Rating: 89% | B+ | ★★★★★ Warnings: + Violence Synopsis (from Penguin Random House): As darkness falls, a man caught in a snowstorm is forced to shelter at the strange, grim house Wuthering Heights. It is a place he will never forget. There he will come to learn the story of Cathy: how she was forced to choose between her well-meaning husband and the dangerous man she had loved since she was young. How her choice led to betrayal and terrible revenge – and continues to torment those in the present. How love can transgress authority, convention, even death. Spoiler-Free Section: The problem with reviewing classics, I find, is that one's opinion seldom avoids the weight of that very word: classic. I believe that readers sometimes find it hard to admit that they dislike classics—that they find Hugo too circuitous with his words, or Dickens too unwieldy with his pacing. Admitting that you dislike a classic is akin to you admitting that you don't like chocolate ice cream—everyone likes chocolate ice cream, so what's wrong with you? This is all a very long-winded way to say that I didn't have that problem with Wuthering Heights. I bought Wuthering Heights in order to participate in the Penguin Classics' essay contest (which was canceled due to COVID-19). I wrote excessive margin notes, juvenile attempts at analyzing Brontë's use of nature in paralleling the pace of her story as well as the parallelism of quotes. Wuthering Heights reminded me that reading literature from more than a century ago is enjoyable, despite the sometimes antiquated language. (I will admit, however, that I skimmed through most of Joseph's sections.) I loved the tone of the book. The darkness of the moors and the characters' moods. The unbelievable way every character was unlikeable. Brontë's beautiful writing, some sentences so lovely that I had to copy them down for later. If you've never read a classic from the Romantic period, I highly recommend this one. It is absolutely stunning. (Click "Read More" for spoilers.) Plot (24/30)
Beginning (8/10) It takes a while for the reader to become situated within the world of Wuthering Heights. The book's in media res approach means that while Lockwood (and the reader) must learn about past events from Nelly, the characters (Heathcliff, Cathy, and Linton) are still pushing the story forward. In essence, the story isn't over simply because an outsider has come to learn about it. I had a certain image of Heathcliff before starting the book. I imagined him as brooding and dark—I didn't anticipate the violent disposition. Even so, it's hard for someone without a preconceived notion of Heathcliff not to be shocked by his behavior. Brontë has an unbelievable talent to make everything as awful and as descriptive as possible, to the point where the reader can hardly believe that such behavior could be exhibited by humans. This line from Lockwood and Hareton's first encounter summarizes the mood of the first few scenes: He fixed his eye on me longer than I cared to return the stare, for fear that I might be tempted to either box his ears, or render my hilarity audible. But once Lockwood finds Nelly and she begins to tell him of the events that have plagued Wuthering Heights, everything begins to fall into place. One cannot help conjuring up some measure of sympathy for Heathcliff after hearing of his dismal childhood. At the same time, Cathy's rambunctious behavior is the stuff of parents' nightmares. Yet there is some harmony in the idea of young Heathcliff and young Cathy running around the moors together: her grieving for her father, him escaping Hindley's abuse. It is this harmony—this unhealthy harmony—that binds them together. It is also this harmony that makes it all the more heartbreaking when Cathy goes to Thrushcross Grange and returns a new person—a lady (though it is clear that the devilish and vain Cathy remains hidden beneath layers of formal dresses). Amongst all the growing discontent, however, is one of my favorite scenes in the novel: [Heathcliff] seized a tureen of hot apple sauce (the first thing that came under his gripe) and dashed it full against [Linton's] face and neck; who instantly commenced a lament that brought Isabella and Catherine hurrying to the place. [Linton's] sister began weeping to go home, and Cathy stood by confounded, blushing for all. "You should not have spoken to him!" she expostulated with Master Linton. "He was in a bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit; and he'll be flogged: I hate him to be flogged! I can't eat my dinner. Why did you speak to him, Edgar?" "I didn't," sobbed the youth[.] "I promised mamma that I wouldn't say one word to him, and I didn't." "Well, don't cry," replied Catherine, contemptuously; "you're not killed. Don't make more mischief; my brother is coming: be quiet! Hush, Isabella! Has anybody hurt you?" Heathcliff's petty assault, Cathy's anger and defense of Heathcliff, Linton's outright lying, and Isabella's devastation—it's a perfect scene. Not only was I chuckling for days after I read it, but the more I reflect on it, the more I realize that this scene is greatly consequential. Not only is it the first scene with all four characters present, but it also shows just how little the characters change from their