oh, heathcliff.

ok, so i usually try to be all diverse and stuff on here, but since i am still jobless and such, most of my activities are boring. i mean for you they’d likely be. i’m sort of an old boring soul at heart anyways, so i enjoy it all. as evidenced in my previous post, i just finished Jane Eyre, and as of last night (actually a night last week because i forgot to post this), i have also finished Wuthering Heights. i’m going to give you my humble opinion and leave you with promises that the next post after this will be more image and entertainment based. unless of course i finish the last Bronte sister’s novel before i find time to get on here.

the book. it is not my favorite. the story it contains is certainly much more dynamic and in-depth and intricate and such(and i learned the word “cogitating”)-i mean i only understood it because in the first chapter i had to make myself a chart of all the characters and how they related to one another.

however, the intensity of plot wasn’t enough for the formalist leaning of my mind. charlotte’s was certainly more eloquent, which i adored, but at the same time i did thoroughly enjoy W.H. i’ve attempted to analyze my reasons for these opinions, and i feel that it might possibly have to do with the fact that in charlotte’s book i never really set in stone the way i felt about many of the characters, and in emily’s i was keenly aware of how much i detested entirely at least one and had much disdain for several others. i think it’s more realistic when you can’t completely make up your mind about someone; people are always changing, at least they should be, and a big part of character development is being aware of these changes and the catalysts for them. on the other hand, it’s extremely difficult to encounter someone with the most wretched of attitudes and intentions-someone completely devoid of repentance- and still desire to believe in and appreciate them. that was Heathcliff for me. oh the hatefulness he embodied. and i know it’s “a passionate love story” and he was only that way because of his love, but he was truly awful.

i feel like i need to defend myself here, even though this is my blog, and say that i am often attracted to the “bad” characters. the wounded, the selfish, the vengeful. i feel like i must love them, i must try to understand them, i even often feel like they should be capable of better things than the other complacent or pleasing characters, but there was just something about Heathcliff, i couldn’t do it. i don’t think by any means that emily is not an outstanding writer, if she can make me feel that way about a fictional person, then obviously she is skilled, but the book (or maybe the “story”) itself…eww.

that said, i like these sisters, and i wish my sister and i were as talented as them at something more than making the most ridiculous camera faces.

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