James Bond and the nutty Emily in Huddersfield

A Saturday morning with a few Brontë mentions...

The new James Bond movie, Casino Royale, is the subject of this article of The Globe and Mail. Apparently there's something Heathcliff-like in the new Bond, Daniel Craig:

There was lots I loved about the film, but a big part of me kept thinking: If I want a hunky, brooding, emotionally screwed-up Brit, I'll go rent Wuthering Heights.

Richard Howard writes on RedOrbit about young writers and their preconceptions on the literature of the past (well, previous to 1980, that is):

(...)I am occasionally informed by these very students who are good enough to take me into their confidence as between men of the world, that such authors-not only those old dramatists but subsequent practitioners of fiction such as Emily Bronte and Herman Melville, and of poetry such as Alexander Pope and Thomas Hardy, certainly did produce remarkable works, but weren't they really, after all, come now, let us admit it, as between men of the world-weren't they sort of weird, weren't they all more or less cuckoo, gaga, nuts?

Author Joanne Harris, who recently talked in BBC4 on Wuthering Heights, it's one of the new chosen ambassadors promoting Huddersfield.

I am sick of having to explain that I live somewhere between the city famous for The Full Monty and the place where Wuthering Heights was set.

Categories: Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë