I suspect that Wide Sargasso Sea has forever damaged my ability to enjoy Jane Eyre.  Mind you, I have never unreservedly enjoyed it and there are still many aspects of it I love, but Rhys's novel has reweighted the scales.  It elevates what I always saw as the comparatively poor writing to egregious moral failing.  (Fair warning: if it's not already plain, this is a bit of rant.)
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