Wuthering Heights: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)
Wuthering Heights: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) book cover

Wuthering Heights: (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

Paperback – Deluxe Edition, August 25, 2009

Price
$12.79
Format
Paperback
Pages
344
Publisher
Penguin Classics
Publication Date
ISBN-13
978-0143105435
Dimensions
8.5 x 5.44 x 0.94 inches
Weight
13.8 ounces

Description

"It is as if Emily Brontë could tear up all that we know human beings by, and fill these unrecognizable transparencies with such a gust of life that theytranscend reality."--Virginia Woolf Emily Jane Bronte was born July 30, 1818, at Thornton in Yorkshire, the fifth of six children of Patrick and Maria Bronte. Although Emily did spend a few short times away from Haworth, it was her primary residence and the rectory where she resided now serves as a Bronte Museum. Emily's only close friends were her brother Branwell and her sisters Charlotte and Anne. Emily died of tuberculosis on December 19, 1848, also at the age of thirty, and never knew the great success of her only novel Wuthering Heights, which was published almost exactly a year before her death. Born in Havana, Cuba in 1961, Ruben Toledo is an illustrator, painter, sculptor and filmmaker. His fashion illustrations have appeared in Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, The New Yorker, Visionaire, Paper, Interview and The New York Times, and his commissions have included Tiffany & Co., Estée Lauder and Nordstrom's national advertising campaign. Toledo and his designer wife Isabel Toledo are the subject of both a book and museum exhibition entitled Toledo/Toledo: A Marriage of Art and Fashion. Together they were recipients of the 2005 Cooper-Hewitt Design Award for their work in fashion. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. CHAPTER 11801--I have just returned from a visit to my landlord--the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist's Heaven: and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further in his waistcoat, as I announced my name.'Mr. Heathcliff?' I said.A nod was the answer.'Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts--''Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,' he interrupted, wincing. 'I should not allow any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it--walk in!'The 'walk in' was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, 'Go to the Deuce': even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathizing movement to the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.When he saw my horse's breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did pull out his hand to unchain it, and then suddenly preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we entered the court,--'Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse; and bring up some wine.''Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,' was the reflection, suggested by this compound order. 'No wonder the grass grows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.'Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps, though hale and sinewy.'The Lord help us!' he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling. 'Wuthering' being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones.Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date '1500,' and the name 'Hareton Earnshaw.' I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium.One step brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here 'the house' pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fire-place; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been underdrawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villanous old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser, reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses.The apartment and furniture would have been nothing extraordinary as belonging to a homely, northern farmer, with a stubborn countenance, and stalwart limbs set out to advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters. Such an individual seated in his armchair, his mug of ale frothing on the round table before him, is to be seen in any circuit of five or six miles among these hills, if you go at the right time after dinner. But Mr. Heathcliff forms a singular contrast to his abode and style of living. He is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman: that is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire: rather slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence, because he has an erect and handsome figure; and rather morose. Possibly, some people might suspect him of a degree of underbred pride; I have a sympathetic chord within that tells me it is nothing of the sort: I know by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling--to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He'll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to be loved or hated again. No. I'm running on too fast: I bestow my own attributes over liberally on him. Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his hand out of the way when he meets a would-be acquaintance, to those which actuate me. Let me hope my constitution is almost peculiar: my dear mother used to say I should never have a comfortable home; and only last summer I proved myself perfectly unworthy of one.While enjoying a month of fine weather at the seacoast, I was thrown into the company of a most fascinating creature: a real goddess in my eyes, as long as she took no notice of me. I 'never told my love' vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head and ears: she understood me at last, and looked a return--the sweetest of all imaginable looks. And what did I do? I confess it with shame--shrunk icily into myself, like a snail; at every glance retired colder and farther; till finally the poor innocent was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed with confusion at her supposed mistake, persuaded her mamma to decamp.By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite that towards which my landlord advanced, and filled up an interval of silence by attempting to caress the canine mother, who had left her nursery, and was sneaking wolfishly to the back of my legs, her lip curled up, and her white teeth watering for a snatch.My caress provoked a long, guttural gnarl.'You'd better let the dog alone,' growled Mr. Heathcliff in unison, checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his foot. 'She's not accustomed to be spoiled--not kept for a pet.'Then, striding to a side door, he shouted again--'Joseph!'