driving her to alcoholism and chipping away at her sanity, pushing her further and further until she reaches breaking point and becomes the Bertha we see in Jane Eyre.

Another pinnacle and poignant moment in the novel is when Antoinette confronts Rochester about ruining her only remaining safe place: ‘I used to think that if everything else went out of my life I would still have this, and now you have spoilt it. [. . .] I hate it now like I hate you and before I die I will show you how much I hate you’. The descriptions of her are also hyperbolically violent to emphasise her pain, and demonstrate how Rochester has changed her by stripping away her autonomy and individuality. Eventually, once Rochester has fully broken her, he seems to take a twisted, cruel form of pride in Antoinette’s transition into the doll-like figure that she becomes: ‘I saw the hate go out of her eyes. I forced it out. And with the hate her beauty. She was only a ghost’. Rhys describes this change from Antoinette’s perspective as well, writing the beautifully sad statement: ‘Names matter, like when he wouldn’t call me Antoinette, and I saw Antoinette drifting out of the window with her scents, her pretty clothes and her looking-glass’.

To conclude, this all contributes to the defence of the animalistic character in Jane Eyre, replacing and rewriting the derogatory Creole character as not a beastly, insane figure, but instead an innocent woman who was the subject of cruelty and rejection from a young age, and finally pushed by her husband to the point of what would most likely today be considered a mental breakdown. This book is written beautifully, and is relatively short so, although it is intense, it is accessible to a wide readership. There isn’t a single sentence in the story that is wasted, and I absolutely love the novel and what Jean Rhys achieved by writing it. I would also highly recommend reading the book over seeing either of the film adaptations with this particular story, as I personally feel that the films do not do Antoinette's character justice to the fullest extent.

Rating: 5/5