Friday, November 13, 2020

Friday, November 13, 2020 11:40 am by Cristina in , , , ,    No comments
The Telegraph recommends 'The best things to do outdoors in Edinburgh during Tier 3' and quotes Charlotte Brontë's words on the city.
It’s hard to think of winter in Edinburgh without cosy gatherings in pubs and candlelit restaurants. But on those winter days that Charlotte Brontë described as ‘lyric, bright, clear and as vital as a flash of lightning’ there are plenty of diversions, be they new, re-purposed or just rediscovered. (Linda Macdonald)
Charlotte was describing Edinburgh, not the winter days, though.

Varsity reviews the latest film adaptation of Rebecca.
The spectre of Jane Eyre presides over the novel’s surprisingly subtle exploration of a repressive, exclusionist class structure. These issues are ripe for thoughtful re-examination in the 21st century – what’s changed? What hasn’t? The story of two women crushed and turned against one another by a rigid social order is the sort of thing that Netflix (and other production companies) should be investing time and money into. It’s a shame that these questions are dealt with so sporadically and so clunkily. In one wince-inducing moment, Danvers declares that ‘she lived her life as she pleased, my Rebecca. No wonder a man had to kill her’. You can imagine how proud the three (three!) screenwriters were of that one. (Ben Philipps)
Artlyst interviews Jude Cowan Montague about her new graphic novel Love on the Isle of Dogs.
PS: I also wanted to ask about your visual influences artists you like and other graphic work you like and maybe autobiographical work you like. 
JCM: In the autobiography, I was influenced by the work of my writer friend Sally Bayley. I recommend her memoir, ‘Girl with Dove: A Life Built by Books’. It is the story of her chaotic childhood but told through the help of books that pulled her through it, her friends from the pages, like Jane Eyre and Miss Marple. I was influenced by how you can tell an emotional story that at the time you do not understand by putting on spectacles that look sideways and peer into your former mind. (Pauline Sewards)
The New York Review discusses Paek Nam-nyong’s Friend: A Novel from North Korea.
As a reader, he had traveled more than we might expect. When Kim asked what books Paek enjoyed, he named not only canonical Russian revolutionary and Soviet novels like Gorky’s Mother and Sholokhov’s And Quiet Flows the Don, but older Russian classics: Pushkin, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky. He also mentioned Les Misérables, The Red and the Black, Jane Eyre, Dickens, Shakespeare, Moby-Dick, and Gone with the Wind. For the most part, this reading list is similar to that of a law-abiding Soviet citizen, full of classic nineteenth-century novels that explore social problems and the plight of the poor. (Sophie Pinkham)
A contributor to Wilton Bulletin reflects on lost things.
Last January I made the trek to Winter Park, Fla., for a soccer tournament. After a few late hotel nights, cheesy tourist attractions, and blistering hot soccer games, I was finally on my homeward-bound flight with a new sunburn in possession and my luggage in tow. A nagging feeling that I was missing something finally resulted in the realization that I left my “beloved” copy of “Wuthering Heights” by the poolside. When I say my copy, I actually mean Mr. Walsh’s third-period AP Language copy, and when I say beloved, I actually mean deeply disliked. In fact, the novel’s untimely misplacement may have been a blessing in disguise (sorry, Mr.Walsh).
Nonetheless, I cannot help but wonder where that book is today. In the spirit of Mary Poppins’ song “The Place Where Lost Things Go,” I am constantly reminded that nothing is actually gone forever, instead merely out of place.
Where is that copy of “Wuthering Heights” right now? Somewhere out there, does another Florida high schooler cherish that same exact book that has my name scribbled on the inside cover? I would love to believe that the book is living out a second, third, and fourth life where it can experience different late-night essay writing, sticky notes or annotations in the margins, and perhaps even be lost and then found again. [...]
And, somewhere out there, I would like to believe that my copy of “Wuthering Heights” is living its best life out in the sunshine by the pool in Winter Park, Fla. (Libby Connolly)


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