I love this book. I carried a copy of it around with me in high school and just picked it up and read it at random times. I wasn’t a dark, gothic, melancholy sort of kid, but this story with its intense language has always touched that that bit of me. I love movie versions of it, including the latest one on Masterpiece (I know it’s not the best ever, but I’m easy to please-I love seeing the characters come to life and the settings, plus this is one was filmed in Yorkshire). It is so tragic that it is cathartic I suppose, and there is something about Heathcliff’s misery. He is the iconic untamed man, possessing that deep sadness that begs to be healed. Something. I don’t know. I remember once Evan was watching a version of it with me (my kids are pretty used to me watching costume dramas and will usually sit down and watch with me) and people started dying right and left and he finally looked up at me and said, “Mom is anything good going to happen in this movie?” I said, “Nope.” He excused himself, shaking his head at my foolishness. Oh well. I always watch to the very end, weeping for the lost opportunities and imagining Cathy and Heathcliff together at last, wandering the moors. I’m putting the back of my hand to my forhead and sighing as I type this, really.
Oh, Heathcliff!
My Red Door Days 