'The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte' by Daphne du Maurier

This review is my tribute to a tortured soul on the anniversary of his death, for Branwell passed away all too soon on this very date in 1848. He's a young man whose plight has a way of lingering on my mind. I discovered this book at a great little seaside secondhand bookshop, and instantly bought it to add to my collection of Bronte lore. 

MY THOUGHTS:

This book is written in a documentary style. Daphne du Maurier was a huge fan of the Brontes, and it's very cool to see her tackle a non-fiction project of this calibre, changing her setting for once from her beloved seaside Cornwall to the chilly inland Yorkshire moors. 

She begins with the death of the unfortunate Branwell, aged just 31, then delves back into his past to examine the tragedy of the boy who got nowhere. Early on, he's described as, 'quick tempered, excitable, and as full of mischief as a bog pixie.' She explores how the sudden deaths of his two eldest sisters shocked the eight-year-old into 'an apprehension that would never leave him, that would for years fill his dreams by night, however much energy and fury he put into his days.'

Branwell Bronte was regarded by his family as a boy prodigy. He had an extensive vocabulary, photographic memory and fertile imagination. His peers were impressed by his ability to write two letters at once, holding one pen in each hand. He also played piano, which he did in his capacity as a junior member of the Freemasons. And he was quite a talented portrait painter, plugging away in his early twenties at his own business in Bradford. He even invented his own dialect for the fantasy land of Angria which he shared with his sister, Charlotte. The pair of them nicknamed their setting, 'the infernal world,' giving the title of this biography a grim double meaning. 

 It is sad to reflect that Reverend Patrick himself, for the best of reasons, might have been a catalyst in stuffing up his son's life. He strikes me as similar to the well-meaning menace in the old fable who attempts to rip open the cocoon for an emerging butterfly, thus causing its premature death. Perhaps Mr Bronte was too vigilant a caretaker. His valiant efforts to shield his sensitive son, and make his passage through the world as pain free as possible, stifled the frustrated young man who discovered, aged 20, that the sheltered lifestyle had fitted him for nothing. As a huge advocate for home education I don't say this lightly, but it might have been the wrong fit for Branwell in many ways. 

(However, I can't censure Reverend Patrick too severely, because he may well have been right. If he'd pushed Branwell into the brutal school system of that era, that may have proved disastrous in a totally different way. What a lose-lose situation.)

Reading this has stirred my sympathy for Branwell. It's easy enough for us in the 21st century to declare, 'He should've got his act together,' or, 'He didn't have what it takes.' But we're talking about the eight-year-old who was traumatized by the senseless deaths of two beloved sisters, and the 25-year-old who received a brutal triple blow with the loss of a vivacious young family friend, a best buddy of his, and the aunt who'd taken the place of his mother, almost all at once. 

He'd travailed at his aunt's bedside during her final agony while his sisters were away. And he suffered this grief at a time when it was a cinch to buy opium over the counter at the local chemist to dull any type of pain. 

Branwell was surely delusional at times, and wrote more than his fair share of waffly, egotistical letters, as du Maurier's extracts prove. I'm sure he was the dubious model for some of his sisters' drunken characters, such as Anne's Arthur Huntingdon and Emily's Hindley Earnshaw. It's easy to see how Branwell would've annoyed the heck out of everyone who knew and loved him, yet in spite of all this he was probably a courageous soul to have been as fun-loving as he reportedly was.   

Overall, you cannot help but feel compassion for this young man who pours his prodigious output into the deaf ears of an indifferent world, becoming famous on the coattails of his sisters for all the wrong reasons. He never wanted to be remembered for posterity as a fall-short, drunkard, and hopeless wreck, but a life of nothing but deferred hope takes its toll on a person's body, soul, and spirit. How could Branwell avoid bearing on his shoulders the demoralizing identity as a failure, especially with such a lot riding on his status as the 'The Son' in a patriarchal society, and the shining hope of his sisters.

How about that famous pillar painting of his, which he reputedly attempted to scrub himself out of. Almost two centuries later, traces of his image now show through a bit. This may be taken as a positive reinforcement that he truly deserves his spot along with his sisters in the family image. But if you're anything like me, the darkly comedic thought might have crossed your mind that he couldn't even get that right!   

