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Building on the reputation she established so resonantly in her first novel, The Whirlpool, Jane Urquhart now takes the reader on a magical and daring voyage - one that leads from the English moors (where the memory of Emily Bronte is as dark as it is magical) to Venice and modern-day Toronto. Changing Heaven tells the store of Ann, a young Bronte scholar, and of her doomed love affair with Arthur, an art historian obsessed with Tintoretto. Interwoven with this is the tragic, parallel tale of Arianna Ether, a turn-of the-century balloonist in love with the brooding Jeremy. These are no simple love stories: for as in the paintings of Tintoretto, light and shadow themselves become palpable forces; and as in the novels of Bronte, love and its storms (literal and figurative) take on transcendent meaning. Jane Urquhart masterfully blurs the lines between reality and memory, sequential time and imagined time, to produce a rich and powerful meditation on the act of artistic creation, the ways in which myths enter our lives, and the cyclical nature of love. Changing Heaven is a deeply moving work, by an author who is willing to test not only the limits of the conventional novel, but also the sensibilities of the reader - a writer able to throw a bridge between past and present, heaven and earth, and to do it with breathtaking skill.
A brilliant riff on Emily Brontë's WUTHERING HEIGHTS, this highly original novel is as bracing and wild as the weather itself, impossible to pin down, virtually plotless, yet sweeping all before it. Just as one speaks of a novel of ideas, this is a novel of emotions -- emotions in their purest form, taking possession like a natural force, and largely divorced from the normal ties of cause and effect. This is not a book for those who demand realism and logic rather than a novel organized by poetic association and contrast. But for those who approach it as the unique vision of a poet who just happens to be writing in prose -- wondrous prose -- it is something very special indeed.I have now read all but two of Jane Urquhart's novels, and know nothing quite like this one from 1990, which barely seems to touch the ground. True, SANCTUARY LINE, her latest, has also the structure of poetry, revisiting scraps of memory, probing and elucidating, but its basic story is down to earth; indeed that is its essence. The other three that I have read -- AWAY (1993), THE STONE CARVERS (2001), and A MAP OF GLASS (2005) -- tell their stories in a more-or-less linear way, although all show Urquhart's characteristic delight in juxtaposing different periods, and AWAY and MAP especially have traces of the otherworldly elements that are so strong here. All of her later novels are set largely in her native Ontario; although Toronto makes an appearance here (as does Venice), the primary setting is the wild Yorkshire moorland near Haworth, where the Brontë sisters grew up. And even here, her concern is less the heather and crags so much as the clouds scudding over them, driven by a restless wind.The novel brings together three women from different centuries. One is Emily Brontë herself, who appears as a rather personable ghost. The second is a turn-of-the-century balloonist, Arianna Ether, who performed for her manager and lover Jeremy Jacobs, the "Sindbad of the Skies." The third is a Canadian, Ann Frear, who has developed her childhood passion for WUTHERING HEIGHTS into an academic career in English. Shattered by an affair with a colleague named Arthur, an art historian who is also living out a passion for the darker works of Tintoretto, she takes a sabbatical in Yorkshire to write a book on Brontë's weather. But these are just the axes around which the elemental opposites of the novel revolve: passion and peace, wildness and domesticity, heath and hearth.For most of the novel, the more dramatic elements predominate: the wild wind, the barren landscape, Tintoretto's dark visions lit by flashes of lightning, the unbroken whiteness of the arctic wastes. But, despite what I said about the relative absence of plot, we do begin to care a lot for Ann as a person, and feel for her as she finds a different kind of love from an unexpected source. We know she will never be free of her wild side, but now the question of balance becomes important. Nothing in this novel is as impressive as the way in which Urquhart moves towards that resolution at the end, and the evocative simplicity of her final sentence is heart-stopping.