--Joseph mumbled indistinctly in the depths of the cellar, but gave no intimation of ascending; so his master dived down to him, leaving me vis-a-vis the ruffianly bitch and a pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs, who shared with her a jealous guardianship over all my movements.Not anxious to come in contact with their fangs, I sat still; but, imagining they would scarcely understand tacit insults, I unfortunately indulged in winking and making faces at the trio, and some turn of my physiognomy so irritated madam, that she suddenly broke into a fury, and leapt on my knees. I flung her back, and hastened to interpose the table between us. This proceeding roused the whole hive. Half-a-dozen four-footed fiends, of various sizes and ages, issued from hidden dens to the common centre. I felt my heels and coat-laps peculiar subjects of assault; and, parrying off the larger combatants as effectually as I could with the poker, I was constrained to demand, aloud, assistance from some of the household in re-establishing peace.Mr. Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps with vexatious phlegm: I don't think they moved one second faster than usual, though the hearth was an absolute tempest of worrying and yelping.Happily, an inhabitant of the kitchen made more dispatch: a lusty dame, with tucked-up gown, bare arms, and fire-flushed cheeks, rushed into the midst of us flourishing a frying-pan: and used that weapon, and her tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically, and she only remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, when her master entered on the scene.'What the devil is the matter?' he asked, eyeing me in a manner I could ill endure after this inhospitable treatment.'What the devil, indeed!' I muttered. 'The herd of possessed swine could have had no worse spirits in them than those animals of yours, sir. You might as well leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!''They won't meddle with persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting the bottle before me, and restoring the displaced table. 'The dogs do right to be vigilant. Take a glass of wine?''No, thank you.''Not bitten, are you?''If I had been, I would have set my signet on the biter.'Heathcliff's countenance relaxed into a grin.'Come, come,' he said, 'you are flurried, Mr. Lockwood. Here, take a little wine. Guests are so exceedingly rare in this house that I and my dogs, I am willing to own, hardly know how to receive them. Your health, sir!'I bowed and returned the pledge; beginning to perceive that it would be foolish to sit sulking for the misbehaviour of a pack of curs: besides, I felt loath to yield the fellow further amusement at my expense; since his humour took that turn.He--probably swayed by prudential considerations of the folly of offending a good tenant--relaxed a little in the laconic style of chipping off1 his pronouns and auxiliary verbs, and introduced what he supposed would be a subject of interest to me,--a discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of my present place of retirement.I found him very intelligent on the topics we touched; and before I went home, I was encouraged so far as to volunteer another visit to-morrow.He evidently wished no repetition of my intrusion. I shall go, notwithstanding. It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.CHAPTER 2Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights.On coming up from dinner, however, (N.B.--I dine between twelve and one o'clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would not, comprehend my request that I might be served at five.) On mounting the stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping into the room, I saw a servant-girl on her knees, surrounded by brushes, and coal-scuttles; and raising an infernal dust as she extinguished the flames with heaps of cinders. This spectacle drove me back immediately; I took my hat, and, after a four miles' walk, arrived at Heathcliff's garden gate just in time to escape the first feathery flakes of a snow-shower.On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove the chain, I jumped over, and, running up the flagged cause-way bordered with straggling gooseberry bushes, knocked vainly for admittance, till my knuckles tingled, and the dogs howled.'Wretched inmates!' I ejaculated, mentally, 'you deserve perpetual isolation from your species for your churlish inhospitality. At least, I would not keep my doors barred in the day-time. I don't care--I will get in!'So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook it vehemently. Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head from a round window of the barn.'Whet are ye for?' he shouted. 'T' maister's dahn i' t' fowld. Goa rahnd by th' end ut' laith, if yah went tuh spake tull him.'2'Is there nobody inside to open the door?' I hallooed, responsively.'They's nobbut t' missis; and shoo'll nut oppen 't an ye mak yer flaysome dins till neeght.'3'Why? cannot you tell her who I am, eh, Joseph?''Nor-ne me! Aw'll hae noa hend wi't,' muttered the head, vanishing.4The snow had began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cote, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment, where I was formerly received.It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the 'missis,' an individual whose existence I had never previously suspected.I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained motionless and mute.'Rough weather!' I remarked. 'I'm afraid, Mrs. Heathcliff, the door5 must bear the consequence of your servants' leisure attendance: I had hard work to make them hear me!'She never opened her mouth. I stared--she stared also. At any rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.'Sit down,' said the young man, gruffly. 'He'll be in soon.'I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who deigned, at this second interview, to move the extreme tip of her tail, in token of owning my acquaintance.'A beautiful animal!' I commenced again. 'Do you intend parting with the little ones, madam?''They are not mine,' said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than Heathcliff himself could have replied. Read more

Features & Highlights

  • 'May you not rest, as long as I am living. You said I killed you - haunt me, then' Lockwood, the new tenant of Thrushcross Grange on the bleak Yorkshire moors, is forced to seek shelter one night at Wuthering Heights, the home of his landlord. There he discovers the history of the tempestuous events that took place years before: of the intense passion between the foundling Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw, and her betrayal of him. As Heathcliff's bitterness and vengeance is visited upon the next generation, their innocent heirs must struggle to escape the legacy of the past.

