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    Northanger Abbey
    Northanger Abbey
    Northanger Abbey
    Ebook284 pages9 hours

    Northanger Abbey

    By Jane Austen

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    At seventeen, Catherine Morland is invited to accompany the Allens to Bath for the winter season. In Bath, Catherine meets and befriends the Tilneys and the Thorpes. Through her relationships with these families, Catherine learns the true value of love and friendship, as Henry Tilney and John Thorpe vie for her affections and the true character of her friend, Isabella, is revealed.

    Although it was the first of Jane Austen’s novels to be completed for publication, Northanger Abbey was not published until after the author’s death in 1817. It had previously been sold to a London bookseller in 1803 who had decided not to publish the work. Austen’s brother re-purchased Northanger Abbey in 1817, at which point it was revised and published at the end of that year.

    HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateJul 30, 2013
    ISBN9781443430678
    Author

    Jane Austen

    Jane Austen nació en 1775 en Steventon (Hampshire), séptima de los ocho hijos del rector de la parroquia. Educada principalmente por su padre, empezó a escribir de muy joven, para recreo de la familia, y a los veintitrés años envió a los editores el manuscrito de La abadía de Northanger, que fue rechazado. Trece años después, en 1811, conseguiría publicar Juicio y sentimiento, a la que pronto seguirían Orgullo y prejuicio (1813), Mansfield Park (1814) y Emma (1816), que obtuvieron un gran éxito. Después de su muerte, acaecida prematuramente en 1817, y que le impidió concluir su novela SanditonLa abadía de Northanger, Persuasión (1818). Satírica, antirromántica, profunda y tan primorosa como mordaz, la obra de Jane Austen nace toda ella de una inquieta observación de la vida doméstica y de una estética necesidad de orden moral. «La Sabidu-ría –escribió una vez- es mejor que el Ingenio, y a la larga tendrá sin duda la risa de su parte.»

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    Reviews for Northanger Abbey

    3.5/5

    444 ratings336 reviews

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    • 1/5
      I originally reviewed this book on my blog - The Cosy Dragon. For more recent reviews by me, please hop over there.

      This is a classic novel that I have been assigned to study in literature. This is not something I would choose to read by myself by any means. I didn't love the language, I didn't feel for the characters, but I read it anyway! Do I think anything is good about this novel? Well, maybe.

      This novel starts out slowly, and painfully, and I had to entice myself to read onwards with not allowing myself to read anything else (or is that punishment?). The drivel that is written, complete with personal endearing terms that I'm sure the author felt added colour, but just irritated me because I had to look to the back of the book to see what they meant.

      Eventually the storytelling gets going, and it is focused on the past for a time, with Mr Lockwood being told stories by his housekeeper. This part did keep me reading to an extent, mainly because I was ignoring another task I needed to be doing.

      I have to admit I did not finish reading this book. I haven't locked myself in for studying the unit that this book is required for this semester, and so I have abandoned it in favour of other things I need to read first. If I do end up taking the unit, I will finish reading this book, and post another review of my feelings about the whole thing.

      I'm sure there are Bronte fans out there that are going to hate me for saying this - but I really didn't feel for Heathcliff. I felt that he brought so many of his troubles upon himself, he didn't deserve any sympathy, not matter how bad things were for him.

      I find the cover of this book visually appealing at least. It fits in with the storms that seem to plague the countryside now that Lockwood has moved it (or at least it seems that way!).