Regarding the big scandal of his life, his relationship with Mrs Lydia Robinson, du Maurier paints her in a more sympathetic light than many Bronte biographers do. I find this very interesting, since she focuses her research on Branwell in particular, comes to understand him well, and conjectures that he may have blown a whole lot out of proportion in his usual delusional way. Also fascinating is the interesting evidence that Branwell may have written or collaborated with Emily on at least a portion of Wuthering Heights. (More on that another time.) 

Isn't life full of irony. One of Branwell's idols, and embodiments of success out of his reach was a poet named William Deardon. Poor Branwell longed for similar standing in the eyes of the world, yet as du Maurier points out, Deardon's only claim to fame now is having heard a live reading from Wuthering Heights straight from the lips of Emily Bronte's brother.

We'll never know how Branwell might have got along had he been born in the 21st century. I'm sure he would've found it a hard slog with all his personal issues, including whatever nervous and medical conditions ailed him along with probable bi-polar disorder. But I'd be willing to bet it might've suited him more than the infernal nineteenth century, to borrow his own term, and at least he might've survived beyond the age of 31. 

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'Fangirl' by Rainbow Rowell

Summary: A coming-of-age tale of fanfiction, family, and first love.

MY THOUGHTS:

Some anonymous donor dropped this novel off into our Little Free Book Library, and I considered it very timely, for I meant to read it someday. I know this book has been doing the rounds for years and since it found its way to me,  I've got onto it at last. 

The heroine is an introverted 18-year-old named Cath, who has a thriving fanfic following incognito. Her writing revolves around the Simon Snow series, a global phenomenon about an 11-year-student who attends a school of magick. (Yep, of course it's a thinly disguised replica of Harry Potter.)

 Meanwhile Cath's real life is fraught with difficulties. Her identical twin, Wren, is all for extroverting, drinking, and partying. Their single dad, Arthur, is a workaholic in the creative field of advertising, ever on the verge of breakdown, and their mother, Laura, who left when the girls were eight, is extending feelers after a decade of absence. Cath's roommate, Reagan, is a super-cool chick, and Reagan's best friend, Levi, is an effervescent soul who takes an interest in Cath, which is disconcerting. On top of all this is actual course work too. 

The most abrasive character for me is Professor Piper, the popular teacher who gives Cath an 'F' on a fiction writing assignment because it's fanfic. The professor is horrified for all the conventional reasons. Because Cath has adopted another author's created world and characters, Piper considers it plagiarism and theft of creative property. 

Her reasoning strikes me as somewhat shallow and reactive. The HUGE popularity of this style of writing alone fails to convince the Prof Pipers of the world that fanfic is a powerful tool for promoting positive social change. When well-beloved stories of our culture are tweaked to offer fresh insights, the resulting works of literature sometimes pack a greater punch than brand new material ever possibly could. It has been done in various forms for centuries. But even when Cath likens it to repurposing and recycling, Professor Piper won't budge from her fixed point of view.

Perhaps I'm negatively biased because this character has stepped on my toes, but as well as her narrow-mindedness, I find Piper's attitude of favoritism makes me gag. Every other student in the class must twig that Cath, despite her dwindling enthusiasm for the subject, is the teacher's pet. What Professor Piper is willing to do for one, such as extending deadlines unsought, she ought to do for every single student. So this professor has become one of those occasional characters who I don't like even though the author intends us to. 

The ending is somewhat disappointing. The story simply sputters to a stop. Several threads we're invested in are left dangling. However, I suppose the fact that I wanted them to go on, having plowed through almost 450 pages already, proves the compelling nature of Rowell's writing.

Overall, I enjoyed Fangirl. The characterization and dialogue are great, and the premise of a quiet and awkward young student who's secretly building a massive fanfic following is a winner for me. To quote Cath, 'I'd rather pour myself into a world I love and understand than try to make something up out of nothing.' It's a totally valid stance and I find it almost a shame that she finally caves in to pressure to write an original story. (Mild spoiler - the fact that Cath wins a prestigious prize for it after cranking it out so grudgingly makes me feel sad for other students who pour everything into their own efforts.)    