Customer Reviews

Rating Breakdown

★★★★★
30%
(7.9K)
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(6.6K)
★★★
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★★
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Most Helpful Reviews

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Beautifully haunting book!

I first read this book as a senior in high school and I absolutely adored it. I think one of the most amazing things about this novel is that the characters aren't exactly likable and yet you love them anyway. I love Heathcliff, though admittedly I wouldn't ever want to date him. I think Heathcliff is one of my favorite likable bad guys in literature along with Severus Snape. I would really recommend this book to anyone looking for a love story that transcends time and life. One of my favorite things about this book is that it's not just some simple love story where the guy falls in love with the girl and then something bad happens that threatens the relationship but it all works out in the end. I think it is even more tragic than Romeo and Juliet and definitely more complicated. Anyway, I highly recommend reading this book.
2 people found this helpful
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Fabulous Edition of a Classic!

I happen to be reading this book on our covered porch while it's been raining for over 5 straight hours, sometimes heavily -- almost too perfect, right? Ruben Toledo's covers and flaps are stunning of course and the front cover reminds me of the undercurrent of humor that Emily Bronte weaves throughout this tale. The book fits comfortably in hands or lap and the typesetting makes this an awesome edition for the first time reader or re-reader alike!
1 people found this helpful
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perfect condition!

i was so glad to find this amazing edition for such an affordable price! it was in great condition, exactly as the description said. thanks so much!
1 people found this helpful
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Obnoxious characters, but beautifully written

Wuthering Heights is beautifully written. I fell in love with Emily Bronte and her cadence of language from the very first chapter.

Sadly, I loathed the characters. I sympathized with Heathcliff in the first half of the book and was disappointed to find myself hating him in the second half. I despised Catherine Earnshaw from her introduction in the story until her death. The only character I liked at all was Hareton, and I was happy for the way things turned out for him.

Reading Wuthering Heights made me appreciate Jane Austen so much more than I already did! Emily Bronte's female characters continually made me wistfully think of Austen's Elizabeth Bennett, and long for her to inhabit Thrushcross Grange instead of Catherine Earnshaw. The difference between Austen's female characters and Bronte's is shocking. I definitely take the existence of strong willed women in modern fiction for granted, and this reminded me how ahead of her time Jane Austen really was. I would love to read a piece of Austen fanfic in which Elizabeth Bennet bashes Catherine Earnshaw over the head with a frying pan, usurps her as mistress of Thrushcross Grange, and gives Heathcliff AND Mr. Linton a sound thrashing.

I was surprised that some describe this story as romantic; I didn't find one word even remotely romantic! I appreciated the Gothic and supernatural elements and the wonderful, descriptive writing style. I have a beautiful image of Thrushcross Grange and Wuthering Heights in my head; I can picture the houses and their rooms, the landscape, the gardens and the hills. Despite the personalities of the characters, I really did enjoy this story and I'm glad to have finally read it.

I especially love this new Penguin Classics Deluxe edition. Ruben Toledo's cover is even more gorgeous than the Amazon picture portrays, and the pages and binding are high quality. I definitely plan to purchase the rest of these Deluxe Editions that Penguin has released.
1 people found this helpful
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Off to a Bad Start

This review is on the "other" Wuthering Heights Penguin Classics edition (Corot's "Gust of Wind" on the cover), 1995, reprinted with a new Introduction, Chronology and Further Reading 2000, Reissued with revisions and a new Preface 2003.

Forgive me as I have read only 38 pages. But I find it necessary to say now it has been an extremely frustrating experience. The novel is oddly laid out, with tricks of the flashback filling in details that should have been straightforwardly presented at the beginning, such as WHO IS MRS HEATHCLIFF? Honestly, I went back and scanned over the first 38 pages several times and just could not figure out who she was, despite consulting other helps. Was she (is she) Heathcliff's wife, his son's wife, some other wife? Heathcliff says she is my daughter-in-law but then it is stated later his only son died. WHAT? Maybe the "Harleton Earnshaw" is an adopted son. Some of the characters have the same name or nickname such as CATHERINE versus CATHY. There's another Cathy (Linton) that is different from CATHERINE EARNSHAW but CATHERINE is also called Cathy, which just causes unnecessary confusion and is indicative of slipshod writing.

