Wandering Interest for Wuthering Heights

I don’t know if I exactly “like” Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, but I do know I read it. Unlike with Jane Eyre, a book I loathed immediately, but came to appreciate, I definitely did not hate Charlotte’s sister’s book. But I also wouldn’t say I liked it as much as Jane Eyre. Weird how things work out.

If you don’t know, Heights is about two families in an isolated region of England whose lives are severely disrupted by the introduction of a vagabond child, Heathcliff, by Mr. Earnshaw. The two Earnshaw children have wildly different relationships with the boy: Catherine, comes to love him, and Hindley comes to hate him. This dynamic, coupled with the interaction between the Earnshaw’s and the Liptons, creates a rather convoluted mess of the social relations in this neck of the woods.

The plot then is one of love and hate, revenge and reconciliation. It is, therefore, fairly standard stuff. There really aren’t any twists or surprises, unless you can be surprised at how grotesque (in both meanings of the word) these people can be. Heathcliff in particular is kind of a master of psychological torture, and he’s a little depraved to boot. He is a sadist of the top order, but a little bit of a masochist as well. In all, he’s one of the more interesting characters I’ve come across in literature, as he is practically evil, but with a heart of gold. Sorta’.

There are a few interesting things to look out for in this book, and the first is how the story is told. Emily does a very good job of layering narration in such a way as to immerse you in the story, but also question the story that is being told. I have some issues with the overuse of “unreliable narrators” in literary criticism, because too often we have to go out of our way to prove they are unreliable (in which case I would think that either the author did a bad job providing us clues, or we are in fact digging entirely too deep). But in this case, there are some important issues with the narration that makes you question the veracity of the story.

In theory, we have Lockwood, a tenant of Heathcliff’s, hearing the story as told by Nelly, a servant who has served in both the Earnshaw’s and Lipton’s homes. One person in my class that I read this book in mentioned it reminded him, in a way, of Heart of Darkness in this regard. I would beg to differ, but my difference is really inconsequential for this analysis: use Conrad’s book more as a reference of style, as opposed to a reference of substance. Nelly, in turn, tells the story often with the use of other narrators, such as letters she remembers or physically can read to Lockwood. With so many layers, it isn’t hard to believe that something might be missing in the translation. There are also hints that Nelly may herself be unreliable (the overdramatic actions of every character might hint at that, or it might be sign of the writing period Bronte was in (I tend to feel it’s a bit of both)), which is something you should look out for.

What is interesting is why an author would tell us a story where we might be being lied to? I think this also illustrates the overuse of “unreliable,” but I think it also might show the nature of the character of Nelly. Lockwood himself interacts with many of the characters in the story Nelly narrates, so we can see that she is not so far off the mark. Still, if it does show her character, it also doesn’t paint her in the best light. So you have to wonder how much of the author’s commentary is coming through in Nelly’s voice. Basically, if you are interested in the subject of narrators, this is an excellent text to play around with.

There are other issues that might make this book interesting to read, but they are even more literary-analysisy than the above, so you can see why I am hesitant to mention them. Overall, I found the book decent, but if I hadn’t had to read it for class, I don’t think I would have picked it up. Having read it, I feel that the feeling was justified – Heathcliff is interesting, and you want Nelly to finish her story to see how things turn out, but for some reason these two things don’t seem to mesh to make a great story. Perhaps if I try again in a couple of years, it might grow on me, but for now I’ll admire the writing, but pass on the re-read.

I suggest if you want a good Bronte to read, go for Jane Eyre.