A brooding Brontë is just the thing for an autumn evening, and this latest revival of Charlotte’s Jane Eyre hits the spot with its atmospheric staging. It’s suitably gothic, for sure, but with a modern update. The minimalist set is nothing more than a stack of black bleachers with large speakers on the steps. [...] Here, it’s all done in a highly stylised way. The actors play several characters: we see them as young pupils, clergymen, teachers and servants. At one point, they brilliantly march in unison under dramatic monochrome lighting. The stage changes little – there are the bleachers and then the attic, with the set rotated by the actors. But the way these elements are used is incredible – there’s a striking scene featuring Jane’s bridal veil flowing down the stairs. At one point, the stairs are alight. The speakers glow to reflect the mood, with Jane’s inner monologue projected through them. Olivia Marcus plays Jane Eyre as a down-to-earth Yorkshire woman, all too aware of her plainness. Gabriel Akuwudike makes a commanding Edward Rochester, while Robyn Rose-Li, as Bertha, is mesmerising to watch as she sings, cries and laughs manically in the attic. However, this Victorian portrayal of mental illness is uncomfortable through a modern lens. The first 20 minutes of the show feel rather long – Jane’s miserable life on repeat could have been condensed. But then the pace really picks up. The staging is incredible, and the music works well. At a couple of points, I couldn’t quite hear the dialogue, but it’s a minor point. It’s certainly the year for a Brontë revival, with Emily’s Wuthering Heights taking the box office by storm. Now it’s Charlotte’s turn, with two major theatrical productions of Jane Eyre running. This version makes a compelling case for revisiting the classics, pairing gothic gloom and dark secrets with bold, inventive theatre.
Lily Dyble’s production of Jane Eyre at the Rose Theatre, Kingston neatly avoids all the potential pitfalls of adapting a classic for the stage that many people will have read at school for English Literature GCSE. It doesn’t distract the audience from the heart of the story with lots of period detail and lavish stage effects, nor does it treat the book like a Ming vase – something precious that needs huge caution in the handling, if it is to be done right and avoid disappointing lovers of the original novel. Nor does it go in for all-out subversion and hold the text accountable for attitudes that we now find questionable, thereby spoiling what made it enjoyable in the first place. Dyble fully trusts the text but never takes it as read. She treats Charlotte Brontë’s novel with love and respect, but not reverence. The direction and design have a modern, contemporary look – Khadija Raza’s original and effective costumes are very definitely not 19th-century, but there is absolutely no suggestion that it is set in the present. Above all, this adaptation maintains the spark of the original, very much assisted by the strong chemistry between Olivia Marcus’s Jane and Gabriel Akuwudike’s Rochester. This production is based on an adaptation by Sally Cookson, Mike Akers, and The Original Company that was first performed at National Theatre in 2015. It retains much of Charlotte Brontë’s original text at its most powerful but is far from slavish in its treatment. There is a huge amount of plot to get through, and it is impressive that this treatment never feels rushed or superficial. Anna Yates’ set looks stark and simple. The stage is almost completely filled with a black staircase, containing 10 huge hi-fi speakers that glow with their own light in the darkness and can be moved about to suggest different locations. Any cynical thoughts that this was done purely to provide a cheap, adaptable, but always highly effective set are displaced by some surprises in Act Two (no spoilers here). At moments of crisis, different acoustically adapted voices interrupt one another to depict the overwhelming nature of Jane’s emotions. Composer and Sound Designer Joseff Harris does much to enhance the mood without providing distraction. The doubling of many roles (in some cases tripling) is very appropriate, as the audience is made to see that the memories of her oppressors are very much still alive in Jane’s head. This production gives full weight to the high degree of bullying that Jane experiences, both from her aunt and her family, and then at the ghastly Lowood School, a receiving house for unwanted girls, designed to humiliate and terrorise them into submission but also to train them to be governess fodder (as happened to the three Bronte sisters). The stark power imbalance faced by 19th-century women, especially those with no money of their own, is vividly conveyed, with the pupils reminiscent of the unfortunate women