The genesis of genius. The tiny books. - The tiny, hand-lettered, hand-bound books Charlotte and Branwell Brontë made as children surely qualify. Measuring about 2.5 by 5 centimeters, page after...
4 hours ago
Chronicle Books (1 April 2014)
Emily and Charlotte Brontë are about as opposite as two sisters can be. Charlotte is practical and cautious; Emily is headstrong and imaginative. But they do have one thing in common: a love of writing. This shared passion will lead them to be two of the first published female novelists and authors of several enduring works of classic literature. But they’re not there yet. First, they have to figure out if there is a connection between a string of local burglaries, rumors that a neighbor’s death may not have been accidental, and the appearance on the moors of a mysterious and handsome stranger. The girls have a lot of knots to untangle— before someone else gets killed.
Emily heard the sound of footsteps, distant enough, but still coming toward her. A thud and a muffled curse told Emily her pursuer was suffering from the whims of the moor, just as she was.
She got to her feet and mustered all her strength for the final hill. At the crest, she looked down to see the parsonage ahead, beckoning her to safety. Behind her, the stranger was just starting to race up the hill. He wasn’t far behind.
Emily flung herself down the hill until she reached the parsonage gate. Her fingers fumbled as she undid the gate’s latch, but at last it was open and she practically fell into the garden. She only had to shout and Father would rescue her. She peered through the gate, but saw no sign of her pursuer. Emily sucked air into her lungs and let her thudding heart realize she was safe.
A man’s hand grabbed her shoulder. Emily screamed.