Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë is one of those books that hits nearly all the “must read” lists. I figured I needed to read it. Someday. Well, “someday” came in 2018 when I was determined to read books by women authors and I needed a book about a villain or anti-hero for the 2018 Reading Challenge.
I’ll be honest. I dreaded this book. But it turned out, I enjoyed it far more than I expected. Brontë’s writing is excellent and compelling. I was drawn into the story in spite of myself. I’m glad I finally read this book.
Primarily the tragic story of Catherine and Heathcliff, I’m not sure this book includes a single redeemable character. Catherine could perhaps be excused to some extent given the demands of her society on young women. Heathcliff however, and nearly any man associated with him, is truly despicable. But it is this very disagreeableness that makes the story so compelling.
Bronte wrote this book in a style that I’ve seen before in other novels of her time. The narrator is relating the story as it was told to him, a retelling of a recollection. So the reader is a step removed from the action at all times, hearing everything at least second-hand rather than witnessing events as they unfold. Personally, I don’t care for this style.
Even so, I enjoyed this book in the end. It had it’s moments where I was ready to toss it aside, but overall, it is a great book, well deserving of its status as a classic.