Wuthering Heights

This is the story of how Catherine Earnshaw ended up being Catherine Earnshaw.
This is a story of two men, of one who took everything the other valued, one by one.
This is a story of romance in two generations that are strangely mirror images, only slightly different.

For those who are looking for a light-hearted novel with fun and charm, stay away. This is far from it.
And you understand the relations only by Chapter 9. It's confusing; I think figuring that out is what made me stick to the book in the beginning. (Things don't get “pretty” until Heathcliff grows up.)
Many books have characters we grow to love, respect. Many books (unfortunately) have characters we couldn't care less about. Only a few books have characters, we develop a passionate loathing towards.
Every significant character in this book is AWFUL. Every single character we either hate or feel sorry for. The reading experience is like sitting wrapped in a wet blanket on a cloudy day. Everybody dies. It's gloomy, it's sad. Nothing good EVER happens.
Yet I enjoyed reading this book, being a passive observer, like Mr. Lockwood, of this queer couple families that by the end got mangled up into one.

Whatever happened in this book seems unlikely at first. But imagine having just one neighboring house 4 miles away, for your entire life, in an era of digital sophistication where, “call” means visit. With no external stimuli, literally a closed environment with semi-incestuous relationships, no wonder everyone was either psychotic or neurotic or dying probably of some disease.

It's amazing how everyone made everyone else miserable and themselves ended up being miserable.
Read this book for the sake of reading it. It's food for thought.