Wuthering Heights, published in 1847, was actually a re-read for me. We read this in my AP English class senior year of high school … almost 20 years ago. I remembered nothing about the book other than I thought I remembered liking it. This time around I have to be honest and say I really wasn’t impressed. The story was rather predictable and frankly I was a bit bored. I am learning that I have to stop making assumptions about a work before I read it. I assumed I would like Emily’s Wuthering Heights. I assumed I wouldn’t like Charlotte’s Jane Eyre. Jane Eyre ended up being a much better novel in my opinion. I am anxious to try Anne next with The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.
* Considering Emily named the novel after the house, I thought perhaps Wuthering Heights would have become more of a character in its own right … sort of like Manderley in Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, but I did not find this to be true. It was a sad place, sure, but it didn’t seem to have a presence.
* Emily Bronte’s choice of Ellen Dean, housekeeper, as narrator was interesting. Although I am aware that English servants during the 19th century often had very intimate knowledge of the family for whom they were employed, the narration is still unreliable. I found myself wondering if we, the reader, really knew the characters. Could Heathcliff have really been that much of a monster? Perhaps he was more/less cruel and vengeful than described by Dean. In any event, it is likely that Heathcliff was a shocking character for readers in 1847, but he pales in comparison to the cruel, violent realities paraded before us on the cable news networks today.
* One thing is for sure, this really isn’t a love story. I felt that Heathcliff and Catherine were not so much in love as they were the same soul somehow mistakenly divided into two different bodies. And so, when Catherine passes away her soul cannot be at peace until it becomes whole again through Heathcliff’s death: “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” – Catherine Earnshaw. An interesting premise, but one that didn’t seem as fully developed as it could have been.
* Speaking of Catherine’s death, I am always fascinated by 19th century diagnosis and treatment of medical conditions, or lack there of. I sometimes like to make my own contemporary diagnosis. Did Catherine have rheumatic fever that weakened her heart causing pregnancy and childbirth to be too much of a strain?
“I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.” – Catherine Earnshaw … this has happened to me!
“You are one of those things that are ever found when least wanted, and when you are wanted, never!” – Catherine Earnshaw to her husband Edgar Linton
“And 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! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!” – Heathcliff after Catherine’s death … hmm, be careful what you wish for, Heathcliff!