March 31, 2022 - Just completed my 3rd reading of Wuthering Heights.

Emotionally draining but worth every minute of reading it. I enjoyed it even more this time around.

I admire this book for its tone and setting. Quite possibly my favorite novel.

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ORIGINAL REVIEW BELOW:

Wuthering Heights is a beautiful novel. 5 (dark) stars!

I'm not completely sure what I just experienced with Wuthering Heights. I believe that Emily Bronte's primary goal was to evoke the wide range of human emotions through the lives and interactions of the Linton's, Earnshaw's and Mr. Heathcliff.

I found this list of human emotions online:

Acceptance
Affection
Aggression
Ambivalence
Apathy
Anxiety
Boredom
Compassion
Confusion
Contempt
Depression
Doubt
Ecstasy
Empathy
Envy
Embarrassment
Euphoria
Forgiveness
Frustration
Gratitude
Grief
Guilt
Hatred
Hope
Horror
Hostility
Homesickness
Hunger
Hysteria
Interest
Loneliness
Love
Paranoia
Pity
Pleasure
Pride
Rage
Regret
Remorse
Shame
Suffering
Sympathy

Reading through this list, Bronte touches on all (or at least nearly all) of them in Wuthering Heights. The protagonist, Heathcliff, is obviously not a very lovable guy, but he is extremely complex and multi-faceted and his life long search for peace within his soul is memorable and his fascinating (very emotional) story will stick with me for a long time.

The setting at the house, Wuthering Heights, was very well done and it worked well for the dark, gothic, and macabre plot.

The bright spot in Wuthering Heights is the younger Catherine. The novel took a good turn for me as a reader when she was introduced and I loved her as a character.

Although it is extremely dark and gothic, Wuthering Heights has it all - unforgettable plot, realistic settings, and truly human, deep characters. Highly recommended!

Wuthering Heights takes us to a world that is somehow outside of all social and moral norms. It's closer to the realm of dreams or Greek myth than the rational everyday life of civilised habit. As if the characters are dramatizing the psyche or the unconscious in the midst of everyday life. Bronte demands we extend our sympathies beyond their brightly-lit habitual moral parameters - rather like Nabokov does in Lolita. Except where Nabokov does it directly through his narrator Bronte is arguably cleverer by providing us with a rather commonplace and reasonable narrator who much more mirrors our own sensibility. Nelly is like a comfortable armchair. You might say the norm in this novel is sociopathic behaviour and yet Nelly with her commonplace emotional economies provides the illusion that everything she recounts is firmly attached to a normal social reality. It's a super clever sleight of hand on Bronte's part. Thus this is a conventional secular narrative we experience in Nelly's armchair about a violent amoral world in which almost everything is outside the realm of civilised etiquette.

Structurally this book is a brilliant enigma. It feels like a series of unconscious decisions on Emily's part which for a novel that spends a lot of time dramatizing the darker realms of the human psyche is another masterstroke. Our narrator is almost immediately shoved aside by a first-hand witness of all events, Nelly, the housekeeper. Bronte uses this technique of doubling up throughout the novel - eventually Catherine and Heathcliff's children will replace Catherine and Heathcliff. Virtually every character in this novel has a twin. At times it's confusing trying to recall who is whose offspring or relative but this only adds to the novel's atmosphere of some kind of elemental drama unfolding in which individuals are no less cyclical, no less driven by primitive energies than the surrounding moors. Wuthering Heights is an adventure into the heart of darkness, anticipating Conrad by more than fifty years. It's also a novel that feels spookily intimate with death.

To anyone who thinks this a dated novel which belongs fixedly to its time I'd say there are thousands and thousands of modern day Heathcliffs doing time in our prisons and wreaking havoc on our streets, deprived, racially abused, unloved kids who have made it their mission to exact revenge on a cruel pitiless world. This is a way more subtle and far reaching portrait of the plight of the abused child than anything her sister came up with. Jane Eyre is corporate American cinema compared to Heathcliff. Bronte does more than give a voice to the emotionally crippled, the inarticulate, the vindictive outcasts of society; she creates the world they would like to live in, the destruction of virtually everything we associate with civilised society. And shows us too, by eventually civilising Catherine and Heathcliff's respective children, that we all have elements of Heathcliff and Catherine buried down in our psyches which occasionally make an unsettling appearance in our daily life.