in The Handmaid’s Tale. Remarkably, Jane never sees herself as a victim and doesn’t indulge in feisty defiance for the sake of it. When she takes a stand, it is always on a matter of principle, and she remains rock solid in her determination. Olivia Marcus plays the part with a blunt Yorkshire accent, which is unexpected but absolutely right. [...] The attraction between Olivia Marcus’s Jane and Gabriel Akuwudike’s Rochester is subtly but effectively conveyed. Akuwudike’s Rochester is surprisingly young for someone wounded by a disastrous first marriage. There is a glib and charming shiftiness – but with significant vulnerability underneath - that helpfully makes him less of the cliched brooding romantic hero. Kate Kordel doubles effectively as the bullying Aunt Reed and the kindly Mrs Fairfax. The production gives proper attention to the first Mrs Rochester, vividly played by Robyn Rose-Li, and makes the most of the many resemblances between Brontë’s novel and that other Great Romantic Classic, Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. The question of how to stage a story as classic as Jane Eyre is always open to debate, whether you are faithful to the original or offer something new and contemporary. While this production is perhaps far less radical than it might have initially seemed on the surface, it is still a nuanced and effective rendition of the classic story. (Patrick Shorrock)
Among the cast, Andrea Gatchalian offers a convincing portrayal of the ailing Helen as well as the irrepressible Adele, Kate Kordel pairs an initially unbending Aunt Reed with a Mrs Fairfax who also comes to see Jane’s qualities over time, and Leo Wan as Mason makes the complexities of this story rather clearer than is sometimes the case. Both central roles are extremely well cast, with Gabriel Akuwudike’s Rochester, despite the RP accent, a wholly convincing anti-hero. Opposite him, Olivia Marcus embodies both the Jane of the book and the rather more forthright and powerful figure of Cookson’s adaptation. Her portrayal is quite rightly the centre of the production and her spirit and determination are totally convincing in this impressive performance. It’s good to see work of this quality being produced by regional theatres, and creatives being given the opportunity to work on mid-scale productions. After playing at Colchester and Kingston, the production tours to Newcastle and Chester. It’s an inventive and absorbing production, well worth seeing if it comes near you. (Chris Abbott)
Olivia Marcus' (Bad Education, These Demons and The Mirror and the Light) portrayal of Jane is wonderfully spot on and a far cry from the comedy acting she presented in Bad Education. And the London-born actor's Yorkshire accent was almost perfect and super fitting for a plot set in West Yorkshire. Marcus should be incredibly proud of hearself in being at the heart of the production and producing a believable portrayal of Jane from childhood (she is only 10 at the start) to becoming a woman. And her depiction of the infamous romance between Jane and Rochester, played by Gabriel Akuwudike (Hamnet and Shetland 10), has the audience both on the edge of their seats in that typical 'will they, won't they ' manner, and swooning when the pair eventually make out. The chemistry between Marcus and the characters is electric and a wonderful depiction of the old-school love story. On that note, Akuwudike plays Rochester excellently, doing a brilliant job of portraying the traditional stoic and mysterious yet oddly charming male love interest that often appears in similar love stories. [...] However, I must say that Andrea Gatchalian, who plays Helen and Adele in Dyble's production, stole the show for me. Beginning the production as Helen before swapping to Rochester's French ward Adele, I was amazed at Catchalian's ability to make her child characters believable and to mimic the Scottish and French accents that her characters adopt, so perfectly. While her portrayal of Helen almost brought me to tears, the actor's depiction of Adele was a firm favourite of mine, with her ability to make the audience laugh in a play that explores the power imbalance between men and women of the 19th century and themes of mental health. Another showstopper for me is Robyn Rose-Li, who plays Bertha. Despite having one scene, her dramatic yet heartbreaking monologue depicts Bertha's mental health struggles so authentically that it is almost scary. [...] Dyble's production as a whole is incredible as it intertwines moments of heartache and fear and religious undertones with laughter, friendship, love and musical elements, which to my surprise had me bobbing my shoulders up and down rhythmically, while also exploring themes of mental health and romance as well as following Brontë's feminist plot.
