The one where I admit I was wrong

I am reading Jane Eyre.
Yes, my judgemental prejudiced head decided to give it a go before the film comes out (two words: Michael. Fassbender.) and, as usual, proved me wrong.
Charlotte Bronte is such a great, skilled writer that when I read her I go into complete feminist you-go-girl mode. I love the way she paints the characters, her psychological observations and the wonderful flawed Jane. I love how the writer never idealises her nor anyone else in the book and this makes everyone so beautifully fragile and sympathetic.
I almost don't want to see the film now, if it were not for the two words mentioned above.
So now I officially admit that I was wrong to look down on romanticism.
Well... live and learn, right!?!