Whenever a new film attempts to adapt a beloved classic in literature, an angel gets their wings and bookworms gain another title to add to their TBR list. Jokes aside, I’ve been looking forward to watching the Wuthering Heights film, in no small part because Margot Robbie is in it. My first instinct is to always say that the book is better, and in preparation to be a snob about Wuthering Heights, I had to first read Wuthering Heights. I went in with expectations of a darker love story with gothic elements, something in between Jane Eyre and the rather romantic trailers for the movie floating around. To put it bluntly, Wuthering Heights was nothing I could have predicted and everything I could ever want. Before I proceed with my thoughts on it, I do recommend going into the story being about as blind as I was, especially with the movie’s release being upon us.
Wuthering Heights is first and foremost a story about obsession, cruelty, and its consequences. It’s not a first-person narrative from the perspective of either of the main characters, Catherine and Heathcliff; rather, it’s a retelling of the events that happened on the property of Wuthering Heights and the tragic fate that met its occupants. To summarize the plot, Heathcliff is adopted by Mr. Earnshaw, a wealthy gentleman, into his family and raised alongside his two children, Catherine and Hindley. The children initially do not get along, but Catherine and Heathcliff soon become inseparable, and Hindley is sent away when his father favors Heathcliff over him. After their father’s death, Heathcliff is treated poorly and Catherine marries another man, and given his love for her this devastates him. Heathcliff returns years later as a wealthy man set on revenge against his adoptive family, and he succeeds in this quest but ultimately dies to be reunited with Catherine in the afterlife. Heathcliff’s obsession with vengeance spawns not from mere love or hatred, but from the desire to claim what he sees as rightfully his. If he’s not able to have what he wants, then he is willing to destroy the object so that no one else can have or appreciate it.
To me, the intrigue of this book is its utter complexity at every level of storytelling; the relationships between the characters, unreliable narration, and a frankly sad ending all result in Wuthering Heights feeling real in a way not many stories accomplish. I feel as though the story could have really happened because it’s so grim yet doesn’t become overbearing. A niche factor that made me enjoy the novel is honestly, how fundamentally unlikable all the characters are. Our narrators are biased and likely to lie or manipulate to their own benefit. And our main cast all have either a fatal flaw that diminishes them to the reader, or are so objectively horrible in their portrayal that they become monstrous. I honestly thought going into reading Wuthering Heights that it would be a romance, and can now only classify it as a beautiful horror story with rich societal commentary.
I’m glad I took the time to read Wuthering Heights. I recommend that if you’re considering watching the movie version to give the novel a shot, either before or after. I at least am interested to see how the modern adaptation handles the novel and all its complexities.
