The problem with a well written novel about a classic author, particularly when the novel is based on facts, is that it makes you want to go back and re-read those old classics. A book like that might spur you to pick up a never-read book by the classic author. Romancing Miss Bronte caused this over and over again. Because not only did I feel compelled to read (and re-read) the works of Charlotte, I realized I’ve never read Agnes Gray… and I was tempted to dig into Elizabeth Gaskell, too. Thankfully, nothing in the story compelled me to re-read Thackeray (shudder – that’s worse than The Moonstone!)
I tried to fight off the urge, but in those last pages, as Charlotte lay dying, I grabbed the iPad and started downloading. Maybe just the act of downloading Agnes Gray and Shirley and Mary Barton will be enough. Maybe I’ll get off easy… unlike any of the Bronte sisters. Or maybe I should download Vanity Fair and read a few pages – that should knock some sense into me, right?