So Close But Yet So Far

When I was in high school, my AP Brit Lit teacher, Mrs. Michaels, gave an assignment to read any British novel and write a paper on said novel. This paper was the real deal -- footnotes and references, a thesis statement -- all the stuff I was no where near prepared for at the time (need I remind you that computers were not yet a household item rather electric typewriters and those plastic whiteout strips reigned). 

I searched that two page list of titles and my head hurt at the thought of reading some stuffy old book by some dead Englishmen. I decided to cross out all the novels written by men and see what the women had to offer. As you can imagine, that left me with a very short list. And there, at the top of the list, were the names of two sisters, Charlotte and Emily Bronte.  Jane Eyre sounded too simple but Wuthering Heights, now that seemed dark and tragic (just like I loved my literature!). Needless to say, I fell in love with Catherine, Heathcliff and the moors. I was so enamored with the book, I finished it in a week and I made multiple trips to the school library (no internet research folks, this is 1987) and read all I could about Emily and her family.  I was so sad to discover that Emily didn't write any other novels because she died so young -- I actually cried. I loved this family with its sensitive sisters and unruly brother.  They were plagued with illness and died very young, yet somehow despite their sequestered lives, they produced some of the best British Literature that survives in the literary canons to this day. 

I went on to read everything I could find that any of the Brontes had ever written. As my literary life grew, so did my readings of the Brontes; biographies, literary criticism, articles and the like. I could envision the little parsonage they grew up in and I could see the rolling hills outside of Emily's bedroom window. In some ways, I feel like I've been there, but I haven't. Not yet. 

Haworth, their little hamlet, is a two hour train ride from London (imagine the trip back then!) and will require an overnight stay at a little B&B.  Despite the journey ahead of me, I will go to their home and walk their garden and put my hand on the very staircase banister that Emily held onto when she went up the stairs of her home for the last time before she died in confinement in her little room.  

I'm sure you can sense my passion for the Brontes after reading this blog; imagine my post after I've gone to their home! I may be speechless and beyond the written word for a while, but I will definitely recover and tell you all about it. 

Love,

The Temporary European yearning for the little village of Haworth

PS Despite additionally reading Jane Eyre and doing a paper on both sisters and their works, Mrs. Michaels gave me a C; she said my thesis was too weak. Sadly, she was too jaded to realize she had inspired a student to read not one but two books, start a life-long love of literature and plant the seed that eventually led to a doctorate in literature. Sad, sad, sad, for her.