The visual palette was truer to my vision of Austen than could perhaps be expected in the world of Bridgerton and Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights, even if there were a few more stray strands of Elinor’s hair (Daisy Edgar-Jones) than suited her character. (Felice Basbøll)

Autrice d’It Ends with Us, de Regretting You et de Reminders of Him, tous trois adaptés à l’écran, la prolifique Colleen Hoover aime traiter de sujets graves sous le couvert de la romance ou du thriller psychologique. C’est dans ce second camp que se situe Verity, thriller domestique où l’on retrouve de (très) faibles échos de Jane Eyre, de Charlotte Brontë, de Rebecca, de Daphné du Maurier, et de Gone Girl, de Gillian Flynn. (Manon Dumais) (Translation)

at a flat on Chelsea Embankment in the centre of the capital, where more than 400 of the books the performer owned are on display at the Nicoletta Fiorucci Foundation. Or, nearly; the library, assembled by the artist Alex Margo Arden, comprises volumes of the same age, edition and condition as Winehouse’s ones, though none of them were actually ever in her possession. Arden calls them “parallel objects”. [...]

Most of the volumes are out-of-print paperbacks with glossy, candy bright covers. They have little resale value so Arden struggled to track them down online. There are themes: books about Hollywood (biographies of Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Dean Martin, Alfred Hitchcock); about music (Frank Sinatra, Bob Marley, Peggy Lee); about gangsters (Ronnie Kray); and a few literary choices: Mikhail Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita, Tom Wolfe’s The Bonfire of the Vanities, and Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea. (Evan Moffitt)

And as for favourite books that have helped shape her as publisher and would feature on her desert island reading list?

“The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, Going To Meet The Man, by James Baldwin, Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte,” she adds. (Dan Carrier)

   

When Emerald Fennell released her cartoonish take on Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, she explained its squishy, S&M silliness as being an adolescent fever dream. Yet, if teenage rebellion were the aim, that other Brontë novel of 1847 might have made a more likely candidate. I refer, of course, to sister Charlotte’s Jane Eyre: that manual for how a young woman might live – and love – independent of social norms.

This is why news that the text has been made compulsory for Chinese 14 and 15-year-olds comes as something of a surprise. The Communist Party made clear that this is to steer “the innocent, budding stage of first love”. So Brontë’s classic is now a conformist dating manual.

One wonders whether anyone in President Xi’s regime has read the novel. From the moment Jane fights back against her tyrannical male cousin, toeing the party line is emphatically not our heroine’s thing.

Instead, Brontë’s tale is one of constant rebellion against the conventions of love, work, society – whatever worldly authority is imposed. Contemporary critics linked the narrative to the revolutions that swept Europe in 1848. Jane was not only a proto-feminist, but a red under the chaise longue. However, she would be just as likely to rebel against the Five-star Red Flag as she would the domestic autocrat.

This, after all, is a heroine who proclaims: “Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! – I have as much soul as you – and full as much heart! … I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal – as we are!”

The man she addresses is rich and powerful; her employer has cross-dressed to flirt with her, while concealing his wife in the loft. It’s complicated, as contemporary parlance goes. Yet, what is never complicated – or compromised – is Jane’s autonomy.

The first and foremost lesson our roving rebel gives us is to love – or rather respect – oneself. In her life’s great crisis, beset by the thought “Who in the world cares for you?”, comes the “indomitable” cry: “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.” A woman who has been haunted by beggary chooses vagrancy rather than terms she cannot accept.

Still, Jane determines that she will be loved body, brain and soul – or not at all. When offered the passionless union proposed by priggish St. John Rivers, she refuses to countenance such emotional deprivation. Rivers is what Love Island contestants refer to as “good on paper”, but intolerable in the sack.

Instead, Jane’s devotions are to, first, another female (the doomed Helen Burns); second, a man who married for money, abandoned a vulnerable wife, shagged his way around Europe, attempted bigamy, and was rendered maimed and vulnerable.

Behold, another love lesson: the right person, may be she/he that society deems wrong. Cathy baulks at Heathcliff. Jane embraces a castrated Byronic hero: mastering her master in a domesticity in which they can at last be equals.

When Jane declares: “Reader, I married him,” it is a triumph of radical self-assertion. Chinese educationalists may believe they’re signing up for Victorian values. However, in Brontë’s moral bruiser, they’re getting a counter-cultural heroine who would have no truck with Marxist-Leninist axioms or Xi Jinping’s “Chinese Dream”.

And how glorious this will prove: another generation of freedom fighters becoming Eyreheads.

Where “Wuthering Heights” left me angry, this Netflix Original has restored my faith in adapting classic literature. (Kate Sánchez)

How could any contemporary adaptation of East of Eden not linger on Cathy? After decades of perspective-shifting literary retellings like Wide Sargasso Sea and The Mists of Avalon and the current trend of feminist Greek myths, Cathy is an enigma begging for some traumatic backstory to staple her flaws together. (Kathryn VanArendonk)

   

Anne-marie Greene’s direction gives Sarah Gordon’s 2024 already feisty modern-day revision of the Brontë myth a quick-witted flair. Much of this is due to the clever, knowing portrayal of Charlotte by Alice Scott. She is a pink-haired, elfin dominatrix of the family. Her determination to place herself at the top of the literary tree is expressed by frequent asides through the fourth wall, which draws us onto her side while at the same time slightly repelling us at the unfairness of her treatment of her sisters, Anne in particular. We forgive her, up to a point, partly because of her sparky charm and her knowing comments about the (still) patriarchal publishing game, but also because we buy into her idea that without her there would have been no Brontës. Even Emily, passionately, often angrily played by Nicole Cortese, is sidelined by her.

