Books To Dust Off

Books To Dust Off

Jane Eyre
Charlotte Bronte

Wuthering Heights
Emily Bronte

Here on Earth and Practical Magic
Alice Hoffman

by Lisa Paige-Stone

For every film based on a book, there is a discussion on whether the movie medium meets the expectations raised by the written, and the movie inevitably comes up short. Take a few recent releases as examples. The Beach, based on the novel by Alex Garland, has been panned by those who found the book both a gripping read and an adolescent classic for the Y Generation; Girl, Interrupted was criticized for being lighter weight than the book, which delved more deeply into the miasma of mental ill-health. So what’s the result when a novel is adapted for the stage?

“The Diary of Anne Frank” as adapted by Wendy Kesselman (the Open Stage version of which is reviewed elsewhere in this issue) was awarded a Pulitzer Prize. Perhaps it’s missing a few details, but it comes alive through drama that runs parallel to the book in its intensity and effectiveness. What will be discovered about “Jane Eyre,” opening next weekend at Theatre Harrisburg (see Just Around the Corner)? Well, as a theatre-goer you could rely on the critics to make the decision, you could reach back into the distant murky recesses of your memories of high school or college reading, or you could do something radical — dust off your ancient, torn, and highlighted copy of the novel by Charlotte Bronte (or find one at your local library) and reread it (or maybe finish it for the first time?).

The 400-some-odd-page text is daunting, there’s no question about that. But it’s also rewarding in a way many classics are when reread. We read them (or half of them … ahem) when we were way too naïve to appreciate them. This “classic love story,” as the theatre publicity describes the novel, is a hell of a lot more than just that. Feminist critics in the 1970s rediscovered Bronte’s masterpiece along with a few others written by women of the Victorian period and were sharp enough to discover that they weren’t just stories about governesses who fell in love with their “masters,” like those romance genre paperbacks with lusty covers that line the shelves at the supermarket. No, in fact, Jane is a character strong enough to refuse her man when she discovers a reason she doesn’t want him, regardless of his dark good looks and sexual attraction. And then she’s strong enough to resist yet another “easy way out” when she’s struggling on her own. Jane’s not one to be “rescued” by a white or dark knight. She fights her way to independence and discovers that the dignity of remaining herself is worth a whole lot more than a room in a nice country manor with a slew of servants to supervise or even a quiet life with a perfectly nice and devoted husband who doesn’t stir her soul. The discoveries of this classic are worth the long read; it’s one to dust off and revel in. Look for the price Mr. Rochester has to pay for his misdeeds; you’ll see that Bronte lets no male abuse of woman go unpunished. And the bonus is that you’ll be prepared to judge the Theatre Harrisburg production for yourself.

Now that you’ve been hooked by Charlotte, pick up her sister’s widely assigned and unread high school English teachers’ favorite Wuthering Heights, and find delicious distraction for another dreary weekend afternoon. Here’s another vivid portrayal of the problems of being a woman in the 19th Century (and you thought the 21st was looking bleak). This novel was also long mis-read by generations of male critics who thought the wild Cathy had eventually paid the price for not appreciating how good her life was with the mild-mannered Edgar Linton. Delve into the real situation. Cathy, passionately in love with Heathcliffe, but unable to keep face in society if she marries him, makes the “logical” choice of husband — someone who will “take care of her.” Well, care she receives, but her soul withers without the object of her true passion. This tale tells of the destructiveness of following society’s guidelines for wellness and acceptability at personal cost — the cost of “settling,” something Jane Eyre refused to do.

Then, with the tangy flavors of this feisty classic still on your lips, search out a copy of Alice Hoffman’s 1997 novel, Here on Earth. Hoffman, who has said in interview that in this novel she set out to rewrite the Cathy and Heathcliffe story in modern terms, reaches again the mystical heights of her previous novels (Illumination Night, TurtleMoon) in a book you simply won’t be able to put down. Here, she explores the sort of fatal attraction between two people who discovered passion in one another as adolescents, one of whom went on for the lesser thrills of the quietly satisfying relationship. Ignoring deep and urgent desire in Wuthering Heights was that which led to devastation; Hoffman investigates the potential for ruin in the consummation of that original overpowering obsession.

And then take a look back at Practical Magic, Hoffman’s lush and comic exploration of the difficulty of being brought up a witch. Don’t worry if you already saw the movie, because it was at best loosely based on the plot of the book. This read will undoubtedly be easier; compared to either of the Bronte’s works, you’ll fly through the several hundred pages, and find a lot more to laugh at along the way. But you’ll also feel the queasiness borne of society’s discomfort with anyone or anything different.

Consistent among the themes of all four novels is the woman’s search for a partner who understands her for what she is, doesn’t try to control or mold her or twist her beyond recognition. All main characters suffer through periods of confusion that they must weather in order to learn who they really are. Victorian or modern, the woman author seems intrigued by the problem.