Sunday 5 June 2011

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

From The Week of March 27, 2011


For many, the tempestuous relationship of Catherine and Heathcliff, the dyad around which Wuthering Heights revolves, is darkly, fantastically romantic. It burns with a boundless, dangerous passion that has kept this classic of British literature circulating through English syllabi for decades. But while I agree that Catherine and Heathcliff are magnetic characters worthy of celebration, Wuthering Heights is, in almost every other respect, an inferior, Gothic novel.

Narrated almost entirely through dialogue, Ms. Bronte's most famous work is comprised of the recollections of Ellen Dean, a housekeeper for the wealthy Mr. Lockwood who has traveled to northern England in search of a respite from his troubles. Dean, who works at the home in which Mr. Lockwood is staying, relates to her rich, southern tenant the legendary tale of Catherine and Heathcliff Earnshaw. One night, in an act of charity, Catherine Earnshaw's father collects and brings home an orphaned gypsy boy (Heathcliff) whom he later adopts. But when, some few years later, Catherine's father dies, Heathcliff loses his best advocate, leaving him no armor against the jealous spite of Hindley Earnshaw, brother of Catherine. What began as a sibling rivalry between the boys has flared, now, into enmity as, after years of living as part of the Earnshaw family, Heathcliff is reduced to playing a servant in their household. Perhaps Heathcliff would've endured this humiliation for the love of Catherine with whom he is clearly besotted, but when, after associating with their rich, cultured neighbors, she too turns on Heathcliff, the scarred adolescent hurls himself from the only home he's ever known, bent on transforming himself into a man of power capable of exacting revenge upon the family that has wronged him.

Though Wuthering Heights is beautifully written and powerfully tragic, the core conceits of its plot prevent it from truly taking flight. In order to advance the story, Ms. Bronte finds it necessary to interfere and maneuver her characters into positions where the right piece of dialogue is heard by the right character in exactly the wrong mood. For instance, on the heels of Hindley demoting him to a servant, Heathcliff just happens to overhear Catherine announcing her affection for Edgar, the Linton's son in whom she's made a friend, but he misinterprets her meaning, assumes a betrayal and flees the house, setting into motion the second half of the book. Literary lights as luminous as Shakespeare have deployed such tricks in the execution of a tale, but that doesn't make it any less sloppy. In order for any story of note to have meaning, it must have a gloss of realism. But repeatedly, Ms. Bronte intercedes to position her characters just right, so they might overhear the right piece of dialogue, so they can ask the right questions. This leads to my second criticism.

Wuthering Heights is poorly served by its narrators, Dean and Mr. Lockwood. While having Dean relay the story simplifies the structure for Ms. Bronte by releasing her of the necessity to tell, first-hand, a story that spans more than 30 years, it distances the reader from the piece's emotional events. The reader is aware, from the moment Dean begins her story, that all we are about to experience has come to pass. Mr. Lockwood could, at any time, go out and ask Heathcliff himself for his version of events. Instead, the reader is locked into consuming hundreds of pages of improbable dialogue, most of which provided by Dean who apparently possesses the most remarkable memory in human history. If Mr. Lockwood had a stronger presence in the story, perhaps choosing this structure would have brought something to the table. But as it is, Mr. Lockwood is nothing more than an ornament, a stand-in for the reader.

Wuthering Heights is a wonderfully savage book, shot through with raw and emotional characters. Heathcliff's journey into darkness is fascinating and disturbing, while Catherine's decline as a result of Heathcliff's passion is powerfully potent. But I felt far too manipulated by the author to enjoy a story about a love sundered by spite. Such strong emotion should be truly earned; it shouldn't be a cheap trick to facilitate what comes. (3/5 Stars)

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