Good news for the Brontë Birthplace as reported by The Telegraph and Argus: The Brontë Birthplace in Thornton has been awarded £1,271.92 through a grant from the 2024/2025 Lord Mayor’s Appeal, headed by the then Lord Mayor of Bradford, Councillor Bev Mullaney. The funding comes from a series of fundraising events and donations. Nigel West, fundraising co-ordinator for the Brontë Birthplace, said: "We are entirely self-funded and depend on grants such as the Lord Mayor’s Appeal to help continue our work. "We are so grateful for this donation, it will help us to keep the Brontë story alive and ensure it remains an inspiring and welcoming space for generations to come." (Harry Williams)
Still locally, The Telegraph and Argus also shines the spotlight on Guiseley, which is entering the competition to become the UK's first ever Town of Culture. St Oswald’s Church is one of Guiseley’s key historic buildings, known not only for its medieval fabric but also because the parents of the Brontë sisters, Patrick Brontë and Maria Branwell, were married there in 1812. A copy of their marriage certificate is displayed inside. (Claire Lomax)
The more modern “madwoman in the attic” trope emerged in the novels of the early 1800s. In fact, this expression itself alludes to Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 novel Jane Eyre, in which Mr. Rochester’s first wife, Bertha Mason, is kept secretly locked away in the attic of his home, Thornfield Hall, having long ago lost her mind. Inspired by Brontë, the literary critics and feminist writers Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar famously used Madwoman in the Attic as the title of their landmark 1979 work, which explored the portrayal of women in Victorian literature. Authors like Charlotte Brontë—as well as her sister Emily, Jane Austen, and Mary Shelley, the pair argued—typically featured women in their novels that were either idealized ingenues or grotesque monsters, a dichotomy that naturally emerged in response to the distorted literary landscape (long shaped by male writers) into which their work was being taken. Given the understanding of mental illness at the time in the 1800s, consequently, having a female character who had lost her mind was an easy way of providing a story with a dangerous and unpredictable “monster” character—the perfect antagonist for the ingenue heroine, and a literary creation with which the reader was unlikely to sympathize. Charlotte Brontë, for instance, portrays Bertha as little more than a monstrous threat, with little agency nor much in the way of an explanation for her madness, leaving the reader to sympathize with Mr. Rochester instead. (Paul Anthony Jones)
Once again we will point out that Charlotte Brontë grew to regret her portrayal of Bertha. As she wrote in a letter to William Smith Williams on January 4th, 1848: It is true that profound pity ought to be the only sentiment elicited by the view of such degradation, and equally true is it that I have not sufficiently dwelt on that feeling; I have erred in making horror too predominant. Mrs Rochester indeed lived a sinful life before she was insane but sin itself is a kind of insanity; the truly good behold and compassionate it as such.
A contributor to Crime Reads discusses ' 2026's Gothic Romance Boom'. Emerald Fennell’s new film, Wuthering Heights opens with sounds of moaning and heavy breathing, which are revealed to be emanating from a man being executed by hanging, rather than in the throes of sexual ecstasy. His post-mortem erection causes an outpouring of emotion, including sexual arousal, in the rambunctious crowd. Among the audience witnessing the bizarre spectacle is the young version of the heroine of the film, Catherine Earnshaw. As Fennell explained in an interview: “it was important to acknowledge early on that arousal and danger are kind of the same thing, and it was important that the first thing we see is Cathy, this young girl, seemingly frightened but then actually delighted. It tells us so much about who she is, but so much about Brontë, too…” Notably, this scene is not in Emily Brontë’s 1847 novel, but it is uniquely Fennell, and also ensures the film falls squarely into the genre of Gothic Romance. The Oxford-educated Fennell is additionally making an allusion to another novel of Gothic Romance, Daphne du Maurier’s My Cousin Rachel, which opens with the narrator looking back on a moment as a seven-year-old when he witnessed a man who had just been hung. “See what a moment of passion can bring upon a fellow,” his guardian tells him. The disturbing juxtaposition of sex and death lies at the core of Gothic Romance, and, indeed, Victorian society, as well as our own. In her article “Sex and Death in Wuthering Heights,” Maria Kosikinen observes that both sex and death were perceived as threats to rational Victorian attitudes and thus both were highly regulated and ritualized. Fennell makes her audience as complicit as the onlookers in the perverse opening scene, revealing and shocking our own 2026 sensibilities