As I write this review, I happen to be watching Little Women on the television (Wynona Ryder version) and also crying. These tears are whats giving meAs I write this review, I happen to be watching Little Women on the television (Wynona Ryder version) and also crying. These tears are whats giving me the urge to write a new review, since I recently deleted my last one, believing it didn't do justice to this fine novel. Fine. What a dull word to use. You see, Little Women is an unhealthy love of mine. Each time I even think of it, the tears come. That's how affected I am by it. The instant I remember this dear story, I feel a swelling in my heart and a welling in my eyes. Its heartwarming, its sad, its lovely. I struggle to decide if I can truly say Little Women is my favorite book, but now, as I look back to it, it is. Of course, its not the most complex, or the most beautifully written, and it doesn't even have the best characters, but it is good, and perfect.
What girl hasn't dreamed of having Marmie as a mother? Laurie as a friend? What girl hasn't longed to put on plays with their sisters, while snow falls softly outside the window, Laurie looking in longingly from his fine, lonely home? Well, if you say that you haven't wanted any of that, I think you have other issues. For me, this book is the perfect escape into a place filled with love, hope, laughs, and joy, as well as the perfect sprinklings of sadness and heartbreak.
Ahem. Heartbreak. Well, that's brought me to another of the memorable and amazing qualities of Little Women. I'm not in the mood to spoil it, because the last thing you'd want is to spoil this book, but I will say, simply because I must, Laurie/Jo/Amy/Bayer. BAD. If you're not one to appreciate a good cry, a good long cry, then don't read this book, and don't put all your hopes on Laurie and Jo.
Well, I feel like this review is, again, merely growing long-winded and lame, so I'll put it to an end. Little Women is a work of marveling genius. A piece of art that one can never, and should never, forget. Its a book to be loved, reread, respected, and praised. And it is my favorite book.
This book has caused me great pain. I hate the fact that I despise Great Expectations. I just hate it. It's one of those books that I started out adorThis book has caused me great pain. I hate the fact that I despise Great Expectations. I just hate it. It's one of those books that I started out adoring, my face pressed unhealthily close to the pages as I suck down every brilliant word of the flawless, eerily haunting beginning. I loved it, I really did...until I got about two hundred pages in. Or was it a little sooner? I've no idea, I only remember ending up sitting down one dreary afternoon, my spirits low, as I forced myself through the last of the book, and then sighed gratefully, tossing it on the floor, never to look at it again. But I did look at it again, staring at it for a long while and wanting to cry. Why do I hate this book? Why? WHY!? I sound terribly dramatic, but Charles Dickens is a writer I long to love. I want to have long conversations about his brilliant novels and style with a friend, and sit, sipping tea, picking up another one of his books, twirling my pearl necklace, and reading, getting sucked into his works. But I just cant. I know I'm not the only person who hates him...hates this book...but I still can't get over it. I'll give you another chance, Charles, I promise. ...more
Ah, here I am again. Struggling through another review of Wuthering Heights. What to say for a book like this, that hasn't already been said?
I indulgAh, here I am again. Struggling through another review of Wuthering Heights. What to say for a book like this, that hasn't already been said?
I indulge myself in dramatic, gothic-novels. Often, they are utterly silly, such as The Mysteries of Udolpho, or The Castle of Otranto, where it feels as though its all one long, lavishly written black and white movie. But sometimes I find a remarkable piece in which the tears come naturally and quickly, instead of feeling forced through over-done, lengthy paragraphs. Where the characters are vivid, dramatic, wild, and fiery, though also feel...real. Alright, sure, some can argue that the characters in Wuthering Heights are ridiculously unbelievable. I disagree. With every vengeful, dark word muttering out of Heathcliff's mouth, I felt myself melt with the depth and passion of his person. I despise each and every person who whines on about how they can't enjoy a book when they hate every character in it. Understandable, I suppose. The characters aren't exactly...likable in this book. But that's just it! After tireless amounts of your quiet, plain looking female characters, blabbering about their petty romances with the average, good-looking, gentle lover...its a fresh, vibrant change to have a story like this, where Emily Brontë has no fear to make a set of darkly wild people, with twisted desires and savage minds.
Gloomy. That is, of course, another argument that comes from people who hate the book. "It's far too depressing," they'll complain. And yes, again, they are correct. This is not a happy, pleasant book. From the very first, to the very last page, you're enshrouded in a melancholy, miserable story, and the horrible lives of the characters. Why, without this aspect of the book, this wouldn't even beWuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. This would be some hideously cheery, mundane joke in where Heathcliff and Linton hug and forgive. Where Cathy appreciates Linton, and her love for him conquers her feelings for Heathcliff. Where Heathcliff doesn't abuse his wife, and kidnap his love's daughter. And well...like I said...that just wouldn't be Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë anymore. Take away the dark mood of this, and you'll have nothing. But at the end there is a sliver of hope, a touch of something pure, a love which is unsoiled. And this, I believe, is the true romance of the book. The true bit of happiness we can receive, and gobble up, since its, finally, untouched by Heathcliff.
Flawless, emotional, gorgeous, and dark...this is what all books should be. And that is excactly what Wuthering Heights is. ...more