Several years ago, I reread Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights. This lead to the reading of every biography I could find on Charlotte Bronte. Which lead to the reading of Emily Bronte's poems. Which lead to the reading of Anne Bronte's Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Which lead to the reading of Villette and The Professor, but only one-third of Shirley. Which led me to dragging out my French dictionary because my French was so rusty. Which doesn't sound pretentious at all. Which led me to checking out, but only reading half of the Bronte's Juvenalia. I was utterly on overload by then, winding down like a thing that winds down.
What interested me most was the personal information about the Bronte's familial genius and the copious, prolific writing that was the center of their collective youth. Apparently, they didn't play exactly like other children; they wrote. They made up a complex fictional world after playing with a set of Branwell's toy soldiers, and wrote of its characters and happenings on an ongoing basis; Charlotte pairing up with Branwell to write their portion, and Emily and Anne pairing up to write their portion.
What interested me most was the personal information about the Bronte's familial genius and the copious, prolific writing that was the center of their collective youth. Apparently, they didn't play exactly like other children; they wrote. They made up a complex fictional world after playing with a set of Branwell's toy soldiers, and wrote of its characters and happenings on an ongoing basis; Charlotte pairing up with Branwell to write their portion, and Emily and Anne pairing up to write their portion.
Portions of these tales were suprisingly amoral (not my word, but the word of every biographer who wrote on this subject). Surprising because they were, after all, the sheltered children of a clergyman. But I suspect the reading material to which they were exposed was the source of the mature subject matter of their juvenalia. As an adult, Charlotte would, ultimately, make a concerted effort to leave this imaginary world behind - even writing a determined "goodbye" in order to loosen it's grip on her imagination.
But, again, the most fascinating part, to me, is how naturally they adapted to this written world - polishing and honing and perfecting their skills. What sort of children want to stay in all day and write and think and write and think? Then send detailed notes to one another on plots and outcomes? Motherless as they were, it doesn't seem unusual, but..... it still seems unusual.
I would call such people geniuses on the basis of all that writing alone, but to have done it so young.....well. And I don't know why I always equate prodigious amounts of writing with genius, but I do.
This concludes the educational portion of your day.
But, again, the most fascinating part, to me, is how naturally they adapted to this written world - polishing and honing and perfecting their skills. What sort of children want to stay in all day and write and think and write and think? Then send detailed notes to one another on plots and outcomes? Motherless as they were, it doesn't seem unusual, but..... it still seems unusual.
I would call such people geniuses on the basis of all that writing alone, but to have done it so young.....well. And I don't know why I always equate prodigious amounts of writing with genius, but I do.
This concludes the educational portion of your day.
Call me when a Bronte writes about a snort, then I'll be impressed.
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