A question of Identity

A Question of Identity by Jonathan Rowe is a novel published last Fall by First Page Publications. There are several Brontë references mainly focused on Branwell Brontë, Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre (although poor Jane is not very well treated) :

"Okay. First is Branwell Brontë. Promising young painter. In the 1840s. Made a name for himself in his twenties. But he liked the Scotch too much. And he had three younger sisters. Charlotte, Emily, and Anne. Each wrote a novel in her twenties. Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and I forget the one Anne wrote. Famous novels that far eclipsed big brother Branwell's paintings."
"I read those books in high school. I liked Wuthering Heights. The hero- Heathman-" "Heathcliff."
"Yes. He was what every woman wants. Dark and strong. Full of constant desire for her. And quite the bad boy. But I have to tell you. I hated Jane Eyre. Could not finish it."
"You're right, as usual. Wuthering Heights is great. But Jane Eyre is awful damn dull."
"I flunked high school English because of Jane Eyre. It was, like, the whole test. "
"Really? You know there's a poem that could have saved you. It's got the whole plot of Jane Eyre. Boiled down to just five stanzas. Funny Funny as hell. Goes like this:

My love behaved a bit erratic
Our wedding day brought truth dramatic:
He had a wife, mad, in an attic.
I fled! I roamed o'er moor and ditch.
When life had reached its lowest pitch,
An uncle died and left me rich.
I sought my love again, to find
An awful fire his house had mined,
Kippered his wife, and left him blind.
Reader, guess what? I married him.
My cup is filled up to the brim!
Now we are one. We play. We swim.
The power we share defies all pain;
We soar above life's tangled plain,
He Mr. Rochester, me Jane !

Janet's laughing so hard she's almost crying. "You have a poem for every occasion!"
"I didn't write it. Guy named Maurice Sagoff wrote it."
(...)
But here comes the best. Read and learn this new and imaginative version of the origins of the Pillar Portrait:

"See," I continue, "you're like Branwell Brontë, Janet. Bursting with life and talent. That never got a chance to express itself. He got suppressed by Scotch. You got suppressed by early pregnancy. So you know what old Branwell did? He had this one great painting he'd done. His best work. Portrait of himself and his three sisters. So when they became famous while he faded, he painted himself out of his own painting. Out of love for his sisters. So they wouldn't be dragged down by their association with their drunken brother, the failed artist. Can you imagine? He painted a pillar over himself. The picture hangs today in the National Portrait Gallery in London. It hung there for over a hundred years before X-rays discovered old Branwell hiding under that pillar. How unspeakably sad is that?"

Well, it seems that Mr. Rowe is a firm believer in the never-let-the-truth-get-in-the-way-of-a-good-story" adage.

Categories: Books, References