This is my favourite book. I do not say that lightly - I've read quite a lot from all different genres - but this is my favourite book. Of all time. Ever. The ladies over at The Readventurer kindly allowed me to get my feelings of utter adoration for Wuthering Heights off my chest in their "Year of the Classics" feature, but I now realise it's time I posted a little something in this blank review space. I mean, come on, it's my favourite book so it deserves better than empty nothingness.

So, what do I love so much about Wuthering Heights? Everything. Okay, maybe not. That wouldn't really be saying it strongly enough.

What I love about this novel is the setting; the wilderness. This is not a story about niceties and upper class propriety. This is the tale of people who aren't so socially acceptable, who live away from the strict rules of civilization - it's almost as if they're not quite from the world we know. The isolation of the setting out on the Yorkshire moors between the fictional dwellings of The Heights and Thrushcross Grange emphasises how far removed these characters are from social norms, how unconventional they are, and how lonely they are.

This is a novel for readers who can appreciate unlikeable characters; readers who don't have to like someone to achieve a certain level of understanding of them and their circumstances. People are not born evil... so what makes them that way? What torments a man so much that he refuses to believe he has any worth? What kind of person digs up the grave of their loved one so they can see them once again? Heathcliff was not created to be liked or to earn your forgiveness. Emily Brontë simply tells his story from the abusive and unloved childhood he endured, to his obsession with the only person alive who showed him any real kindness, to his adulthood as an angry, violent man who beats his wife and imprisons the younger Cathy in order to make her marry his son.

It would be so easy to hate Heathcliff, and I don't feel that he is some dark, sexy hero like others often do. But I appreciate what Emily Brontë attempts to teach us about the cycle of violence and aggression. Heathcliff eventually becomes little more than the man he hates. By being brought up with beatings and anger he in turn unleashes it on everyone else. And Cathy is no delicate flower either. What hope did Heathcliff have when the only person he ever loved was so selfish and vindictive? But I love Emily Brontë for creating such imperfect, screwed-up characters.

This is a dark novel that deals with some very complicated people, but I think in the end we are offered the possibility of peace and happiness through Cathy (younger) and Hareton's relationship, and the suggestion that Cathy (older) and Heathcliff were reunited in the afterlife. I had an English teacher in high school that said Cathy and Heathcliff's personalities and their relationship were too much for this world and that peace was only possible for them in the next. I have no idea if this was something Ms Bronte intended, but the romantic in me likes to imagine that it's true.

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I never expected this book to be as flagrantly, unforgivably bad as it was.

To start, Bronte's technical choice of narrating the story of the primary characters by having the housekeeper explain everything to a tenant 20 years after it happened completely kills suspense and intimacy. The most I can say is that to some extent this functions as a device to help shroud the story and motives from the reader. But really, at the time literary technique hadn't quite always gotten around to accepting that omnipotent 3rd person narrators are allowed, so you'd have to have a multiperspective story told by an omnipotent 3rd person narrator who was actually a character in the story (e.g. the housekeeper Ellen). The layers of perspective make it annoying and sometimes impossible to figure out who is telling what bit of story; and moreover, because so much is related as two characters explaining things between themselves, the result is that we rarely see any action, and instead have the entire book explained in socratic, pedantic exposition.

The sense of place is poorly rendered and almost entirely missing. Great, the moor is gray.

But ultimately, the most damning thing is that the characters are a bunch of immature, insuffrable, narcissistic assholes with very little self respect. This isn't a story of great love and passion. It's the story of how child abuse perpetuates itself through the generations. The characters are either emotionally abused as children or, as in the case of Cathy I, they're spoiled and overindulged with no discipline and can't muster the restraint and self-respect to ditch abusive relationships. I kept waiting for any of the characters to be remotely worth my time, but I found no respite from the brutish abuse of the horribly twisted Heathcliff or from the simpering idiocy of Cathy I and II. Ugh. Not only are there no transformations or growth, but the characters aren't even that likable to begin with. How this book got to be a classic is beyond me.

i love reading books about crazy and straight up evil people
(that's all I'm gonna say about this book for now since my brain is totally fried)

Not often do I decide to edit the review - and change the opinion of the book I initially detested - mere days after writing a 'why I hated it' opus. Emily Bronte, you mastermind!

