I was reorganizing a high school’s book room and was haunted by stacks of these, taunting me for never reading them. They teach this novel in school, for cripe’s sake. It’s Important American Literature! And despite trying to read it twice and listen to the audiobook once, and despite loving Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Kingsolver, I simply give up. I cannot get into this story, and I don’t know why.
How many people have told me how great this series is? Dozens? Oh well. Can’t get past the first seventy pages of it.
I know! Important! Great! Current! And yet every time I get it from the library, it molds on my nightstand for three weeks until it’s time to return it.
Worst. Book. Ever. Ever ever ever ever ever.
I know I should identify with Heathcliff because The Man kept him down, but all I can think is, “You’re a dick, Heathcliff,” and not in a good way. I hope Catherine haunts the shit out of him.