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I was surprised by how much I liked Wuthering Heights because I didn’t agree with some of the assumptions, felt lost in the class-related themes, and didn’t especially like any of the characters. But something about this class still had me reading compulsively.
This is a book that speaks to the death of romantic notions; even the relatively happy ending doesn’t seem to come from a grand love or fiery romance, but from quiet acceptance. The only (presumably) successful relationship doesn’t start i I was surprised by how much I liked Wuthering Heights because I didn’t agree with some of the assumptions, felt lost in the class-related themes, and didn’t especially like any of the characters. But something about this class still had me reading compulsively.
This is a book that speaks to the death of romantic notions; even the relatively happy ending doesn’t seem to come from a grand love or fiery romance, but from quiet acceptance. The only (presumably) successful relationship doesn’t start in secret and it is never dramatic; it is a quiet acclimatization of two people towards one another, a co-evolution. To me, in many ways, Wuthering Heights was an anti-romance, exactly the opposite of what I had been expecting.
The plot follows the relationship between a well-to-do country girl, Catherine, and the orphan boy, Heathcliff, taken in by her father and how their relationship affects everyone in their influence over a generation. Catherine marries a boy closer to her station and Heathcliff’s life then becomes one of proving himself and of illustrating the error of his loved one’s ways. It does not go well, not for anyone. This, of course, makes for an excellent tale.
Even as I was wrapped up in the story, I struggled with how unsympathetic all of the characters were. They were foolish, naive, vindictive, whiny, and self-absorbed. They were, I suppose, very human, though in some cases it was hard to see anything redeemable about them at all. Take Catherine, the beloved whose rejection of Heathcliff spurs the book’s events. She had a singularly high sense of self-worth:
"But I begin to fancy you don’t like me. How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me. And they have all turned to enemies in a few hours: they have, I’m positive; the people here."
And then there is Heathcliff, the central character of the book, the one woven into the cultural fabric, whom I thought I knew before reading a single page. Turns out I was wrong. My very first thought as I got into the book was one of utter disbelief: This is the Heathcliff that is supposed to be a sex symbol? I mean, somehow, that was my expectation before I cracked the spine. I expected Heathcliff to be dark and troubled and romantic and dreamy. Instead, he was possessive, controlling, and manipulative. Not to mention a little crazy by the end.
Heathcliff is the kind of boyfriend who blames you for his unhappiness and reminds you over and over that he would die if you left him. He was a selfish ass, albeit one whose unpleasantness may be the result of a hard-knock life. Sure, maybe Edgar Linton isn’t the kind of guy to get a girl all hot and bothered, but his love is as intense and enduring as Heathcliff’s. And way less creepy.
A contextual disclaimer: I say this as someone who almost always falls for the dark, troubled, morally ambiguous characters. (Now, cast Johnny Depp in the role and I might have to reconsider.)
Heathcliff does serve as an excellent reminder of the pitfalls of pride. So much of the tragedy in Wuthering Heights comes from pride. We see the deadliness of this particular sin, as people choose misery and inaction over the potential of humiliation. It is this part of the characters I most related to, in spite of the fact that it often made them so very unlikable. As Ellen Dean tells a young Heathcliff, “proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.”
It was Ellen Dean whom I came closest to liking. In many ways, this is her story far more than Heathcliff’s or Catherine’s or Lockwood’s. Sometimes, I was frustrated by Dean’s inability to see that she was making the same mistakes over and over, and her lack of imagination when it came to potential consequences. But as our guide to the world of the Grange and the Heights and the moors, she was engaging, even as her dangerously Pollyanna-ish tendencies were frustrating. Even she saw her mistakes, her role in the story’s tragedy:
"I seated myself on a chair, and rocked to and fro, passing harsh judgment on my many derelictions of duty; from which, it struck me then, all the misfortunes of my employers sprang. It was not the case in reality, I am aware; but it was, in my imagination, that dismal night; and I thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than I."
Over and over, Dean justified the bad behaviour of others, or imagined that this time everything would be decorous and proper.