as well. Arguably, the most important aspect of Gothic Romance, and the Gothic more broadly, explains its lasting appeal, which can be summed up by the great (Gothic) writer, William Faulker: “The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.” [...] Say what you will about his character, but the only “ghosting” one can imagine Brontë’s Heathcliff doing is the literal kind, which perhaps explains his lasting appeal, even if the Byronic hero is still being blamed for today’s dating woes. In Olivia Petter’s excellent Vogue article from January, “My Love for Wuthering Heights Is Why I Also Love Terrible Men,” she blames Heathcliff, whom she deems “literature’s original fuckboy,” for inspiring her frustrating pursuit of toxic men: “The bar is absurdly low…men will get a round of applause for texting us back or booking a restaurant. Where are the ones who’ll cry for us on the moors and dig up our graves? They might not be healthy, but at least they’re interesting. [...] Fennell’s Wuthering Heights, like the lauded 1939 adaptation, does not feature the second half of the novel, which deals with the aftermath of Cathy and Heathcliff’s toxic love-story. It therefore delves more into the romance, rather than the Gothic aspects of the plot and the repercussions of the first on subsequent generations. Why only adapting the first half of Emily Brontë’s novel was permissible in 1939 but not now is anyone’s guess. [...] Love or hate it, any film that revives public discourse, notably among young people, around a Victorian novel written by a woman two hundred years ago can be seen as a win, especially in a time when Humanities and English departments are at all-time low enrollment. In Gothic fiction, repressed things from the past return to haunt us. In today’s world, amidst new technologies including AI, and a far-reaching digital record, the secrets in our individual and collective pasts have never been more ephemeral, and, paradoxically, more immortal. What could be more Gothic than that? (Joanna Margaret)
Ka Leo (Hawaii) reviews Wuthering Heights 2026: I find this all frustrating. Wuthering Heights on a filmic level — the acting, sets, and cinematography — is beautiful. But, much like the story reinterpretation, all the substance stays on the surface. Despite all the pent-up sexual tension, the greatest tease this movie was hinting at complexity. In reality, the beauty on the screen went no further. (Devin Hung) The Justice has published a joint review of Wuthering Heights 2026 by two students. Far Out Magazine tells the story of 'How Kate Bush made ‘ Wuthering Heights’ a fixture of pop culture without even reading the book'.
New Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre has been published in Argentina. In the original Brontë English:
Emily Brontë Del Fondo Editorial ISBN 9789874886927 March 2026
Set in the West Yorkshire moors, Wuthering Heights is the story of two gentry families -— the Earnshaws and the Lintons — and their turbulent relationships with Earnshaw's adopted son, Heathcliff. Although Wuthering Heights is now a classic of English literature, contemporaneous reviews were deeply polarized; it was controversial because of its unusually stark depiction of mental and physical cruelty, and it challenged strict Victorian ideals regarding religious hypocrisy, morality, social classes, and gender inequality. The novel also explores the effects of envy, nostalgia, pessimism, and resentment. Published under her male pseudonym, critics were convinced that it was indeed written by a man, as the powerful imagery and unbridled and savage emotions and passions of the characters initially appalled critics. Emily died tragically before knowing the acclaim “his” only novel would eventually receive, now being considered one of the finest literary masterpieces of nineteenth century England.
Charlotte Brontë Del Fondo Editorial ISBN: 9789874886910 March 2026
Initially published under the pseudonym Currer Bell in 1847, Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre erupted onto the English literary scene, immediately showing the devotion of many of the world’s most renowned writers. Widely regarded as a revolutionary novel, Brontë’s masterpiece introduced the world to a radical new type of heroine, one whose defiant virtue and moral courage departed sharply from the more submissive and malleable female characters of the day. The immediate and lasting success of Jane Eyre proved Brontë's instincts right. Readers of her era and, even after her time, have taken the impoverished orphan girl into their hearts, following her from the custody of cruel relatives to a dangerously oppressive boarding school and onward through a troubled career as a governess. Jane's first assignment at Thornfield, where the proud and cynical master of the house guards a scandalous secret, draws readers even deeper into a compelling exploration of the mysteries of the human heart. Passionate, dramatic, and surprisingly modern, Jane Eyre is still regarded as one of the world’s most beloved novels.
