Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights, and the Cost of Success

“She burned too bright for this world.”

~ Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Somehow, it’s a story of survival. 

The fields are greying under the clouded sun, the grassy plains turning to heaps of ash in the blink of an eye. On the horizon, just beneath a pinnacle of rocks, are two children. One, a boy, dirty and unkempt. His face is shaded with specks of mud and his clothes are torn at the seams. The other, a girl, is in a bright white dress that flows past her knees. She’s utterly spotless, not a speck of soil on her or a stain on the shining white. The two are intertwined in destiny and will be for the rest of their lives. 

Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights was published in 1847 under the pseudonym Ellis Bell, a common measure taken by female writers of the century (much like Mary Shelley publishing Frankenstein anonymously or Jane Austen publishing under simply “A Lady”). It was a choice simply to get her book published: a means to an end. Emily Brontë was a writer and a poet, so writing and poetry was all that mattered. If it meant publishing under a fake name, so be it. The world needed to hear her story. Thus, one of the greatest and most widely read pieces of literature was born. 

And you should read it. 

It’s a hefty novel, don’t get me wrong, but where it succeeds is through its use of length to attach the reader to not only various characters, but various generations as well. Getting wrapped up in the various plots and locales, seeing the world and story through multiple lenses, and watching as what was the making of a perfect romance come flaking to pieces is an experience I wouldn’t trade for the world. It can take you into the deep inlands of England, or to a gothic manor still roamed by spirits. It can show you reflections of yourselves and your loved ones in mirrors tinted by hate and cruelty. To begin reading the novel is to sign a contract knowing that you will not leave the other side the same person.

At the beginning of the book you will find our narrator - Mr. Lockwood - and his telling of how he came to spend one horrifying night amidst the dreary, dark, and haunting manor of Wuthering Heights. After a journey to meet his new landlord, he is stranded at the top of the Yorkshire moors in the gothic manor, only to find that indeed his landlord is there: a tall, brooding man with only a first name. Lockwood travels to his new home the next morning a changed man, yet curiosity chases him. He comes to learn about Wuthering Heights and the long history of Heathcliff.  Just Heathcliff, as his last name would constantly allude him, leaving him in a purgatory between family, relationship, and trust. On the other side lies Catherine, his love since childhood, trapped within her own Hell of how to come of age in a society that tells her money is far more important than happiness. 

Perhaps that doesn’t entice you quite enough. Perhaps you’ve already been told to read the book by your professor or teacher and hearing it from a different book-hugger doesn’t change anything. Perhaps. But like I said before, I don’t think that’s the point of this novel. Emily Brontë published it to no fanfare, no great gain of wealth, no promise of happiness or fulfillment or future books. In fact, not more than a year later, Emily Brontë died at the age of thirty. She died a tragic death of drinking from polluted water; runoff from a nearby graveyard. She died never knowing what Wuthering Heights would spiral into. Even if she had lived to an old age, she would never have seen the nearly endless movie adaptations, TV adaptations, or special-edition reprints that would populate the world for over a century. 

Even then, maybe it wouldn’t matter.

Wuthering Heights is a novel about a lot of things, but at its core is a tragic relationship between two people. The only thing standing in their way were others and the expectations that were put on them; the roles they were meant to fill. I like to believe that Emily Brontë wrote the novel as a way of expressing that—a way of saying that no matter what the world tells you to do or what role you should play, not following what you love will only lead to tragedy. She published her story. She did what she needed to do to get it finished and to share it. There’s a lot of inspiration that an aspiring writer can take from what she did, to follow in the footsteps of her bravery.

Emily Brontë didn’t see what a massive impact she would have on me and the millions of other people around the world over the last few generations, but she knew that what she believed in was the truth. That’s why it resonated with so many. 

Perhaps it could resonate with you too.