According to Town and Country, 'This Might Be the Biggest Year Yet for Jane Austen and the Brontës'. It all begins in February, when Emerald Fennell, whose millennial sensibilities have a unique resonance with the digitally native, released Wuthering Heights. The flashy Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi-fronted film heaved its bosom to more than $240 million at the global box office, along with a rare prize: mainstream popularity. It further proved its cultural credo by becoming a flashpoint on Reddit and Letterboxd, where one review noted: “It's an adaptation that feels like a 14-year-old skimmed the book and jumped to her own conclusions without any true understanding of the novel.” [...] It’s not, necessarily, that the story is fanfiction—though that genre has been part of the Austen and Brontë universes for decades (see the Jane Eyre rewrite The Green Glass Sea [can they mean Wide Sargasso Sea?!] and the Pride & Prejudice inspired Bridget Jones’ Diary). [...] Plus, a whole slew of books. For the Brontës, there’s This Dark Night: Emily Brontë, a Life; Charlotte Brontë’s Life in Clothes, and The Invention of Charlotte Brontë. [...] For the un-indoctrinated, the contrast between the writers—the Regency-era Jane Austen, author of six books, and the Victorian Brontë sisters, who published six novels between them—has deep roots. Charlotte Brontë, author of Jane Eyre, once described Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice as: “An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a common-place face.” She concluded, “I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen in their elegant but confined houses.” The two writers never met. Austen died in 1817, the year after the Charlotte, the eldest Brontë, was born, and their books offer markedly different pleasures. The three sisters (Emily and Anne followed Charlotte) wrote Gothic fiction and poetry. Austen satirized upper and upper middle class society’s conventions. Secrets, storms, and the wife in the attic haunt Jane Eyre, while Pride and Prejudice has pompous clergymen and Mr. Collins’s “excellent boiled potatoes.” Austen’s jokes expose the absurdities of courtship and class. Confessions and scandals may momentarily deviate from polite society, but a happily ever after is always a return to the mien. By contrast, the Brontës create worlds far beyond the mannered ton’s scope, both emotionally and geographically. That division is real, but it can also flatten a much broader literary landscape. Writers like Ann Radcliffe and Frances Burney—whose popularity in their own time might be comparable to the fame that Rebecca Yarros or Emily Henry enjoy today—are less likely to appear on a modern reader’s list. Austen and the Brontës, meanwhile, have become shorthand for different kinds of romance: one witty and social, the other dark and intense. The ability to reduce the stories to appealingly simple distinctions may help explain why it travels so well online, but that multi-media popularity is nothing new. In fact, just on the movie front, it’s nearly 90 years old. Pride & Prejudice was first adapted in 1940 with Greer Garson and Lawrence Olivier (a lost television series came two years earlier). The Orson Welles and Joan Fontaine-fronted Jane Eyre came in 1944, and ever since the writers have been constantly in our lives on the screen. [...] The Brontës have their own route into contemporary readers’ lives: Tumblr. Julia Cancilla, a Gen Z writer, found her way to Wuthering Heights through arty accounts on the famously emo social media. She first encountered the novel in quotes and illustrations but didn’t watch any of the film adaptations for a while. “I don’t even know if I really liked it when I first read it, but eventually I did and loved it,” she says. “The Austen stuff, it’s warmer, so it took me longer.” Though Mr. Darcy’s brooding gets to her. [...] In a 2005 New Yorker review of Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice, Anthony Lane described the film as one in which “Jane Austen has been Brontëfied.” He pointed to its windblown, misty romanticism, then wondered whether audiences could still see Austen clearly after centuries in which “the spirit of romance, and the role of the body within it, have evolved out of all recognition.” To him, Joe Wright’s adaptation felt like a collapse of the two genres. The end result was aesthetically unfaithful to the source material. Perhaps that’s true, but looking back, it’s unclear whether that was a feature or a bug. The books don’t merely live on as portals to a different era— though as Subbana’s experience proves, they do that too—they’re constantly rediscovered and remediated though Hollywood, fanfiction, and, now, TikTok. It is not faithfulness to the original that made Jane Austen and the Brontës immortal, it’s their eager adoption by each new generation. All of the new media inspired by the authors this year means that 2026 is a prime moment for Gen Z to have their first young adult understandings of the novel. Hopefully, they will then soon have their own turn to create their own turn to adapt and re-frame the original text. If history is anything to go by, we shouldn't have to wait too long to find out. (Dorothy Scarborough)