First of all, let's wish a happy 249th birthday to Patrick Brontë. And a happy St Patrick's Day ☘️ to all who celebrate.
The Guardian has Lucasta Miller rank the Brontë novels. 7 The Professor (written 1846; published 1857) by Charlotte Brontë This was the first novel that Charlotte Brontë completed. It was rejected by publishers nine times. Written in the voice of a male narrator, William Crimsworth, it offers a downbeat story of everyday middle-class striving as the protagonist travels to Brussels to establish his career as a teacher. But the last publisher to see it thought it showed promise, despite being too short and insufficiently “striking and exciting”. Had the author anything else to offer? Luckily, Jane Eyre – which amply supplied the earlier book’s deficiencies – was already in train and was soon accepted with alacrity. Although The Professor remained unpublished in Charlotte’s lifetime, she continued to believe that it was “as good as I can write”; its subtly ironised male voice reveals her underlying literary sophistication. 6 Agnes Grey (1847) by Anne Brontë In 1846, the three Brontë sisters had – at their own expense – published a joint poetry collection under the pseudonyms Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. It sold just two copies. Realising that fiction was more saleable, they decided that each should write a novel under the same pen names. While Charlotte toiled over The Professor, the youngest sister, Anne, was working on Agnes Grey. It also sought to portray everyday life, but the result has a more authentic ring since she drew so directly on her personal experience working as a governess in well-to-do families. The first-person heroine is initially excited at the thought of earning her own living. But she finds herself underpaid and unappreciated by the snooty parents, while her tantrum-prone charges include a vile little boy who likes pulling the legs off baby sparrows. Had it not been overshadowed by Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights when it came out in 1847, it might perhaps have caused more of a stir as a Nanny Diaries-style exposé. 5 Shirley (1849) by Charlotte Brontë This flawed follow-up to Jane Eyre was written under trying circumstances. Charlotte’s brother Branwell and both her sisters sickened and died in quick succession during the writing of it, so it was abandoned for a while before being resumed by the bereaved author. That’s not, however, the only reason why this “condition of England” novel – which announces itself on page one as “something unromantic as Monday morning” – has failed to entrance readers as much as its predecessor Jane Eyre. Its third-person narrative does not focus on a single hero or heroine and as a result the book feels comparatively diffuse, though Charlotte herself might have defended it on the grounds that real life is diffuse. Set during the Luddite riots of 1811-12, it explores social unrest, capitalism and the “woman question”. Because of her proto-feminism, Charlotte’s ideological position has often been called progressive, yet she was in fact a political conservative. 4 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë (1848) In feminist terms, Anne’s second novel is the most radical and socially engaged of all the sisters’ books. The eponymous tenant, Helen Huntingdon, is hiding out at Wildfell Hall with her young son after leaving her abusive husband. At the time, unequal marriage laws meant that it was very hard for a woman to get a divorce at all and nigh impossible for her to get custody of her children. In Jane Eyre, Charlotte had made Mr Rochester a sexy Byronic rake; Anne, in reply, exposed the toxic masculinity behind that character type. Despite the novel’s strong Christian message, its unvarnished portrayal of addiction and adultery shocked Victorian readers more than any of the other Brontë books. More interested in the real than the ideal, Anne was drawing on her experience as a witness to Branwell’s chaotic behaviour. 3 Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (1847) The first of the Brontë novels to be published, Charlotte’s melodramatic tale of the poor plain governess and the madwoman in the attic became a bestseller on first publication. Its genius, in fact, lies less in the plot than in what George Eliot’s future partner GH Lewes, who was one of its first reviewers, called its “strange power of subjective representation”. Ditching the distancing device of a male narrator for a female voice proved Charlotte’s creative breakthrough: it enabled her to inject a then unprecedented first-person intensity into the novel form. However, Jane Eyre proved controversial at the time among sexist critics. Correctly surmising that the author behind “Currer Bell” was a woman, they decried the book as “coarse” and the heroine as too assertive for a female. 