Wuthering Heights is unique, and cannot be classified; the reader feels either pronounced dislike or tremendous admiration. It is sombre, humourless, of unrelieved gloom. Yet there is about it a titanic greatness, impressing one profoundly; indeed it is awesome. Its large outlines, its intensity of feeling, its foreboding shadows at once stimulate and oppress the imagination. It is a wild prose poem rather than a novel – the tragedy of souls at grips with fate and fighting a hope-lost battle. Love of life and passionate adoration of the earth burns in it.
Written by Emily Bronte. First published 1847. This edition printed Richard Clay & Company, Bungay, Suffolk and published by P.R Gawthorn Ltd, Russell Square, London. With an introduction by Robert Harding.
Well, well, well, it feels almost as if I had given up blogging for lent but fear not dear reader, I am back, this time with another copy of my favourite gothic and what is the first hardback book to grace these pages.
Wandering around on the edge of the town just the other day, I came across a rather enchanting looking church, old enough and ugly enough to warrant further investigation. Popping in to light some candles, I was delighted to find a booksale taking place in the crypt, where I unearthed this copy of Wuthering Heights as well as a some Mary Stewart novels and a mint copy of the 6th Pan book of Horror Stories.
Normally, I’m not a huge fan of hardback books myself – too unwieldy, too much faff to carry around – but this is a nice edition with a lovely full colour frontispiece by C.E. Montford. My only quibble would be about some of the points made in the introduction by Robert Harding, in which he describes Wuthering Heights as “humourless, of unrelieved gloom,” and “one of those books of which only two feelings are possible: hearty dislike or baffled admiration.”
Anyway, a link to the original artwork, recently sold as part of a lot for £80, is HERE.