There is a sequel, or rather a companion novel to this one, entitled Carry On! We readers are to take it as the actual fan-fiction written by Cath throughout this novel, which sets my brain spinning. We are essentially being offered a fanfic by a fictional character about a non-existent book series. Even though there is no such thing as the original Simon Snow series by Gemma T Leslie, that hasn't stopped thousands of readers willing to read fanfic about it. Am I weird in preferring to stick to fanfics which are at least based on some existing material we can compare it with?  

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Note: If you'd like to explore my fanfiction page, including those I've read and those I've written, start here.

'Digital Minimalism' by Cal Newport

Summary: Minimalism is the art of knowing how much is just enough. Digital minimalism applies this idea to our personal technology. It's the key to living a focused life in an increasingly noisy world.

In this timely and enlightening book, the bestselling author of Deep Work introduces a philosophy for technology use that has already improved countless lives.

MY THOUGHTS: 

Cal Newport's voice is widely known for speaking dire warnings about the consequences of our twenty-first century online habits. He strikes me as someone standing in an Old Testament prophet sort of role, with one crucial difference. While those biblical prophets were brushed off as melancholic loonies during their own era, I think we all know in our deepest hearts that Newport speaks wisdom and common sense. As a race, we often simply prefer to drift along, spending passive hours on social media platforms anyway, driven by FOMO and the possible hope of positive reinforcement. 

This is why I feel books such as this one give me the indignant drive to actually see what's going on and do something about it. Here comes a brief summary of how Newport's research and study helps pull the wool away from my eyes.     

The smart entrepreneurs at Silicon Valley who set up our social media platforms play on our weaknesses. They know all about the power of intermittent reinforcement and quick dopamine fixes. But the problem for us as individuals is that any form of addiction is no good for us. These surges of dopamine play havoc with our overall contentment and wellbeing, yet we still fall for it. And when reinforcement in the form of likes, hearts, taps, and comments is not as frequent as we'd hope, the resulting sadness can cast a pall over our days. But it's a lose-lose situation, for even when it is forthcoming, we then set our bars higher and aim for even more. 

When I was about 19 years old, studying undergraduate Psychology, part of the mandatory course material was an experiment with poor rats down in the laboratory. We had to test their willingness to press a bar that distributed a handful of food pellets, and examine the power of intermittent reinforcement. I've never forgotten that, and feel certain that whistle blowers like Cal Newport are quite correct in pointing out that we ourselves are being played for rats, all so that some corporate giants can keep lining their own pockets. For if we regard ourselves as the consumers of social media platforms, he turns it upside down in pointing out that we are, in fact, the product. Big monopolies and advertisers are the 'consumers' who count on our taps and engagement in this attention economy. 

Newport also examines Henry David Thoreau's theory of 'new economics.' In a nutshell, for each small gain any activity might confer, Thoreau would examine the extreme cost on the other side of the scales. In Thoreau's nineteenth century example, a fine house with the best quality curtains, wallpaper and furnishings was paid for with the time, toil, maybe even blood, of hard work. In the case of our modern, digital era, Newport suggests that for our regular social media engagement and scrolling, we're sacrificing huge chunks of time, valuable solitude, quality of mood, shredding our attention spans and possibly straining our relationships. In a nutshell, we are paying for it with our lives.

Solitude Deprivation is a serious repercussion of our online era because many of us are spending zero minutes of time solely with our own thoughts, away from the non-stop input from other minds. The way Newport puts it is that, 'prioritizing communication over reflection is a source of serious concern.' Hence, he advises us to consistently create our own metaphorical cabins away, similar to Thoreau's actual cabin by Walden Pond. Possible ways of doing this may be taking long walks with our phones tucked away, journaling our reflections, and choosing high quality leisure, such as demanding arts and crafts. 

What I like about this book is that Newport isn't advising to quit our online lives completely. He advises us to take a month-long detox, then honestly assess whether each social media platform directly supports something we deeply value (for the fact that it offers some value is irrelevant). And oh man, after reading all of this, I feel seriously inclined to pare back even more than I already have.

