Not so long ago, I decided to read, after months of gathering dust on a shelf, Emily Brontë´s Wuthering Heights. Even though it wasn´t easy to get hooked with the first set of pages, it ended up being one of the novels that have made a bigger impact on me. A wonderful love story tainted from start to finish with pessimism, anguish and Heathcliff´s spirit of revenge, with a single optimist turn thanks to the love ending with Cathy and Hareton.
But, Jesus Christ, it is a depressing story. You don´t even want to cry, it just makes you want to eat lots of ice-cream while you stare gloomily at the horizon. Continue reading
