Although ‘Wuthering Heights’ is not my most favorite novel, it, by far, is THE BEST book I have ever read. I put it as the best fiction that has ever been written because this book makes me crazy, I don’t think 10,000 words will be sufficient to portray how I adore Emily Bronte for this masterpiece.
I find it very surprising that I still completely enjoy reading this book despite the fact I already read its synopsis in Wikipedia. It feels as if I don’t know what the book is all about given the sensations going through it all. Fast-paced, shocking, maddening, furious, depressed, frightening, but most of all it hypnotizes me.
Emily Bronte is like making music writing the novel. She knows how to play the melody. Sometimes it is soothing, peaceful but oftentimes it hits high notes. As an audience, I can’t bear the sorrowful the major traits feel when they are at the bottoms of their lives or are infuriated. I want to cover my ears, nay, close the book but should I do that, I will regret it because the novel is so beautiful.
It is such a beauty that one can’t miss reading it despite the emotional breakdowns it convey. So, what makes me gluing at it? The simplest one is the plot. It is fast-paced even when things seem tranquil, such as when little Catherine is joyful with her life, you won’t find the book boring because Emily Bronte entertains you with her language, lovely and harmonious.
The best and the hardest one is definitely the extreme explorations of each and every big character of the book. Long before I read the novel, I at first underestimate the statements from BBC that states how Heathcliff is such an unbelievable character. At that moment BBC is too much, I say to myself so. But after I stumble upon him and watch him growing till he dies, I can’t agree more with what BBC says.
As an introduction to some posts that I am going to write about the novel, I will briefly say that the pricey lesson I can draw from it is how costly one can suffer if he or she is dishonest with his or her feelings. Catherine Linton wishes she will make Heathcliff, her other half, and those around her happy, by marrying Edgar Earnshaw. But her good intention as well as her stupid, dishonest one proves her to be the source of all miseries her family and her second generation has to face. Heathcliff’s sensitiveness despite his harsh personality makes everything turns much bitter. No one in the book ever feels happy for long time. They get hurt. They are frustrated.
On and on they live their lives. As days go by, all they find is anger, hatred and disappointment. They don’t know how to make peace with themselves. If you read the book and come to the part when Heathcliff dies you will come to the conclusion that it is such a pity that the strongest (physically), the richest (materially) and the wicked person in this book ends up being the loneliest, unloved person ever. I despise Heathcliff throughout the book but as I witness how he dies, I can’t bear feeling so sorry to him.
I’ll keep the part talking about him later on. What I’d like to emphasize is the mixed feelings that encircling my heart at the moment, two days after completing the book, is quite overwhelming. I still can’t deal with it although the novel ends as the way it is. The book is.. I don’t know. It leaves a hole in my heart. It is going to be a kind of book that will always hold a very special part in my heart for the rest of my life.
Till then, bunch of thanks for Emily Bronte for this. The only novel she writes during her life, the sole novel that is cherished by so many literature fans, including I. The book that sets a very high benchmark for what makes a good novel is. The work that has been and will always be studied by students of literature across nations and regions and languages given its ultra richness, as a work of art and as a rigid examination of human emotions.
Take my hat off for you Emily Bronte. Thank you for writing this book. A million thank you to you..
The picture is taken from this.