Laura: Alright Sophia, give me your one-sentence review of Wuthering Heights. Sophia: Okay. It's a 170-year-old story about why you should never, ever date the brooding, mysterious guy who lives on a haunted hill. Laura: (Laughs) That's... surprisingly accurate. And today we are diving into that very haunted hill with Emily Brontë's masterpiece, Wuthering Heights. Sophia: Emily Brontë. I know she was one of the famous sisters, but what's her story? She seems like she must have had a very dramatic life to write something this intense. Laura: That's the fascinating part! She was incredibly reclusive. She wrote this entire, epic novel of untamed passion and cruelty from the quiet, isolated parsonage in Haworth, surrounded by the same wild moors she describes in the book. Sophia: No way. So she was just imagining all this chaos from her quiet little house? Laura: Exactly. And when it was published under a male pseudonym, Ellis Bell, Victorian critics were absolutely scandalized. They called it a "compound of vulgar depravity and unnatural horrors." They had no idea it was written by a clergyman's shy daughter. Sophia: "Vulgar depravity"! I love it. So what was so depraved about it? Does it just start with a bang? Laura: It starts with a slammed door and a pack of snarling dogs. It’s less of a bang and more of a sustained, atmospheric dread.

Laura: The book opens with our narrator, a rather foppish gentleman named Mr. Lockwood, who has just rented a nearby manor, Thrushcross Grange. He decides to visit his landlord, the infamous Mr. Heathcliff, at his home, Wuthering Heights. Sophia: A friendly visit to the new landlord. What could go wrong? Laura: Everything. Absolutely everything. First, the house itself is described as being battered by the wind, with "a perpetual north wind" blowing over it. The name "Wuthering" literally means turbulent, stormy weather. Sophia: So the house has a weather forecast in its name. That’s a good sign. Laura: Right? Lockwood arrives and finds the gate locked. He has to climb over it. He knocks, and no one answers. Finally, he's let into this grim, stone-floored room where he meets Heathcliff, who is described as a "dark-skinned gipsy" with a look of sullen indifference. Sophia: Okay, so not exactly rolling out the welcome mat. Laura: Not even close. While waiting for Heathcliff, Lockwood tries to pet a dog who is nursing puppies. She responds with a ferocious snarl. He then, for some reason, decides to make faces at her and the other dogs. Sophia: He did what? Why would you make faces at a dog that's already growling at you? Laura: It's one of the great mysteries of literature. But he does, and the entire pack of "half-a-dozen four-footed fiends" erupts and attacks him. He's pinned in a corner, fending them off with a poker. Sophia: This is incredible. He's being mauled by dogs, and where is Heathcliff? Laura: He just stands there, laughing. He tells Lockwood, "They won’t meddle with persons who touch nothing." Basically, "You shouldn't have tried to be friendly." The chaos only ends when a kitchen worker, a "lusty dame," comes in and scatters the dogs with a frying pan. Sophia: A frying pan! This is less of a Gothic novel and more of a chaotic slapstick comedy. So what happens after he's nearly eaten alive? Laura: Heathcliff, completely unbothered, offers him a glass of wine. And Lockwood, instead of running for the hills, decides he's intrigued. He even reflects on his own social awkwardness, telling this story about how he once scared off a woman at the sea-coast because he was too cold and reserved. He looks at this misanthropic, hostile landlord and thinks, "A perfect misanthropist’s heaven... Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair." Sophia: He gets attacked by a pack of dogs and his first thought is, "Ah, a fellow introvert!" This Lockwood guy is something else. He is the most unreliable narrator I've ever met. Laura: He's completely clueless! But his cluelessness is our window into this world. Brontë uses him to perfectly establish the atmosphere of Wuthering Heights. It's not just a house; it's a fortress of hostility. It's brutal, unwelcoming, and utterly indifferent to the conventions of polite society. The people are as wild as the landscape. Sophia: And as wild as the dogs, apparently. Okay, so the present-day is a nightmare. But this can't be the whole story. How did Heathcliff become this... monster landlord with a canine army? Laura: That is the question that drives the rest of the novel. Lockwood, being a glutton for punishment, goes back for a second visit, gets trapped in a snowstorm, and is forced to spend the night. And that’s when the past begins to bleed into the present.

