Fine Books and Collections features a couple of current displays of Brontë items:

Newstead Abbey in Nottinghamshire, England, the now publicly owned ancestral home of Lord Byron, has just opened a new exhibition of objects on loan from the Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth showing the influence that Byron had on the Brontë family who grew up in the years after his death in 1824.
On display is a first edition of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Anne Brontë’s second novel which has a distinctly Byronic chief male protagonist, and Branwell Brontë's notebook from his time working at Luddendenfoot railway station in Calderdale, filled with poetry and sketches that includes examples of his interest in boxing, which Byron also enjoyed.
Also on show is a lovely watercolor painting by Charlotte Brontë, a copy of The Atheist viewing the dead body of his wife by Alfred B Clayton. “The central figure has been utterly Byronified,” said Simon Brown, curator at Newstead Abbey. The exhibition runs until April 2020.
At the Brontë Parsonage Museum itself, the Patrick Brontë: In Sickness and In Health exhibition presenting the medical life and times of the siblings’ father runs until January 1 and includes Anne’s blood-speckled handkerchief, Patrick’s carefully annotated medical manuals, and the family’s spectacles.
And finishing at the end of October this year at the parsonage is the Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee audio experience featuring ten of Emily Brontë’s poems set to music by Adrian McNally and sung by popular folk group The Unthanks. Listeners can enjoy the music on headphones as they take a circular walk through the churchyard and onto the moors towards Penistone Hill, close to the parsonage. (Alex Johnson)

This contributor to Cherwell blames Emily Brontë for the 'worrying fad of idolizing sociopaths and killers'.

Not for the first time, I blame Wuthering Heights.
I’m talking about the book, though I’m sure anyone who’s heard my rendition of the Kate Bush classic would say that’s pretty reproachable too. No, what I’m blaming on Emily Brontë’s iconic novel is something far more scandalous than my bad karaoke. I’d argue she started the current increasingly worrying fad of idolizing sociopaths and killers. She took the genie out of the bottle, and in the most terrifying way possible. She made them sexy.
et’s back up a second. Google tells me a sociopath is a someone with an antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). Those with ASPDs can’t understand the feelings of others. That means they’ll often break rules or make impulsive decisions without feeling guilty for the harm they might cause. From Sherlock’s titular character and his nemesis Moriarty, via the more worrying examples like Ted Bundy and Villanelle, pop culture in recent years has seen many sociopaths and killers that viewers have found fascinating – and fancyable. For that Brontë needs reprimanding.
Anyone can admit there’s something attractive about Heathcliff’s character. He’s an impassioned and mysterious loner that treats most people abysmally but still won’t let death keep him from the woman he loves. He’s obviously, blatantly, a villain. We really, really shouldn’t like him, let alone find him sexy. But people do. Maybe it’s sympathy for the unhappiness he’s suffered. Or maybe it’s because we find something inherently appealing in a talk, dark, handsome stranger who’s willing to break all the rules.
I’m not going to get into psychoanalysing a character from a book published 200 years ago. Brontë wasn’t representing a sociopath. She wasn’t going off a Wikipedia page of symptoms. She just wanted to write a bloody good book. But she created an archetype that appealed enough to readers that it hasn’t gone away since. As we’ve learnt more and more about the confusing grey splodge of the human mind, we’ve uncovered more and more of what makes sociopaths tick. As such, they’ve increasingly inhabited that attractive idiosyncratic loner role in our popular imagination. That’s a much more worrying legacy than inspiring a song by Kate Bush. (William Atkinson)

The Boar also finds something reproachable in Wuthering Heights:

Romantic love is presented as the centre of one’s life as opposed to an (albeit important) facet of it. Such a notion is rooted in sexism as Cathy’s marriage to Edgar marks an exchange of human property in Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and the respectability of Tess’ marriage determines her worth as an individual in society within Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles. (Charlotte Anne Creamore)

Pajiba reviews the film How to Build a Girl.

Helmed by English TV-director Coky Giedroyc, How To Build A Girl stars Feldstein as Johanna Morrigan, an ambitious but impoverished teen girl scraping by and dreaming big in 1990s Wolverhampton. Awkward but aching for community, validation, and sex, Johanna has a “rich internal life,” which she explores through fictional memoirs, embarrassing poetry, and talking to her wall of heroes. Construction paper frames with hand-drawn labels surround likenesses of the Bronte sisters, Cleopatra, Karl Marx, Sigmund Freud, Elizabeth Taylor, and Sylvia Plath. When she’s feeling low, Johanna calls to them for advice and inspiration. Cheeky fun is had by casting a slew of recognizable comedic performers in these roles. A bearded Michael Sheen harumphs as Freud, while Great British Baking Show hosts Sue Perkins and Mel Giedroyc chest bump as the Brontes, and Lucy Punch delivers dark punch lines as the suicidal Plath. (Kristy Puchko)

25 Years Later is reminded of Kate Bush's music video for Wuthering Heights by The Terror: Infamy S2E5.

In her long, dirtied, white bed gown, her pale countenance, her straggly matted hair, she is half Sadako/Samara from The Ring, half Kate Bush in the video for Wuthering Heights. She stands vacantly in the snow by the pond, staring with false hope at two mirages of her children on the water’s surface, mirages that fade with the ripples caused by the winter air. There is no hope here. (Chris Flackett)

New Statesman reviews The Dutch House by Ann Patchett.

At the novel’s opening, when Danny and Maeve first meet Andrea, Danny is cloistered behind curtains in a window seat, a scene reminiscent of Jane Eyre; Philip Larkin’s poem “Home is so Sad” makes more than one appearance; and the Dutch House itself, in its unchanging beauty, is a kind of strange antithesis to Dickens’s Satis House, Miss Havisham’s crumbling tomb in Great Expectations. Years later the house, Danny writes, is “exactly as I remembered”. Its very stasis is eerie, imprisoning. (Erica Wagner)

Ireland Before You Die gives '10 reasons not to miss Northern Ireland on a trip to Ireland':

Wild and weathered by the Atlantic Ocean, Northern Ireland’s landscape is rich and varied: Calm fresh-water lakes juxtapose cinematic mountain ranges. Awe-inspiring valleys dance alongside pastoral settings suitable for a Brontë novel. And the Antrim coast will take your breath away. (Paris Donnatella Callan)

And of course there's the Brontë Homeland in County Down.

Asia Society announces the new exhibition Xiaoze Xie: Objects of Evidence at Asia Society Museum in New York.

Objects of Evidence (Modern Books), comprises three vitrines containing first edition banned books from Mainland China, accompanied by later editions sourced from outside the mainland, from three modern eras in Chinese history: the Republican Era (1911–49), the Hu Feng Anti-party Clique period in the 1950s, and the Cultural Revolution (1966–76). Foreign books in translation—including A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë—were among the books banned for their socially corrupting material. To date, the artist has collected over 750 publications for this ongoing project.

Both The Times and Daily Mail have articles about Labour’s deputy leader Tom Watson's speech calling for a second Brexit referendum.

One moment he was (mis)quoting Dylan Thomas, the next it was Emily Brontë; then he gave us a long passage of Conrad’s novel Heart of Darkness, which he said he was reading at present. (Quentin Letts)

As he tried to woo his creative audience, we heard puzzling quotes from Joseph Conrad, Dylan Thomas and Emily Bronte. The passages he weaved into his speech were overly long and barely apposite. It was like a pretentious adolescent trying to impress his girlfriend. (Henry Deedes)