For the uninitiated, first let me say that Brontė studies isn't merely an academic specialty. It is a cult. As Miss Austen has her Janeites, so Charlotte, Emily, Anne and sometimes Branwell have their devoted (if less succinctly monikered) following.
The result is that debates linger which otherwise might have died away in under a century and a half. One is attribution. Ever since the names of Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell appeared in print, people have argued over who wrote what. "Last Things" inserts a fresh word into this and other ongoing Brontė controversies.
But don't be misled. This book is neither a retracing of tired ground nor a tortured argument driven by the bare hope of saying something new. It is, first and foremost, an examination of Emily Brontė's poems offered in language as incisive as a well-honed blade. Gezari's taut economy of expression occasionally creates enigmas. Chapter five, for instance, makes passing reference to ambiguity in a section of verse that, to my eyes, admits only one interpretation. A very few such moments aside, "Last Things" bears its readers along in close reading that is as vividly alive to the feel of the poetry as to its signification.
Gezari warns at the outset that the poems give little information on the private life of their author, yet the accumulated insights of this book provide a glimpse, like a shadow in a mirror, of someone quite different from the misanthropic self-hurter, the feminine Heathcliff with the rage turned inward, in whose form Emily has been known. At the heart of Brontė's poems, "Last Things" discovers a view of life bound to give us all pause on a human and personal level as well as a literary one.