Behind the Green Gates

Feline doppelganger observes and comments on war, literature, sex, mankind, biology, Afghanistan,
tree-hugging, music, art, God and gods, America, books, politics and the return of the Florida anole.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Unsystematic Ruggedness

" ...all this ruggedness is unsystematic. ...It needs folding up and compressing-say into the size of a garden plot. Then you could get your inspiriting ruggedness all in one dose, without having to go to a lot of trouble and tire yourself out," so says the new curate of the Bronte's father, when he might well of been speaking of Emily, Charlotte and Anne themselves rather than of the moors. For they sprawl throughout the book, brilliantly longing for the worlds in books they've grown abnormally attached to. It can't end well, one thinks. But, though tired of the endless journey, one continues trudging across the desolate lands with them, waiting for a break, anything. When the brother, upon of course the weight of all their futures is borne, begins sipping laudanum, even the most crumpled of wind-blown trees seems to shrink somehow more.

No comments :

Post a Comment