Jane Eyre, published under a pseudonym in 1847, is one of the most popular novels of all time. Charlotte Brontë's heroine is a subversively rebellious spirit — an independent, morally defiant woman who isn't beautiful, but succeeds thanks to her sparkling intellect and willingness to speak her mind. The book was a hit — even Queen Victoria read it, saying it was "really a wonderful book, very peculiar in parts, but so powerfully and admirably written."

Charlotte Brontë was only 38 when she died in 1855, and the first book about her life appeared barely two years later, when her friend Elizabeth Gaskell published a pious biography that presented her as "a woman made perfect by suffering."

In her new biography of Charlotte Brontë, Charlotte Brontë: A Fiery Heart, Claire Harman presents a different perspective, focusing on Brontë's sorrow, rage, passion and endurance. The book's publication is timed to mark the 200th anniversary of Brontë's birth. Claire Harman spoke to Eleanor Wachtel from New York.

It's such a peculiar phenomenon, with somebody whom we now recognize as a genius, to think of their early years. It's before they have any power to express themselves, and yet they are themselves as much, if not more, than they are in the books through which we know them. The Brontë household was full of these pent-up future writers, but until you've written the book and gotten the audience and expressed yourself publicly, you're just this frustrated, unexpressed intelligence. And of course Charlotte's frustrations would have been very poignant. When she was a teenager she had the optimism of feeling that she was going to become a famous illustrator or poet, but everyone knows how old you feel when you're 21 or 22 and you feel like your life is over if you haven't hit the big time yet. As her twenties progressed, her opportunities seemed to just get narrower and narrower, so of course she felt that the doors were closing, or had closed.

Charlotte was inspired by a friend to go to Brussels and spend half a year at a school where she and Emily could acquire a bit more polish to their French. And they went, but Charlotte came back from Brussels heartbroken because she'd become very emotionally involved with the husband of the school's headmistress. The school was owned by Zoë Héger, and her husband, Constantin, was the most charismatic of the seven male teachers. Charlotte wrote a very funny letter describing him, saying he was small, dark and choleric, like an "insane tomcat." He was also very widely read, and he recognized in Charlotte a powerfully intelligent, very ready mind, and someone who truly loved literature. She was really bowled over by that perceived connection, and then because she was starved for affection and romance, it very rapidly became — for her at least — a passionate longing that she wasn't quite able to articulate.

After the deaths of [Brontë siblings] Branwell, Emily and Anne, I think Charlotte was just sort of subsisting, emotionally. [Parish vicar] Arthur Nicholls was a very odd choice for her to marry, in terms of his lack of imagination. When he proposed the first time, Charlotte had this brilliant, very forensic description of the occasion. He comes to the door, and she sees how distressed he is, and she suddenly realizes that he is going to propose and that all of his previous sheepish behaviour had been because he was secretly admiring her.

It was the sight of him sweating and trembling in front of her that made her realize that he had strong feelings for her. She had very few feelings for him, but she could sympathize with his unrequited love. After her own experiences of very one-sided, very powerful feelings for Constantin Héger, she could see how he was suffering, and it was sympathy for his suffering that swayed her. To her credit, she did find some contentment in the marriage and was comforted by his company — though only for a short time, because she got pregnant and then died after only eight months of marriage.