Listen to Kate Bush's song instead, it will save you time.
Don't waste your time. I remember hating Heathcliff, but I've managed to purge the rest from my memory.
Weird story. The characters are obviously motivated in large part by sexual obsession, yet the content and style is so prim and Victorian that "sex" never enters into the story. I've never seen such a total disconnect between content and form. But it's kinda cool that way.
You really have to have a high degree of tolerance for very archaic stylistic forms, such as the insistence on sublimating sex almost entirely out of a sexually charged story, simply because to do otherwise would have resulted in an unpublishable story. And maybe the sublimation was entirely unconscious rather than contrived on Bronte's part - hard to imagine it could be otherwise.
If you watch modern TV and movie adaptations, they allow the sexual content to come to the forefront and the story suddenly makes "sense." But if you read it with the understanding that there's a level that couldn't be addressed in a literal, or maybe even conscious, way, then the novel can also make sense. The characters seem "stupid" because without the sexual motivation, their behavior makes zero sense. They are literally written as though they are sexless children, yet their actions are that of crazed, horny, frustrated adults.
NOW I remember why I thought it was cool: it's like a story about grownups told from a child's perspective, with a child's understanding of the world, and of grownups.
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