So I’ve bound and gagged The Banshees — as any loving aunt would
do — just so I can take three minutes to tell you this all-important thing. Get ready. Seriously. GET. READY. I mean, your little patch of earth? Well, it’s about to be completely shattered, Crackie. Please remain calm. Or sit down if you’re the excitable type. I won’t be held responsible for how your world is forever altered. I’m sorry. I just won’t.
Ready?
I finished Wuthering Heights last night and, well, that book annoyed the bejeebez outta me.
I’m not kidding. I have NO bejeebez left. Pffffft. Gone-zo.
Sadly, I don’t have time now to express my irritation with this book — because I see The Banshees are beginning to struggle against their restraints and I suppose I should do something, blahdie blahdie blah — but, oh, I WILL be talking about my irritation with this book.
You know, after I get out of jail and such.
More later, pippa.
Oh, YES, woman. I knew we would agree on this book. My review when I finished reading it: “I’ve just finished reading Wuthering Heights, and I’m angry that no one ever punched Heathcliff and Cathy in the face.”
I can’t believe that melodramatic hatefest has gone down as one of the greatest love stories of all time. WHAT the hell EVER.
I think part of it was my frame of mind while reading it. I think that’s true when you read any book. A book can come to you at precisely the right time or precisely the wrong time. I’ve had this happen to me where I’ve read a book in the past, hated it, then read it again years later with a completely different perspective. But I think, honestly, I was simply in no mood for this book. It exhausted me. It’s not that I didn’t “get” it; I’m plenty smart enough to “get” what Bronte was trying to do. It’s more that Cathy and some of her dynamic reminded me almost exactly of a certain family member and it was just too much for me. Too close for comfort. I was like, “I try to avoid this in my real life. What, I wanna read a book that’s rife with it??”
I mean, let’s face it, Heathcliff and Cathy are obviously two literary characters who would benefit immensely from medicinal intervention of their emotional/mental issues.
I found the whole experience LITERALLY exhausting. If the book had been much longer, I don’t think I would have made it.
I can hardly wait for the literary, um, discussion. 🙂
I don’t think I would have made it through if the Kindle hadn’t been reading it to me. The book itself made me tired; reading it to myself might have killed me.
Yeah, all that tortured,unrequited love on the moors.
Gag. I have to agree with SarahK. That is NOT love.