Supposedly one of the 'great' love stories of all time, I have always felt Catherine and Heathcliff's relationship was selfish, manipulative and just plain weird. I could never understand why she felt she could marry Linton and still have Heathcliff on the side and that Edgar would accept him too. I guess she could see herself aiding Heathcliff in the process, but I just can't see how she could rationalize that. Maybe it is just a bitter reminder of how stringent class distinctions were in that period. For the longest time I felt nothing but disgust for Heathcliff until after thinking about this book for some time: he may be vindictive, mean spirited and low but he did have a rough life where he was mistreated at every turn. I think his one redeeming moment was when Cathy and Hareton were starting to connect and he couldn't bear to punish them -- perhaps he did have a heart if only it lay beneath layers and layers of darkness. This time around I actually felt like Catherine was more the villain than he ever was.I'm glad I reread this one from an adult standpoint. I know that love isn't always passionately destructive and all consuming -- but 'Wuthering Heights' truly is an engrossing tale. I highly recommend the recent Masterpiece adaptation, it was fantastic! ( )

I have tried to read this short book five times, and can never make it more than fifty pages into it. It's so painfully boring! The entire story could probably be condensed into 10 pages, and it might actually be interesting then.Um, do Catherine and Heathcliff love each other? OMG! It was so hard to tell when that's all Brontë talks about without actually going anywhere with the plot! Ugh! Awful story! ( )

Well, I wanted to give it a four star review, but I didn't "really like it." I recognize the power of its passion, but I was dragged kicking and screaming the entire way, much like the way Heathcliff tortured Catherine Jr. and also his own unformed "lizard-like" son, Linton. Best case scenario for marital bliss? Make sure your dating pool is larger than two lackluster, underwhelming cousins. ( )

The great mystery of Wuthering Heights is that, despite misery for generations, the final collection of residents form the societal norm as the novel closes. It reaches a fairy-tale conclusion which seems set apart from the Gothic nature of the remainder of the narrative. It is either a failure of readership (which I will confess I desire to be true), of tone or narrative structure, or of genre. The latter suggests a delicacy which nudges the reader towards gendered narrative: as in Jane Eyre, another Bronte has succumb to the tropes of female writer (whether this was known at the time is irrelevant), and, through the conclusion of the norm family (that is, the family within the patriarchal and capitalist discourses) which can only trap the female. The novel thus becomes a contrast of the unsupressed wild woman (in Cathy, her darker nature expressed through Heathcliff) and the younger Cathy, who has been repressed into the societal norms. The tendency towards a id-ego-superego reading becomes inevitable. Alas, that final chapter! ( )

Read it in a college writing course. Hated the characters: that one girl was an utter bitch and deserved to get smacked around; the main guy was a complete weirdo. And the narrator was a complete whacko. Too weird by half; I don't care if it is a classic. ( )