      I'm not sure why you would want to read this book, except that it is a classic, and therefore is probably worth reading just to say yo have. I know that there is a movie based on it, and on the parts I saw of it, it is relatively violent. I'd recommend this book for adults I guess. But really - there are so many other good things to read out there, you don't need to waste your time on this one!
    • 3/5
      300-odd pages of unpleasant people being hateful to each other.
    • 4/5
      An excellent novel, and I really enjoyed it! I highly recommend this book.
    • 5/5
      Very few novels have intrigued me as much as "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Brontë has, and I have read many great books in my life. It captures a significant theme of the Victorian Era, one that so many writers chose to overlook: death, destruction, and the melancholy gardens we sow. Among other authors, Emily Brontë transformed the faux pas of a bad ending into an approachable- nay controversial- subject. Her novel helped revolutionize the overall tone of pre-contemporary literature.“Wuthering Heights” was originally published in 1847, and authentically captures daily life in that time-period. There are scenes that many of us recognize as being entirely victorian: maids and manservants, ruffled dresses, and the diction of their everyday conversation; however, drops of reality sneak into this realistic portrayal of life as it was in the 1800s. Prejudice, abuse; premature death, hysteria; unseen killers hidden in the walls and beauty products. Each flaw has a story that has finally revealed by scientists with knowledge of lead and formaldehyde. In just the same way, every character has a purpose... which is why less than twenty people can be seen from the beginning to the end. Intentionality reeves in between the binding of this enthralling novel. "Wuthering Heights" is steeped in melancholy and draped in veils of woe. Readers follow Heathcliff across the moors of the UK. His story is much different than the romantic tale of “Pride and Prejudice”, where two people fall in love and eventually marry. Instead, the story is founded upon turmoil, which leads to inevitable failure, though it brazes the mark so often throughout its pages. It crafts an understanding of the phrase "too little, too late", which becomes the main focus of the entire story. Heathcliff did not stir this on his own, at least not entirely; he is abused and neglected after his adoptive father passes, outcasted and named a "g*psy" and "bastard" due to his uncertain heritage. He resents most of his house mates, excluding the girl who opened- and tore- his heart: Catherine Earnshaw. Readers learn and discover the truth about Heathcliff through memories recalled by Nelly, the house maid, a majority of the time. By the end, one is left wondering whether they pity, love, or hate Heathcliff, leaving many with a sense of familiar dread (this time, in literature rather than reality). The purposeful writing of Brontë is revealed again and again, but never more so than when one analyzes her incredible skill for building characters. This book is disturbing at times, and I admit it; but this aspect adds depth and truth to an otherwise perfect novel. It has become my favourite book, and one I will recommend to others as long as I have strength to speak. The year that I first read it was the year I reread it 15-16 other times. It truly has a certain magnetism that pulled me towards it, and for that reason, I give it a 5 star rating.
    • 4/5
      (Original Review, 1981-01-02)The “dog scene” does not exist in the book as some sort of sick foreplay; it’s actually an extremely clever piece of writing. Besides showing Heathcliff total disregard for Isabella, it’s a reality check for those girls with romantic notions about Byronesque “bad boys”. Isabella is so infatuated, that she cannot understand, although he flaunts it on her face ( that’s what makes the scene interesting) that what she takes for intensity and romantic darkness is actually plain cruelty. Isabella is selective in what she chooses to see, she wants to run away with this man everyone calls dangerous and not even the fact he hangs her pet dog stops her on her tracks. As we will see later in the book she does eventually find out he’s actually a plain domestic abuser, but by then she has been totally crushed.It’s not Emily’s fault people see Heathcliff as some sort of romantic hero, just like Isabella readers have been choosing what they want to highlight or disregard.The book has been adapted many times - mostly very badly and there a misunderstanding that this is a romantic novel so people are confused and disappointed in it. It’s also been lampooned many times. Actually it’s an extraordinary brilliant observation of the effect of neglect in early childhood, long before child psychiatry. There is no whitewashing and the damage done as an infant to Heathcliffe is permanent despite the kindness of the Earnshaws. He destroys what he loves and others with him. The character of Nelli Dean is also brilliantly drawn. She understands more than anyone but is forced to observe on the sidelines as a servant as the family and then another family is pulled into the tragedy. I love the story of her refusal to accommodate her precious piano pupils play time and her preference to the dog.The Brontës lived though a traumatic childhood and survived a boarding school which sounded like a pro type for the workhouses. Haworth at the time had greater social deprivation than the east end of London, with all the alcoholism, drugs, disease and violence that went with it and their brother brought home daily. Orphans and abandoned children were bought like slaves from London to work in the mill towns and as vicarage daughters were expected to help out with the night schools their father had organised. They weren’t sheltered - they saw the lot which is why no doubt Emily Brontë drew the character of an abandoned orphan child so well. Emily Brontë refused to admit to her consumption and was kneading bread the morning she died. Like Elizabeth, first she remained standing for as long as possible only finally lying down just before she died.Child neglect, for whatever reason, it was one of the themes in “Wuthering Heights” that stroked a chord with me, and I do not think it’s explored enough. The fact that Heathcliff decided to replicate his own abuse by inflicting it on Hareton, with the expectation that he would turn out as “twisted” as him as form of vengeance is quite interesting. Even more interesting is the fact Emily chose to make that experiment a failed one; even before that advent of child psychology, she clearly understood that the experience of abuse and neglect is unique to the individual, and the way people react to it unpredictable. That’s something that bewildered Heathcliff, and in a way, the realisation that he could not make people as detestable as he was, even though they have also been victimised, contributed to, by the end to make him him even more unstable.
    • 3/5
      Had to read this in high school. Was not impressed. Honestly? Just found the whole thing depressing and a slog to get through. I can appreciate the skill that went into writing it and I understand it's a classic, but I personally didn't enjoy it.
    • 5/5
