I’ve been meaning to read this for at least the past year, yet somehow I never got around to it. I don’t know actually. It was good, certainly—more that good—but it’s difficult to describe. It was unlike any Gothic novel which I have read, in that it was far more subtle, and far less action-filled. Obviously it had the staple of a third-hand perspective as Lockwood records the story as told by Mrs Dean, but it could be more than even this, as she recounts some of it second-hand. I think it could maybe be described as haunting. There was definitely an element of the supernatural, although it mainly manifested itself through madness and insanity (I’m not sure they count as the same thing) which made the entire novel that little bit more spooky. And I felt so sorry for Heathcliff. Abandoned, ignored by his peers, it is easy to pity him. It’s also very easy to fear him. He appears without moral scruples or human decency, violent, and passionate to a fault. Despite this he is fiercely loyal to Cathy’s memory, and for this I admire him. He is not an admirable character by any stretch of the imagination, but he is (despite the quotation on the back of the book) a man, who has loved and lost, and who has been changed by it. Of this I am certain: before he left, he was not evil. It was only when he returned, when he discovered that Cathy had been peaceful and content during his long absence, that he became twisted and dangerous. Or at least that is my interpretation. Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually an incurable romantic, and I like to believe that I am right in this case and in many others. Obviously Heathcliff is no Darcy: it’s a different genre altogether, but he is still human, and pitiable, and dangerous in the most unpredictable manner.