Speaking of the characters, Rice’s ultimate weapon in her directorial arsenal is one of the most uniformly brilliant ensemble casts I have had the pleasure to see on stage. Actors will sit at the side of the stage until required, becoming a part of the Yorkshire Moors that narrate the story. Actors play multiple roles in the story, but this device is much less confusing than it can be in other productions. Rice casts the same performer to play parent and child, and this is a great memory aid when getting your head around the complex genealogical puzzle that is Brontë’s story. [...]
Like with all adaptations, comparisons with the source material can get in the way of fully appreciating the sheer achievement of what has been put on stage. As a piece of theatre, Rice’s twisted vision of the Yorkshire Moors is transportive and engrossing for the entire three-hour running time. In this Wuthering Heights love is dangerous and warmth is fleeting. You may be glad to not live there but the world this show creates will stick with you long after the final bows.
Yesterday,
BookTrib recommended some 'anti Valentine's Day' books such as
Wuthering Heights
by Emily Brontë
Not only is the setting in Wuthering Heights bleak, but few relationships are as toxic as Catherine and Heathcliff’s. Anyone who considers Emily Brontë’s novel a romance clearly hasn’t read the book, because neither Catherine nor Heathcliff gets a happy ending (and I’m pretty sure neither deserves one). If you’re looking for something tragic and somewhat self-destructive when it comes to love, then this one’s for you. (Monique Snyman)
Poetry performances are returning to a historic pub with a long literary legacy.
Monthly sessions are being held at the Black Bull in Haworth, where in the 1830s Branwell Brontë entertained travellers and guests with stories and poems. (Alistair Shand)
So begins the bildungsroman of a character scrappier than Arya Stark, cleverer than Jane Eyre, as foulmouthed as any gangster, with the world-weary humor of a noir private eye and the inscrutable morals of an antihero. (Eowyn Ivey)
KHNS interviews writer Lenora Bell.
KHNS: Great, so how did you get started writing historical romance? What inspired you?
Bell: Well, that probably started when I was growing up in Haines and, you know, these long, dark winters, my parents really encouraged us to read the classics. So we were reading a lot of Jane Austen, a lot of Brontë sisters, a lot of Dickens. I gravitated toward these stories, particularly Jane Austen, which were about the female experience. (Corinne Smith)
Stuff reviews
The Sky is Everywhere. Obsessed with saints and Wuthering Heights (which she has read 23 times), Lennie finds herself drawn to her sister’s boyfriend Toby (Pico Alexander), the sole other human she believes can understand her grief’s architecture. (James Croot)
It may become illegal to discuss gender or sexuality in K–12 schools in Florida. Yet another draconian anti-queer bill is making its way through the state’s legislature. If passed, it would ban all discussions of gender and sexuality — or, to be more exact, all discussions of non-cis genders and queer sexualities, since lessons on gender and sexuality like those in Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice would presumably continue to be taught. (Ezra Brain and Otto Fors)
Steph's Packed Lunch was left in chaos on Monday (February 14) as the entire cast stormed off set in a mass walk-out. [...]
It came as the panel were discussing New Zealand's attempts to shift people protesting coronavirus restrictions by playing a series of supposedly off-putting songs - including Barry Manilow, Baby Shark and the Macarena. [...]
Fans soon took to Twitter to discuss the songs that would make them storm off a dance floor, with one ranting: "All of me, can’t stand it. Always turn it off or over when it’s on."
"Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush, I have knocked things down in my rush to escape!!!" another added. (Jess Phillips)
This columnist from
The Mirror doesn't seem to think Haworth fits the proper grim Yorkshire stereotypes:
Post-industrial landscapes like Middlesborough and Redcar, and the beached fishing trawlers of Hull, share the name of 'Yorkshire' with the Brontë parsonage and cream tea tyranny of Haworth, and splendour of Castle Howard. There is a dialect so thick you could call it a different language, and a cultural unity that would make the Tory backbenches weep. (Fleet Street Fox)
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