      I enjoyed my second visit to “Wuthering Heights” more than the first. This is partly because my first read was spread out over 4 –6 weeks (I think in 2005, though it could’ve been a couple of years either way), whereas my second read took 6 days, commencing from Emily Brontë’s 200th birthday, which is why I thought I’d give it another look.I was also less enthused during my first read because I'd previously watched numerous adaptations of “Wuthering Heights” over the years, with all but one (which I saw after reading the novel) skipping much, if not all, of the story’s second half. In short, my expectations were that this tale would revolve around Cathy and Heathcliff’s unique relationship. In a sense it does (won’t add more in case I spoil things for anyone), but from about halfway through, we see other characters emerge who rarely appear in most screen adaptations. Another pre-reading influence was Kate Bush's song “Wuthering Heights”, which I’ve always loved, and this also made me think the main theme would be Heathcliff and Cathy’s passion for each other. Therefore, during my first read I felt a little disappointed that their relationship wasn’t as emphasised as expected.When I approached “Wuthering Heights” for a second time, I knew what to expect, though after such a long gap since I first read it, I’d naturally forgotten a lot, especially events in the second half. This is by no means a beautiful love story, but rather a bleak tale of sadness, loneliness, loss, cruelty, and misery, yet it’s not entirely devoid of hope. I admire how the author structured the narrative. It’s multi-first person, predominantly told by Nelly and Mr Lockwood, with smaller parts filled in by other characters. It all blends in very well together, and what makes the narrative’s construction even more impressive is that it’s not strictly linear. This type of thing can often prove messy, but Emily Brontë handles it smoothly.One review I saw criticises “Wuthering Heights” for have no sense of place. This I must disagree with. In fact, I consider the sense of place as one of the book’s great strengths. I could vividly “see” the moors, the landscape, plus the rooms at the Heights and at the Grange.My only real criticism is Joseph’s dialogue. Although I’m a Yorkshireman myself, much of Joseph’s broad dialect took some understanding – and the odd phrase I couldn’t fathom out – and overall his dialogue really slows the narrative down. I imagine anyone outside of Yorkshire – and even more so anyone outside of England – would have immense trouble understanding Joseph.An interesting aspect to this story is of course the supernatural element. I suspect anyone who hasn’t read this book has at least seen an adaptation where, at the end, Cathy and Heathcliff reunite after death. I was actually disappointed this wasn’t developed to a similar extent in the book, as it’s something special in the well-done adaptations where we see these thwarted lovers reunited. In the novel, however, their reunion is more of a casual reference. It's still a poignant moment – or moments – though, and reading it for the second time I appreciated it more than the first.We also see Mr Lockwood endure a supernatural encounter at a window early on, which is one of my favourite scenes, and an important one.I don’t always appreciate the supernatural seeping in to novels that are essentially “real life”, but in this case, the supernatural parts not only feel believable, they also add hope to a tragic story. Without the afterlife moments, “Wuthering Heights” wouldn’t hit the mark in the same way. The ending would’ve been too depressing. As it is, we’re left with hope for the living and for the dead.While I feel Heathcliff and Cathy’s story is the novel most appealing element, I do like the story which revolves around the new characters featured in the second half, and how they interact with Heathcliff’s deceptive and despicable nature. In fact, my favourite character is the younger Catherine. She, along with Hareton and Isabella, are the three who I feel the most sympathy towards.Most of the misery in this story stems from Heathcliff’s actions, though the likes of Hindley and Joseph don’t exactly spread light into the world. It’s hard to feel sympathy for many of the characters because of their selfishness and unkindness. It’s debateable whether Cathy is more selfish than Heathcliff. Despite Heathcliff affecting more people’s lives for the worst, much – if not all – of this is through Cathy and her brother Hindley’s treatment of Heathcliff during his youth. While Hindley causes Heathcliff physical and mental torment, Cathy's brand of mental anguish is surely worse. I don’t think Cathy does this deliberately, as she’s too self-absorbed to realise how her motives will devastate Heathcliff.The younger Catherine comes across as selfish and haughty many times, but I like her because deep down she has a good heart and she’s a bright character in a dark world. She’s horrible to poor Hareton, who deserves better, yet she goes out of her way to help Linton, who doesn’t deserve her attention. Linton, in my opinion, is the most detestable character of all. Granted, some of his behaviour is owing to Heathcliff’s influence, but at heart Linton is a spineless, self-obsessed creature.Heathcliff, whatever you think of him, is a fascinating character. The whole story pretty much revolves around his treatment of others, and how others treat or perceive him. He has that “lost soul” element about him, with his origins shrouded in mystery. I commend the author for creating such a vivid and memorable character.I originally rated “Wuthering Heights” four stars when I added it to my Goodreads shelf in 2013. This was based on reading it circa 2005. After finishing it again in August 2018, I felt four stars was a fair rating; however, the characters and various scenes from the book have stayed with in the subsequent days. Not many novels have this type of potency to “haunt” me, so on reflection, I feel “Wuthering Heights” deserves five stars.
    • 5/5
      How can I find and put together the suitable words and write a review about one of the most iconic creations in World Literature? One of those books that provoke such intense feelings that either you worship them or you utterly hate them. There is no middle ground. Every year, I revisit Wuthering Heights for two reasons. First, it is one of my personal Christmas traditions and secondly, I prepare extracts to use in class for my intermediate level students. This year, I finally felt confident enough to write a text. I will not call it a review, but a summary of what this masterpiece means for me, what I feel each time I gaze upon its title.I was 12 when my mother made me a special gift. (I have a mother that gave me a book about self-destructive love and a father that gave me Crime and Punishment a year later. I know, they rock!) It was a thick volume with a dark cover. A cover as black as the night scene it depicted. A young couple running in the moors against the wind, and a black, foreboding mansion looming in the background. To this day, that cherished Greek edition of Emily's only novel is the most beautiful I've ever seen. I read it in a single day. I remember it was a windy day, a summer torrent rain that lasted all afternoon. It left me speechless. It shaped me. It shaped my reading preferences, it shaped my love for eerie, dark, doomed, haunting stories with twisted anti-heroes. It even shaped the choice of my profession.When I was 15, one of the best teachers I've ever had gave us a project. She divided us into groups and asked us to make a presentation of our favourite book. She put me in a group with two classmates. Such kind and charming souls they were but would never open a book if their lives depended on it. I didn't care, I was