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May. 20th, 2009 07:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Well, I didn't go to the Renaissance Faire, ironically, because it was too cold! There were gale force winds and I could barely keep my coat on. But today it's 85 degrees and I could keel over from the heat. Going from 50 to 85 degrees in the space of four days is just wrong. Darn global warming!
Finished reading Wuthering Heights. Actually, I don't hate it. I don't love it or anything, and Cathy and Heathcliff are completely obnoxious characters, of course, but they're only part of the story, which is really about the whole of the Earnshaw and Linton families. And when you look at it as a portrait of two 19th century Yorkshire gentry families, instead of just the tragic doomed love story everyone always thinks of, it's actully pretty interesting. To be sure, it's very well written, even when I hated most of the characters, I couldn't put it down! But I actually did get to care about the younger generation, since you see the story through the housekeeper's eyes, and she took care of them as children, so you develop the same sort of protective interest in them as she has. And despite the fact that it's famous for being so shocking and sensational because of the violence and nastiness of it's characters, it's actually one of the more down to earth and truthful depictions of alcholism and domestic violence I've seen. I've known plenty of families who were just like that, and probably a little worse. You could easily transplant the story to modern-day America and not have to change much. I'm not usually a big fan of this kind of subject-matter, but when you realize this was written in the 19th century, when situations like that were swept under the rug and fiction was often sugar-coated, and by a woman (even more shocking to Victorian sensibilities) who had first hand experience of alcholism in her own family, I start to see how it could have been personally cathartic for Emily Bronte to expose such behavior, and how brave a move it was for her too, and I really admire it. And the way she does it without preachy moralizing, just sets it down as it is, exposing it for all to see without judgement or sentiment, is pretty rare in Victorian novels. It's nice that she trusts the audience to figure things out for themselves. Although maybe too much, since everybody seems to think Heathcliff is the hero, when he is so obviously the villain! I don't care how much he's tormented by his love for stupid selfish Cathy, he's still a cruel, selfish, evil guy. But they both die unhappily, and everyone else lives happily ever after, so everybody gets what they deserve! A surprisingly satisfying end!
And now I have to find a new book to read. How will I procrastinate with my sewing if I don't have a book to read? *teehee*
Finished reading Wuthering Heights. Actually, I don't hate it. I don't love it or anything, and Cathy and Heathcliff are completely obnoxious characters, of course, but they're only part of the story, which is really about the whole of the Earnshaw and Linton families. And when you look at it as a portrait of two 19th century Yorkshire gentry families, instead of just the tragic doomed love story everyone always thinks of, it's actully pretty interesting. To be sure, it's very well written, even when I hated most of the characters, I couldn't put it down! But I actually did get to care about the younger generation, since you see the story through the housekeeper's eyes, and she took care of them as children, so you develop the same sort of protective interest in them as she has. And despite the fact that it's famous for being so shocking and sensational because of the violence and nastiness of it's characters, it's actually one of the more down to earth and truthful depictions of alcholism and domestic violence I've seen. I've known plenty of families who were just like that, and probably a little worse. You could easily transplant the story to modern-day America and not have to change much. I'm not usually a big fan of this kind of subject-matter, but when you realize this was written in the 19th century, when situations like that were swept under the rug and fiction was often sugar-coated, and by a woman (even more shocking to Victorian sensibilities) who had first hand experience of alcholism in her own family, I start to see how it could have been personally cathartic for Emily Bronte to expose such behavior, and how brave a move it was for her too, and I really admire it. And the way she does it without preachy moralizing, just sets it down as it is, exposing it for all to see without judgement or sentiment, is pretty rare in Victorian novels. It's nice that she trusts the audience to figure things out for themselves. Although maybe too much, since everybody seems to think Heathcliff is the hero, when he is so obviously the villain! I don't care how much he's tormented by his love for stupid selfish Cathy, he's still a cruel, selfish, evil guy. But they both die unhappily, and everyone else lives happily ever after, so everybody gets what they deserve! A surprisingly satisfying end!
And now I have to find a new book to read. How will I procrastinate with my sewing if I don't have a book to read? *teehee*