childhood to their adulthood. Cathy is Heathcliff's ardent, spiteful defender until she dies; Linton remains somewhat of a weak-willed character; Heathcliff never lets go of his "savage" instincts; and Isabella's susceptibility to minor disturbances causes much trouble for her in the future. Wuthering Heights is something of a novel of misconceptions, and not just because Heathcliff's truncated eavesdropping of Cathy and Nelly's conversation sends him spiraling. There are faults within each character; consequently, there are faults in their ways of thinking. Cathy, for example, seems to say both of these things in the same breath: "Every Linton on the face of the earth might melt into nothing before I could consent to forsake Heathcliff. [...] if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars [...] if I marry Linton I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother's power." [...] "My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary." Cathy sees her marriage as a magnanimous act. And perhaps it would have been, had Heathcliff not left. Neither the reader nor Nelly will ever know. Middle (9/10) As adults, Cathy and Heathcliff are no less vindictive. Heathcliff's return to the moors drives a wedge between Cathy and Linton. His seduction of Isabella doesn't help. In fact, it raises even more questions about the nature of his and Cathy's relationship, as well as their respective characters. "I love him more than ever you loved Edgar, and he might love me, if you would let him!" [Said Isabella.] ‘I wouldn’t be you for a kingdom, then!’ Catherine declared, emphatically[.] ‘Nelly [...] Tell her what Heathcliff is: an unreclaimed creature, without refinement [...] I’d as soon put that little canary into the park on a winter’s day, as recommend you to bestow your heart on him! It is deplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing else, which makes that dream enter your head.’ Herein lies the issue with Cathy's claim of altruism when she married Linton. She never helped Heathcliff enrich himself through Edgar; she couldn't have, for Heathcliff was away from Wuthering Heights for so long. Her claim that she would never be Isabella is either clever subterfuge or the unadulterated truth. Yet as Cathy's health deteriorates, the reader glimpses what she really longs for: simplicity. Simplicity, not a life with Heathcliff as the story has made the reader believe. It is a surprising sentiment, even for someone as clearly selfish as Catherine. ‘I wish I were out of doors - I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, free . . . and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words?’ Cathy longs for her youth, the days in which she would play brat with Heathcliff and ignore the web of social connections that has destroyed her, her husband, her love, and her sister-in-law. Her feverish delusions carry her back to Wuthering Heights, where she sees her room and Joseph—indicating that she never saw Thrushcross Grange as her true home. She does not wish to be buried with the Lintons, either. Cathy and Linton's descents into death parallel Heathcliff's ascent into economic prosperity. While Cathy is on her deathbed, Heathcliff marries Isabella for no other reason than to steal her inheritance. He is not a true husband by any means; he disrespects and beats her, encouraging the other residents of Wuthering Heights to do the same. Heathcliff has everything he wants at this point: control of Wuthering Heights, revenge on Hindley through Hareton, and revenge on Linton through Isabella. He has everything except Cathy. If Cathy has made a choice to marry Linton for economic gain, Heathcliff throws that decision back in her face by marrying Isabella. ‘What now?’ said Catherine[.] ‘You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff! [...] You have killed me - and thriven on it, I think. [...] How many years do you mean to live after I am gone?’ Heathcliff had knelt on one knee to embrace her; he attempted to rise, but she seized his hair, and kept him down. ‘I wish I could hold you,’ she continued, bitterly, ‘till we were both dead! I shouldn’t care what you suffered. [...] Why shouldn’t you suffer? I do! [...] Will you be happy when I am in the earth? Will you say twenty years hence, 'That’s the grave of Catherine Earnshaw? I loved her long ago, and was wretched to lose her; but it is past [...] at death, I shall not rejoice that I are going to her: I shall be sorry that I must leave them!' Will you say so, Heathcliff?" "Don’t torture me till I’m as mad as yourself," cried he, wrenching his head free, and grinding his teeth. Again, the raw animalism in this scene took me by surprise. (I underlined the line where Cathy seizes Heathcliff's hair; next to it, I drew three exclamation points.) They are so violent and physical, Catherine and Heathcliff—almost at odds with the modern perception of the people of the 1800s. Then, of course, Heathcliff utters some of his most famous lines after Catherine's death: ‘May she wake in torment!" he cried, with frightful vehemence [...] "Why, she’s a liar to the end! Where is she? Not THERE - not in heaven - not perished - where? [...] I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you - haunt me, then! [...] Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only DO not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! [...] I CANNOT live without my life! I CANNOT live without my soul!’ End (7/10) After all of the dramatics of the first 2/3 of the novel, the last 1/3 was somewhat disappointing. For me, the fast pacing was lost because it felt less like a cohesive story and more like a series of incidents in which Cathy lies to Nelly's face and Nelly finding out about it. What I did find interesting, though, was the development of the younger generation. In them I see a kind of hope for the future in general—a hope for the idea that one does not have to end up like their parents. Cathy, for example, has little of her mother's vanity. Linton Heathcliff is a sniveling mess, at odds with his father's forceful personality. And Hareton shows the capacity for change, something his father never did. The majority of the end is bogged down by the conflict between Cathy and Linton. Brontë's masterful use of dramatic irony is undermined by Nelly's constant concessions to Heathcliff and Cathy. Many a hair-wringing moment emerged in my house as I read this last third of the plot. Yet the ending of Wuthering Heights remains indelible. Heathcliff's slow demise is both tragic and triumphant, and the budding relationship between Hareton and Cathy parallels the relationship between Heathcliff and Cathy—bringing the story full circle. Characters (25/30) Development (10/15) Wuthering Heights is rich with three-dimensional characters with their own agendas and selfish wishes. Catherine and Heathcliff are selfish characters, with their disdain for others met with reciprocal disdain for them by the reader. Cathy and Hareton are equally complex, as is Linton. Even Isabella and Edgar, for all of their weak-willed constitutions, manage to present a dismally realistic view on humans. Lure (15/15) Even when Catherine and Heathcliff are at their worst—ruining the lives of everyone around them, kicking at each other, taking everything without giving anything—they are undeniably magnetic. Their savagery is mesmerizing. One cannot believe that any human would act in the way that they do, but they make their horribleness so authentic that it is hard to look away. The opposite goes for Hareton. If I was dazzled by Catherine and Heathcliff's capacities for torment, I was impressed by Hareton's capacity for humanity and change. ‘I can sympathise with all his feelings, having felt them myself. [...] Don’t you think Hindley would be proud of his son, if he could see him? almost as proud as I am of mine. But there’s this difference; one is gold put to the use of paving- stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver. MINE has nothing valuable about it; yet I shall have the merit of making it go as far as such poor stuff can go. HIS had first-rate qualities, and they are lost: rendered worse than unavailing. [...] Hareton is damnably fond of me! [...] If the dead villain could rise from his grave to abuse me for his offspring’s wrongs, I should have the fun of seeing the said offspring fight him back again, indignant that he should dare to rail at the one friend he has in the world!’ Heathcliff is right; he has made Hareton into his own mirror—the key word being made. Hareton, like Heathcliff, is no more a brute than he was made one. Both of them are products of years of abuse. The only difference is that Cathy (Cathy the Second)'s influence was enough to inspire Hareton to change, something that redeems his character in opposition to Heathcliff's enduring cruelty. Cathy (the Second) is also inspiring, kind in a way her mother never was. It seems to me as though both Linton offspring inherited the qualities of their Linton parents only (and isn't that Linton's true revenge?): Cathy takes after her father in her kindness, and Linton takes after his mother in his weakness. This is a generational story, a story of redemption and human growth. Writing (20/20) Descriptions (10/10) and Flow (10/10) I have little to say for this category except that I mourn that Emily Brontë died so young. I would have loved to read more of her writing. The anger in her words, the fierceness of her dialogue, the tenderness of her descriptions—it is unlike anything I have ever read. I have more annotations in this book than in any other, dozens of rich quotes underlined and ingrained in my memory. Closure/Set-Up (20/20) Logic (10/10) and Lure/Closure (10/10) The end of Wuthering Heights is both elusive and wonderful. The story threads come undone with Hareton and Cathy's slow romance and are knitted back together with Heathcliff’s death. Perhaps Heathcliff knows that all is lost when Hareton grows fond of Cathy and vice versa—the one thing Heathcliff could never do with Catherine. I won’t say that I felt sorrow over Heathcliff’s death—I didn’t. After abusing everyone he came into contact with, it is hard to find any measure of sympathy for him, even on his deathbed. But the significance of his death, the subsequent life that returns to both Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange, clarifies that the story is not only a dark romance, but also a triumphant story of good over evil and redemption.
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