happy because I'd get to choose the book. We left our teacher crying buckets in the classroom, marking a heroic A+ on our papers. During the 3rd year in university, we had to complete individual assignments. I'll let you guess the theme and the book I chose. My professor had to interrupt me at some point, kindly but firmly. ''Yes, thank you, Amalia, this is great, but there are others waiting, you know.'' Were they? Anyway, you get the point. My level of obsession with this novel equal Heathcliff's obsession with Cathy.Emily Brontë's novel may not be for everyone. It doesn't matter. Nothing is for everyone. But, she has created an eternal tale -or nightmare- of a love that is destructive, dark, twisted and stranger than all the other sweet, lovey-dovey stories that have been written. She has created one of the most iconic couples in Literature, she has provided the first and finest example of the Anti-hero in the face of Heathcliff. She has ruined many girls' expectations, because who wouldn't want to be loved as fiercely as Cathy was? (For years, my notion of the ideal man was Ralph Fiennes as Heathcliff in the 1992 film. The best adaptation of the novel, with Juliette Binoche as Cathy) How many writers who have written only one novel can claim to have accomplished all these?One of the reasons I became a teacher was to have the opportunity to teach this book. It is my greatest satisfaction when I see its impact on my teenage students. They are familiar with the bleak and twisted tales of our times, nothing shocks them anymore. They love it unanimously, it is a rare case where boys and girls love the same book equally. So, mission accomplished.''I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'' For me, this book is my soul. It lies there, making the question ''What is your favourite book?'' the easiest ever.P.S. Please, God, when I die, put me in a sector where I can meet Emily. You can keep Shakespeare, Austin, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. I prefer long talks with a disturbed, fragile, wild girl...
    • 5/5
      Yet another book that I was sure I had read in full as a child but didn't. How was it possible for a reclusive figure to write such a book before the age of 30? How did she understand the passions and emotions that drive people to extreme behaviour and actions? Once I had sorted out the various Catherines, the Earnshaws and the Lintons, and some Yorkshire dialect, I became engrossed. The remoteness and isolation of the setting provide the ideal claustrophobic context for the passions to burst forth and wreak havoc. Yet the passions and emotions are universal.
    • 3/5
      A man obsessed with his childhood friend spends his lifetime destroying her family.3/4 (Good).This is a wild ride. It's a continuous stream of Big, Dramatic Scenes. There's no protagonist, and consequently no satisfying story arc, which normally would be guaranteed to make me dislike a book. But in this case, it works somehow.
    • 4/5
      Despite this being an acknowledged classic that shows up on such lists as 1001 books to read before you die I was not overly impressed with this book. I think the main problem for me was how easily everyone resorted to violence. Was this really indicative of life in the rural reaches of England in the early 1800s? The Earnshaw and the Linton families lived near to each other in Yorkshire and were the gentry of the neighbourhood. Both families had one son and one daughter but Mr. Earnshaw added a foundling whom he called Heathcliff to his family. Heathcliff and Cathy Earnshaw formed a deep friendship which became almost monomaniacal as they grew older. Yet Cathy decided to marry Edgar Linton which caused Heathcliff to retaliate by eloping with Isabella Linton. When Heathcliff and Isabella returned to Wuthering Heights Cathy was very ill. Edgar forbade Heathcliff from seeing Cathy but Heathcliff would not be put off. Cathy died the next day but did succeed in giving birth to a daughter who was named Catherine. Heathcliff had managed to acquire all the land associated with Wuthering Heights by gambling with Hindley Earnshaw. Through his marriage to Isabella he would gain the Linton property as well since Edgar did not have a male heir. Isabella soon ran away from Heathcliff and Wuthering Heights. She gave birth to a son, Linton, and kept him with her until her death. Then Linton came under the parentage of Heathcliff who had nothing but contempt for this sickly child. Nevertheless he was determined to marry his son to Cathy's daughter and he carried this out by kidnapping Catherine and her maid. Catherine and Linton were married but it is hard to believe there was any consummation of the marriage since Linton was so ill. Linton died shortly after Catherine's father which left Catherine to the mercy of Heathcliff. Somehow Catherine fell in love with her other male cousin, Hareton Earnshaw, who was uneducated and brutish but quite smitten with Catherine. Heathcliff died and was still so much in love with Cathy that he insisted on being buried by the side of her grave with the sides of their two coffins knocked out so they could rest eternally together. I know this book is supposed to be an example of a great love affair but I just thought both Cathy and Heathcliff were bordering on insanity. And Heathcliff had no redeeming qualities as far as I am concerned. He was violent, sadistic, selfish and miserly. What did Cathy see in him? And how did a sheltered young lady come up with such a character? Since she died soon after the book was published there was never any explanation fom Emily Bronte.
    • 4/5
      It was hard going at first. Everyone is so unlikeable. I thought a knew the story, so it was a surprise that when Catherine died it was only the half way point. I think it is not a romance. Instead it is a tragedy.
    • 5/5
      I have the dumbest reason for picking up this book in the first place. I heard of it in Friends (when Phoebe takes literature lessons, it is the first book they read). I could not remember if I read this one in high school, so I picked it up. Also I want to read and own more classics in 2017 (one of my resolutions). I haven't got a big collection, but I am working on it.
      So I read Wuthering Heights at the end of last year and I enjoyed it immensely. I own the Barnes and Noble Classics edition, which came with an introduction, a short biography and a preface by her sister, Charlotte Bronte. I decided to read all of them, since I did not remember much about the Bronte's from school. I am quite confident that reading the biography and a preface made all the difference for me while I was reading this book. Reading Charlotte's description of her sister's only book, how it was rejected by the publishers, her sudden illness and her short-lived life set the right tone for this novel.
      This book is quite different from many that I have read, so I won't be using my usual template of reviewing, but will just share my thoughts instead.
      If this book could talk for itself, it would be screaming its head off with anger. I am simply astonished at how a book about very dull lives of regular people can be so frightening to the reader. It took me a while to read it, because I could only read so many pages a day before I have had enough of madness that were the two main characters. You know when in a book you usually pick your favorite character and then your least favorite one? Well, how about a book in which ALL of the characters are your least favorite ones? Characters so horribly selfish, arrogant, cross, indignant and spiteful that it makes you want to throw the book out of the window.