In addition to learning truly horrifying things through the comments from my fellow lovely Goodreaders (people have told me that not only Heathcliff and Catherine's horrible story served as an inspiration for 'Twilight - a story that's paraded as a love story; and - brrrr - that "in almost all polls on most romantic literary figure, Heathcliff takes the lead") I read this comment from Teresa:

n  "I think I read somewhere -- maybe in this book: Emily Bronte: The Artist As a Free Woman -- that she was creating her own world (and the book does seem claustrophobic with its two framing narrators), her own mythos. If one sees that interpretation, I think Heathcliff could be viewed almost as a Zeus-figure, another petty and vengeful 'entity.' n

... a comment that, combined with her observation in another comment that "the names Hindley/Heathcliff/Hareton all started with the same letter, not to mention having two Catherines -- an enclosed world that repeated itself" led me to realize that yes, in a mind-blowing turn of events this book is a genius take on the completely secluded, isolated world that lives only by its own rules, ruled by its own godlike creatures, and bears little resemblance to and has little influence from the larger universe outside of it.



Two Catherines in this book - and both of them take a journey between the stops of 'Catherine Earnshaw', 'Catherine Heathcliff' and 'Catherine Linton' - because what other options do they have? Even young Cathy, so seemingly close to possibly leaving this enclosed corner of the universe thanks to sudden fascination Lockwood (a man of the outside world) takes to her, ultimately remains tightly tethered to the place she knows, remaining with an Earnshaw - her first cousin (because who else is there?)

Heathcliff, who could have had the world, comes back to rule the little universe into which he was adopted, unable to leave the country of grey moors.

And everyone else is a Linton - another link in the chain that connects everyone else. And the little world of this novel takes no one else in who is not a Linton, a Cathy or an incarnation of Heathcliff/Hareton/Hindley. Everyone stays together, their fates tied only to one another, with disregard to the world outside. Only Isabella (who never seems to have fit into this world anyway) manages to escape - but remains tethered to this world by her child, Linton Heathcliff, who - thanks to his names - is powerless to escape being sucked into this little corner of the universe and become a pathetic little villain.

And this world, free from the influence outside, just continues to go in its own little circle, being its own little - and terrifying - universe.

Ok, mindblowing. Enough to up my star rating by a full star.

n  Emily Bronte, your mind was darker than I gave it credit for. Touché.n

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ORIGINAL REVIEW FROM LONG AGO (a.k.a. a few days - an eternity in the eyes of a fruitfly, however)
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Ok, I'll be honest - I decided to read this one really because the word 'Wuthering' had for a while been fascinating my non-native speaker brain¹

¹ Basically, brain insists it should be 'wIthering.'
Computer spellcheck agrees.
And both of them are wrong.

Plus, I have also been introduced to it by - of course! - pop culture, courtesy of Phoebe Buffay:


(In the remainder of this episode, Rachel ends up comparing 'Jane Eyre' to 'Robocop', to Phoebe's utmost delight.)
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Ok, back to serious now.

This book had one of the most promising beginnings in all the literature. No joke. The narrator's stumbling into Heathcliff's household leads to the opening chapter as surreal and creepy as a nightmare you really want to wake up from but cannot. Seriously, let's look back to the beginning of the tale - with Heathcliff, and the dogs, and the creepiest servant since Igor, and strange perplexing characters of Hareton and Cathy, all in the most gothic setting a 19th century mind could have conjured. Lovely, just lovely.

But then a meddling self-righteous servant sat down to tell the story of Cathy and Heathcliff and everyone else caught in the destructive hurricane those two left in their selfish wake - and something changed, the magic dissolved.

I was promised passion and wilderness. Instead I got a cold wearisome shower of egotistical, self-absorbed, shallow, destructive, prejudiced, reckless petty disregard for anyone else from everyone else, combined with clear cases of sociopathic, narcissistic, and spoiled to the core people damaging everything they come in contact with. It's not wild passion; it's self-absorbed selfishness and nothing more.

It's a spoiled brat in a grocery store flinging himself on the floor and throwing a raging, embarrassing tantrum because he just has to have that unnecessary piece of candy.

No, I'm not a fan of anger, revenge and possessiveness trying to masquerade as wild love and passion. Neither Catherine nor Heathcliff love one another; instead of love they might as well just selfishly scream, "WAAAAAANT!!!"


Heathcliff is not wild - he is a cruel sociopath. Catherine is not wild and passionate - she is a haughty and spoiled thoughtless creature.

And I cannot help asking, dear reader - What is the point?
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Yes, I understand the balls ovaries needed for making such repulsive personalities be the center of your story (actually, that's not just Cathy and Heathcliff being repugnant; think of Hindley, and Hareton, and - brrrr! - Joseph, and young Linton, and even young Cathy, and to a point the ever-meddling self-righteous unsure-where-her-allegiance-lies-but-probably-with-whoever-the-current-master-happens-to-be Nelly Dean), and to systematically beat out any possible feel-good moment in this book. It probably was not an easy book to write, and definitely is not an easy book to read.