2 Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (1847) It is mind-boggling to think that Wuthering Heights was written alongside The Professor and Agnes Grey, quite literally on the same dining room table in Haworth Parsonage at which all three sisters sat together working on their first novels. Emily’s masterpiece was called “a strange book baffling all regular criticism” on publication; it remains enigmatic, completely sui-generis and totally outside the norms of Victorian fiction. Justly regarded as one of the greatest works in the western canon, it’s far from the cliched love story it later became in popular culture. Though grisly with violence, it’s oddly devoid of sex. The writing is astonishing: scarcely any adjectives and not a purple passage in sight. The Victorian poet Swinburne was right to compare it to Greek tragedy. 1 Villette by Charlotte Brontë (1853) Less famous than Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights, Villette is Charlotte Brontë’s masterpiece and deserves to be better known. Here, she goes back to the Brussels material that she had already used at a tangent in The Professor – and which was rooted in her real-life experience of studying and teaching there in 1842-4. Reworking those memories from a first-person female perspective, she now incorporated her own secret into the story: the unrequited love she had felt for her Belgian writing tutor Constantin Heger. Yet the result is anything but naïve autobiography. Instead, it shows Charlotte push the classic realist Victorian novel in new, artistically experimental directions. The unreliable narrator, Lucy Snowe, has intimacy issues and sets a challenge for the reader. Long before Freud, Charlotte was exploring questions about repression and the unconscious in a complex, self-knowing psychological novel whose generic status hovers ambiguously between naturalism, gothic and autofiction. The extent to which Villette mined and refracted her own inner life was only discovered posthumously by her biographers.
A contributor to McGill Daily discusses '“ Wuthering Heights” and Modern Art History: A Niche Venn Diagram.Modern artists like Manet, who portrayed purely modern scenes without conforming to the “grain,” provoked viewership fury. French critic of the time, Émile Zola, argued in an essay titled “Édouard Manet”, originally published in 1867, that public outrage simply reveals how tightly audiences cling to expectations of what art ought to resemble. The public, up until this point, had maintained neoclassical values in art: to flatter, narrate, and moralize. Manet refused all three of those familiar imperatives by producing art that felt uncomfortable and bluntly new — a choice that is now heavily applauded. True art, a point Zola returns to time and time again, does not come from a desire to conform to norms or follow the “grain” but from individual temperament and personal vision. Nearly two centuries later and across the Atlantic, my girlfriends and I visited the Cineplex on Rue Sainte Catherine to watch Emerald Fennell’s 2026 “Galentines” adaptation of “Wuthering Heights”. The reaction to the film was generally varied. Some praised it, while lovers of the novel jumped to Twitter and Reddit to vent their anger over yet another inaccurate adaptation. To give credit to these bibliophiles, Fennell abandons many of the themes that make this story so impactful by portraying a narrative based on her initial impression of the book as a 14-year-old girl. In depicting this youthful interpretation, Fennell centres the film around a glorified toxic romance between Catherine and Heathcliff. Frustrated viewers were appalled at Fennell’s tone-deafness in foregrounding obsessive love while sidestepping and softening the harsher themes of the novel, particularly those pertaining to Heathcliff’s racial marginalization and the systemic class violence in the setting. In reading tweets alleging the film’s negligence, just as I did in December when choosing my winter semester electives, I turned to modern art history. Two hundred years apart, both Manet and Fennell have something in common: they’ve both committed to their personal visions and rejected traditional expectations. Manet counters aesthetic norms and produces art that depicts the tensions of modern life in a way that is truthful to himself. Similarly, Fennell abandons the expectation that adaptations be reflective of their source material to create a film rooted in her own experience, a decision Zola might have applauded. Whether or not you enjoy or even “agree with” either of these artist’s work, they both made the choice to commit to their personal truths and abandon external expectations. In practicing artistic autonomy, they choose their own temperament as an anchor in their work. If these two artists are correct and individual temperament is the “True North” of art, it leads us to question: are there traditions or expectations