Being miserable with Jane Eyre

The Gay UK reviews Northern Ballet's Wuthering Heights giving it 4 stars.

Wuthering Heights is perhaps best known as a story about love and passion, but it is also very much a story which has a sinister undertone about manipulation and revenge. David Nixon’s choreography reflects both aspects of the piece, and picks up on the key plot points of the book, focussing the ballet into an agreeable lighter version of the story which establishes the relevant narrative and characterisations, but neither spoon feeds nor over faces the audience.
Amongst the cast, two particular performances stood out. Kevin Poeung, fresh from his Emerging Artist nomination, was excellent as the young Heathcliff. But the commanding performance by Mlindi Kulashe as Hindley Earnshaw made the most impact and was performed with such conviction. I found myself utterly absorbed in the music, with the score by Claude-Michel Schὂnberg being a sweeping epic, reflective of the Yorkshire Moors themselves, and filled at different times with playfulness, passion and drama, but also harbouring a very dark undertone; which was most noticeable in the second act, as Heathcliff begins to take his revenge. The highlight of the choreography was the opening to the second act, as Emily and Linton are married, the piece being filled with joy and happiness, swishing gowns and a tightly timed ensemble which contrasted with the passion and dramatics of the final meeting of Heathcliff and Cathy on the moors. (Paul Szabo)

Aftenposten (Norway) reviews the play Fugletribunalet.

Fugletribunalet inneholder en subtil kritikk av den romantiske kjærligheten, som ikke fanges opp av dramatiseringen. For Agnes Ravatn har begått kunststykket å skrive en roman i et spenningsfelt mellom Jane Eyre, og en nærmest Priklopil og Kamputsch-aktig psykothriller. Den romantiske kjærlighetsmyten dreier seg jo ikke bare om idealiseringen av kjærligheten – paret skal også isolere seg og dyrke forholdet. På Det Norske forkleines karakterene. Men som kritikk av unge kvinners evne til å umyndiggjøre seg selv fungerer det som vellykket satire. (Therese Bjørneboe) (Translation)

The Guardian interviews children's literature writer Jenny McLachlan:

Do you have a favourite book? Of all time? I think, probably my favourite book of all time is Jane Eyre. I remember when I read it, it was a college night, and I stayed up all night reading it so I really shouldn’t have done that! I’ve always loved romances. (Scouting for Books)

Vivek Tejuja writes on Scroll (India) about how books saved his life.

I realised I was gay when I was ten. I did not know how to deal with it. There was nothing I could do.. The feeling that I might be taunted or worse ridiculed. I could not even tell anyone. I come from a Sindhi-Punjabi family, where the only exposure to “being gay” had come to my family through movies and that too at a very superficial or humorous level. I knew how my family would make fun of me, plus I was ten. I thought things would change. I turned thirteen. Things remained the same. I liked boys more than I liked girls. I could not tell anyone. I read.
Reading provided the much needed solace. Reading was a balm to all my aches. Books transported me, took me away from reality. I did not know want to face reality. Why should I? I thought to myself, when I could be lost in the lands of Oz and travel with Gulliver and be miserable with Jane Eyre. Nothing was of consequence, but the authors and the books I read.

Salon replies to David Brooks's recent article The Cost of Relativism.

Brooks starts his column by decrying what he sees as our banes — single motherhood, slack parenting, a fall in church attendance, what once was called “juvenile delinquency,” and even clubbing and sex, all of which lead, as he puts it, to an “anarchy of intimate life” and “family breakdown.” [...]
Such rectitudinous generalizations hardly warrant a response, but those familiar with Brooks’ work understand what the provenance of the aforementioned morality is likely to be, and that does deserve rebuttal.  He hints at it, reminding us of times of “moral revival” when “behavior was tightened and norms reasserted.”  He has in mind, he says, “England in the 1830s and . . . the U.S. amid economic stress in the 1930s.”  He suggests we engage in an “organic communal effort, with voices from everywhere saying gently: This we praise.  This we don’t.” [...]
But what of “England in the 1830s”?  The badass sensualist poet Lord Byron and his fellow atheist versifier Percy Bysshe Shelley had just tragically departed this world for the Eternal Void.  The novelists Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë were coming of age, and would produce such wonders as “Jane Eyre,” “Wuthering Heights” and “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.”  Samuel Butler, author of “The Way of All Flesh” (a moving, must-read semi-autobiographical account of a journey from religious belief to atheism), was born.
None of this sounds very Brooksian either. (Jeffrey Tayler)

Médiapart (France) has a piece of advice:

Une fois dans votre vie, poussez jusqu’au petit village de Haworth, celui des sœurs Brontë, à quelques encablures de Leeds, où le vent des Hauts de Hurlevent souffle directement depuis l’Oural et vient se fracasser sur la maison sinistre qui surplombe le cimetière du village où furent rédigés les chefs-d'œuvre que l'on sait. (Bernard Gensane) (Translation)