Sophia: So he stays the night? After the dog incident? This man has no survival instincts. Laura: None whatsoever. He’s put in a strange, disused room with an old oak-paneled bed, almost like a closet. And inside, he finds a collection of old books with diary entries scribbled in the margins by a girl named Catherine Earnshaw. Sophia: The original Catherine. This is where the backstory begins. Laura: Exactly. He starts reading, and we're transported back 25 years. We learn that Wuthering Heights was once a family home, owned by a Mr. Earnshaw who had two children: a son, Hindley, and our Catherine. Sophia: And where does Heathcliff fit in? Laura: One day, Mr. Earnshaw goes on a trip to Liverpool and comes back with what Nelly Dean, the housekeeper who tells this part of the story, calls a "dirty, ragged, black-haired child." He found this boy starving on the streets and decided to adopt him. He names him Heathcliff, after a son who had died. Sophia: Wow. So he just appears out of nowhere. I can't imagine the other kids were thrilled about that. Laura: They were furious. Hindley, the older brother, immediately hates him. Catherine is initially resentful too. But Mr. Earnshaw dotes on Heathcliff, favoring him over his own son. This favoritism becomes a poison in the household. Hindley sees Heathcliff as a usurper, a "cuckoo" in their nest. Sophia: So Heathcliff is basically a cuckoo in the nest, and Hindley wants him out. But his bond with Catherine is forged in that fire. Laura: Precisely. After Mr. Earnshaw dies, Hindley becomes the master of the house. And his first order of business is revenge. He degrades Heathcliff, stopping his education and forcing him to work as a common farm laborer. He abuses him physically and emotionally. Sophia: And Catherine? Laura: She and Heathcliff become inseparable. They are wild, rebellious, and united against Hindley's tyranny. The diary Lockwood reads describes them as "going to rebel." They're two halves of the same defiant soul, finding freedom together on the moors, away from the oppressive atmosphere of the house. Their love isn't a sweet, gentle romance; it's a fierce, primal bond forged in shared hardship and rebellion. Sophia: It’s a survival pact. That makes so much more sense of the intensity. It’s not just a crush; it's 'us against the world.' Laura: It is. And that bond is what Brontë calls the "eternal rocks beneath." It's the foundation for everything that follows. But this all still feels like a very human drama of abuse and social class. It's in Lockwood's bedroom that the story takes a sharp turn into the supernatural. Sophia: This all feels very grounded in social drama and abuse. Where does the famous Gothic, supernatural stuff come in? Laura: It comes in the form of a nightmare that feels terrifyingly real.

Laura: So Lockwood, having read Catherine's childhood diary, finally falls asleep in this strange, coffin-like bed. He has two nightmares. The first is a bizarre dream about a fire-and-brimstone preacher, but it's the second one that is truly chilling. Sophia: I'm ready. Hit me with it. Laura: He dreams that a branch is tapping against the window. He gets annoyed and tries to break it off, but when he reaches out, his fingers close around a small, ice-cold hand. Sophia: Oh, no. Nope. Laura: He tries to pull his arm back, but the hand clings to him, and a child's voice sobs, "Let me in—let me in!" He looks, and through the window, he sees the face of a child. She says her name is Catherine Linton and that she's been a waif for twenty years. Sophia: Twenty years! So this is her ghost. That is terrifying. What does Lockwood do? Laura: He does something truly shocking. He's so filled with terror that he rubs the ghost's wrist back and forth on the broken pane of glass until blood runs down and soaks the bed-clothes. Only then does the hand let go. Sophia: Whoa, that's way more violent than I expected! He's fighting a ghost? Laura: He's in a state of pure, animalistic fear. He screams, and his scream wakes up Heathcliff, who bursts into the room, furious. Lockwood, still terrified, tells him about the dream, about the ghost of Catherine. Sophia: How does Heathcliff react? Does he laugh it off like he did with the dogs? Laura: This is the moment that changes everything for the reader. Heathcliff's reaction is not anger or disbelief. It's pure, raw, agonizing grief. The book says a "change came over his features as if struck by a sudden blow." He's visibly shaken, almost trembling. He sends Lockwood out of the room, and then Lockwood hears him throw open the window and break into this "uncontrollable passion of tears." Sophia: He cries? Heathcliff? Laura: He sobs. He cries out to the ghost, begging her to come in. He wails, "Come in! come in! Cathy, do come. Oh, do—ONCE more! Oh! my heart’s darling! hear me THIS time, Catherine, at last!" Sophia: Wow. That's... heartbreaking. It completely changes how you see him. This whole time, we've seen him as this cruel, misanthropic monster. Laura: And in this one moment, Brontë reveals that it's all a shell. Underneath is a man who has been consumed by a single, all-encompassing grief for twenty years. His cruelty, his isolation—it's all rooted in the loss of Catherine. The ghost isn't just a spooky element; it's the living, breathing heart of his pain. Sophia: So the haunting isn't just in the house; it's inside him. He's the one who's truly haunted. Laura: Exactly. And that's the genius of these opening chapters. Brontë first shows us the monster, then she shows us the wound. She makes us understand that the "vulgar depravity" that so shocked Victorian readers is born from a love so powerful that it refuses to die, a passion that literally transcends the grave.

Laura: So Brontë doesn't just give us a story. She builds an entire ecosystem of misery and passion. The hostile landscape of the moors, the abusive family dynamics, and the haunting presence of the past are all completely interconnected. Sophia: It’s not just a love story; it’s a story about how love, when twisted by class and cruelty, can become a destructive force that echoes for generations. That line from Catherine's diary, "H. and I are going to rebel," feels like the thesis for the whole book. Their entire relationship is a rebellion. Laura: And it’s a rebellion that ultimately fails, or at least, leads to immense tragedy. Heathcliff’s desperate cry to Catherine's ghost shows that even after twenty years, even after he's become the master of Wuthering Heights, he's still that lost boy on the moors, searching for the only person who ever truly understood him. Sophia: It really makes you question the whole idea of a 'soulmate.' Catherine famously says, "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same," and later, "Nelly, I AM Heathcliff!" That feels so modern and romantic on the surface. Laura: But the book shows us the dark side of that idea. What if your soulmate connection means you're both destined to destroy yourselves and everyone around you? Sophia: Their souls might be the same, but that connection burns everything it touches. It leaves you wondering: is a love that destructive truly love at all? Or is it something else entirely? Laura: A question that readers have been debating for over 170 years. Sophia: And a question we'll be wrestling with long after this episode ends. Laura: This is Aibrary, signing off.