      Yet, you keep reading. If that isn't a sign of a great book then I don't know what is.
      Structure of the story line was quite odd, but somehow it flew very nicely. I felt like reading a memoir of a family (a very messed up family) starting with the grandparents and finishing up with the youngest of kids all grown up. Illnesses and death were woven into the story like they were as natural as a morning breakfast (which goes to show the state of living in the early 1800). Also all of this "marrying your own cousins" ordeal shook me a little bit, but then again, different times. Come to think of it maybe that is why they all were so feeble and sickly, because they kept interbreeding with each other.
      The only annoying thing in this book was the broken language at which one of the characters speaks, it was incredibly hard to read and follow, and it became very irritating, very quickly. Luckily, he wasn't that important in the book anyway.
    • 2/5
      Alas, I don't think this one is for me. Third try, this time I got to page 70. Seems like a study on how people can manipulate each other. I don't have the energy to bear all the misery in what I've just read, let alone all 300 pages.
    • 4/5
      Have to say I liked the black & white film better.I went into this really wanting to fall in love with Heathcliff, it just didn't happen and I can usually find the best in any vampire or Phantom of the Opera, downtrodden misunderstood victim that no one understands.I just could not find any redeeming qualities in him. Or any of the other characters either. I dare say Bronte had a bit of trouble keeping to character with Hareton, (view spoiler)I understand Heathcliffe wanted his revenge, but frankly his cruelty got a bit just out of hand. I will just stick with the Hollywood lite version of this one.It is a brilliant book, I will say that.The using of some of the same names did get a bit confusing in parts though.
    • 4/5
      An excellent novel, and I really enjoyed it! I highly recommend this book.
    • 4/5
      Loved it, Heathcliff is a wonderful broken villain. Incredible the atmospheric analogies between the landscape and the characters - everything's dark, hopeless and obsessive. Only the ejaculations of Joseph are a real challenge for a non-native speaker.
    • 5/5
      Wuthering Heights has been in my consciousness ever since the 70's when Kate Bush was wailing out her high pitched ethereal lyrics -Out on the wiley, windy moorsWe'd roll and fall in green.You had a temper like my jealousy:Too hot, too greedy.How could you leave me, When I needed to possess you?I hated you. I loved you, too. I watched the TV adaptaion with Tom Hardy some years ago and still have vague recollections of it - mostly of Tom Hardy's brooding gorgeousness. And as I have said before seeing any tv or film adaptation before reading the book for me is a mistake. When I first started reading I found myself trying to link in the story to what I had seen and thought I already knew which detracted somewhat for allowing the story to unfold.What surprised me most on reading was it wasn't all about Cathy and Heathcliff as my memory had held it. So much of this tale is about the children of the initial characters. If there is any place for pathetic fallacy in literature then Wuthering Heights is the perfect venue. Not only does the weather provide the sometimes wild, sometimes brooding, sometimes oppressive atmosphere of the book but for me it is also a metaphor for the characters themselves. Many like myself come to the story thinking it will be a tale of love and passion only to discover that the pervading emotions are childish petulance and hatred and revenge. I have learnt much about life and love in nearly half a century on the planet and one thing I have learnt is that, when it comes to human relationships, hate is not the opposite of love - apathy is. So for me there is still more love in the story than hatred. It just manifests itself in an immature way. When I think of Heathcliff then the word repression comes to mind. I was once told that Wuthering Heights is best read when young and I can see why - there is for me is an immaturity in Cathy Earnshaw's behaviour in particular.The amazing thing for me about Wuthering Height's is held in the author herself - how on earth did a young woman in victorian England come up with all of this? The initial reviews of the book were not favourable and critics thought it morally reprehensible drivel. I need to find out more about Emily Bronte and her life and experiences - ooh a trip to Haworth when I am next back up in the Motherland. I have the 1939 film adaptation waiting with Larry O and Merle Oberon which I will watch with interest - although a more unlikely Heathcliff I cannot imagine. And a final note - having seen Tom Hardy digging up Cathy from her grave to embrace her again like a deranged lunatic ( my favourite scene ) I was eaer for it to come up in the book - it was there at last, so very near the end although the writing of it a very different less urgent account than the one I experienced in viewing.
    • 2/5
      This is one of those classics that I've never rread, and now I know why. I thought I knew the3 story since I've seen the 1939 movie starring Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon probably 50 times. But, of course, Hollywood left a lot out when they made the film.The movie is a Gothic tale of obsessive love, and maybe the physical beauty of the stars who played Kathy and Heathcliff, covered over what to me, is just a sick story of feminine submission and male abuse. The prose if over wrought and the plot, especially in the last third of the book just defies belief. Forget the novel & watch the movie.
    • 4/5
      This is a story of the Earnshaw and the Linton family who are quite isolated in their homes of Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange. The homes represent the opposition that exists throughout the novel. There is a lot of death in the book but there is also the hopeful happy ending. That being said, I did feel the ending was a little bit off for me. The sudden decline and death of Heathcliff didn't make sense as it was presented. I see the need for the author to kill him off, I just didn't feel that the way made any sense. The novel is also told through the voice of a stranger who takes up a temporary residence and observes this dysfunctional family and the servant who has lived since childhood with these children.
    • 1/5
      This book has so much hype so I expected it to be amazing. Boy was I let down! I didn't really care for this book at all. And people say Heathcliff and Catherine's love was so epic, but he was a horrible person who did nothing but torment others. I don't know, maybe I just didn't get it, but I wasn't impressed in the slightest.
    • 1/5
      I love classic literature, and finally decided to give this one a try. It was awful - such a terrible book! I couldn't even finish it. About halfway through I declared myself done with it. Clearly not all the Bronte sisters should have been writers.
    • 5/5
      Seldom must a book have differed between its commonly held perception and its actuality, as much as Wuthering Heights. I came to this book from the camp of the former with some reservations about some doomed love affair on the Yorkshire moors. Perhaps the realisation of how far removed any preconceptions were added to the subsequent enjoyment of the story.

