Monday, May 18, 2020

Monday, May 18, 2020 10:16 am by Cristina in , , ,    No comments
According to Shropshire Star we would have 'No Wuthering Heights, no Jane Eyre, no Emma' (Charlotte's unfinished tale? Or Jane Austen's novel?) without the Shropshire connection in the Brontë story. The rest of the article is more reliable as it mostly quotes from Maria Branwell biography by Sharon Wright.
Sharon says: “It was Shropshire that gave us the Brontës. When I set out to write the first biography of enigmatic Mrs Brontë I soon realised that without the Shropshire connection, her remarkable family would never have existed.
“The events in Shropshire in the early years of the 19th century drew the parents of genius together – amazing when you consider they were of such different classes and birthplaces that the chances of them ever crossing paths otherwise, let alone falling in love, were vanishingly small.
“Key people and events in the county set Cornishwoman Maria and Ulsterman Patrick Brontë on a collision course that resulted in world-changing love story.
"Without the powerful Mary Fletcher of Madeley pulling the strings, Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë would never have been born. Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall would never have been written.” (Toby Neal)
A contributor to The Epoch Times takes John Gardner's 1978 controversial book On Moral Fiction to heart and goes beyond it.
Once when I offered seminars in literature to homeschoolers, a student in my Advanced Placement Literature class asked me why we read so few uplifting or positive books. In addition to the Kennedy and Goia textbook, we read and studied six novels that year, including William Faulkner’s “The Sound and the Fury” (yes, I put my students under the whip with that one), Ernest Hemingway’s “The Sun Also Rises,” F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby,” and Emily Brontë’s “Wuthering Heights.”
All of these novels are commonly taught in AP classes, but my student had a point. Why is so much of what we regard as high literature so lacking in uplift and inspiration? The Ancients had Ulysses and Aeneas, the Middle Ages had Beowulf and Chaucer’s Knight, and Americans once took Natty Bumppo and Huckleberry Finn to heart. What possible models of emulation can we find in Fitzgerald’s Gatsby, in Hemingway’s Brett and Jake, in Faulkner’s doomed Compson family, in Brontë’s Heathcliff and Catherine?
That these literary works belong to the ages is not in doubt—they meet Gardner’s standard of morality—but the models for emulation they offer readers are negative ones. (Jeff Minick)
How Victorian that sounds.

Treble discusses Kate Bush's Hounds of Love by way of her Wuthering Heights.
So I pulled up a video, the first one that came up. “Wuthering Heights.”
I hated it.
I couldn’t get over her vocals. This struck me even then as hypocritical, since I adored Yes at the time and Jon Anderson’s vocals are, um, a bit eccentric themselves. But I couldn’t deny what I was feeling. I played the song a second time, a third time. People in the comments were calling it a masterpiece. All I could hear was this caterwaul; maybe I didn’t get it. Maybe I wasn’t legit. Maybe my love of music was all a sham. All the childish confused overreactions you could imagine.
But then I found myself humming it in the shower, stray lines forming in my head and uttered in a half-groan. I didn’t realize what it was until I got out of the shower; I shuddered and carried on with my day. Then I’d catch myself doing the same in school, at work in the movie theater that was my first real job, while playing video games with friends. I’d shown them the song as a joke, look at how awful this singer is, so they knew the song and couldn’t tell if I was just fucking with them or not. But just as I couldn’t deny hating it at first, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore; “Wuthering Heights” was sinking in, intoxicating me, revealing like a blossoming flower the curve and contour of its petals and strange mystical power, as ethereal and ghastly as the titular figure of song. I tracked down a copy of the novel and devoured it in two days; it remains my favorite work by any of the three Brontë sisters. I began parsing Kate Bush the way I had many others, learning she was discovered by David Gilmour, that she had an appreciation of the prog greats alongside the greats of orchestral music and pop music (which explained to me her phantasmagorical power). I also discovered that, while “Wuthering Heights” was beloved, it wasn’t her peak; that was Hounds of Love. (Langdon Hickman)
Within her words has watched Wasted online and reviews it. AnneBrontë.org has a post on 'Home Schooling In The Brontë Parsonage'.


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