C
CelticWarlord
Guest
I just finished this thousand-page tome and loved every minute of it. The only drawback was the sheer weight of it, even in paperback. Since I do most of my reading lying on my back in bed, holding the thing in place my thumbs barely survived some evenings. lol
The book, of course, details the lives of the Bronte family of the mid 19th century. Patrick, the father, born in Ireland and lived there until he was 20. The mother, Maria, who died of cancer just six months after they moved into their newest parsonage in Haworth on the Yorkshire moors, leaving 6 pre-teen children behind. The oldest two, Maria and Elizabeth, both of whom died of tuberculosis before the age of 12. The only son, Branwell, who died at 31 from disease and alcoholism. Then the famous sisters; Emily and Anne who died of TB at ages 30 and 28 respectively. And finally Charlotte, who lived to be 38 but died during pregnancy less than a year after being married. Patrick outlived not only his wife, but all his children, both of his long-serving and dedicated servants, and almost all his friends.
I loved many things about this volume. It is filled with small details which made everything come to life. Like the fact the children, whose father was an adult when he moved to England, were all said to speak with strong Irish accents. That as the village rector he was constantly at odds with the overseeing clerics from nearby Bradford. That Charlotte, at 4 foot 7 inches tall, was described as, “the tiniest adult I’ve ever seen outside the circus” by a visitor to tea. Learning that Emily was a total recluse who outright refused to join her sisters on a trip to London to meet the publisher and reveal exactly who they were. The pseudonyms under which the girls wrote, Currer, Acton, and Ellis Bell, allowed the authors to retain their own initials. These and many other details made every page a discovery but without the narrative ever becoming bogged down. And even learning that, in her later years, Charlotte finally read a couple of Jane Austen’s novels (Austen died the year before Charlotte was born) and was less than complimentary about them.
A most moving portrait within the text was this; when the three surviving sisters were well into their writing, both novels and poetry, it became a habit every evening after father and the servants had gone to bed, to walk around and around the dining room table, reading, discussing, and editing aloud that days work. After the death of her last two sisters, Charlotte continued this practice alone and could be heard late into the night walking around the table and talking out loud to her absent sisters.
A great book in every way, with sufficient photos to create clear mental images to carry one through the discourse.
The book, of course, details the lives of the Bronte family of the mid 19th century. Patrick, the father, born in Ireland and lived there until he was 20. The mother, Maria, who died of cancer just six months after they moved into their newest parsonage in Haworth on the Yorkshire moors, leaving 6 pre-teen children behind. The oldest two, Maria and Elizabeth, both of whom died of tuberculosis before the age of 12. The only son, Branwell, who died at 31 from disease and alcoholism. Then the famous sisters; Emily and Anne who died of TB at ages 30 and 28 respectively. And finally Charlotte, who lived to be 38 but died during pregnancy less than a year after being married. Patrick outlived not only his wife, but all his children, both of his long-serving and dedicated servants, and almost all his friends.
I loved many things about this volume. It is filled with small details which made everything come to life. Like the fact the children, whose father was an adult when he moved to England, were all said to speak with strong Irish accents. That as the village rector he was constantly at odds with the overseeing clerics from nearby Bradford. That Charlotte, at 4 foot 7 inches tall, was described as, “the tiniest adult I’ve ever seen outside the circus” by a visitor to tea. Learning that Emily was a total recluse who outright refused to join her sisters on a trip to London to meet the publisher and reveal exactly who they were. The pseudonyms under which the girls wrote, Currer, Acton, and Ellis Bell, allowed the authors to retain their own initials. These and many other details made every page a discovery but without the narrative ever becoming bogged down. And even learning that, in her later years, Charlotte finally read a couple of Jane Austen’s novels (Austen died the year before Charlotte was born) and was less than complimentary about them.
A most moving portrait within the text was this; when the three surviving sisters were well into their writing, both novels and poetry, it became a habit every evening after father and the servants had gone to bed, to walk around and around the dining room table, reading, discussing, and editing aloud that days work. After the death of her last two sisters, Charlotte continued this practice alone and could be heard late into the night walking around the table and talking out loud to her absent sisters.
A great book in every way, with sufficient photos to create clear mental images to carry one through the discourse.