Sunday, December 03, 2006

The Twin, the dancer, the brutes and the review

The Australian Sunday News interviews Zachary Chant, the ballet dancer who recently played Heathcliff in Natalie Weir's ballet version of Wuthering Heights.

"Being Heathcliff in Natalie Weir's Wuthering Heights was wonderful, as he is such a dark and brooding character in one of the great passionate stories. But Romeo and Juliet is classical dance at its best," Chant says.
The Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal gives us this funny thing:

I was a Louisa May Alcott. LMAs were athletic and smart yet still retained a certain girl-next-door charm, I say. Conversely, the gals in the Emily Brontë society were just plain brutes (some needed to read up on Guideline IV.A.3.b.). (Charity Gordon)
And what's a day without a review of The Thirteenth Tale?

What follows is a deeply engaging story of Vida Winter’s past and present that takes place in the haunting moors of Yorkshire. With a crazy woman, a governess, seemingly incomprehensible children and a burning manor, this book isn’t just a homage to the gothic novels in the vein of the Bronte sisters, it’s also somewhat of a send-up of them. (Ted Mahsun in Malaysia's The Star)
And finally something interesting. The Jamaica Gleaner has a short story called The Twin written by their contributor Carole Whyte. Here's a few fragments, but we suggest you read the whole thing.

'Ever read Jane Eyre?' Pili asked.
Suspicion rose in Shaine like a weary guard roused from slumber. She cast a quick side glance at Pili. Pili read classical literature voraciously and all her conversations about books were confined to that genre. When she plucked a question from the air about a book it was a preamble to a conversation that usually turned into a scholarly dialogue which made Shaine feel inadequate. Her reading was confined to contemporary novels like the latest Danielle Steele or Sydney Sheldon.
'In 10th grade. It was a hard read.' [...]
'Don't move,' Pili ordered. After a while, she asked, 'What do you think of Mrs. Rochester?'
Shaine wasn't sure what Pili was talking about. Then she remembered the book. 'She was quite insane, wasn't she?'
'Do we know that for sure? Who tells us that?'
'Jane?'
'How do we know she's telling the truth?'
'It was told to her.'
'Was she hearing the truth?'
Shaine looked confused. [...]
When Shaine came from behind the screen, neatly tucking her white shirt into her jeans, Pili held out a copy of Jane Eyre. Shaine opened it. The signature was a bold flourish, and vaguely familiar. Mosi-Anne Gore 1987. Shaine looked up and saw Pili staring at her intently, an amused glint in her dark eyes.
'Read it again,' Pili suggested. 'Sometimes what we hear or know isn't always the truth.' [...]

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