Rolling (and falling) in brie

One more review of Sally Cookson's Jane Eyre in The Guardian gives the production 5 stars.

Everyone here is touched by a passion that might turn to madness. Madeleine Worrall’s terrific, fervent Jane is no pinched little waif. She is sturdy and strong-minded. Yet at her most vulnerable, she looks the picture of theatrical derangement, swinging from a ladder, with wild Medusa hair. Felix Hayes’s Rochester, energetic, bass-voiced, unravelling in a surprising dressing gown, might well have been locked up were he not male and rich. As Rochester’s ward, Laura Elphinstone scampers about, endearing but alarming, as if blown in from a wuthering height. Craig Edwards, captivating as Rochester’s dog, bounds around, thumping a cord as his tail, suddenly flopping down full-length: barking.
Time and again, a description is translated into colour, movement and feeling. Jane’s veil billows out, ludicrously long, peculiarly shiny, looking like ectoplasm; then, like her wedding ceremony, it is abruptly severed. Is this what it would be to read the novel with synaesthesia? (Susannah Clapp)

LouReviews posts about the production too.

But when it comes to Brontë adaptations on the screen, The Telegraph thinks that,

 there really should be an industry-wide moratorium on Austen and the Brontës, Hardy and Dickens. (Jasper Rees)

The Independent has a Top 10 of readers' misheard lyrics. One of them is certainly priceless:

7. 'I don't know why we had a divorce: we'd roll and fall in brie'
Bertha Mason's take on the opening lines of "Wuthering Heights", by Kate Bush ("Out on the wiley, windy moors/ We'd roll and fall in green") (John Rentoul)

Diario de Mallorca offers a tiny glimpse into some of the goings-on at Converses de Formentor:

Quién no ha leído Cumbres Borrascosas (Victoria Cirlot conectó a Brontë con los místicos) . . . (M. Elena Vallés) (Translation)

'Anne Brontë's Death in Charlotte Brontë's words' on AnneBrontë.org