Branwell: A Novel of the Bronte Brother

Last night, quite unexpectedly, I recieved an email from Mr Richard Nash, publisher from the Soft Skull Press in Brooklyn, announcing the publication of Branwell: A Novel of the Bronte Brother by Douglas A. Martin. In addition, I have some news about the Canadian distribution of the novel. Mr. Nash informs me that Torontonians should look to This Ain’t The Rosedale Library for plenty of copies, and for those interested in the latest, look out for a review in the Eye Weekly.

I was more surprised to find a lengthy excerpt attached to the email- the first 24 pages of 'Branwell'. Although it does appear to be the first 24 pages, I cannot believe that this is so. It is a strange excerpt and rather difficult to describe. It is not the beginning of a novel, it is not the introduction to one, and it is not a synopsis but it appears to be something leaning towards all and none of these things. I believe it is a rough work, whatever it may be. I suspect that I may have been sent something else by mistake. It resembles a verbal depiction of images in a trailer for a film, more than anything else.

From what I can tell from this, the novel should wrestle with the fill spectrum of Branwell's history. I cannot say much more than this. The text is a series of observations, in various tenses and sometimes bad grammar (hense my belief that this is not actually the finished work). The sections nearer to Branwell's adulthood seem to become quite interesting. Overall, there's not much to glean from this. I do have one comment to make, however, and it is a troubling one. It appears that Anne comes in for some rough treatment of some kind or another. She is mentioned twice, I believe, and both times it is only to mention her 'lisp' or 'lisping' and 'trying to catch up' to Branwell and Charlotte:

Ah, now all seriousness would disappear from the magazine now that Charlotte's taken over. They'll have smiling faces everywhere.
She says it's not true.
Charlotte is going to write a story about the Little King.
He is spoilt and lazy, imperious, unreliable.
He commits violent, unpredictable acts.
And Branwell leaves his shirt open at the neck, to show how he's a poet. Anne only lisps and stutters trying to keep up with him and Charlotte and the fights they have over their little Town.

The text excerpt ends, in fact:

Young Soult could be melodramatic, like Byron, Charlotte says.
Branwell and Charlotte love Byron. And Emily loves him, too.
He drinks too much. And he gambles.
Captain Budd gambles, and it would be the end of his brilliant career.
The Glass Town poet's clothes hung off him, his socks had holes, his shoes were all worn out.
Does Branwell know how to spell the lisp Anne talks with. [sic]
Does he have any idea. [sic]

I am definately interested in seeing what comes of all of this, but I cannot believe that this is actually the way the novel is written.