And what of poor Anne? Anne, the nice one, Anne the modest, self-effacing one who suspends her literary ambitions to become a governess, one of the lowest rungs of the Victorian social ladder, where she is bullied and humiliated by her employers and their nasty children. Somehow, she turns this unhappy experience into a scathing condemnation of abuse within marriage which was revolutionary in her day, and hits the jackpot with her book sales.

But in order to succeed the sisters had to pretend to be men, otherwise they would have been dismissed as mere ‘women writers.’ But this brings a conundrum. By pretending to be men they are, in a sense, beating the men at their own game and are somewhat protected by the mask, provided their true identities remain secret. Once they are revealed they are subject to the very condemnation they challenged in spite of, and because of, their success.

Sarah Gordon’s play doesn't delve too deeply into the books themselves; rather it is the Brontë myth that is explored and its status as a repudiation of patriarchy. Even Branwell Brontë (Connor Bailey), their wayward, drunken brother, who aspired to be a painter though he lacked the talent, is somehow portrayed as a victim of this London-based snobbery. Ironically by working together to create the image of the Bell brothers,  partly in order to protect him from full knowledge of himself, the sisters cannot help but buy into that snobbery.

Charlotte tries to rip the façade off the dominant ideology of the time by making herself into a literary superstar and using her fame to overturn the orthodoxy. It is self-conscious promotion with its roots in the past and its flower very much in the present. The cast, including an excellent ensemble, have great fun with it, playing with a punk / Gen Z theme. The performances are top-notch throughout, the three sisters well balanced in their characters, Charlotte as the apex of a triangle that could only function as a collective. (Nick Le Mesurier)

“I've always loved the book. I love English literature. I first read Jane Eyre at high school when I was 11 or 12 or 13 and I just loved it. I'm very much an Austen and Bronte girl. I read all of them but I always remember Jane Eyre struck me as such a fantastic heroine.

“I think she has such a strong will. She is so passionate and so determined to keep to her values and her morality and her desire to do what is right. I think that fascinated me as a child. You often see in people their kindness or their bravery and she's kind and brave but I think the main thing for Jane is doing what is right. She is willing sometimes to make people a little bit upset but it comes from a place not of weakness; it comes from a place of wanting to do the right thing. I love her strength and I think it is that core that really attracted me to Jane as a person. And I'm really interested to see what resonates with me now. I read it as a young person, and to come back to it again now it's interesting to rediscover it and to see what really resonates now.” (Phil Hewitt)

This time of year, you may come to crave dark, spooky stories, and “The Last Brontë” fits those needs perfectly with its Gothic deliciousness. Think: Daphne du Maurier-type, stormy-night squirms with a dangerously chaste, sweetly romantic girl-meets-girl twist for fun.

If it’s been awhile since you’ve read a Gothic novel, you’re in for a nice reminder of why you love them here. You can almost tick off the must-haves: a novel like this is nothing without a foreboding stone manor with damp walls; stone steps to a dank basement; a mysterious portrait; and a nearby bog, and author Catherine Friend gives readers every one of them. You’d be disappointed if there was no ghost, wouldn’t you? Ha. You can practically feel the cold blow through the attic, right? Yeah, it’s that kind of book.If you’re a fan of the Brontës, you’ll like this novel. If you love Gothic mysteries or Victorian romances, ditto. “The Lost Brontë” is good, no lie. (Terri Schlichenmeyer)

Nowadays, there are plenty of adaptations that blatantly acknowledge the literary classic that it is based on. In just February of this year, a movie adaptation of Emily Brontë’s “Wuthering Heights” hit theatres. [...]

The question becomes, are these adaptations a sign of a lack of creativity or is Hollywood’s ability to take literary classics unknown or disliked by the younger generations a show of creativity and innovative thinking? I’m not quite sure.

UTC junior Lexie Jones, a history and anthropology double major, gave her perspective on the question: “I don’t think it's a lack of creativity. Like ‘Wuthering Heights.’ I haven’t watched the new movie but it was a way to draw in people who probably would have never read the book.”

The movie adaptations may become a way to draw interest from our generation. The prospect of reading the classics, to most, might seem boring and a waste of time, especially if it has nothing to do with your major. The most popular book genres right now are romance or ‘romantasy,’ a term coined by TikTok. Fantasy, thrillers, science fiction and horror are the runner-ups. Classic fiction wasn’t really high on the list.

“Wuthering Heights” was advertised with phrases such as “drive me mad,” “come undone,” and "inspired by the greatest love story of all time.” The movie starred well-known actors Margot Robbie as Catherine Earnshaw and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, and was released on Valentine’s Day. The marketing was directed towards the generation that made romance the most popular book genre.

The movie only covered about half of the original novel, though. Watchers who were enamored by the love story on the screen can continue the story by returning to the novel. Adults who may have never considered opening the novel might just read it now, or at least stop and purchase it at the book store. (Haley Goodfriend)