Yyyyyyeah no.

Anne Brontë was the daughter of a clergyman who worked as a governess for a time. This book is about the daughter of a clergyman who works as a governess for a time. If I hadn't known the author's background, I might have been okay with the protagonist being oh-so good and perfect and kind and moral. I might have thought that I was supposed to be critical of how perfect she is. But since I do, I think that Anne Brontë thinks an awful lot of herself.

Everyone she encounters (except, of course, for her family and the requisite love interest -- who is a clergyman, natch) is cruel and insipid and thoughtless and haughty et cetera et cetera. She is so much BETTER than all of them, don't you see? Only Agnes and her boring Mr. Whatever (I finished it less than three hours ago and have already forgotten -- Mr. Winston? Mr. Watkins?) are kind and thoughtful and Good.

I mean, the other Brontë books I have read (Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre), I didn't like either. And those pretty much enraged me because the people in them were so, so, so so horrible. I guess I'm glad that the people in this book weren't so so so so horrible (except for the kids in the first bit, who delight in finding nests full of baby birds so that they can torture them to death in interesting ways, but they weren't around for too long, thank goodness) as all that. They're mostly thoughtless and arrogant, as opposed to being actively unpleasant and, like, rape-y. But that only means that they're also super boring.

This book was boring. Don't bother. Oh, but it was short! That was good.