This is how RNZ begins a review of Sense and Sensibility: Sometimes what you need is the simple thing done well. In a year that's given us aggressively new takes on everything from Homer to Bronte, director Georgia Oakley (Blue Jean) has turned to Jane Austen and boldly dared to do something straightforward. (Boris Jancic)
This from Girl Culture--also reviewing Sense and Sensibility--is spot on: And I opened my phone to see a critic complimenting the yearning romance as what Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights should have been, which made me realize how much modern filmmaking flattens classic literature about women into just one thing. It all becomes young women in dresses, traipsing through fields and falling in love—nevermind that Jane Austen is no more similar to Emily Brontë than Mel Brooks is to Christopher Nolan. (Caroline Siede) In early 2026, Wuthering Heights has viewers in a hot debate over whether it’s a good or bad adaptation of Emily Brönte’s [suc] classic novel. While the steamy Jacob Elordi costume drama may be debated over its quality, there are other adaptations of famous books that are far worse. (Brianna Zigler)
Screen Rant thinks that Jane Eyre is one of '10 Classic Books That Deserve A Modern TV Adaptation Like East Of Eden'. Jane Eyre, 1847 Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre follows its title character from a difficult childhood to her position as governess at Thornfield Hall, where she becomes drawn to the secretive Mr. Rochester. Jane’s independence and moral conviction shape the novel’s gothic romance, while Thornfield’s hidden history gives the story an undercurrent of suspense. A limited series could let both sides of the story unfold at a deliberate pace. Jane’s determination to claim a life on her own terms helped make her one of literature’s most enduring heroines. Her story still resonates as a coming-of-age drama about class, gender, love, and self-respect. The novel has inspired many film and television adaptations, including a popular BBC miniseries in 2006. A new BBC series starring Aimee Lou Wood as Jane is now in development, giving audiences another chance to see Brontë’s heroine and her gothic world reimagined for television. (Abby Shewmaker)
Also inspired by East of Eden, Tatler Asia recommends '5 books to read if you loved East of Eden' and one of them is: ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Emily Brontë Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights centres on the turbulent relationship between Catherine Earnshaw, Heathcliff and Edgar Linton. Their choices create conflicts that extend beyond the original generation, affecting their families and the children who come after them. Like East of Eden, the novel explores the way love, resentment and family loyalty can become difficult to separate. Catherine’s decision to marry Edgar rather than Heathcliff sets in motion a series of consequences that affect both families, while Heathcliff turns his grief and anger into a sustained campaign of revenge. His actions ultimately draw a younger generation into conflicts they did not create. The comparison with Cathy Ames is also useful, although the characters are fundamentally different. Catherine Earnshaw is not defined by the same coldness or manipulation as Cathy, but both women make choices that have profound consequences for the people around them. Wuthering Heights shares with East of Eden an interest in relationships that resist simple definitions of love or hatred, as well as the lasting effects of choices made within one generation. (Chonx Tibajia)
Translated into English by David McKay, the storytelling remains engaging despite the narrative’s length and multiple complex plotlines. Daanje’s narrative style will be instantly recognisable to readers familiar with Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. The book seamlessly channels classical, 19th-century Gothic traditions, weaving together overlapping layers of myth, history, and obsession. (Rishita Misra) An alert for tomorrow, October 18, in Thornton: Saturday, 17th of October, 18:30 h Brontë Birthplace, Posh Parlour
The Brontë Birthplace is delighted to welcome BBC presenter and journalist, Reeta Chakrabarti to the Brontë Birthplace for an intimate interview discussing her debut novel, Finding Belle, and the influence the Brontë sisters have had on her work. Finding Belle explores belonging and identity, and what it means to work out who you are without the usual support of family around you.