But because of all that I could not bring myself to care in the least. What's worse, the little cringeworthy details peppered throughout the story became even more obvious in the light of me disliking the book:

- Like the constant neverending out-of-character moments that all the action here seems to hinge upon (Heathcliff's sudden madness/death; Catherine's reaction to the argument between Heathcliff and Edgar; Cathy and Hareton's sudden feelings for each other; to name a few).

- Contrived happy-ish ending: a thought that young Cathy will end up with a man who has physically assaulted her in the past and be happy with him in a Stockholm Syndrome-like fashion - and for it (a) to seem like a good choice and (b) the violence presented as something she had coming for daring to have a 'saucy' tongue.

- Actually, constant violence, threats, marital rape - the stuff that would make even George R.R. Martin seem like a tender-hearted softie.

- Constant reminders of darkness of Heathcliff's character being tied to the darkness of his skin - while white paleness of the Lintons provides a contrast of civilization to the brute. Dark skin = evil, right? Ah, Miss Bronte, really?

- Constant nervous outbreaks and the destructive passion of feelings that after a while became much too repetitive.

- The predictable cycle of Heathcliff or Catherine wanting something --> rudeness --> physical violence to those they perceive to be their inferiors --> some contrived disease brought on by nervous exhaustion or something of the sort --> someone probably dies for no reason than the effects of wild passions --> rinse, repeat.

- Joseph's dialect. Need I say more?

And, all throughout, I realized that I just could no longer care about the story that brought two English families living on the wild moors to the state that the narrator observes in such a promising beginning of this book. I think I was too exhausted with this story to care. It tried too hard to unapologetically be dark and brooding and bleak - and succeeded in just wearing me out.

2 stars and valiant attempts to dodge the shower of rotten eggs and rotten tomatoes heading my way.

Surprising! This is my first experience with Wuthering Heights, having neither read nor seen film versions before. My immediate reaction is that it is far less romantic than popular culture has implied. I’m also confused why it’s not known more for being a “ghost story” than a romance. I might even argue it should be shelved in the Gothic horror section, next to The Haunting of Hill House, The Turn of the Screw, and The Mysteries of Udolpho.

Heathcliff is expectedly brooding and delivers plenty of sexual tension, but he’s also diabolical. His plotting and conniving goes far beyond the insufferable (but endearing) quirks of Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester. He’s a jerk on a level that’s pseudo-murderous and financially predatory. His motivations are based on romance, sure, but so are psycho stalker serial killers—and he’s far closer to that than the dream boat many think him to be.

Movie versions may be to blame for romanticizing Heathcliff. I understand the iconic 1939 film completely cuts out a generation of characters. These offspring, which an aged Heathcliff torments with merciless ferocity, are aspects of the book that cement his evil nature. Without them I imagine the story could be transformed to a more traditional romance.

Not that I want the novel to be traditional. The unexpected qualities are, in my opinion, what make it classic. Characters are complex, deeply flawed, and in many ways responsible for their own tragedies. As a lover of all things horror and gothic, the frightening aspects are welcomed—and there are a number of scary moments.

There is an idea about the novel that Heathcliff and Catherine are in love on a higher “spiritual plane” and thus capable of entering the ghostly realm. Bronte consistently compares Heathcliff to the devil and both he and Catherine use religious language to express their passions. They are practically willing to sell their soul—or at least keep it in earthly limbo—to be with one another. It’s a sooty romance that’s all about heat and passion, caring little about what’s Christian. I suppose there is something hot about that, even when Heathcliff so regularly becomes creepy and off-putting.

Perhaps there is also appeal in a paramour who loves you so ferociously that he’s willing to torment your entire family line if he can’t be with you. It’s bad behavior, no doubt, but in a fictional fantasy such intense yearning can be skewed as attractive. Certainly other novelists have cashed in on that theme. In many ways, Heathcliff is the template for modern gothic romance, where heroines frequently turn away from traditional hunks to fall in love with the grim domineer of the castle.

Stylistically, Bronte’s story-within-a-story structure both adds complexity to the narrative (can we trust all details?) and distances the reader from the action. I can’t say whether I liked this method or not—my gut tells me I didn’t—but obviously something about it works for us to still obsess over this book 175 years later. In the end, it all comes down to my own expectations. Once I looked past pre-conceived notions, I could slip into Bronte’s original vision and enjoy all its dark, imperfect glory.