Perhaps, it is decorum and propriety that are to blame for Dean’s powerlessness. The constraints of class and station are very foreign to me as a modern, middle class, Western reader. When I read books where the star-crossedness comes from class distinction, I often wonder what today’s equivalent would be. Is there one? In this culture so obsessed with independence and free will, it seems almost certain that Catherine and Heathcliff would indulge their passion, that Catherine would not choose Edgar simply because Heathcliff is below her. Even then, though, I imagine the relationship as something doomed. To me, the tragedy here lies in the flaws of the characters rather than in society’s oppressions and circumstance’s cruelties.
I concede there are many other ways to read this book. That plurality appeals to me. The text supports so many interpretations, any number of focal points. I have, for instance, nothing to say about Lockwood or Joseph (although that may be because I could barely manage to interpret his accented words). If Bronte had written a simple story, with clear heroes and villains and moral lessons laid bare, would the book have withstood the test of time the way this one has? Or would it become dated and empty as mores shifted? How differently I must read this book than a 19th-century reader would have.
Finally, a word or two about madness: It is interesting the way the book conflates madness and illness while at the same time casting a moral judgment on the sufferers of both. Sickliness is a shorthand character trait in this book and madness a character flaw. Again, this attitude is likely a product of the book’s era, but it’s one that I found intriguing because of the inherent contradictions I see in the way it was handled.
In its own way, Wuthering Heights is a perfect read for a long weekend. It is a novel about what happens when the guy doesn’t get the girl and how the universe can be set right again. In between, there is melodrama, tragedy, madness and, possibly, ghosts. It’s a quick read, a fun one, and the kind of book that gives you a little bit of insight into the stew of popular culture. Plus, it’ll make you feel good about yourself, since you’re almost certainly wiser, more humble, and less shallow than any of Bronte’s classic characters.
That is all my three classics though my book that I just finished today ish. Was not a classic but thought you might want to read what I thought of it.
This book was easy for me to read though my friend no shame and name here found it hard to read. And that what makes it so brilliant. Holly Bourne takes the somewhat prohibited subject of mental health and reveals it to us in its messy, flawed, heart-breaking existence in an eye-opening, harrowing account of a girl's battle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder.
I loved this book. So much. I was basically a squealing, flailing, sobbing mess with a happy heart but tears dancing across my cheeks due to one of the most beautiful YA literary experiences I've had in a while. Even now a day passed, my feelings for this book haven't dimmed in the slightest - in fact, they've grown. I literally can't stop thinking about this book, about the characters, the writing and the truth it speaks. I'm in love with Am I Normal Yet? and I'm sure you will be too.
I think I'll begin with how much I adore the characters. My own diorders hasn't been that great lately and especially at the time of writing this review and it makes me so badly wish that I could call up Evie and speak to them as well Amber and Lottie who I would love to have a friendship with. The characters feel so real and I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.
I loved Evie. She was so relatable and so honest with us about her struggle. She felt like a breathing, existing person - every character did! It feels like they're out there, living in the real world and to say anything else would be sacrilege. I loved Evie, she was funny, she was thoughtful, she tried to get better, she tried hiding her illness not only so she could continue trying to live society's idea of normal to protect herself from the hatred of the world and the disappointment of those close to her. I also thought Holly Bourne tackled the thoughts people with mental illness are bombarded with superbly well. The bitterness and the self-loathing and the desire to be "normal"whilst then further discussing the topic of what is normal anyway?
Evie's also slightly naive which is understandable as she hasn't been on the social scene for three years. She was mistreated and left feeling helpless and foolish several times due to dating and I felt so sorry for her but I liked that that too was realistic. I liked that Holly Bourne showed dating in it's awkward and often disappointing glory. YA books tend to have unrealistic dating scenarios and I loved how this book showed that dating isn't always picture perfect and, especially when you're sixteen, it can be disappointing, it can be awkward and it make things worse instead of better. I felt like I was learning along with Evie and drinking up life lessons with her. This book taught me so much about life, love and anxiety and I can't thank Holly Bourne enough for giving me this opportunity to be enlightened about so many important areas.
I loved Evie's friends Amber and Lottie! I loved Amber and how passionate she was about feminism. She's strong-willed and determined but she's also vulnerable and self-conscious and I liked how the author balanced those qualities out. I really liked Lottie too. She was intelligent and she knew it and didn't allow herself to dumb herself down for guys like many people do.
