Wuthering Heights

I'm slacking (unintentionally)! I missed my New Year's Resolution May post about a book I read for fun. A few days laaaate, but here it is.

I daresay that my general constituency, if I had one, will discard this post as a snooze. Can't help it. Sorry peeps. This is what I read last month. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (pretend that I knew how to include the two dots above the last "e" in "Bronte"). Despite being the only novel by this Bronte sister, it's a keeper!

It's a perfect example of a Victorian Gothic novel--supernatural elements; dark, foreboding atmosphere; large, ancestral homes; etc. Lots of raw emotion, intense passions even at the expense of common sense, and haunting presences. It's one of those that I read, and enjoyed, for an undergrad class--pretty sure it was spring of my first year, so I would have been 19. Ergo, it's been 9 years since I read it, and time well spent with it again. And, it has my favorite line in any book.

It reminded me of why I've spent 8 years as a student of English literature. It's the equivalent of a special kind of ice cream that had been discontinued for a few years now and all of a sudden you find it again in a little out of the way store, splurge, spend a night savoring it tiny spooonful by tiny spoonful, and then when you finish it, you think "I missed that." Ahhh, good times.