      Wuthering Heights is a story of revenge fed by obsession crossing over the generations of two families. And it is much more gothic than romantic. The plot rolls along with the drama rising and falling. Ok, few if any of the characters elicit much sympathy but they are complex and so well drawn that it is difficult not to be drawn into their isolated world or to anticipate what happens next.

      Ultimately it's all madness. Grave tampering madness.
    • 3/5
      No book has made me more grateful to have been born in the latter half of the 20th century. The writing was fine, and the story moved along, but good lord, I wanted to slap every single character upside the head at some point in the novel. Nelly, 3 weeks in bed after a walk that got her shoes and hose wet?? Catherine, who swoons, then rebounds, then swoons again based on a raised eyebrow or not very sharp word?? Don't get me started on Linton.
    • 3/5
      I'm finally finished with it!

      I must say, I've heard much about this book, but to be brutally honest, it hadn't really met my expectations. I still prefer Jane Eyre by far, to be honest.

      As with most such books, I find myself having a bit of a difficulty in understanding it at the beginning, but then improved as I got along. The only thing that kept me going was my OCD habit in which I had to finish reading what I started, and the fact that I rather liked stories from that period of time.

      There were so many deaths in this book that the only other book I've read that gave this a run for their money is the Harry Potter series.

      I admit that I pitied Heathcliff in the beginning, but then grew to dislike him more and more. I was quite surprised at how it ended, too.
    • 5/5
      A great classic.
    • 4/5
      Wonderfully Overwrought - Confusingly Incestuous
    • 5/5
      I'm gad I waited to read this. The love story woven throughout was much easier for me to identify with in my 20's. A beautifully written flashback story. There is an especial attention paid to the elaborate details.
    • 1/5
      ugh! worst book ever written! all i wanted to do the whole time i was reading it was tear it up, burn it and repeat the process! my mother in law works for the department of education. We share books, so I let her read it. She hated it! Her only comment "I didn't like it because of the way that one guy 'Joesoph' spoke." And i agree with her he made that whole book confusing as shit!
    • 5/5
      I have read this many times and it is still a favorite.

    Book preview

    Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen

    Chapter 1

    No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though his name was Richard—and he had never been handsome. He had a considerable independence besides two good livings—and he was not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as anybody might expect, she still lived on—lived to have six children more—to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy excellent health herself. A family of ten children will be always called a fine family, where there are heads and arms and legs enough for the number; but the Morlands had little other right to the word, for they were in general very plain, and Catherine, for many years of her life, as plain as any. She had a thin awkward figure, a sallow skin without colour, dark lank hair, and strong features—so much for her person; and not less unpropitious for heroism seemed her mind. She was fond of all boy’s plays, and greatly preferred cricket not merely to dolls, but to the more heroic enjoyments of infancy, nursing a dormouse, feeding a canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief—at least so it was conjectured from her always preferring those which she was forbidden to take. Such were her propensities—her abilities were quite as extraordinary. She never could learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid. Her mother was three months in teaching her only to repeat the Beggar’s Petition; and after all, her next sister, Sally, could say it better than she did. Not that Catherine was always stupid—by no means; she learnt the fable of The Hare and Many Friends as quickly as any girl in England. Her mother wished her to learn music; and Catherine was sure she should like it, for she was very fond of tinkling the keys of the old forlorn spinnet; so, at eight years old she began. She learnt a year, and could not bear it; and Mrs. Morland, who did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off. The day which dismissed the music master was one of the happiest of Catherine’s life. Her taste for drawing was not superior; though whenever she could obtain the outside of a letter from her mother or seize upon any other odd piece of paper, she did what she could in that way, by drawing houses and trees, hens and chickens, all very much like one another. Writing and accounts she was taught by her father; French by her mother: her proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked her lessons in both whenever she could. What a strange, unaccountable character!—for with all these symptoms of profligacy at ten years old, she had neither a bad heart nor a bad temper, was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy and wild, hated confinement and cleanliness, and loved nothing so well in the world as rolling down the green slope at the back of the house.

    Such was Catherine Morland at ten. At fifteen, appearances were mending; she began to curl her hair and long for balls; her complexion improved, her features were softened by plumpness and colour, her eyes gained more animation, and her figure more consequence. Her love of dirt gave way to an inclination for finery, and she grew clean as she grew smart; she had now the pleasure of sometimes hearing her father and mother remark on her personal improvement. Catherine grows quite a good-looking girl—she is almost pretty today, were words which caught her ears now and then; and how welcome were the sounds! To look almost pretty is an acquisition of higher delight to a girl who has been looking plain the first fifteen years of her life than a beauty from her cradle can ever receive.

    Mrs. Morland was a very good woman, and wished to see her children everything they ought to be; but her time was so much occupied in lying-in and teaching the little ones, that her elder daughters were inevitably left to shift for themselves; and it was not very wonderful that Catherine, who had by nature nothing heroic about her, should prefer cricket, baseball, riding on horseback, and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to books—or at least books of information—for, provided that nothing like useful knowledge could be gained from them, provided they were all story and no reflection, she had never any objection to books at all. But from fifteen to seventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read all such works as heroines must read to supply their memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives.

    From Pope, she learnt to censure those who

    bear about the mockery of woe.

    From Gray, that

    "Many a flower is born to blush unseen,

    And waste its fragrance on the desert air."

    From Thompson, that—

    "It is a delightful task

    To teach the young idea how to shoot."

    And from Shakespeare she gained a great store of information—amongst the rest, that—

    "Trifles light as air,

    Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong,

    As proofs of Holy Writ."

    That

    "The poor beetle, which we tread upon,

    In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great

    As when a giant dies."

    And that a young woman in love always looks—

    "like Patience on a monument

    Smiling at Grief."

    So far her improvement was sufficient—and in many other points she came on exceedingly well; for though she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read them; and though there seemed no chance of her throwing a whole party into raptures by a prelude on the pianoforte, of her own composition, she could listen to other people’s performance with very little fatigue. Her greatest deficiency was in the pencil—she had no notion of drawing—not enough even to attempt a sketch of her lover’s profile, that she might be detected in the design. There she fell miserably short of the true heroic height. At present she did not know her own poverty, for she had no lover to portray. She had reached the age of seventeen, without having seen one amiable youth who could call forth her sensibility, without having inspired one real passion, and without having excited even any admiration but what was very moderate and very transient. This was strange indeed! But strange things may be generally accounted for if their cause be fairly searched out. There was not one lord in the neighbourhood; no—not even a baronet. There was not one family among their acquaintance who had reared and supported a boy accidentally found at their door—not one young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward, and the squire of the parish no children.

