In my desire to alternate reading classic novels and non-classic novels (i.e modern stuff) I have unfortunately stumbled across Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Now, I don't want to cause any offence to descendants of the Bronte family who may swing by this blog from time to time, but what a chore that piece of work is!
I am appalled and embarrassed to say that over two hundred pages in, and I could not say with any degree of certainty whether the central character is male or female - that's how little attention I am giving the book. A few pages ago one of the characters (I forget who) said that Heathcliff was dead, and I don't know if this is true, or if it was just being said as a wind up. I certainly don't remember it happening. It's like I'm seeing the words but not actually reading it, and I don't know if it's my fault or Emily's fault.
I am reluctant to blame the passage of time for my disinterest as well. It was published in 1847, so we are talking one-hundred-and-sixty years here, but I read Robinson Crusoe last year which came to be in 1719, and I thought that was fantastic and much more accessible.
I will get through it, because I'm stubborn that way, but don't ask me any questions afterwards. Maybe I'll have to get the CliffsNotes...