The Guardian gives 2 stars out of 5 to Wuthering Heights: The House of the Damned, summing it up as 'part Dracula, part Jeeves and Wooster'. Where pornography once trod, horror has now become the genre that infiltrates and apes all others. With a host of out-of-copyright cartoon characters recently grave-robbed for not-so-fresh IP, now classic literature is apparently fair game for a gruesome glow-up, in this case, Emily Brontë’s regular GCSE-botherer. But Becca Hirani’s laboured reworking makes the book’s gothic subtext crashingly, jugular-spurtingly textual. As in the novel, wide-eyed Mr Lockwood (Ross Townsend-Green) pays a courtesy call to his brooding landlord Heathcliff (Sky Cheema) at Wuthering Heights. But this time, his sojourn is more like Jonathan Harker’s at Dracula’s castle; everywhere he turns, the shrouded phantom of Heathcliff’s beloved Catherine Earnshaw (Elle O’Hara) is lurking, and she leaves an extra dollop of gore on the windowsill in her famous nocturnal apparition. The tetchy host doesn’t do much to put Lockwood at ease – even before he’s trapped in the house by a bubo-inflicting malady. Between the hallucinations, the surly servants, and the weird absence of Heathcliff’s rumoured son Linton, he begins freaking out that it’s a different kind of moors story he’s stumbled into. Hirani puts undeniable effort in getting her plot points to line up with Brontë’s – even if most of the characters, including poor old Lockwood’s horse, meet a much grislier fate. Rationed out in snippets of Catherine’s diary, the confidences of housekeeper Nelly (Nicola Wright) and more random supernatural flashbacks involving Lockwood, the manor’s backstory is rather garbled, though with the OTT hook of Heathcliff as an 18th-century Yorkshire Ripper. Rather than amping up the camp, as the likes of Kate Bush and Emerald Fennell did in their takes on the novel, Hirani plays it straight and dour, mystifyingly so, given the extra stranglings, slashings and pitchfork-impalings she’s chucked in. At the same time, diffident acting undermines the film’s claim as pure slasher fare: Townsend-Green’s jumpy turn feels as if he has strayed out of Jeeves and Wooster, while, despite the Rasputin looks, windy-voiced Cheema is too loose to convince as Byronic bad boy. For much of the runtime, we’re left with too little that makes his conversion to homicidal mania credible, until the last-minute lowdown on his Hellraiser-like scheme for his ward, Cathy (Anna Coupé). Reanimating the corpse of Brontë in this rickety way, this update not only feels pointless, but short on self-awareness or fun. (Phil Hoad)
CharlesHutchPress gives 4 stars to Underdog: The Other Other Brontë at Theatre@41 in York. That said, Gordon counters the narrator’s status by showing the ambitious, ruthless, envious Charlotte in anything but the best light, full of withering slights and maternally over-protective of Anne in particular, refusing permission for a posthumous re-print of The Tenant Of Wildfell Hall (and editing Emily’s poems for publication after her death to boot). Jess Murray’s Emily is an undiluted firebrand, with a temper and potty mouth, but somewhat underwritten by comparison with Anne and especially Charlotte. Nick Patrick Jones’s Branwell can be heard shouting at his father in the background and in his infrequent appearances he feels like a ghost in this play, even before he is consigned to that status. Alongside Jones, Jon Cook, Pamela Gourley and Maggie Smales are on multi-rolling duty, Smales taking the honours with her spoilt child, coconut-clip-clopping carriage driver and biographer Elizabeth Gaskell. Claire Morley’s witty, wily and waspish production is played out with fiery pace and passion on Richard Hampton’s three-sided set of suspended wheat sheafs, page after page torn from books, three boxes bedecked in yet more words and the backdrop of a frame filled with flowers. At its base is a sign reading “Liar” that Stafford’s Charlotte then places around the neck of Rhodes’s Anne, and yet not everything that Charlotte says can be taken as the truth. Literary licence, maybe; playwright’s impish, knowing humour, certainly. The sisters are even more fun company than in Lip Service’s Withering Looks, full of surprises, sassy putdowns (not least of Jane Austen’s face being on a bank note) and sisterly interplay, played out to a soundtrack of Self Esteem, Charlie XCX and Billie Eilish snippets. It could have been deeper, it could have been darker, but that is the one story that has been told before. On reflection, all the Brontë sisters can be seen as the underdog of the title, sisters with blisters, but fighting against cramped writing conditions, the Yorkshire chill that did for their health, and the inequality and cold shoulder of the book world’s stuffed shirts. The “other” here is as much the other side of their story as a desire to put Anne in the spotlight. “Young women judge older women more harshly than anybody else…they are conditioned to,” says the spiky Charlotte, in one of her jibes delivered so deliciously by Stafford, whose outstanding performance is befitting of a professional stage.