that artists must uphold, or is personal vision all that truly matters? Between these contexts, “tradition” is understood very differently. For Manet, “traditions” are expectations set by the Art Academy surrounding what defines academically valid (and objectively good) art. For Fennell, “tradition” underlines the source material from which she draws her film: Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. Both these artists abandon tradition in their works, making audiences question: where is the line drawn between artistic autonomy and deviations from tradition? In deviating from tradition, one can question the difference between innovation and avoidance. If artists do have a responsibility to uphold a certain tradition, both Manet and Fennell have failed to do so. Yet we celebrate Manet as a transformative turning point in modern art history. Why? In my opinion, it is because Manet’s work denies the comfort of ignorance and bluntly presents his audiences with uncomfortable social realities, forcing them to analyze their own lives through his work. In contrast, Fennell’s Wuthering Heights does exactly the opposite. While she also deviates from “tradition”, she does so by refusing to inherit the uncomfortable and darker themes of the novel. She allows her audiences to find comfort in the avoidance of difficult themes surrounding the intersection of violence, race, and class. If Manet makes audiences question how closely art should adhere to academic standards, Fennell forces them to question how much personal vision we are willing to accept in interpretations of classic narratives. In some cases, we respond well to moving away from tradition when artists depict their personal visions because it feels honest and revealing, confronting you with art rooted in social reality. This is what Manet did in pulling at the seams of academic art to reveal true modern life. On the other side of the coin, moving away from tradition can feel dishonest if viewers don’t feel it is rooted in these social truths — the very social truths that made Emily Brontë’s novel so impactful in the first place. Now, as I wrap up this article in my student apartment a few streets from campus, I have to conclude that this argument is somewhat of an open-ended question. I think that is because there is no universal line that separates avoidance from innovation in art. That line is unstable by design, and artists have always toed it by pushing their own personal vision forward while balancing a respect for tradition. Perhaps this tension is what produces great art. That being said, in my art history class, we are still marveling at Manet’s impact on the evolution of modern art two centuries later. But as I left the Cineplex on Sainte Catherine after seeing Fennell’s Wuthering Heights, I got the impression that this particular adaptation might not make it onto the syllabus of a film class in another two hundred years. (Lyla Burt)
Substream magazine wonders: 'Is New Wuthering Heights an Epic Love Story or Psychological Horror?' Contemporary psychology doesn’t view their relationships as “tragic lovers divided by social class and circumstance.” Instead, people agree that this story is about two deeply wounded people who cannot escape each other’s influence. Behind the perfect visuals and stunning costumes, it’s still possible to get the idea that this movie is a “psychological horror,” as often described on Reddit. Catherine, Heathcliff, and nearly every supporting character become trapped in a cycle of resentment and revenge.
Vulture has TV host Padma Lakshmi write about what she's seen, read, etc. lately. Wuthering Heights We went to see Wuthering Heights within the last two weeks, and we totally loved it. I know that a lot of people felt really mixed about it, but we loved it, and so I took the opportunity to see if she might be into listening to Jane Eyre on Audible. I thought she might want to hear what another Brontë sister was writing, but I got sort of a mixed reply on it. We listened to her for a little bit, but I’m still trying. (Padma Lakshmi as told to Marah Eakin)
Ibiza's official tourism Instagram (via Diario de Ibiza) has declared that the brooding, windswept romanticism of Emerald Fennell's Wuthering Heights could be, actually, a way to promote the island. In a post proposing five spots around the old walled city where you can "recreate scenes" from the film, the town council has cheerfully transplanted Margot Robbie's tragic heroine — long braids, gothic gowns and all — from the fog-drenched English moors to the sun-baked Mediterranean. Baluard de Sant Bernat as a stand-in for the Earnshaw estate? The Portal de Ses Taules channelling windswept despair? Sure, why not? One has to admire the audacity. Call it (tourist) cultural appropriation, call it creative rebranding — ei
ther way, Heathcliff would probably have preferred the weather.