    But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.

    Mr. Allen, who owned the chief of the property about Fullerton, the village in Wiltshire where the Morlands lived, was ordered to Bath for the benefit of a gouty constitution—and his lady, a good-humoured woman, fond of Miss Morland, and probably aware that if adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad, invited her to go with them. Mr. and Mrs. Morland were all compliance, and Catherine all happiness.

    Chapter 2

    In addition to what has been already said of Catherine Morland’s personal and mental endowments, when about to be launched into all the difficulties and dangers of a six weeks’ residence in Bath, it may be stated, for the reader’s more certain information, lest the following pages should otherwise fail of giving any idea of what her character is meant to be, that her heart was affectionate; her disposition cheerful and open, without conceit or affectation of any kind—her manners just removed from the awkwardness and shyness of a girl; her person pleasing, and, when in good looks, pretty—and her mind about as ignorant and uninformed as the female mind at seventeen usually is.

    When the hour of departure drew near, the maternal anxiety of Mrs. Morland will be naturally supposed to be most severe. A thousand alarming presentiments of evil to her beloved Catherine from this terrific separation must oppress her heart with sadness, and drown her in tears for the last day or two of their being together; and advice of the most important and applicable nature must of course flow from her wise lips in their parting conference in her closet. Cautions against the violence of such noblemen and baronets as delight in forcing young ladies away to some remote farmhouse, must, at such a moment, relieve the fulness of her heart. Who would not think so? But Mrs. Morland knew so little of lords and baronets, that she entertained no notion of their general mischievousness, and was wholly unsuspicious of danger to her daughter from their machinations. Her cautions were confined to the following points. I beg, Catherine, you will always wrap yourself up very warm about the throat, when you come from the rooms at night; and I wish you would try to keep some account of the money you spend; I will give you this little book on purpose.

    Sally, or rather Sarah (for what young lady of common gentility will reach the age of sixteen without altering her name as far as she can?), must from situation be at this time the intimate friend and confidante of her sister. It is remarkable, however, that she neither insisted on Catherine’s writing by every post, nor exacted her promise of transmitting the character of every new acquaintance, nor a detail of every interesting conversation that Bath might produce. Everything indeed relative to this important journey was done, on the part of the Morlands, with a degree of moderation and composure, which seemed rather consistent with the common feelings of common life, than with the refined susceptibilities, the tender emotions which the first separation of a heroine from her family ought always to excite. Her father, instead of giving her an unlimited order on his banker, or even putting an hundred pounds bank-bill into her hands, gave her only ten guineas, and promised her more when she wanted it.

    Under these unpromising auspices, the parting took place, and the journey began. It was performed with suitable quietness and uneventful safety. Neither robbers nor tempests befriended them, nor one lucky overturn to introduce them to the hero. Nothing more alarming occurred than a fear, on Mrs. Allen’s side, of having once left her clogs behind her at an inn, and that fortunately proved to be groundless.

    They arrived at Bath. Catherine was all eager delight—her eyes were here, there, everywhere, as they approached its fine and striking environs, and afterwards drove through those streets which conducted them to the hotel. She was come to be happy, and she felt happy already.

    They were soon settled in comfortable lodgings in Pulteney Street.

    It is now expedient to give some description of Mrs. Allen, that the reader may be able to judge in what manner her actions will hereafter tend to promote the general distress of the work, and how she will, probably, contribute to reduce poor Catherine to all the desperate wretchedness of which a last volume is capable—whether by her imprudence, vulgarity, or jealousy—whether by intercepting her letters, ruining her character, or turning her out of doors.

    Mrs. Allen was one of that numerous class of females, whose society can raise no other emotion than surprise at there being any men in the world who could like them well enough to marry them. She had neither beauty, genius, accomplishment, nor manner. The air of a gentlewoman, a great deal of quiet, inactive good temper, and a trifling turn of mind were all that could account for her being the choice of a sensible, intelligent man like Mr. Allen. In one respect she was admirably fitted to introduce a young lady into public, being as fond of going everywhere and seeing everything herself as any young lady could be. Dress was her passion. She had a most harmless delight in being fine; and our heroine’s entree into life could not take place till after three or four days had been spent in learning what was mostly worn, and her chaperone was provided with a dress of the newest fashion. Catherine too made some purchases herself, and when all these matters were arranged, the important evening came which was to usher her into the Upper Rooms. Her hair was cut and dressed by the best hand, her clothes put on with care, and both Mrs. Allen and her maid declared she looked quite as she should do. With such encouragement, Catherine hoped at least to pass uncensured through the crowd. As for admiration, it was always very welcome when it came, but she did not depend on it.

    Mrs. Allen was so long in dressing that they did not enter the ballroom till late. The season was full, the room crowded, and the two ladies squeezed in as well as they could. As for Mr. Allen, he repaired directly to the cardroom, and left them to enjoy a mob by themselves. With more care for the safety of her new gown than for the comfort of her protégée, Mrs. Allen made her way through the throng of men by the door, as swiftly as the necessary caution would allow; Catherine, however, kept close at her side, and linked her arm too firmly within her friend’s to be torn asunder by any common effort of a struggling assembly. But to her utter amazement she found that to proceed along the room was by no means the way to disengage themselves from the crowd; it seemed rather to increase as they went on, whereas she had imagined that when once fairly within the door, they should easily find seats and be able to watch the dances with perfect convenience. But this was far from being the case, and though by unwearied diligence they gained even the top of the room, their situation was just the same; they saw nothing of the dancers but the high feathers of some of the ladies. Still they moved on—something better was yet in view; and by a continued exertion of strength and ingenuity they found themselves at last in the passage behind the highest bench. Here there was something less of crowd than below; and hence Miss Morland had a comprehensive view of all the company beneath her, and of all the dangers of her late passage through them. It was a splendid sight, and she began, for the first time that evening, to feel herself at a ball: she longed to dance, but she had not an acquaintance in the room. Mrs. Allen did all that she could do in such a case by saying very placidly, every now and then, I wish you could dance, my dear—I wish you could get a partner. For some time her young friend felt obliged to her for these wishes; but they were repeated so often, and proved so totally ineffectual, that Catherine grew tired at last, and would thank her no more.