And then there's the ghost story and the dreamscape which is a cheap trick (many movies include the nightmare scene you think is real but the oh so clever movie scriptwriters cause the malignant balloon to pop, the protagonist waking up! and you are tricked once again). At least I am thankful the local Yorkshire "Wuthering" dialect is not overused, but thankfully there ARE frequent footnotes you'll have to look up to make any sense out of some of the text and dialogue. Perhaps the book will improve; I'll be glad to report on it if it happens.
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LOVE LOVE LOVE!

Rating: Excellent

Genre: Classic

Wuthering Heights is a very passionate love story between Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw. Heathcliff is adopted by Catherine’s father but the boy does not get the proper welcome in the family. After the death of Mr. Earnshaw, he finds himself being constantly humiliated and bullied by Catherine’s brother Hindley. The story basically involves the union of two families, The Earnshaw living in Wuthering Heights and The Lintons living in Thrushcross Garden. It spans over two generations of the two families and how these two families keep connecting. The book is divided into two volumes. Volume one consists of fourteen chapters and the second volume has a total of twenty chapters. The story is narrated from the maid’s (Mrs. Nelly Dean) perspective. I usually find this kind of narration tends to be confusing when narration occurs inside another narration but surprisingly in this book it was not the case at all.

Wuthering Heights has been on my TBR list forever. I have not watched any TV or movie adaptation for it because I wanted to read the book first. After many years now I read it and boy I am totally obsessed now! I did not expect to love it that much. The atmosphere of the story is gothic and eerie at times and at other times it is wicked and surreal. I just don’t know how to describe the mixture. The characters are perfectly imperfect! All the characters are flawed including the narrator. Many times I found myself to judge some actions of the characters or sympathize with them. I don’t have any favorite characters in this story. I love how well Emily Bronte has written each one of them but I can’t say that one is a favorite or anything like that. However, I found Linton to be very annoying and he was using young Catherine and manipulating here.

After loving this book so much I have decided to watch the major movie and TV adaptations of this story. So far I have watched three movies that were produced in 1939, 1970, and 1992. Among the three, the 1992 version starring Ralph Fiennes seems to be more accurate to the book compared to the earlier versions but it still lacked a lot of details. The 1939 adaption is basically half of the book. It is a well-made film but completely ignored the second generation of the family and the 1970 version starring Timothy Dalton is basically a remake of the earlier version and suffers from the same shortcomings. I will still watch the 1998 and the 2009 movie adaptations as well as the TV adaptation starring Tom Hardy. I hope one of these will be more faithful to the terrific story.

Wuthering Heights is about love, hate, revenge, double-dealings, and obsession! Obsession in all the different human feelings. Obsession in love, obsession in hate and revenge, obsession in harming someone you despise, and someone you love. I am obsessed with the story! This is one of the strange cases where I am totally in love with the story without being in love with any of the characters. I just love how excellently developed they are but without being obsessed with any one of them. This is such a fascinating story and I know this is a book that will remain with me forever. Now that is how I love my classics. A true classic and a new favorite!
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Five Stars

Classic book with cool cover illustration!
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Lovely covers....

I love this story but I bought it specifically for the cover!!! So pretty.
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If you can get through the 1st 2 chapters...

I have been trying to read this book since 6th grade but I could not get past the first two chapters without getting bored and putting it to the side to read later.  Now almost 20 years later, I made it past the first 2 chapters and actually almost read the entire book in one day.  I should have just skipped to the 4th chapter because that is where the book takes off.  I honestly didn't like most of the characters.  They were selfish and immature and doomed themselves to never be together and made everyone else around them suffer for it.  I enjoyed the book though and wished I would have read it sooner.
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You know you need another copy

I don't feel like I have to go on about 'WH' being the pinnacle of romantic writing and the shivers it gives me, the fact that Kate Bush turned it into a hit single - cause that's not why you buy THIS. THIS is a beautiful, stylized illustrated cover that carries between in one of the best novels ever written in English. And a nod to all goths, fantasists, Sylvia and Courtney fans who really love it. Thankyou, Ruben Toledo! If you thought this was to cool, may I also suggest [[ASIN:0142005142 The Illustrated Jane Eyre (Penguin Illustrated Classics)]]Dame D'arcy and Charlotte Bronte in one package..it's all too beautiful.