Wuthering Heights

 

"It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff, now; so he shall never know how I love him...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same" (59).

On my journey through the classics, few have disappointed me. I have found most of them, both the ones that I remember from my academic career and those that I do not, to be impactful and also (shockingly) rather likable as well. However, there are a group of outliers. Wuthering Heights seems to be one of those classics in which I can see the reasoning behind its endurance as an important piece of literature, but I also question the sanity of readers who laud it as enduringly admirable and exemplary. I can't say that I hated the book, but at the same time, I would prefer to never read it again. 

I was never assigned Wuthering Heights as a student, so I don't have the benefit of prior engagement with the text to influence my opinion on it. Perhaps there are pros to this approach, as I was able to come in without any expectations, which is relatively rare for many of these novels. The main analytical feedback that I have seen or heard has to do with the promotion of Heathcliff and Catherine's romance, as proof that they exemplify some ideal relationship. All I have to say in response to those who think this way is, Have you read the book?? The Pinterest posts of quotes indicating that this couple have any qualities worth imitating hit so differently now that I have read their context.

1. "Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then" (124)!

Romanticizing unhealthy relationships. Let's just get right into the meat of my issues with this novel. I often refer to what I have termed "The Notebook Effect" when discussing the problems with modern iterations of romantic relationships. The crux of this phenomenon is the glorification of poor behavior or toxicity, from the perspective that the relationship is somehow more passionate or meaningful for being codependent and emotionally unhinged. In The Notebook, the main characters are portrayed as constantly fighting, verbally and sometimes physically abusive, and complete opposites in terms of upbringing and life goals. When the female love interest cheats on her fiancé (who happens to be a stable, mature, and tragically boring individual), the act is exonerated as a necessary return to the man with whom she was always destined to end up.

I will perhaps have to adjust my vernacular to now include "The Wuthering Heights Effect," as this novel is just as bad. The whole plot is full of selfish and harmful choices compounding on one another while the main characters escape culpability for their actions because they are supposedly in love. Isn't it romantic how, even when married to other people, the couple finds a way back to each other? Isn't it meaningful that they portray extremely selfish and borderline narcissistic personalities, but yet still cling to a codependent and boundary-less relationship? Don't you want to imitate an emotional attachment that endures beyond the grave, to the extent that the living parties suffer within an all-consuming obsession until they themselves perish?

Um...no?

Why does the culture promote these types of relationships? Maybe it's because they make more money in media, whether written or filmed, than the healthy and normal alternative. Regardless, I find them increasingly frustrating to observe.

2. "...it is some devil that urges me to thwart my own schemes by killing him--you fight against that devil, for love, as long as you may; when the time comes, not all the angels in heaven shall save him" (103)!

"Victim of circumstances" mentality. Here is a continuation of the prior point. Wuthering Heights is narrated by the housekeeper as she relays the story of her employers to a man who has rented one of the adjacent houses. Thus, we have an unreliable source who gives her own opinion on situations as readily as the actual facts. I like this perspective for two reasons: the choice highlights a sense of mystery and strangeness as though we are also outsiders looking into the story, not able to fully understand or interfere, and it also provides an interesting bias that adds layers to the character and plot development.

Though I may appreciate the narrative choice as a thematic element, I do not enjoy the resulting morals revealed to the reader. It would seem that the author is trying to help the reader to empathize with the characters, even as they make questionable and even murderous decisions throughout. Ellen, the housekeeper, continually makes excuses for nearly everyone, even when she still condemns their actions. Heathcliff is abusive and violent because he was mistreated as a child, Catherine is selfish and vindictive because of her ethereal spirit and mistreatment as a child, Linton is verbally cruel and self-obsessed because he is physically ill and mistreated (you guessed it) as a child.

At what point do we start holding people accountable for their actions, regardless of whether or not they were disadvantaged by some situation out of their control? Even though Ellen does openly criticize and lament the behaviors of those around her, they are so consistently shown in light of their treatment by others that the resulting actions are painted as almost inevitable. The book seems to be saying: Yes, it is wrong to be cruel, narcissistic, and deceitful, but people are always the result of their environments and can't necessarily be held fully responsible. 

3. "I...listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth" (248).

Literary value. I do believe, despite my dislike for the general characterization and underlying moral values of the text, that there is literary value in the writing. The historical context, turbulent characters, and artistic composition all speak to the talent of the author. Emily Brontë's critics and readers were convinced that the writer must be a man, as the subject matter was considered too intense and crude to have come from the delicate mind of a woman. Clearly, she was not afraid to write on darker and more sinister topics that belied resistance from her contemporaries. These aspects I respect greatly, and this novel being the lone publication of her short life, it is all the more worthy of analysis to determine the impetus of the different literary elements.

