If you've been put off reading this classic from it's frankly romanticised publicity, then you have it SO wrong. Wuthering Heights has got it all; incest, murder, necrophilia and ghosts to name but a few. There's even a scene where a little dog gets strung up to a tree. What more could you want?
WH follows the story of Cathy, a pompous, well-heeled young girl of about seven, who falls in love with the unnattractive and wholly unappealing stray that her father brings home; Heathcliff (effectively her step-brother, I told you it got messy). Cathy in her infinite wisdom decides not to marry Heathcliff (they're slightly older by this point) and heads off to marry the wet and weedy Edgar, who utterly adores her but is quite ridiculous.
Anyone who has ever titled Heathcliff as a romantic hero hasn't read this book. I'm not even joking - he's scarier than Dracula. And Noel Edmonds. Put together.
Heathcliff vows his revenge, tries to kill pretty much every other character, and then lots more happens, but I'm not going to tell you what because that's cheating. Basically, most people are murdered or die in horrible circumstances, there's some forced marriages, a bit of rape, a whole new generation and a few ghosts thrown in for good measure.
Literally, this novel is an anti-romance. It couldn't be more brutal. Buy and read it NOW, or Cathy will get you.
If I could, this would get 11 kangaroos out of five, but that's not mathematically possible.
Actually, hell, this is my blog. I'm giving it 11.
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