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Blog post“Please, take my hand,” Charlotte reached back to her sister, “or I’m afraid I’ll lose you like a feather in this wind.” Today marks the anniversary of the death of Anne Brontë on May 28th, 1849 in Scarborough, North Yorkshire.
When I was writing my novel portrait of Anne, Without the Veil Between, Anne Brontë: A Fine and Subtle Spirit (published in late 2017), I gave a lot of consideration to how I would handle her death at the age of 29. I knew at the outset, as moving as -
Blog postI originally shared this post in 2018, when I had begun writing my fictional portrait of Christina Rossetti. It continues to be a work in progress, with an ever-changing finishing line – now in sight by the end of this summer. Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day and in the last few years my novel building has come up against many challenges, mostly because of the care of my elderly mother. But somehow I have kept at it, brick by brick. (At the end of this post, I offer a little – very little – e
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Blog postWell, it seems unbelievable, but today marks forty-five years since I was married (March 27, 1976). No, I can’t celebrate being married that long. The marriage lasted sixteen years before I returned to the US from England without my husband (he refused to live in the US). It was another two years or so before we were officially divorced.
I wrote and first posted this poem in 2011. I feel it will one day find its way into a story.
For now …
It might be
she had drea -
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Blog postMarch 21st is World Poetry Day. Why would she write novels if only age, love, and death changed her? Poetry would be enough, a more natural and satisfying means of expression. It suited her pensiveness and piety, could be composed in isolated moments and reflect without analyzing. Poetry was a solitary art; even when read by others, its author could go unnoticed. It was perfect for disappearing into.
~ from Without the Veil Between, Anne Brontë: A Fine and Subtle Spirit That -
Blog postItaly cancels Venice Carnival 2021 VENICE, Italy — In another year, masks would be a sign of the gaiety in Venice, an accessory worn for games and parties as big crowds parade about to show off their frivolous, fanciful costumes, especially ones with decorative face coverings.
The Italian canal city’s Carnival festivities should have started Saturday (January 30 – February 16, 2021), but the covid-19 pandemic has made its annual appointment for more than two weeks of merry-making imp -
Blog postBut as above that mist’s control
She rose, and brighter shone … from Fluctuations by Anne Brontë
January 17, 2021, marks 201 years since Anne Brontë was born in Thornton, West Yorkshire, England, youngest of the six children of Maria Branwell from Penzance and Irish clergyman Patrick Brontë.
My novel Without the Veil Between, Anne Brontë: A Fine and Subtle Spirit is my love letter to Anne. Not Anne, the ‘less gifted’ sister of Charlo -
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Blog postOn this New Year’s Day 2021, I was reminder by the first two stanzas of this poem by Christina Rossetti (Old and New Year Ditties) of why I was and continue to be compelled to write my current work-in-progress novel about her, and how in sync I am with her melancholic hope and sensibilities:
New Year met me somewhat sad:
Old Year leaves me tired,
Stripped of favourite things I had
Baulked of much desired:
Yet farther on my road to -
Blog postWith a guest appearance and piano performance by Brontë aficionado Mick Armitage Anne knew life couldn’t fail her as long as she acknowledged the blessings of animals and nature, music and prayer.
from Without the Veil Between My vision for Without the Veil Between, Anne Bronte: A Fine and Subtle Spirit was to explore and expand the “asides” of Anne’s life in and out of the context of the more familiar Brontë narrative: one being her fondness for music (a subject that, as tho -
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Blog postFarewell
by Anne Brontë Farewell to thee! but not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
O, beautiful, and full of grace!
If thou hadst never met mine eye,
I had not dreamed a living face
Could fancied charms so far outvie.
If I may ne’er behold again
That form and face so dear to me,
Nor hear thy voice, still would I fain
Preser -
Blog postThe sun nor loiters nor speeds,
The rivers run as they ran,
Through clouds or through windy reeds
All run as when all began. from
Time Flies, A Reading Diary
by Christina Rossetti
December 5th entry
(First published 1885)
Christina is the subject of my work-in-progress next novel, The Dove Upon Her Branch.
From left to right: Christina, Dante Gabriel, Frances (mother), William, and Maria Rossetti
Photograph by Charles Dodgson, AKA -
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