Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

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First of all, this book is nothing like the song. Or rather the song is nothing like this book. It’s a shame that this is Emily Bronte’s only work because it is a master piece of gothic literature. (I now fully understand this term thanks to Booksandquills video.) It’s the epic tale of two families in two very different houses and households. There is unrequited love, mystery and the supernatural. I imagine people reading it in 1847 wondering what lay in Ellis Bell’s world next.

The words transported me to the Yorkshire moors, between Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross. Like many novels of the time, it’s not exactly direct. A gentleman by the name of Lockwood is the new tenant of Thrushcross and he tells us the tale of Heathcliff and Catherine. It’s word of mouth nature makes us question the spectres that visit the residents of Wuthering Heights but I loved it all the same. Heathcliff is a tortured soul; it stands to reason that guilt will make him see strange things.

I’d be lying if I said it was an easy read. If it wasn’t for the book being one of the few books I took on holiday, I may have put it down. It’s daunting but worth it, and too wordy in places but rewarding in the end. It’s only flaw, like many novels, is telling rather than showing. The narrative style doesn’t put us in the middle of the action. Lockwood joins in at the very end of the saga and is told the bulk of its history by a maid. I would have loved to know what Heathcliff and Catherine were thinking. We can only speculate but I suppose that adds to the whole mystery of the place.

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