Branwell by Douglas A. Martin  - 1⭐

Branwell by Douglas A. Martin - 1⭐

In Branwell: A Novel of the Brontё Brother, Douglas A. Martin zeros in on the life of Patrick Branwell Brontё, the infamous brother of the acclaimed, world-renown authors Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontё. Readers familiar with the Brontё family history will most likely already know that Branwell struggled his whole life with alcoholism and an opium addiction that accelerated his untimely demise. Martin takes us step-by-step, from the birth of the only Brontё boy to his last breath, as he attempts to paint a clear picture to help us understand what exactly led to Branwell’s troubled life.

Branwell’s life is veiled in darkness after the death of his mother and his two eldest sisters, Elizabeth and Maria, the latter whom he was particularly close to. Though growing up in a world of make-believe where he, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne learn to hone their talents in writing and painting, Branwell is haunted by the loss of so many loved ones at such a young age. To add to his childhood confusion, his father, a poor Anglican priest, sets all his hopes and dreams on his one and only son. Branwell will someday grow up to be the hero that pulls the family out of misery and poverty. Further instilling the belief that Branwell is destined for greatness, he’s kept out of school to be taught at home, while all his sisters leave as they go off to study and broaden their horizons.

As Branwell grows up, he fails to fit the mold his father fashioned for him. He fails as a writer, as a painter, as a tutor, and often seeks alcohol and opium to help numb his anxiety as he’s fired from nearly every job. His sisters support him, often working to help him realize his dreams, even as he flip-flops between deciding if he wants to pursue painting or writing. It’s not until he’s fired from a tutoring job where he’s accused of carrying on an affair with the mistress of the house — although the narrative also implies an inappropriate relationship with his young student — that he returns home to his father and sisters with all hope lost and to wait out, in delirium and confusion, the last years of his short life.

If Martin’s aim with Branwell was to create sympathy for the lost Brontё brother, then he failed to do so. He paints Branwell as a victim of circumstance, as a boy haunted by death, who never quite figures out how to fulfill his father’s hopes for him. All this while growing up surrounded by the leading example of three young women who, in spite of the confinements of their gender, manage to carve a path for themselves and leave a mark on the world.

Martin’s declarative, third-person omniscient style does nothing to evoke emotion, at times seeming like he’s trying to make poetry out of bulleted facts. His style also creates a sense of detachment: Instead of helping us to narrow in on Branwell’s personal experience, it feels as though we’re living in the same town as the Brontёs and listening to highly articulate gossip about someone we’re kind of acquainted with. There’s nothing to learn in Branwell — nothing that adds to the conversation or the imagination — that one couldn’t learn in a shorter time by doing a Wikipedia search.

However, if Martin’s aim was to create a contrast between the disparities in gender, the heights to which expectations for Branwell were raised, simply for being male, as opposed to the heights his sisters did reach even when not much was expected of them, then there, one could argue, is where his narrative might thrive. It’s in those moments when the sisters are rising as the brother is falling that the narrative becomes more interesting. However, if Branwell, as the protagonist, at times appears like a distant character, his sisters are even more intangible to the reader. The narrative loyally focuses on Branwell, his failed aspirations, and the unhealthy ways in which he copes, the ways in which he brings ruin everywhere he goes. The passing mentions of his sisters are only made in relation to him, like shadows passing through the stage of his life. Their presence is never strong enough for the reader to feel like a direct comparison is being made.

Though my personal experience reading this book left my hopes for the narrative deflated, I was still able to discern the moments in the Brontё’s lives, the hardship brought into their home by Branwell, that helped to inspire the somber themes that run through and connect the Brontё sisters’ novels, and that, in some small way, amped up my interest. With that in mind, Brontё aficionados and fans of classical literature may find an interesting collector’s piece in Branwell.
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