It's been too long since you rambled on the moors, longed for a dead lover, and locked someone in a room for days without food. I hadn't read this Bronte since college and found myself sighing anew, over and over, at the emotional nuances I was too naive to pick up on back then, and her brilliant use of landscape, and her perfect prose. Take this out in the rain and get pneumonia while you read it, then blame your uncle. He deserves to suffer.
— Sarah G.
Bronte's writing burns like Emily Dickinson's, with a brutal awareness of suffering and desire. Her phrasing is inelegant, unrefined, isolated from the trends of her time. Her skill is so innate, it's frightening. I can't believe I've only just read this.
— CarlyWuthering Heights is Emily Bront 's only novel. It was first published in 1847 under the pseudonym Ellis Bell, and a posthumous second edition was edited by her sister Charlotte. The name of the novel comes from the Yorkshire manor on the moors on which the story centers. The narrative tells the tale of the all-encompassing and passionate, yet thwarted, love between Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw, and how this unresolved passion eventually destroys both thems and many around them. Now considered a classic of English literature, the novel's innovative structure, which has been likened to a series of Matryoshka dolls, met with mixed reviews by critics when it first appeared.