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syncope at 06:55pm on 15/01/2011
syncope at 06:55pm on 15/01/2011As I just told Liz, I believe there's a direct line from Wuthering Heights to Wincest.
Not being a fan of gothic litretchur, I had banished the plot of the book from my mind. I guess when I read it I was still in the phase of social and moral development where I didn't think it was odd at all for a brother and sister to carry on a torrid romance.
Wait, what?
That is to say: I guess when I read it someone told me that at the time, that was totally normal and alright. I remember distinctly a long, boring lecture I got on cousin marriage relating to some other boring work of fiction by a long-dead author. Actually, it could have been about this very book, as cousin marriage is a feature of this stunning work.
Have you guessed yet that I finally succumbed to watching the Tom Hardy Wuthering Heights? I had planned to put it on and do other things, like clean the kitchen, but somehow between the first scene--in which I laughed out loud, for real, at unintentional humor provided by the over the top nature of the goings on--and about the time Hindley turns back up, I was actually WATCHING THE SHIT.
I wish I could just blame the fucking riding boots--look, watch it for the riding boots alone. But, no, I was seduced once again bythe demon gin this dude who I seem to have an addiction to, if we're completely honest with each other. And let me mention that I think we should all be honest with each other, because otherwise we bottle things up and twenty years later you've lost your stately manor to the embittered cur who just wanted a back rub and a pat on the back. Listen, I am so shameless with this whole Tom Hardy thing that I was all outraged about Cathy's disgusting behavior. Maybe this is rock bottom.
Tell me this: is this *really* supposed to be at all romantic? It's a horror story. Replete with ghosts, lashings, ruination, and death. I think maybe this book might have put me off of romance originally. It's entirely possible.
Time for Brideshead Revisited. God!
Not being a fan of gothic litretchur, I had banished the plot of the book from my mind. I guess when I read it I was still in the phase of social and moral development where I didn't think it was odd at all for a brother and sister to carry on a torrid romance.
Wait, what?
That is to say: I guess when I read it someone told me that at the time, that was totally normal and alright. I remember distinctly a long, boring lecture I got on cousin marriage relating to some other boring work of fiction by a long-dead author. Actually, it could have been about this very book, as cousin marriage is a feature of this stunning work.
Have you guessed yet that I finally succumbed to watching the Tom Hardy Wuthering Heights? I had planned to put it on and do other things, like clean the kitchen, but somehow between the first scene--in which I laughed out loud, for real, at unintentional humor provided by the over the top nature of the goings on--and about the time Hindley turns back up, I was actually WATCHING THE SHIT.
I wish I could just blame the fucking riding boots--look, watch it for the riding boots alone. But, no, I was seduced once again by
Tell me this: is this *really* supposed to be at all romantic? It's a horror story. Replete with ghosts, lashings, ruination, and death. I think maybe this book might have put me off of romance originally. It's entirely possible.
Time for Brideshead Revisited. God!
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