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The Telegraph interviews Andrea Arnold  about her career and Wuthering Heights:

'A lot of people have something to say about Wuthering Heights, but nobody quite nails it,” says Andrea Arnold, whose latest feature, her third, is a bracingly raw adaptation of Emily Brontë’s 1847 novel. “I knew that I wouldn’t nail it either,” she adds modestly, hugging her arms around her body, “but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend some time with that unfathomable story.” She didn’t get as long as she’d have liked. From the moment she first received an email from her agent asking if she’d be interested in taking on the desperate, destructive relationship of Heathcliff and Cathy (her response: “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”), to the moment the film premiered in competition at this year’s Venice Film Festival, Arnold had only 18 months, half the time she’d needed to make each of her previous, Bafta-winning features, Red Road and Fish Tank. Urged on by her producers, she worked at unsettling speed, simultaneously writing a spare, rough-tongued script and, as is her custom, assembling a mainly non-professional cast. Then, with scarcely a pause for rehearsals, she led her actors, her regular cinematographer Robbie Ryan, a few dogs and a couple of horses up to an abandoned hill farm on the North York Moors – and started the camera rolling. (...)
How people become themselves is the great theme of Arnold’s potent, poetic films – and the mystery at the heart of Wuthering Heights that lured her to break her promise never to make a literary adaptation.
On first discovering Brontë’s dense, dark book her “instinctive feeling” was, she says, for Heathcliff, the abandoned “dirty, ragged, black-haired child” found beaten and starving on the streets of Liverpool by Mr Earnshaw and taken home to live alongside his children, Cathy and Hindley.
“The thing I responded to was the way he was treated as a child,” says Arnold. “I am obsessed with why people turn out the way they are. Heathcliff turns out to be a very dark and vengeful character but, you know, when you look at his childhood is anyone surprised?”
Keen to emphasise the strangeness of Brontë’s “dark-skinned gypsy” Arnold broke with film tradition by casting black actors in the role of Heathcliff, one (Solomon Glave) as a boy and another (James Howson) as a grown man, returning to the Heights puffed up with wealth and vengeance. Between them, these two first-timers and the two Cathys – newcomer Shannon Beer, and Kaya Scodelario from the television youth drama Skins – exchange barely a handful of sentences throughout the two-hour film. Their feral, ambiguous relationship is mapped out in actions, not words.
When the young Cathy first claps eyes on Heathcliff, she spits in his face. Later, she pins his head to the ground with the sole of her boot and, in the film’s most electrifying moment, lifts his shirt to run her tongue across the open wounds a recent beating has left on his back.
Arnold’s film cleaves fiercely to the wild spirit, if not the word, of Brontë’s unsettling text, steering a ragged course far removed from the conventions of period romance. There’s no swooning here, no happy endings. “My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary… I am Heathcliff,” says Cathy in Brontë’s novel.
“I find their relationship fascinating, the way they’re cruel to each other, the sadomasochistic element of it,” says Arnold. “And I think it rings true. We’re all just behaving ourselves, but really, underneath…” She unleashes a dark, throaty laugh and the fire crackles in the grate. “I think we might all be Heathcliff.” (Benjamin Secher)

Little White Lies reviews the film:

Music-less and virtually dialogue free, Arnold’s film relies on helter-skelter images and meaningful glances for its impetus. Filmed in a loose, hand-held fashion, Heights is best in its superior first half when it unites the coarse beauty of the Yorkshire moors with an impressive cast of young first-timers, all of whom deliver raw, unsentimental turns that pulsate with feeling.
Despite her exceptional players, there’s no question who Arnold thinks the real star is. The director is in love with her turbulent Yorkshire landscapes, and embraces the elements almost to a fault. While the rain-lashed imagery kindles a fittingly feral mood, her repetitive use of certain images derails any sense of pace. At times, Heights nearly resembles a David Attenborough documentary.
Something to be respected more than enjoyed, Heights is too long by a good 30 minutes (its second half struggles to hit Brontë’s emotional beats), and would have packed more punch with a little careful pruning. (Josh Winning)

And Hope Lies:

Arnold’s film is destined to be a divisive work. Quite how it will play to an average audience familiar with the beats and tropes of this particular sub genre, no doubt expecting a typical period drama (has any picture ever been as “safe”?) remains to be seen, but it is one well worth investing yourself in, if only for the rich visuals and in spite of some very temperamental performances. While not quite the masterpiece one might have expected from the director of Fish Tank, it’s an interesting film that stands shoulder to shoulder alongside its geographical contemporaries in what has been a great year for British cinema.  (Adam Batty)

