Wuthering Heights

Nooooo! Reactions are not formal and I despise politics (a.k.a. political answers and hidden reactions) (most of the time, sometimes they are fascinating). I would liken reactions to brain-dumps. Anywho,

Ah Wuthering Heights,

This is one of those books that you mean to read, or have tried to read, but haven’t quite gotten through, until you do, and then you’re hooked. (I take that back, insert ‘I’ for all ‘you’ s). I guess it’s a girl thing, but I am quite in love with Heathcliff, yes, the love of my life is quite jealous. Kidding! But really, in a real world context, we could probably name him (Heathcliff) an S-O-B in a heart beat. I suppose women will always be falling for the bad boys or wrong guys. I mean, who wouldn’t want the other half of their soul to dig up their grave and watch with satisfaction, their slowly decomposing face, waiting until his decompose could finally mix with hers. It’s revoltingly romantic and heartbreaking, I wish someone loved me that much, I don’t think even I would love my own dead body that much. (so maaaybeeee, not, ‘cause that’s a liiitttle bit creepy). One of my favorite quotes is where Heathcliff tells Catherine that he could forgive his killer, but not hers, and she being the killer…well apparently she is not forgiven for their deaths, as he curses her to never find peace until they are together.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that I liked Bronte’s writing a great deal more than Austen’s, though the beginning was dull and confusing and the narrative, well, different, surprising? perhaps. What caught my interest was the parallel of the characters Hareton and young Catherine to Heathcliff and Catherine and Mr. Linton and Catherine. The former seems to hold the hope of Heathcliff’s and Catherine’s story, the way readers want him to change and their love to bloom. It’s ironic how Hareton fights and develops under Heathcliff’s brutish rule and that young Catherine comes to posses Catherine’s stubbornness and wild strength and defiance and love. But her character is tamed by her upbringing in Thrushcross Grange, balanced by her father, Mr. Linton.

Joseph, my dear friend, the man whose speech I ‘read’ as well as reading a foreign language tends to go. I felt like I was trying to read Armenian using English letters, having to actually say the words out loud to decipher their meaning. He was actually rather comical, ‘master, he is stealing the lamps…dogs, go get him…’. I really do not understand why Mr. Lockwood would go back after that pleasant experience, although perhaps it is for the same reason that we keep reading, to finish the story, to keep having faith in Heathcliff’s love where there is little due, to find a happy ending, hope.  Nelly made me raise my eyebrows or grin, she certainly knows how to scheme and she handles Catherine’s dramas well.

As far as vengeful plots go, Heathcliff’s makes me want to tisk. It doesn’t have the brilliance or justice of a Count of Monte Cristo and his methods are downright wrong, and frankly have no effect or purpose. He is taking revenge on dead people, for his own satisfaction, sure; but really, where is that satisfaction coming from, if not from gloating, his own sadistic glee, finding an excuse to behave cruelly and fulfill his likeness to the devil, giving some meaning or purpose to his life? What is he to gain?

 Don’t get me wrong, I adored the book and all its characters, and especially the brilliant writing and passion, perhaps blindly so, as when I think of my romantic and love struck ideas, I realize that that sort of love is not all its cracked up to be. Excuse my clichés. It literally breaks my heart.