Project Rational — Rocky Farm Studio Books

PROJECT RATIONALE

SOURLAND FARM

My project began after deciding to re-read Emily Brontë’s novel, Wuthering Heights, and I remembered that much of the language around relationship, family, child rearing, or romantic attachment is not relatable to a modern reader; sometimes it is unclear what is happening in these chapters. So, I wanted to look at the issues around dysfunctional families and romantic obsession in Victorian culture that have been stricken from the modern view of psychological health, especially for young people. I began the process of translating, through research on Victorian English and Yorkshire dialogue, each word and phrase that required a modern understanding and accurate analogies.

Sourland Farm paints a realistic view of mid-century American rural society while also adding magical elements, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality. By adding supernatural phenomena in an otherwise mundane setting, a union of the real and the magical is created, just as Brontë did in her classic tale. Sourland Farm follows 6-year-olds Caroline Earnst and Hadley Moore, from their meeting in 1967 to the very end of their lives. The Sourland Mountain of New Jersey, an isolated place long thought to be haunted, makes a perfect setting for Victorian gothic homage. Behind the novel’s standalone value, it is a study in Victorian vs. modern societies for those familiar with Brontë’s story.

Having said that, certain scenes, which were not meant to be magical in Brontë’s story, for instance, Heathcliff instructing the sexton to have his future coffin’s side removed along with Catherine’s opposing side, so that their bodies could rot and mix together, presented a modern day impossibility. In order not to lose its psychological impact, I converted it to a dream sequence.

I think “retellings” can open up literature from the past. We can get people who are not familiar with 18th century Yorkshire and Victorian English thinking about what Emily Brontë can tell us about our own culture and inform our current moment.

In my retelling of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, I take the author’s interest in familial abuse, violence, and obsession, and make it understandable to a contemporary audience. I explore the novel’s significance and the challenge of translating child neglect and generational trauma from her Victorian world to the present day, hoping to also impart historical empathy to those in her work. Is she portraying mental illness or the very essence of human nature itself, as natural as the wind and rain?

I wanted to be analogous with her depictions of violence; and be very careful with the language of the body because Emily Brontë is so interested in physical appearances and how they reflect inward character and moral traits. The way that she connects the body of each character with power, apathy, jealousy, kindness, despair—that is all very interesting to me.

When the text uses words and phrases whose uses and definitions have changed in modern American English, I did not want to use her original terms. One small example is how Brontë uses “wink,” which does not mean the same thing as “wink” means to us; it means to ignore—changing her scene’s meaning, considerably, for a modern reader.

Translating the ravings of Yorky Joseph in Wuthering Heights to mid-century American English spoken by Sourland’s Joe was another challenge.

Victorian Yorkshire: I heard only a week ago—it was Joseph who told me—I met him at Gimmerton: Nelly,’ he said, ‘we’s hae a crowner’s ’quest enow, at ahr folks’. One on ’em ’s a’most getten his finger cut off wi’ hauding t’ other fro’ stickin’ hisseln loike a cawlf. That’s maister, yah knaw, ’at ’s soa up o’ going tuh t’ grand ’sizes. He’s noan feared o’ t’ bench o’ judges, norther Paul, nur Peter, nur John, nur Matthew, nor noan on ’em, not he! He fair likes—he langs to set his brazened face agean ’em! And yon bonny lad Heathcliff, yah mind, he’s a rare ’un. He can girn a laugh as well ’s onybody at a raight divil’s jest. Does he niver say nowt of his fine living amang us, when he goes to t’ Grange? This is t’ way on ’t:—up at sun-down: dice, brandy, cloised shutters, und can’le-light till next day at noon: then, t’ fooil gangs banning un raving to his cham’er, makking dacent fowks dig thur fingers i’ thur lugs fur varry shame; un’ the knave, why he can caint his brass, un’ ate, un’ sleep, un’ off to his neighbour’s to gossip wi’ t’ wife. I’ course, he tells Dame Catherine how her fathur’s goold runs into his pocket, and her fathur’s son gallops down t’ broad road, while he flees afore to oppen t’ pikes!’

Translation: “I heard only a week ago – it was Joe who told me when I met him in Hopewell – that he expected a coroner's inquest soon, at Sourland Farm.

“Apparently, according to Joe, Hadley almost had his finger cut off while holding back Brandon from sticking him like a young dolt. That’s Brandon, for you. As Joe says, ‘He fears not God nor man; he does whatever he wants!’ And, Joe called Hadley, a piece of work. ‘He’d laugh right in the Devil’s face,’ Joe told me.

“He wondered if Hadley every told us at Ponden Place about his daily routine at the farm. He says Hadley’s up at sundown; poker games all day long; and lots of drinking behind closed curtains, until next day at noon. Then, Brandon, goes cursing and raving up to his room. And, Hadley – he counts his winnings, eats, sleeps a bit, and then, off to Jared Dorman’s house to gossip with Caroline.

“Of course, Hadley tells Caroline how her father’s inheritance flows right into his pockets, and her father’s son’s going down the road to ruin while he opens the gate!”

Readers and Victorian Studies students often cite examples of violence and cruelty in the original novel, such as a young boy’s hanging of puppies. But, this was not a description of cruelty; it simply set a scene for the reader. Drowning, hanging, and shooting were the only methods 18th century people had to control animal populations, especially in a remote rural farm setting like Wuthering Heights. Although Brontë certainly used this detail to set the mood of a scene, she was not ascribing cruelty or sadistic behavior on the part of the actor, which is how it is commonly interpreted by readers today. Assigning the task to a child may be her commentary, but that is all. These are the parts where analogy is critical to maintain the scene and message. In Sourland Farm my character boxes the puppies for transport to a shelter, because to do otherwise in a modern environment would be cruel and violent. Without analogy to reflect contemporary norms, the distractions of past cultural behaviors can destroy the spirit of her book, affecting how her characters are understood and judged.

Emily Brontë gets readers thinking the most about questions of their own emotional reactions and cultural moment. We are still defined by relationship; we are still wrestling with many of the same questions about gender and power. She is also concerned with many of the same questions that we are. For example, how does violence, betrayal, or degradation change us? She is interested in the psychology of trauma.

In Sourland Farm, readers experience the power of forgiveness and how forgiveness can be used as a healing device, a way of reasserting control over our own lives. These are universal human experiences.