I adored Evie's little sister, Rose. She was so supportive and wise and I loved her! I also liked how Bourne showed that Rose also had problems to deal with and that everyone, no matter how fine and lovely they may appear, is dealing with something.
Then there were the three love interests scattered throughout the book (don't worry, there wasn't a love triangle/square thing). Guy was a total jerk and I thought maybe he had some redeeming qualities after the party where he helped Evie but I don't think he could ever fully redeem himself due to his weed/smoking habit. I never liked him though and my dislike for him just grew throughout the book. Ethan…I laugh just thinking about him. He was a character, that's for sure. Oli! I LOVE OLI. I want a book from Oli's perspective so badly I really hope Oli features in the sequels because I love his adorableness so much.
Evie, Amber and Lottie are really there for each other, always uplifting, supporting and empowering each other even if one engages in activities that they don't agree with. I loved how this book showed the meaning of true friendship - of accepting and loving someone despite their flaws. I also love how it showed that relationships can be fickle and fleeting but a sturdy friendship can withstand the tests of time. I loved how it showed that if someone accepts you completely despite the panic attacks and the irrational fears they're someone worth fighting for.
The plot was great too. I flew through the book (when I wasn't taking a minute to remind myself that I wasn't Evie because it literally felt like we, the reader, are submerged in Evie's thoughts) and it was an addictive read. I appreciated the honesty in which it showed the tiring, pointless fight between logic and irrationality and the treacherous climb it takes to reach the cusp of "normality". The cusp of full recovery and the quickening downward spiral as you lose your footing, falling to the bottom of the mountain and have to repeat the slow, exhausting climb once again to reach the person you used to be - but this time you're weighed down by the baggage of doubt and crippling fear that you won't be able to stitch your fragmented self back together again. This struggle was depicted with such heart-rendering candor it quite frankly had me sobbing because Holly made me understand, she made me live Evie's struggle and it was jarring but I'm so thankful for that. That she provided me with the unflinching truth that will help me understand the world and it's people slightly more.
I also appreciated that Holly Bourne didn't romanticize mental health. Nothing could heal Evie miraculously and Holly made it quite clear in the book that Evie would have to keep working at it. The recovery process was so genuine that I...I don't actually have words it was just utterly PERFECT. It highlights the fact that it's a constant effort to get better and then you will have a relapse along the way, it's inevitable, and then you'll have to keep working at it to get back to where you used to be. It's frustrating and it's exhausting and Holly emphasized that truth.
So many books write a romance that fixes the protagonist's problems and I may have screamed with joy that this book didn't have that. Sure, I adore a love story that fixes all of life's problems and where the couple ride off into the sunset on a white horse and live happily ever after as much as the next girl, but as much as we want that to happen, it doesn't. This book shows that not all guys are going to be Augustus Waters or Tobias or Will Herondale, they're not going to whisper poetry into your ear when you're crying, or be by your side day and night, or profess their love for you under a moonlit sky. Sometimes the guys want to take advantage of you, a lot of the time they smoke, drink, sleep around and do drugs and a lot of time they won't be as supportive as you would like if you say you have a mental illness. I mean, of course that's not always the case, but generally speaking. This book portrayed relationships honestly and showed how they can muddy the waters and complicate things instead of making things better and I applaud that.
The writing was excellent too! I love how it's a running commentary on Evie's thoughts. You're basically in her head and that is quite a terrifying and uncomfortable place to be but that just once again proves Holly's extraordinary talent to expose the blatant truth of how catastrophic it is to live with a mental illness. It was excellent.
Am I Normal Yet? was an extraordinary novel that left me reeling. It was a harrowing, hopeful account of one girl's struggle with a mental illness and her determination to overcome it. I haven't felt this much reading a book in awhile, it tore at my heart and freed the tears that threatened to spill...but it also attached wings to my heart and made it soar as the undercurrent of hope and strength grew as I turned the pages. Holly Bourne wrote this book with such honesty. So many sentiments Am I Normal Yet? held were thoughts that had echoed mine before and that just proves how brilliant this book is. If you want a book that will make you understand the world, understand yourself and leave you mind-blown, read this. Truly a stellar read.
Watch this space for more reviews, I am on GoodReads if you are interested in that thing. still finding my feet on the website though.
Now if you excuse me, I am going to start to read my second book today 'the art of being normal'
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