I've done it: after far too many years, decades even, I've reread Wuthering Heights, and I found it a surprisingly riveting read. Although my memory served me right when it came to the characters – many of them are awful, and even the more likeable ones have irritating traits it's sometimes hard to forgive – the book proved to be such a ripping yarn I didn't mind it as much as I did in my teens. As they say, there's a lot to unpack here, so I'll limit myself. My defence of Nelly Dean will have to keep, as will my slightly Harry-Potterish theory that Joseph the near-unintelligible servant is some sort of house gnome.
My greatest surprises when revisiting Wuthering Heights were firstly its sheer readability, and secondly how young most of the protagonists are. Much of the characters' over-excitability and bad decisions could at least partly be down to youthful folly. At the book's first crisis, when Heathcliff runs away after hearing Catherine reject him (but not staying around to hear her love declaration, such as it is) and she falls ill, she is only fifteen and he about a year older. When Heathcliff returns, he is barely out of his teens and Catherine nineteen at most.
The other main characters are also youngsters. Edgar Linton's the same age as his rival, Isabella Linton is only eighteen when she develops her crush on Heathcliff, and even Hindley – who's eight years older than his sister Catherine – is only twenty-three when he loses his beloved wife, and dies before he's hit thirty. In the second part of the novel, there's a whole new set of teenagers and a twentysomething acting foolishly. Much of the high drama in the novel becomes more understandable in the context of teenage angst and self-absorption, though it certainly doesn't explain all of the odd behaviour.
Even Lockwood, the novel's framing-device narrator (before he leaves the story to Nelly), is an example of callow youth. He's exiled himself to the moors after having rejected a girl he pined for when she showed signs of returning his interest: a typical young man's mistake. Stunted emotional growth and immaturity is something of a theme in the book.
But enough of that. The real question is: do I, villain-lover that I am, still dislike Heathcliff as much as I did when I was younger? The answer is: well, yeah!
To be fair, though, I can more easily see his interest to certain female readers than I could before. He does have some features that usually make for a good villain: he's intelligent, handsome and perfectly miserable. I was sorry for him in the later part of the book, when his loneliness becomes so acute that even Lockwood's company is a relief to him. Also, as I'm someone who enjoys her creature comforts, the scenes where Heathcliff can't bring himself to eat while haunted by Catherine, even when the food's right in front of him, hit me quite hard. So I guess I have to accord the man some leader of the pack appeal. But apart from that – ugh.
I guess how you respond to Heathcliff partly comes down to whether you think he has a case to start with, and I don't. I've always been Team Hindley. Now, don't get me wrong. I know Hindley's a pretty useless character, what with his drinking, knocking people about and gambling (mostly as a plot contrivance, but still). I'm less inclined to forgive Hindley for neglecting his son out of grief for his wife than when I was younger and more romantic, and he would have gone to pot even without Heathcliff's help. His downfall reminded me of Gerald Fairley's in A Woman of Substance, of all things ("That was my plan, but you did it yourself, really").
Nevertheless, Hindley was Mr Earnshaw's son, and Mr Earnshaw's money and land were rightfully his. There was zero reason for him to keep spoiling his father's pet, who lorded it over him while in favour, when Mr Earnshaw died. If Earnshaw wanted Heathcliff to be a gentleman so badly, he should have made provisions for him, and Heathcliff should have had the wits to keep the peace with his future master. Besides, I'm certain the little blighter broke that fiddle.
Even if Heathcliff had had a case, though, I must say his defenders are able to swallow a great deal. He's a bully and a sadist. His psychological torture of Isabella, young Cathy (his great love's daughter), his own son Linton and others inspires cruelty in them in turn. Isabella retaliates against Heathcliff; Cathy also lands some psychological blows on Heathcliff but also torments poor Hareton (Hindley's son); Linton is encouraged to torment Cathy and everyone is free to have a go at Linton, including Joseph. Though personally I found the psychological sadism the hardest to take, there's a lot of brute force applied as well.
And then, there's the tiresome speechifying on Heathcliff's part, mostly phrased as confidences to Nelly (a rare touching trait in both Heathcliff and the ghastly Catherine the elder is how they both keep confiding in Nelly long after she's lost any sympathy for them). Some of it is self-congratulatory moustache-twirling; some of it teeth-gnashing fee-fi-fo-fum-ing (I'll think you'll find there's no country anywhere where you're allowed to perform vivisection on your son and future daughter-in-law, mate); some of it simply disturbing rambling (those plans respecting Heathcliff's corpse and Catherine's – yikes). In many ways, though he becomes more Machiavellian as he grows older, Heathcliff stays a vengeful and obsessive teenager emotionally until the end, or close to the end at any rate. As Pepe le Pew would say, "Eet ees de leetle boy in him".
If Heathcliff is your cup of tea, then fine, but admit this much at any rate: he's not a hero, or a tragic hero, or an anti-hero. He's a villain. And I guess some like their villains rough.
