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k_lsie 's review for:
Wuthering Heights
by Emily Brontë
Wuthering Heights is anything but a Victorian novel, because neither the awareness of values nor the social structures of the Victorian era, in which the work was created, find room to develop here. This novel has just as little to do with the Romantic era because Emily Brontë’s language style is far too rough and suggestive for that. One can indeed feel reminded of a prosaic Shakespeare, just as the structure of the plot is based on a thoroughly dramatic model. The characters and the topography are brought to elementary opposites, with Emily Brontë completely disregarding the literary scene of her time.
Admittedly, the Yorkshire dialect demands a lot from non-native speakers. In the plot there are subjective perspectives of unreliable and uninvolved narrators, Catherine's and Heathcliff's Byronic outbursts are not easy to understand if you can muster a spark of pity or respect for Edgar and Isabella.
But do good stories always have to be easy to digest?
Wuthering Heights is almost physically painful at times. It has protagonists who speak plain language regardless of loss, it has traditionalists and young rebels, the oppressed, those without a chance and idolatrous lovers and is a ghost and love story, family saga and personal memory, a didactic piece, an explanation for the current states of the characters and in this cruel, intoxicating description of love is a dark, realistic fairy tale. The fact that the characters described live almost without exception in such emotional extremes and thereby wear themselves to the conventions and constraints of their time is not to be blamed in this case on any excessive, self-important writing. The author doesn't roar around egocentrically - she lets the reader see how authentic characters can appear, into which one is compelled to invest themselves in fully.
Quite possibly one of the best books I've ever read.
Admittedly, the Yorkshire dialect demands a lot from non-native speakers. In the plot there are subjective perspectives of unreliable and uninvolved narrators, Catherine's and Heathcliff's Byronic outbursts are not easy to understand if you can muster a spark of pity or respect for Edgar and Isabella.
But do good stories always have to be easy to digest?
Wuthering Heights is almost physically painful at times. It has protagonists who speak plain language regardless of loss, it has traditionalists and young rebels, the oppressed, those without a chance and idolatrous lovers and is a ghost and love story, family saga and personal memory, a didactic piece, an explanation for the current states of the characters and in this cruel, intoxicating description of love is a dark, realistic fairy tale. The fact that the characters described live almost without exception in such emotional extremes and thereby wear themselves to the conventions and constraints of their time is not to be blamed in this case on any excessive, self-important writing. The author doesn't roar around egocentrically - she lets the reader see how authentic characters can appear, into which one is compelled to invest themselves in fully.
Quite possibly one of the best books I've ever read.