I have to read Wuthering Heights for my English class, so over winter break I decided I’d get a head start on it. Well, that “head start” turned into a three-day reading frenzy almost immediately. It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book that I enjoyed as much as Emily Bronte’s classic.
From the very beginning, I was surprised by how much I loved it. I’ve really enjoyed classics before (A Tale of Two Cities was pretty good, and I liked Catcher in the Rye), but I’ve never really loved one like this. I’m sure most of you read it in high school, but even if it’s just been a while, I strongly recommend you pick it up again.
The most surprising thing for me was how hilarious the book is. I’ve been guilty of assuming that old books are too serious to be funny or entertaining, but Wuthering Heights actually had me laughing out loud at some points. By the end of the book, I found myself hating every character, but still loving the book, and that’s a true hallmark of a great read – I didn’t like anybody, but the writing and the story were so wonderful that I didn’t want it to end. I was truly disappointed when the book ended.
What’s great about Wuthering Heights is that it can be an English class book – that is, there’s plenty of literary elements to pick out and analyze, and there’s deeper meanings and implications buried throughout the text – but it can also be an enthralling read. Books like The Scarlet Letter get so bogged down in symbolism and imagery that they become dull and slow to read, and personally, I wouldn’t read it for pleasure. Wuthering Heights, on the other hand, is so interesting, humorous, fast-paced, and well-written that I could (and probably will) read it many, many times, for pleasure as much as for its literary merit.