I'm not giving five stars because some of Newport's counsel strikes me as somewhat extreme. Since he believes that nothing can beat real time spent with friends, either face-to-face or over the phone, he recommends never clicking likes or hearts on social media at all as a general rule. In Newport's opinion, these multiple 'on-line' friendships give us the mere illusion of 'real' relationships. Perhaps he's right to some extent, but as a shy introvert, I treasure my on-line friendships as more genuine than he gives them credit for. As for sending PMs or text messages instead of picking up the phone, having these wonderful options at my fingertips has been a game-changer for me. Making actual phonecalls was always something I dreaded, for when you think about it, you're surely interrupting people, whether it's welcome or not.     

I don't review or outline all of the non-fic books I read, but make an exception for potentially life-changing ones with valuable content. Newport's suggestions of 'high quality leisure' to replace this mindless scrolling is cool to read (like creating blog content like this). He sets us pondering whether or not we'd still voraciously use Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, X, and all the others if we had to pay for it. As for me, I'll certainly think carefully before I obey any impulse to check my stats on the sites I do value, namely this blog and Archive of Our Own. Do I really need to know right this second?

If you've ever been remotely anxious about digital well-being, then this is one of the books I'd recommend. 

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'Nemesis' by Agatha Christie

Summary: In utter disbelief, Jane Marple read the letter addressed to her from the recently deceased Mr Rafiel - an acquaintance she had met briefly while on vacation in St. Honore, as recounted in "A Caribbean Mystery."

Rafiel had left instructions for her to investigate a crime after his death. The only problem was, he had failed to tell her who was involved or where and when the crime had been committed. It was most intriguing. Soon she is faced with a new crime - the ultimate crime - murder. It seems someone is adamant that past evils remain buried.

MY THOUGHTS:

Miss Marple notices the name of an old acquaintance, Mr Rafiel, in the death column. It turns out he's bequeathed her ￡20 000, provided she solves a mystery with details he's very sketchy about. Rafiel has booked her a place, seemingly from beyond the grave, on a bus tour of famous houses and gardens of Great Britain. Miss Marple has no idea what she's meant to do but await further instructions from the dead man. It seems Mr Rafiel was determined not to influence her mindset, yet Miss Marple feels that going in blind is ridiculous. 

She discovers that Rafiel's only son is in jail, convicted of murdering his own fiance long ago. Young Michael Rafiel was generally regarded as a 'bad lot.' His father considered him 'morally sick' and beyond the hope of reform, yet believed him innocent of this heinous crime. His dying wish was to have it proved. The question is, who was the real murderer? Should Miss Marple consider any of the other passengers on the tour, or maybe one of three sisters who lives in the vicinity of their first stop?

The need for resolution becomes more urgent when another coach passenger, (I won't divulge who), is killed by a falling boulder. The fact that this person also seemed on the trail of young Verity's murderer convinces Miss Marple that this was no freak accident. Especially since two other young passengers are certain they saw an unidentified figure rolling the huge rock. Now there is at least one other murder involved, Miss Marple desperately doesn't want to fail. 

Some of her own beliefs make this story quite interesting. Throughout her long life, Miss Marple has noticed that, 'curious connections of incidents with special subjects seem to happen to people in life,' and in her own case, murders have a way of happening in her vicinity. (If Miss Marple happens to walk into your cafe, get out quick smart.) But her 'fine sense of evil' helps her get to the bottom of them. 

Regarding evil itself, she remarks:

'I don't like that sort of thing. If you expect me to feel sympathy, regret, urge an unhappy childhood, blame bad environment; if you expect me, in fact, to weep over him, this young murderer of yours, I do not feel inclined to do so. I do not like evil beings who do evil things.' 

And her new friend, Professor Wanstead, expert on the criminal brain, replies:

'I'm delighted to hear it... If people knew the bad environments that people have had, the unkindness, the difficulties of their lives and the fact that nevertheless they can come through unscathed, I don't think they would so often take the opposite point of view.'  

I figured out the murderer. This person was on my radar for similar reasons to those which occurred to Miss Marple. Since every fellow passenger had suspect potential, this should have been way harder to figure out than it was. I consider it a middling Marple mystery, so perhaps it's a good thing it was the last. 

Finally, the fact that the coach tour carried on after a passenger's tragic demise dates this 1971 publication! Holy Moley, my daughter who works in the travel industry confirms that if it happened in the 21st century, the rest of the tour would be cancelled as a matter of course and all the passengers refunded. 

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