Last month I read this wonderful book…
…and it’s set me upon somewhat of a path of rediscovery. It’s a novel about Emily Brontë, and I read an interview in which the author Karen Powell says the novel was borne of the question: how was it that a reclusive clergyman’s daughter who lived most of her life in a remote West Yorkshire village [and] barely mixed outside of her own family, came to write a novel so shocking and powerful that it still enthrals us to this day?
And another: how was it possible that not one, but all three sisters, each destined only to be a governess or a teacher for the rest of her life, produced some of the most remarkable novels in the English language?
How indeed? Powell has expertly summed up why Brontëmania continues to enthrall us, and currently has me in its grip.
I am listening to this on Audible:
And reading the beautiful Folio edition of Jane Eyre, which I haven’t read since I was 15.
God it’s good, isn’t it?! I’m so enjoying Harman’s book. Little nuggets I can’t stop thinking about:
The picture of Charlotte on the front cover, the only known likeness of her other than Branwell’s portrait, probably isn’t her. It’s most likely a drawing she did of her friend Kate, which she signed, and which has therefore been interpreted as being her portrait
Emily was physically violent towards her dog, Keeper, a mastiff cross. This was hard to read; after one beating she took him into the kitchen to tenderly clear up the blood she had inflicted
There’s a lovely bit about the three sisters in the feverish period writing their debut novels: every evening at nine they would stop writing and put down their things, pace the room and talk through their plots and what they’d written that day. Imagine!
They spoke with Irish, not Yorkshire, accents, because they lived such cloistered lives with their father
Their mother Maria had six children in six years (!) and died on the seventh year of uterine cancer. She was so weak she asked to be propped up in bed to watch the grate being cleaned, and the same grate is in the same room today. I don’t know why this haunts me so much but it does
I grew up a short drive from Haworth, though I haven’t been since I was 17. I went again over Christmas and felt as though I was seeing it through new eyes, or through the perspective of more experience. What struck me most was the setting of the parsonage – moorland at the back, graveyard at the front – and how these two extremely bleak views impacted their thoughts and works. As a family they went through so much trauma with the death of their mother, followed by the two eldest girls, with three more dying in the space of a few months. Charlotte was left as the only remaining sibling for almost six years – and famous, too. How strange, devastating and lonely it must have been for her. Not to mention their father, Patrick, who lost every single one of his children.
I watched this at the cinema when it came out and rewatched recently on Sky and it is brilliant.
I can’t believe it’s Frances O’Connor’s debut. Masterful. I also listen to the soundtrack on repeat.
I rewatched this 2009 ITV adaptation of Wuthering Heights starring Tom Hardy (!) and Charlotte Riley, which is brilliant anyway (aside from Tom Hardy’s wig) but especially so because their chemistry is unreal and they got together while filming and are still married.
I also watched the 1939 film but was super distracted by how ‘30s everyone looked. It’s like they didn’t even try and make it a period drama. This adaptation focuses only on Cathy and Heathcliff and cuts out all their kids’ storylines, so it’s a short-ish film, but still worth a watch.
I then watched The Brontë Business on iPlayer, a gem of a time capsule from the ‘70s presented by a very young Joan Bakewell. It was delightful to see the voxpops of people visiting the parsonage and the Haworth shopkeepers, and a close-up of a sign outside Patrick’s church reading NO PRAMS OR LOLLIES.
I did also buy The Brontës by Juliet Barker, but only when it arrived did I realise how girthy it is: a thousand pages! I wish it was on Audible.
It’s fair to say Fifteen Wild Decembers set me on something of a rampage. I highly recommend the book, and am now spending a lot of time on Rightmove, fantasising about a move to the moors.
Thank you I will have a look at Ill will. I’m so glad the Keeper story may not be accurate. I’m really enjoying Fifteen Wild Decembers. I visit Haworth every February for my birthday, and I can’t wait to go now!
There is another TV/ film adaptation from about 10ish years ago. The only one to cast a Black actor as Heathcliffe, which he clearly was when you read the first descriptions of him in the book - or at least, he definitely wasn't white. Funny how that just gets glossed over every time.