Talking Scared
This Valentine’s week, come for a walk up on t’moors with me and Agatha Andrews. I’ve invited Agatha, my friend and sister-in-Gothic, host of She Wore Black podcast, for a conversation about Wuthering Heights. It’s known as “the greatest love story ever told,” but that’s such nonsense. Instead we talk about mania and melancholy, hate and power, cannibalism and necrophilia… and we also look ahead to the Hollywood adaptation with bated (but amused) breath. Enjoy! Other books mentioned: David Copperfield (1850), by Charles Dickens The Brontës (1994), by Juliet Barker The Gabriel Hounds (1964), by Mary Stewart East of Eden (1952), by John Steinbeck The Vampyre (1819), by John Polidori The Favourites (2025), by Layne Fargo
HuffPost seems to be only just finding out that 'Charlotte Brontë Really, Really Didn't Seem To Like Jane Austen' and have interviewed Dr Michael Stewart about it. “She wasn’t a fan of Austen,” Dr Stewart said. Charlotte once told critic G.H. Lewes she’d never read Austen (despite her very literary childhood). And after he urged her to give the books a try, she said in correspondence: “Why do you like Miss Austen so very much? I am puzzled on that point… I had not seen ‘Pride & Prejudice’ till I read that sentence of yours, and then I got the book and studied it. And what did I find? An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a common-place face; a carefully-fenced, highly cultivated garden with neat borders and delicate flowers – but no glance of a bright vivid physiognomy – no open country – no fresh air – no blue hill – no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen in their elegant but confined houses.” This, Dr Stewart said, might be called “damning with faint praise”. [...] Basically, her greatest compliment to the author appeared to be something along the lines of, “cool story, Austen!! Now imagine if it had literally any heart, soul, or vim whatsoever...” Why didn’t Charlotte Brontë seem to like Jane Austen? We’ll never truly know, but it’s highly possible the more restrained author just didn’t float Charlotte’s boat. And Austen isn’t the only victim of Charlotte’s sharp tongue, either. “She liked Dickens even less. She disliked his ‘ostentatious extravagance,’” Dr Stewart told us. But it’s hard not to wonder if the writer, who was one when Austen died, was sick of unfair comparisons to the literary titan. “I don’t think there are any meaningful comparisons between the work of the Brontës and Austen. In many ways, they are exact opposites. Although Anne’s Agnes Grey was called a ‘coarse imitation of one of Miss Austin’s [sic] charming stories,’” Dr Stewart explained. To that point, he noted that “Emily and Anne [Brontë] were no fans of Austen either”. (Amy Glover)
Yet it's been said--without any actual evidence--that Anne Brontë may have liked Jane Austen.
A contributor to Metro recommends 'The UK’s prettiest towns and most charming villages for staycations in 2026' and one of them is Haworth, West Yorkshire Growing up in Yorkshire, I was never far from an idyllic village. One of my favourites has to be Haworth, in the moorlands of the Pennines. While it might be small, it has some world-class literary credentials — it’s where the Brontë sisters (Charlotte, Emily, and Anne) wrote their iconic novels, including Wuthering Heights. Head to the Brontë Parsonage Museum, the Grade I listed Georgian building, formerly the home of the sisters which has been preserved to offer a glimpse of their life from 1820 to 1861 — entry is £13. Brontë fans should also take a country walk to Top Withens, a ruined farmhouse near Haworth, believed to have inspired Wuthering Heights. And to continue your Victorian education, take a trip on the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway, a five-mile heritage steam train that runs through the village. Finally, if a day of sightseeing has tired you out, stop for a classic pub lunch. My favourite is Haworth Old Hall, a cosy inn set in a 16th-century manor house. Try the Whitby Scampi (£14.79) and a pint of local ale for the ultimate Yorkshire experience. (Sophie-May Williams)
Russh has selected '8 of the most toxic on-screen relationships we can’t look away from' and of course one of them is 1. Cathy and Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights (2026) Is there anything more toxic (or dramatic) than ghosting your childhood best friend for five years when she chooses another man? Emily Brontë proved that toxic relationships have been around since the dawn of time with her writing of Cathy and Heathcliff, and Fennell's take shows us just how self-destructive a love like this can be... No thanks. (Kirsty Thatcher)
Yesterday was Mothering Sunday in the UK and so AnneBrontë.org devoted a post to mothers and the Brontës. More Recent Articles
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