 The December issue of Sight & Sound also carries an article about the film and more:

Love will tear us apart
'Tis the season for revisionist takes on classics of British fiction, it seems. Andrea Arnold, director of hard-edged contemporary fare such as Fish Tank and Red Road, adapts Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights for her third film in a manner that might cause purists some consternation, with a black Heathcliff, lots of swearing, sex and violence…
Amy Raphael has the lowdown, and finds the film “brutal, violent and – at times – formidable.” But the film’s real glory, as Raphael acknowledges, is the cinematography, which finesses a raw poetry entirely in keeping with Brontë’s vision of wild love on the moors. “DP Robbie Ryan’s cinematography is so poetic it almost steal the film. His imagery captures perfectly the heightened physicality of Cathy’s longing for a boy as alienated and isolated as herself.”

PLUS David Jenkins surveys other screen versions, including efforts by Buñuel, Rivette, William Wyler and Yoshida Yoshishige.

And Blu-Ray.com announces that Artificial Eye will release the Blu-Ray next March 26th, 2012.

Our very own John Mullan lists for the Guardian the best men dressed as women in literature:

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
In a sequence usually omitted in film adaptations, Mr Rochester dresses as an old Gypsy woman and turns up at his own dinner party to read the fortunes of the guests. Even Jane does not recognise him, until he suddenly throws off his disguise.

The Week asks the writer Howard Jacobson about his favourite novels:

Jane Eyre ranks at the top among all 19th-century English heroines. I've recently seen Cary Fukunaga's new film adaptation, and was reminded how passionately principled, articulate, and marvelously angry this novel is.

Another writer and Brontëite in Ghana, via GhanaWeb:

Nana Adwoa Konadu Bonney-Graves is a young talented author who has always pursued writing as a pastime that truly evokes all emotion. She was raised by her grandmother in Ghana, where she received her Early Childhood and Junior Secondary School Education at North Ridge Lyceum, a private institution in Accra. It was there after reading Charlotte Brontë’s “Jane Eyre” and Max Ehrman’s “Desiderata” when she fell in love with literature and its many genres.

The Scotsman reviews the latest book by Jeannette Winterson, Why be Happy when You Could be Normal?

Lovers of Oranges [Are Not the Only Fruit] will be relieved to learn that Mrs W really did change the ending of Jane Eyre when reading it aloud to Jeanette, extemporising a new version in which Jane becomes a missionary. (Hermione Eyre)

Via GalleyCat we found that Harper Press is looking for the Best Women's Fiction Books:

Readers can post their five nominations at this link or send a direct email. A panel of authors and critics will pick the top one hundred titles from the pool of nominees. Of the twenty-one comments posted so far, several nominations for the works of Jane Austen, Emily Brontë, Elizabeth Marshall and Rose Gordon have been made. Who would you nominate? (Maryann Yin)

The Austin Chronicle reviews the play Guest by Courtesy by Jenny Larson and Hannah Kenah:

Can you imagine the more rivalrous parts of Sense and Sensibility, say, or Jane Eyre as re-imagined by Tex Avery?

The Sydney Morning Herald reviews The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides:

Madeleine's preoccupation with the Victorian literature of the Brontë sisters is gradually challenged by the post-structuralism of Jacques Derrida, Jacques Lacan and Roland Barthes. This functions as an awakening of sorts for Madeleine and it is also how she meets Leonard. (Mark Tewfik)

Montgomery Media reviews a local production of The Mystery of Irma Vep:

Ludlam stuffed his plays full of movie references, classical quotations and takeoffs from literature. “Irma Vep,” for instance, grafts together bits of “Wuthering Heights,” “Gaslight” and “Rebecca,” plus echoes of cheesy thrillers with wolfmen and ghostly apparitions, as well as the occasional citation from Shakespeare and Poe. (Dante J.J. Bevilacqua)

Femme des Lettres talks about Jane Eyre and Helen Burns's friendship; quietscramblingmarch posts about the Imagination in Jane Eyre; DeCine21 (in Spanish) discusses the recent Brontë revival in movies; Periodistas en Español (in Spanish) reviews Jane Eyre 2011; Io Donna (Italy) has an article about Jane Eyre, the novel and the movie; Paperblog (Italy) reviews Jane Eyre, una rilettura contemporanea by Lorenzo Spurio.