[打卡]阅读打卡第39天 (Jan 11, 2022) - Wuthering Heights

补发读后感。

Progress: done

Reflections:

As I turned the last page, I breathed a sigh of relief, for myself, and for the characters in the book.

The death of Heathcliff was “queer”, as Nelly had put it, save his monomania towards Catherine, he was as strong and as healthy as anyone else. Yet, not so much could be said regarding his mental state.

Ever since the night Catherine died, I believe Heathcliff’s soul had died with her. There was no longer a will for living, “The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her!”. Everywhere he looked, her face imprinted on it. The night he attempted to dug up her grave, he felt that Catherine was around. He forfeited his action and returned home, driven by the feeling that he would see her. His sensational hallucination of Catherine being around became his sole purpose for living. As his passion of hatred grew thick towards Mr Linton and Hindley, his purpose for living shifted towards attaining his revenge. After all these years of planning and meticulous execution of his schemes, he became the master of both households. “my old enemies have not beaten me – now would be the precise time to revenge myself on their representatives”, yet Heathcliff “have the lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction”. Heathcliff stated “but where is the use? I don’t care for striking, I can’t take the trouble to raise my hand!.. I am too idle to destroy for nothing”. In Hareton, he saw a personification of his own youth, and in the young Catherine, he saw the resemblance of defiance inherited from her mother Catherine.

Heathcliff’s internal tumult continued to boil to a climax, to the point that it had overwhelmed his perceptual senses. With days of self-starvation and nights roaming on the moor, combined with his unrelenting yearning for Catherine, he finally started seeing and hearing Catherine’s ghost. “I have attained my heaven”, said Heathcliff, “I’m too happy…”.

He died in a stormy night, with wide open eyes and a smile on his face. I suspect he passed fixated at Catherine’s ghost.

Heathcliff was buried in the moor, next to Catherine and Mr Linton. The two households were passed back to their rightful owners, Hareton and young Catherine, who fell in love and got married. They would surely have a happy life thereafter.

I can’t wish for a better ending. I had tormented through the pages, many times, pitying with Heathcliff, Catherine, Mr Linton, Hindley, Isabella, Linton… None of the characters were fully evil, none fully angelical. I marvel at Emily Bronte’s creativity in crafting each of the characters, like the real characters we meet in life, memorable and full of joys and sorrows.

I also wonder at how deep love could run, between Heathcliff and Catherine, and between Mr Linton and Catherine. One burned with ferocity, destruction, full heart and soul, the other radiated with tenderness, and hope. Love has no rights and wrongs. In the end, death rests all in tranquility.

Too much can be said about Wuthering Heights.

Here I lay the book down.

Make my final sigh and reflection.

And move on to the next book.