Reading too much into a reading list

There was a time when putting Jane Eyre on a school reading list would have been regarded as a fairly ordinary educational decision. A teacher might have thought that young readers could benefit from encountering a spirited orphan, a brooding gentleman, a Gothic mansion and a complex moral journey. CNN, however, has discovered that the matter may be considerably more sinister. The appearance of Charlotte Bronte's novel on a Chinese reading list, it suggests, is evidence of something called ideology.

This is an impressive burden to place on a book. A novel that has survived Victorian moralists, modern feminists, postcolonial critics, film directors, television producers and generations of adolescent readers must now also survive the investigative imagination of cable news.

According to CNN, the Chinese authorities see Jane Eyre as a corrective to the superficial romantic fantasies of the social-media age. That interpretation is not especially difficult to understand. The novel does, after all, present a young woman who values dignity, independence and moral self-respect more than money or social position. Jane refuses to become Rochester's mistress even though she loves him. She rejects St John's proposal because it offers duty without affection. Her famous declaration — "I care for myself" — is hardly a ringing endorsement of passive obedience.

Yet CNN appears determined to treat the inclusion of an extracurricular classic as a coded ideological communique. One begins to wonder whether every alteration to a school reading list must now be examined for signs of a change in the authority's philosophical weather. If a book is added, it is a signal. If a book is removed, it is another signal. If a book remains where it was, perhaps that is the most ominous signal of all.

There is, of course, a legitimate discussion to be had about Jane Eyre. The novel was published in London in 1847, and its treatment of Bertha Mason, the "mad woman in the attic", has rightly attracted criticism. Its depiction of colonialism, race and imperial wealth deserves scrutiny. Rochester's conduct, too, may strike contemporary readers as less than an ideal model of romantic behaviour. But literary criticism requires a modest acquaintance with history. Bronte was writing in the nineteenth century, not drafting a relationship guide for the year 2026. To read an old novel critically is sensible; to demand that it conform entirely to present-day moral vocabulary is to confuse literature with an updated terms-of-service agreement.

A classic's value does not depend on its being ideologically spotless. Jane Eyre has generated a vast critical literature, inspired countless adaptations for stage and screen, and remained influential across cultures for nearly two centuries. Its endurance is not proof that every idea in it is beyond question. It is proof that the novel contains enough artistic power, psychological complexity and unresolved contradiction to keep readers arguing.

The same interpretive generosity might be extended to the United States' school reading lists. The US has no single national list for grades seven through nine, but federal agencies, state departments, school districts and teachers recommend books ranging from Fahrenheit 451 and The Diary of Anne Frank to The Constitution, The Odyssey, The Hunger Games and The Giver. Should we conclude that the inclusion of Animal Farm reveals a state's hostility to capitalism, that the removal of a feminist novel signals a war on women, or that assigning The Red Badge of Courage betrays a secret militarist agenda? One could do so, provided one had abandoned both proportion and sleep.

A reading list is usually a reading list. Sometimes a book is chosen because it is good, sometimes because it is available, and occasionally because someone has actually read it. That last possibility may be less dramatic than ideological intrigue, but it is probably worth considering.