If you think that spitefulness is romantic, and that people destroying their lives is dramatic, go ahead and read this book. But don't say I didn't warn you.

TL;DR

It's not romance if he doesn't dig up your grave and sleep with your corpse when you're dead

Sayings of Georgia, No 9:

"This book says that you really shouldn't get into a relationship where if they die and get buried you think it's a good idea to dig them up again."

Another re-read (readalong organized by Kim)
Re-read: still my favorite of all Brontë-novels.

I'm utter trash for this thing. Utter trash. Holy shit. This novel started out in the most ridiculous manner ever, and then turned into a friggin' masterpiece, and now everything makes sense, and my heart is full.

Wuthering Heights is Emily Brontë's only novel. It was published in 1847, the year before Emily (at the tender age of 30) passed away. Wuthering Heights was a book of controversy in Victorian England; the stark depiction of mental and physical cruelty challenged the strict ideals of religious hypocrisy and gender inequality.

Early reviews of Wuthering Heights were mixed in their assessment. Whilst most critics at the time recognised the power and imagination of the novel, they were also baffled by the storyline and found the characters extremely forward and uninhibited.

One contemporary reviewer said that there is not a single character who is not utterly hateful or thoroughly contemptible. And whilst I agree that I loathed most characters in this book, I have to say that I am utter trash for Hareton (and will defend him to the end of my days), and also Nelly Dean made me hollering throughout the whole thing. As for Catherine and Heathcliff, they can choke.

So, let's talk about my two faves. There are two things I took from this book: 1) Nelly Dean deserves better, and 2) Hareton is the ultimate bae.

Nelly Dean, the maid, first to Catherine I. and later to her daughter Cathy II., is the narrator of the story and I was living for her. She wouldn't put up with anyone's bullshit and she provided a voice of reason throughout the story (even though her judgement was far off a couple of times).

n  I went about my household duties, convinced that the Grange had but one sensible soul in its walls, and that lodged in my body.n

I mean, c'mon, this girl is hilarious. I was shooketh that Emily Brontë actually constructed a narrative in which the servant seemed more sane than their masters. Granted, Nelly Dean suffers from a clear case of 'the happy maid with no cares of her own' which is highly unrealistic and sells her character short, nonetheless, I just loved that she got so many sassy moments.

I mean that woman is downright shady and cunning, always making sure to cover up her slip-ups and play dumb when she needs to. I also appreciated the #realtalks that she had with the two Catherine's who were just too high up their asses to see what privileged little fucks they were:

n  Example A: If you had any real griefs, you'd be ashamed to waste a tear on this little contrariety. You never had one shadow of substantial sorrow, Miss Catherine.

Example B: When Cathy tells her that she loves Linton, Nelly replies: 'Did anybody ever hear the like! I might just as well talk of loving the miller who comes once a year to buy our corn.'n

Tell 'em, girl, tell 'em!

One of the best moments in this entire story were the ones in which Catherine talked about dying and going to heaven, and Nelly was lowkey judging her so hard being all like 'nah sista, you gonna rot in hell.' QUEEN!

Now onto my ultimate bae – Hareton, who also deserves better, but ultimately actually got better, so I am not complaining.

I could start this segment with a whole discussion on nature vs nurture, and whether one's character gets corrupted by the way we are brought up, or if certain traits are 'pre-installed', but honestly, I just want to gush about my trash children, sooo...

I think that Wuthering Heights is interpreted wrong in most of popular culture (especially in its movie adaptations who often cut out the second half of the novel like HOW DARE YOUUUU). So let's all take a seat and acutally listen to what Emily was trying to tell us here. It is no secret that there are two love stories in this book. The one between Heathcliff and Catherine, and then the one in the next generation between Hareton and Cathy.

Most people think that Heathcliff and Cathy are the big romantic couple of this story, but let me tell you, these people are wrong. Emily makes it very clear that both are absolutely miserable, and were never able to get over their own high opinion of themselves. She shows their unhealthy relationship which eventually lead to death and ruin. Yeah. Such romance.

The actual romantic lovers of this tale are Hareton and Cathy who actually managed to overcome their initial prejudices and learn from one another. They get a happy ending. SO PLEASE TELL ME WHY PEOPLE ARE IGNORING THEM WHEN THEY ARE SO CUTE.

