When I first picked up Brontë’s novel, my English teacher warned me that frame tale — the literary style of a story within a story — is the most complicated style there is. I shrugged my shoulders and turned the page. After all, I’ve done it before.
But, man, Wuthering Heights is difficult with a capital DIFFICULT. And I’m still not quite sure I understand because, as painful as this is to admit, I didn’t know the housekeeper was narrating until I looked it up on SparkNotes. I tried to get into this novel, which is considered a classic, but by the time I reached the halfway point I was frustrated beyond belief. In fact, I had to put the book down and try something else. Yet I persevered, hoping the second half would redeem this “classic.” No such luck.
I have to ask, why is this considered a love story? Seriously? Am I missing something? Because all I saw were two characters who were self-absorbed and malicious, who deserved to be together if only to stop them from ruining other people’s lives.
And this book is told in the most boring way ever, all from the point of view of one servant woman. She just drones on and on and on. Honestly, I think I would have liked the characters more if it wasn’t told from her point of view. Maybe a different narrator would have shown them in a better light, especially if it was told from Heathcliff’s or Catherine’s point of view. In addition, every character in Wuthering Heights is so unsympathetic that I just really didn’t care what happened to any of them, and I couldn’t bear the lead up to one more episode of people being awful to each other. I expected a lot from Wuthering Heights, especially after it was referenced in Twilight, but I was sorely disappointed.
- Brontë, Emily. Wuthering Heights. New York, NY: Kaplan, 2006. Originally published 1847. Print. 669 pgs. ISBN: 978-1419542268. Source: Purchased.