Toxicity at its Best: Wuthering Heights
The movie ‘Sex and the City’ came out in 2008 and I watched it in 2009. Back in 2009, I had no idea as to what ‘Sex and the City’ was about. I started watching it with no expectations and soon realized, that that movie was all I needed at that moment. I loved everything about the movie, the characters, their friendship, the aesthetics, the style and most importantly, ‘Carrie Bradshaw’ and her shoes!
The reason I mention this is because there is a scene in the movie, where Carrie Bradshaw a.k.a Sarah Jessica Parker has no plans for Christmas and she settles by the window with a cup of noodles and her favourite romance novel of all time, Wuthering Heights.
Even before watching this scene, I’d wanted to read Wuthering Heights but somehow, never did. After this, it was always at the back of my mind but as life happened, I always pushed it away for later. It was as if the universe was against me reading it. Whenever I’d ask for it at the school library, it was always issued to someone else. Whenever I’d ask a friend if I could borrow their copy, at that very moment, it had to be lent to someone else. And whenever I’d visit a book store and remember that I had to buy it, you know it, it would be out-of-stock!
This year I finally read it. Well, more like cringed through it.
For those of you who haven’t read it, here’s a quick run-through:
Mr. Earnshaw is the owner of Wuthering Heights and has 2 children, Hindley and Catherine. One day, he returns from Liverpool with an orphan at his tow, Heathcliff. Hindley despises Heathcliff since he soon becomes the preferred son in Mr. Earnshaw’s eyes. When Mr.Earnshaw dies, he treats Heathcliff even more cruelly as the owner of Wuthering Heights. One day, Heathcliff and Catherine visit Thrushcross Grange which is the residence for the Lintons. They welcome Catherine but shun Heathcliff. Over time, Catherine spends more time with Edgar Linton and one day, Heathcliff overhears her confessing to Nelly (the housekeeper) that she could never marry Heathcliff. Heathcliff leaves for 3 years and then comes back with a mysterious sum of money. By now, Catherine is married to Edgar and Hindley is deep in debt. Heathcliff seeks revenge on Edgar by marrying Isabella Linton (his sister) and then treats her and the ensuing son poorly. In the midst of this, Catherine dies after giving birth to her daughter Cathy. To exact further revenge on Edgar, Heathcliff makes Cathy marry his own sickly son, named Linton and doesn’t let Hindley’s son (Hareton) get an education to seek revenge on his father. Eventually, Heathcliff dies and somehow, young Cathy and Hareton find love and solace in each other’s company.
I couldn’t believe the level of toxicity this book was packed with and the characters, each more twisted than the other. For the longest time, people have claimed Heathcliff to be the most romantic hero as well as the most monstrous character to have been written in a romantic novel. But Heathcliff is a character you understand and maybe, just maybe, want to forgive throughout the book. To an extent, I shared the hatred he felt towards Hindley, who treated him poorly as a kid and after Mr. Earnshaw dies, as the owner of Wuthering Heights. But I was exhausted by the amount of hatred he portrayed towards everybody else, seeking revenge on Hindley through his son and on Edgar by marrying his sister and then torturing his own son.
I get it, Heathcliff. Your love for Catherine is so wild and fierce that you’re ready to break all hell loose. Heathcliff and Catherine’s love is supposed to be an all-powerful, all-consuming force that continues to wreak havoc on everything till it is satisfied, only when the two are together again.
Coming to Catherine, well, as Constance Grady says in the Vox, she plays elaborate inter-generational mind games! Ha, this is possibly the best description of Catherine I’ve ever read.
If there was ever a more flawed character, it was Catherine. If you really think about it, she gaslighted Heathcliff by saying she couldn’t marry him (of course, social status and money meant so much to her), made Edgar Linton miserable while married to him because she’s in love with Heathcliff and then dies from the sorrow of not being with Heathcliff, leaving a hole in his heart forever.
The point is, Heathcliff and Catherine were not only selfish but awfully oblivious to the consequences of their actions. Till Catherine was alive, they were always in a power struggle, each wanting to love the other but ending up inflicting pain instead. Edgar and Isabella Linton were the worst affected, their only fault being they actually thought Catherine and Heathcliff loved them respectively.
Regardless, Wuthering Heights is and will always be a work of literary genius. The fact that I’ve just written a rant of 800 words on it is a pretty strong indicator of how strong and rich the narrative is. It is a classic, not for its plot but for its vivid storytelling. From a writer’s perspective, I highly admire the work put out by Emily Brontë, wherein she exquisitely reveals the darker sides of passionate love and the dualities of human nature, claiming everything to be grey, even in love.