Here are my TOP 10 Hareton and Cathy moments (can ya tell I'm trash):

1) The first time he showed his vulnerability after his cousin made fun of him: "Hareton darkened; I perceived he was very sensitive to suspected slights, and had obviously a dim notion of his inferiority." UGH

2) When he tried to improve himself by learning how to read just to impress Cathy, and just in general how he even wanted to look presentable for her. My awkward baby!

3) The first time he was totally entranced by Cathy: "And, perhaps, not quite awake to what he did, but attracted like a child to a candle, at last, he proceeded from staring to touching; he put out his hand and stroked one curl, as gently as if it were a bird." LIKE FUCK ME UP! This was the moment I knew I was trash for this angsty couple!

4) Hareton asking Nelly if she could ask Cathy to read to them without mentioning that he asked in the first place. MY TRASH CHILDREN ARE TRASH!

5) Hareton making sure Cathy got the letter from the Grange.

6) When Cathy called him out for "stealing" her books: "Earnshaw blushed crimson, when his cousin made this revelation of his private literary accumulations, and stammered an indignant denial of her accusations. The young man evidently thought it too bad that he should be laughed at for his ignorance, and then laughed at for trying to remove it." UGH my man just trying to improve himself!

7) The first time Cathy kissed his cheek to thank him for standing up for her: "She returned to the hearth, and frankly extended her hand. He blackened and scowled like a thunder-cloud, and kept his fists resolutely clenched, and his gaze fixed on the ground. Catherine, by instinct, must have divined it was obdurate perversity, and not dislike, that prompted this dogged conduct; for, after remaining an instant undecided, she stooped and impressed on his cheek a gentle kiss."

8) The first big reconciliation (after the cheeky kiss). ALL THE FEELS!

9) "The intimacy thus commenced grew rapidly; though it encountered temporary interruptions. Earnshaw was not to be civilised with a wish, and my young lady was no philosopher, and no paragon of patience; but both their minds tending to the same point - one loving and desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed - they contrived in the end to reach it." THIS IS HOW YOU WRITE ROMANCE PEOPLE!

10) Hareton mourning for Heathcliff, not because he liked him particularly but because he was his father figure after all. And then Cathy actually respecting his feelings and managing to hold her tongue in regards to her hatred for Heathcliff. Look at my trash children actually listening and learning from one another. #BLESSETH

Okay, now that we acutally got that out of the way (you don't even know how giddy I am right now), let's get further along with some analysis.

I will never stop thinking about Heathcliff's ambiguous appearance and whether he can be read as a person of color. I know that he is frequently described as being a 'gyspy', but there are just as many circumstances in which Emily Brontë describes him as dark-skinned. Whatever the 'truth' might be, it is clear that Heathcliff is a social outcast. He doesn't even get a first name.

In the beginning I actually liked him very much because I understood his struggle:

n  Young Heathcliff: "Oh Nelly […] I wish I had light hair and a fair skin, and was dressed, and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich as he will be. […] In other words, I must wish for Edgar Linton's great blue eyes, and even forehead."n

He is insecure about his appearance and his status, he just wanted to fit in. It was fascinating to see how his character got corrupted and more malicious as time went on.

As I mentioned earlier I was so not about his romance with Catherine. Their relationship is one of the most toxic that I have ever read about, however, Emily provides us with the most pettiest move in all of history by making Heathcliff remove Linton's lock of hair from Catherine's necklace and putting his own in it, so that she would be buried with something from him instead. I AM HURLING. THAT SHIT IS GREAT! Nonetheless, the melodrama was way too high with these too, and overall their lofty manner was ridiculous as fuck. I mean check this out:

n  Heathcliff: "You teach me now how cruel you've been - cruel and false! Why did you despise me? Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they'll blight you - they'll damn you. You loved me - then what right had you to leave me? What right - answer me - for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."n

These bitches need to chill the fuck out.

I highly appreciated Emily's criticism of alcohol throughout the whole novel, and that Cathy's illness can be interpreted as a metaphor for depression. In general, I have a feeling that this novel is extremely rich in theme and will get even better upon future rereads. Also, what's up with all these dogs that show up in this narrative???

I am also a huge sucker for the gothic ending which hints that Heathcliff and Catherine are 'haunting' the moors together, and thus becoming local legends. ;)

Overall, I have only one minor criticism, and that is the frame narrative featuring Mr. Lockwood. It seemed pretty useless to me. Also, some of the stylistic choices, especially in regards to Joseph's speech and how every single narrator sounded exactly the same, were a little wacky but I can easily forgive that. I had such a blast reading this!