    They were not long able, however, to enjoy the repose of the eminence they had so laboriously gained. Everybody was shortly in motion for tea, and they must squeeze out like the rest. Catherine began to feel something of disappointment—she was tired of being continually pressed against by people, the generality of whose faces possessed nothing to interest, and with all of whom she was so wholly unacquainted that she could not relieve the irksomeness of imprisonment by the exchange of a syllable with any of her fellow captives; and when at last arrived in the tearoom, she felt yet more the awkwardness of having no party to join, no acquaintance to claim, no gentleman to assist them. They saw nothing of Mr. Allen; and after looking about them in vain for a more eligible situation, were obliged to sit down at the end of a table, at which a large party were already placed, without having anything to do there, or anybody to speak to, except each other.

    Mrs. Allen congratulated herself, as soon as they were seated, on having preserved her gown from injury. It would have been very shocking to have it torn, said she, would not it? It is such a delicate muslin. For my part I have not seen anything I like so well in the whole room, I assure you.

    How uncomfortable it is, whispered Catherine, not to have a single acquaintance here!

    Yes, my dear, replied Mrs. Allen, with perfect serenity, it is very uncomfortable indeed.

    What shall we do? The gentlemen and ladies at this table look as if they wondered why we came here—we seem forcing ourselves into their party.

    Aye, so we do. That is very disagreeable. I wish we had a large acquaintance here.

    I wish we had any—it would be somebody to go to.

    Very true, my dear; and if we knew anybody we would join them directly. The Skinners were here last year—I wish they were here now.

    Had not we better go away as it is? Here are no tea-things for us, you see.

    No more there are, indeed. How very provoking! But I think we had better sit still, for one gets so tumbled in such a crowd! How is my head, my dear? Somebody gave me a push that has hurt it, I am afraid.

    No, indeed, it looks very nice. But, dear Mrs. Allen, are you sure there is nobody you know in all this multitude of people? I think you must know somebody.

    I don’t, upon my word—I wish I did. I wish I had a large acquaintance here with all my heart, and then I should get you a partner. I should be so glad to have you dance. There goes a strange-looking woman! What an odd gown she has got on! How old-fashioned it is! Look at the back.

    After some time they received an offer of tea from one of their neighbours; it was thankfully accepted, and this introduced a light conversation with the gentleman who offered it, which was the only time that anybody spoke to them during the evening, till they were discovered and joined by Mr. Allen when the dance was over.

    Well, Miss Morland, said he, directly, I hope you have had an agreeable ball.

    Very agreeable indeed, she replied, vainly endeavouring to hide a great yawn.

    I wish she had been able to dance, said his wife; I wish we could have got a partner for her. I have been saying how glad I should be if the Skinners were here this winter instead of last; or if the Parrys had come, as they talked of once, she might have danced with George Parry. I am so sorry she has not had a partner!

    We shall do better another evening I hope, was Mr. Allen’s consolation.

    The company began to disperse when the dancing was over—enough to leave space for the remainder to walk about in some comfort; and now was the time for a heroine, who had not yet played a very distinguished part in the events of the evening, to be noticed and admired. Every five minutes, by removing some of the crowd, gave greater openings for her charms. She was now seen by many young men who had not been near her before. Not one, however, started with rapturous wonder on beholding her, no whisper of eager inquiry ran round the room, nor was she once called a divinity by anybody. Yet Catherine was in very good looks, and had the company only seen her three years before, they would now have thought her exceedingly handsome.

    She was looked at, however, and with some admiration; for, in her own hearing, two gentlemen pronounced her to be a pretty girl. Such words had their due effect; she immediately thought the evening pleasanter than she had found it before—her humble vanity was contented—she felt more obliged to the two young men for this simple praise than a true-quality heroine would have been for fifteen sonnets in celebration of her charms, and went to her chair in good humour with everybody, and perfectly satisfied with her share of public attention.

    Chapter 3

    Every morning now brought its regular duties—shops were to be visited; some new part of the town to be looked at; and the pump room to be attended, where they paraded up and down for an hour, looking at everybody and speaking to no one. The wish of a numerous acquaintance in Bath was still uppermost with Mrs. Allen, and she repeated it after every fresh proof, which every morning brought, of her knowing nobody at all.

    They made their appearance in the Lower Rooms; and here fortune was more favourable to our heroine. The master of the ceremonies introduced to her a very gentlemanlike young man as a partner; his name was Tilney. He seemed to be about four or five and twenty, was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance, a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, was very near it. His address was good, and Catherine felt herself in high luck. There was little leisure for speaking while they danced; but when they were seated at tea, she found him as agreeable as she had already given him credit for being. He talked with fluency and spirit—and there was an archness and pleasantry in his manner which interested, though it was hardly understood by her. After chatting some time on such matters as naturally arose from the objects around them, he suddenly addressed her with—I have hitherto been very remiss, madam, in the proper attentions of a partner here; I have not yet asked you how long you have been in Bath; whether you were ever here before; whether you have been at the Upper Rooms, the theatre, and the concert; and how you like the place altogether. I have been very negligent—but are you now at leisure to satisfy me in these particulars? If you are I will begin directly.

    "You need not give yourself

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