‘We moved to Derbyshire when I was 11, so I never took it for granted. ‘As a teenager I romanticised the views. Artistically, I loved the idea of a solitary figure against these dramatic backdrops. I studied romanticism at school and college and loved stories like Jane Eyre. I’ve carried that through into my painting in more recent years; the focus on a solitary figure. I think my paintings are quite romantic, but they’re set within the home, with these fabrics and patterns as backdrops rather than sweeping landscape views. ‘We used to go rock climbing at Stanage Edge, and Black Rocks near Matlock, which I still do sometimes when I go home to visit my mum or dad. ‘Who knows – perhaps having that perspective of climbing up and looking straight down from a height has also subconsciously influenced my more recent paintings.’ (Laura Wells)
Elsewhere, it’s down to questions of interpretation. Willder despairs that so many film-makers have tried to force a love story out of the toxic contortions of Emily Brontë’s “sadistic, gothic revenge horror” Wuthering Heights. (John Self) The Australian reviews Sense and Sensibility 2026: This new version of Austen’s 215-year old debut novel is from the pen of Australia’s very fine writer, Diana Reid. She’s played it safe, as has director Georgia Oakley (Blue Jean) A queasy, dynamic camera lingers on the natural world – spiders on stalks, rain on cobwebs, lilies on ponds, light through trees. There are close-ups of unmade-up skin, pores, freckles and long ratty hair – the emphasis on authenticity. But the feature doesn’t have a distinctive tone or voice, unlike Fennell’s Wuthering Heights or Andrea Arnold’s 2011 version of that book. Those films had a strong directorial stamp; this one does not. It unspools a little flatly. Audiences have now been trained to expect something more from their historical lady shows. (Nikki Gemmell) The Yorkshire Post has an article on Haworth's Christmas market. Alta recommends '17 Haunting Books to Read This October ', including Wuthering Heights.
An easy Swedish retold translation of Wuthering Heights has been published:
by Emily Brontë Retold in easy Swedish by Andreas Palmaer Bannier Carlsen ISBN: 9789179814908 (ebook) ISBN: 9789179814915 (paperback) May 2026
Svindlande höjder hör till den engelska litteraturens mest välkända klassiker och är ständigt aktuell, nu senast som storfilm med med Margot Robbie i rollen som Catherine Earnshaw. En kväll kommer mr Earnshaw hem till sin gård med en pojke han plockat med sig från gatorna i Liverpool. Hittebarnet Heathcliff har svårt att finna sin plats i familjen och slits mellan hatet till fosterbrodern Hindley och kärleken till fostersystern Catherine. När mr Earnshaw dör och Catherine gifter sig med en barndomsvän blir hämnden Heathcliffs enda mål i livet.
The Nation reviews This Dark Night. Emily Brontë, a Life by Deborah Lutz. The article comes with an illustration by Lily Qian: 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)
The Mancunion has an article on 'Why book adaptations are so hard to master'. 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) A contributor to The Tab recommends exploring around York. As cosy season creeps in, my personal recommendation would be Haworth. Known as the home of the Brontë’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 Brontës, 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) InStyle suggests '17 Couples Halloween Costumes Inspired by 2026’s Biggest Pop Culture Moments' including 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)
Slate (France) has an article on Dark Academia and reading classic novels such as Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights.
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