In her new biography of the unknowable Emily, This Dark Night, Deborah Lutz doesn’t commit the prime biographical sin of trying to make Brontë too easy to understand or relate to. Instead, she asks more questions than she answers.For this reason, while some readers may be frustrated by the paucity of new facts or explanations for why Emily was the way she was, for others (including this reader) this vagueness is the very reason for the book’s success. Weighing in at a mere 264 pages (before notes), This Dark Night is not the door-stopper that habitual readers of biography might be used to. The fact of the matter is that Brontë didn’t live very long (she died of tuberculosis at age 30), and very few traces of her short life remain. Much of what we “learn” here is speculation, gleaned from the poetry, prose, and fragments of writing—sometimes literal scraps as well as minuscule productions that Lutz calls “paper crafts”—that she left behind. [...]Hedging language (such as would and may) predominates here, as Lutz tells us what life in the parsonage was like and describes Emily’s day-to-day tasks, which included “turning” clothes (reversing and restitching them so the less-worn sides faced outward), peeling potatoes, and feeding the dogs, as well as her role in the famous imaginative worlds of the Brontë siblings.Lutz also has to rely on this hedging language when exploring Emily’s intellectual formation in these years. She makes the assumption that the Brontës’ mother, Maria, had “bluestocking ways” and likely read Mary Wollstonecraft based on her membership in various lending libraries, including the Penzance Ladies Book Club, which seems a little too easy, but otherwise sticks to what we can reasonably know or assume. She tells us about Emily’s attendance at church; her time spent in Keighley, where she borrowed books; and her famous wanderings on the moors with her siblings and her mastiff mix, Keeper.To that end, Lutz wisely keeps out of the debate surrounding what Emily may or may not have done to get sent away to school at age 17. Emily and the other Brontës, Lutz reminds us, had a social existence in Haworth and in Yorkshire more generally. They weren’t, as is often depicted, merely hermits living alone on the heath.The mythology of Emily as a free-range “moor nymph” was partly started by Charlotte in her editor’s preface to the posthumous second edition of Wuthering Heights. In her grief, and perhaps also because of an inability to communicate what Emily was really like, Charlotte depicted her genius sister as a kind of feral savant—a “native and nursling of the moors,” as she put it—who was somehow otherworldly.Lutz seeks to remind us that this was not the case by returning Emily to the domestic sphere as well as the “wild workshop” of West Yorkshire that she loved so much. Her Emily is not some weird sprite haunting the landscape, but something even stranger: a real woman. [...]The point is not to bring Emily Brontë down to earth by claiming (as the 2019 show Dickinson did to that later Emily) that she was just like us, all anachronistic feelings and hidden Sapphic longings, but to bring her down to an earth that was uniquely hers. Lutz’s book does just that. Her Emily is a thrillingly earthbound creature, as individual and ultimately as inaccessible as we all are. To think we know her or understand her would be reductive. But to realize that we don’t fully know or understand her is to realize that she is just like us.After reading This Dark Night, I don’t feel like I really know Emily Brontë any better, but I do think I understand her world a bit better—her terroir, the environment she was steeped in and that infuses her verse and prose. Lutz does not try to explain Emily—rather, she leaves her where she wanted to be, on her own. Lutz doesn’t make her do anything; instead, she wonders often about how Emily might have found her eventual role as the keeper of the Haworth parsonage, but she is careful not to put words in her subject’s mouth.We don’t learn much that’s new about Emily herself, but we do learn what it would have been like to be in her world. Anyone looking for easy answers to Wuthering Heights, a brutal and confusing book, or its strange author will be disappointed—but those readers for whom the mystery is the point will certainly be pleased. (Sarah Chihaya)
It is undeniably easy to frown upon adaptations, especially when considering the strange sense of protectiveness that can come with well-loved texts. But acknowledging this personal adoration is exactly where a fairer perspective lies. It's as Fennell justified with her use of quotation marks in “Wuthering Heights”, these interpretations often never claim to be replicas-they are intimate responses. When speaking with The Guardian, Fennell admitted: “I know that if somebody else made it, I’d be furious. It’s very personal material for everyone.” It was this raw and honest confession that could make one more inclined to celebrate Fennell’s ability to share her own interpretation with so many people. And it would be unfair to say that it hasn’t done the novel’s legacy good, despite tainting some fans' feelings. Sales of Wuthering Heights have surged dramatically amidst the controversial film release, with The Guardian reporting in February of this year that there had been a 496% rise in sales in the UK. Surely, one of the most alluring elements about truly great literature is its ability to spark conversation. Wuthering Heights’ refusal to be read the same way by any two people is exactly what makes it so long-lasting. As Fennell said: “I can't make something for everyone”. (Delilah Salway-Roberts)
As cosy season creeps in, my personal recommendation would be Haworth. Known as the home of the Bronte’s, and the backdrop of the iconic film Wild Child, Haworth is the perfect place for a breath of fresh air. Here you can explore the history of the Brontes, stop for a hot chocolate at The Old Post Office, mooch around the independent shops, and go for a countryside hike at golden hour. (Evie Bettison)
Heathcliff and Catherine from ‘Wuthering Heights’Of all the classic romance novels, Wuthering Heights has the most distinctly gothic feel. What’s more romantic than a character who’s so in love, he (spoiler alert!) begs his lover’s ghost to haunt him? Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi took on the roles of Cathy and Heathcliff in Emerald Fennell’s steamy 2026 adaptation of Brontë’s novel. Their divisive costumes proved you don’t have to go period-accurate to convey all the star-crossed drama. (Julia Guerra, Natalie Arroyo Camacho, Emily Kelleher, and Bailey Bujnosek)
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