I am now (Feb 23, 2018) finally coming back to this post to continue it, as I said I would “so long ago,” as it seems. (It really was long ago, but not as much in the distant past as it feels). I have, in the moment, only time really to provide the passage – from the second page of Emily Bronte’s excellent book – in which the description/definition of Wuthering heights is provided:

          Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff’s dwelling, “Wuthering” being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in story weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there, at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind, blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few, stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones.

I will have to come back to this passage and discuss it later, for all those who are interested. I plan on adding information and analysis here later that will be both interesting to the casual reader and fan of this book – and/or, even the very fervent enthusiast of it (like myself, rather); as well as information that would be useful for a college-level study on the book and its topics and themes. That will be later. For now I will just add Emily Bronte’s drawing which she titled, “The North Wind,” since, of course, it is brought in for her very important defining of the house. e bronte north wind I would also like to share with my reader what else I found – a real “boon!” to use a favorite expression of Emily Dickinson – orchestra music inspired by the moors! (Far more peaceful in tone than Emily’s art, but contemplative and adoring of that landscape which she loved so well. (I hope this link works; you might have to copy and paste it; it’s worth it, especially if you are a classical music lover). …
I plan on finding and reading more information – as much as I can get (and have time for) – regarding Mr. Butterworth and his moorland music and his interest with the Brontes. I am always pleased to find a fascinating new Bronteite (especially when he is a musician!) For now – adieu! I thank you for stopping by my blog, and my page on one of the Brontes which are truly beloved by me. I hope my writing was easy to read, (not a chore).

Hello. This is, at this time, just a place-marker for my future post on Wuthering Heights. And, while I am up for a few more minutes, I might as well begin a bit of a freewrite rough draft. One of my teachers once said that the rough draft is just a “blehhhh” (pantomimed throwing up) – you just want to get it out onto the paper. Then the work comes in later. (A gross metaphor, but the usefulness outweighs that grossness and makes it – almost better than if it weren’t gross, huh? Interesting). Well, this will honestly give me a chance to write out, and probably develop, my thoughts on this book – something which I had been wanting to do for a while. There were always free-floating aspects and images of it that came to mind at random, and I would lose my focus on whatever else I was doing to stare off into the brilliantly peculiar world of Emily Bronte’s making. I swear, the black universe with all its dizzying depths, is not as vast as the soul of this English girl, raised on their austere, wind-blasted hilltop, that corner of the universe tucked away just for fostering the astral souls of Reverend Bronte’s girls.

… Ah yes! And this will give me the chance to really cement in my mind just what the definition of “Wuthering Heights” is. Bronte does give the definition in the beginning, and it is surely a key aspect of the book – but I must admit I never quite grasped it as much as was intended by the authoress. (I like to call female authors authoresses – e.g., Jane Austen is my favorite to call by that. It’s always good to adorn a woman’s achievement in its femininity). So yes – “note to self”: focus on Bronte’s definition of these “heights.” Also, as the title of this blog post tells, I will focus on jouissance, especially as it is defined in the fantastic introduction of the Oxford WC’s version of the book. (As opposed to the internet’s definition, which says that it is basically extreme pleasure – and I think it may have even specified sexual pleasure. Honestly? That is a fucking disgrace. Nothing against sexual pleasure, but love should come first, that should be the focus. These days the other is clearly the focus – perhaps because these days most don’t have the required strength of character to achieve and maintain love).

I hope I didn’t lose any readers just now.

What also irritated me about that, is how jouissance involves the purest kind of connection there can be – the drawing in that postcard portrays it so wonderfully! Ah, I just love it. I believe this is the kind of love that people were meant to have – partly because we are capable of it, I don’t know. We are capable of many things, though. But what I mean to say is that this is the ideal – the utmost, the optimum state of connection. And it is not just between children (as I will show later in the definition by this introduction author), it is between male and female children. That is key: men and women connect in a fantastical way; it can seem like a fairy tale; like a waking dream. … but we have to strive for it.

To be continued later. Good night.

(Wait. Note to self: I wonder if the concept of “wuthering heights” – not the place or house in the book ,but the concept, the sense – relates to this recurring image I used to have: a most fascinatingly vivid, transfixing image I saw and felt, not in my head, but more like … you know how, when you let go of worldly thinking, became numb to it – that place where you drift off to in such times: that is the place where this image lived, waiting for me to gaze upon it again in dazzled puzzlement. It involved a soul clinging to the uppermost point – an iron pole protruding from the tippy top of the building, at night – in a light, drizzling rain. I get the sense it is either a part of me up there – either past or present (or future??); or, is someone that means a lot to me in the past or present. And there is another soul there: one more “grounded,” connected with the world and its societal function. This other is also me, or another part of me, and is on the roof at thte base of the weather vane, reaching up to the fellow, imploring him/her to come down; promising that “it’s going to be ok,” in the most cliché sense of the word. It is cliché at all because, I don’t know that it is going to “be ok.” I don’t even know why he/she is even up there. The soul clinging to the weather vane up there, you see, is the epitome of “wuthering heights.” … One last note before I close this down for the day: after I recorded this vision in my journal … I stopped having it! It no longer recurred. (This is surely not a good thing – is my basic sentiment). I miss it. It was a puzzling but not unpleasant vision. I felt love, admiration, and deep, deep empathy for the soul up there.
I just proof-read this, and found it interesting – and riddled with errors and points of possible improvement. But the one part which really plucked my heart strings was the last sentence. There is just something so powerful about empathy! Huey Lewis could be singing about “The Power of [Empathy]” instead. It would perhaps be more precise. (Love being a great, but very broad word). Empathy doesn’t “make one man weak, … another man strong.” It melts and elevates everyone equally! It is the epitome of selfless love. We can’t live without empathy, I dare say.

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