Do I consider this a profound and important piece of British literature? Yes. Wuthering Heights certainly provides the grounds for some very interesting conversations about characterization and the psychology of anti-heroes. I'm not sure that I will be treading through its pages any time soon, but I do consider the time well-spent, even though my general dislike for the novel is (I'm guessing) abundantly clear. Read it if you are curious, but otherwise, I believe there are other novels that achieve the same effect with less frustrating techniques.

Jane Eyre

"One would almost say that, if there were a ghost at Thornfield Hall, this would be its haunt" (108).

Jane Eyre is another text that I was assigned as a high school student and cannot, for the life of me, remember reading. I must have, because I certainly recall submitting an essay on the topic. Perhaps I hated it so much that I blocked out any details? Difficult to say. Ultimately, my experience with the book did not stick with me whatsoever. I have lived with a vague acknowledgement of its prominence in British literature for many years and not felt compelled to delve between its pages in adulthood.

This year, I decided that I should probably spend some time reminding myself of what I either repressed or never truly engaged with in young adulthood. One conclusion at which I have arrived: Jane Eyre is not a book that precludes feeling. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it demands feeling. The characters are complex and experience both growth and stagnation; their actions are sometimes excusable and often completely outlandish, but also painfully relatable. This novel is one that you think about, for days afterward, and try to move on. But you can't. The tragedy and ecstasy of each plot point continues to revolve in your mind, making you pine for a windswept English hillside and the darkened halls of a country estate, haunted by the living as much as the dead.

1. "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! -- I have as much soul as you -- and full as much heart" (250)!

The passion. Jane goes through a series of life changes that illustrate the capriciousness of circumstance. She is alternately an angry child plotting revenge on her cruel family members and a grown woman leaving behind her fiancé when she can no longer face his lies and deception. In between, her emotions fluctuate with the changing of the weather: Jane is abandoned and then she is in love, she is content and then she dreams for a different life. She speaks with gentle understanding, acquiescing to the desires of others, and then her true character reveals itself when she stands on her convictions and refuses to yield. Who is Jane? She is all of us--any woman who has traversed the undulating mountains or valleys of adolescence and young adulthood. Charlotte Brontë allows her heroine to make mistakes and to learn from them, to be mostly right but a little bit wrong, and to come out on the other side hoping for, at the very least, strength of character and endurance.

2. "'What must you do to avoid [hell]?' I deliberated a moment: my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: 'I must keep in good health, and not die'" (35).

The wit. The draw of Jane Eyre, and perhaps most 19th century British authors, is the biting dialogue. The smart articulation and stoic flirting between characters is unmatched. Who has never thought of a perfect comeback hours after a conversation, wishing that the brain had cooperated and produced such a retort in the moment? Reading books of this genre are as satisfying as saying the pithiest riposte every time. 

3. "I looked with timorous joy towards a stately house; I saw a blackened ruin" (416).

The dramatic romanticism. Arguably, no one is more dramatic than a Brontë sister. Why have a normal and healthy relationship with a single man when you can find one with his insane wife hidden in the attic? Dark romance is successful only when the characters are making absolute spectacles of themselves for the good of the melodrama. I think this aspect is largely why the genre has become so prevalent, as stories of brooding and emotionally stunted men with dark secrets who fall for brave but sensitive orphan girls really fulfill some deep need in a woman's psyche.

4. "I understood that, sitting there where I did, on the bank of heath, and with that handsome form before me, I sat at the feet of a man, erring as I" (399).

A terrible example of a romance. The greatest problem in modern evaluations of Jane Eyre happens to be its greatest triumph historically speaking. At the time of its publications, the author used a pen name in order to hide that she was female, because public opinion of female writers was generally unfavorable. Insinuating that women were just as worthy, intelligent, strong, and flawed as their male counterparts. Brontë is essentially arguing for the humanity of her female characters by showing their vast internal landscapes. However, that attempt has not aged well in every aspect of the text...Rochester is, unfortunately, a complete disaster as a love interest. He is rude, selfish, mercurial, and an outright liar who commands Jane like an army general. Jane, for her part, cannot get over the inequality in their relationship--he is wealthy, older, and a man, meaning that she is at his mercy. This reality does not sit well with her, and she can only fathom acquiescing to marriage after Rochester has had a terrible accident and becomes physically dependent on her, essentially evening the field. There are other examples, but overall, there is unfortunate romanticization of very unhealthy relationship dynamics.




Jane Eyre is an undertaking, and it does not allow the reader to walk away without contradicting thoughts and desires, mirroring the journey of the main characters. It is perfect for cold winter nights when the wind is howling and the lamps are glowing warmly.