last year, to commemorate the bicentenary of emily bronte, i did a thing over on my blog called A MONTH WITH HEATHCLIFF.
because 201 years is even more impressive than 200 (and because this was a lot of work), this year i will repost the project here, one day at a time, celebrating my favorite novel and my baby steps into image-manipulation. happy july!!
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to commemorate the bicentenary of emily brontë, let’s take a moment to address the great puzzle at the heart of wuthering heights:
WHAT THE HECK WAS HEATHCLIFF UP TO FOR THOSE THREE YEARS? AND HOW DID HE GET SO RICH?
college courses have been structured around the question, scholarly tomes have been devoted to exploring the matter, novelists have offered their fanciful suggestions.
they’re all wrong.
to find out what really happened to heathcliff during his three years away from the dubya aitch, watch this space, where, for the entire month of july, i will be posting a scene from those missing years, putting to rest the great mystery of where he went, what he did, and why he came back so inclined to hang puppies.
********************************** JULY 24
but the human interest appeal of an urchin cum business magnate cum dog spouse cum spree killer is too great and, hounded by netflix documentarians, heathcliff is forced into hiding.
*** it seems i messed up when doing this project, and Heathcliff: Terror of the Neighborhood is actually a movie, not a book, so i will have to post a link to blog for this day. sorry!
Heathcliff surprises his readership with his fourth paperback reprint, Heathcliff: Wanted, when he betrays an unprecedented dollop of... pathos?
Heathcliff, as it turns out, has an absentee father-figure in his past. World-wary yet domesticated, Heathcliff catches sight of his unkempt paternal relative as a skid row throwaway. "Your son, Heathcliff, is here to see you," warns a fellow (albeit decidedly human) transient. Heathcliff himself looks upon the familial alleyway with eyes betraying deepest poignancy, while the scraggly alley cat fiddles absently with a toothpick in his maw.
Creator George Gately played the scene for laughs, certainly - but not entirely.
Heathcliff's father returns once again (or, rather, first appeared, if one went by the date stamp order of the strips) by the end of the book, dressed in prison garb - complete with ball-and-chain - as master Nutmeg observes: "Your dad never visits for long." And Heathcliff is, once again, uncharacteristicly still. It is in the rendering of his eyes where the tell-tale "motion" is taking place.
There are other instances when Heathcliff hides his rebellious, devil-may-care (c)attitude - his offering of sanctity toward a hunted fox, for instance, or his cuddling of newborn puppies - and yet it is in the portrayal of his roots where the strength of Heathcliff's character arises. A delinquent not of nurture... but, perhaps, of nature...?
But of course, Heathcliff: Wanted is not solely comprised of such heart-wrenching drama. The majority of the book does go for the bawdy laugh, the cheap visual gag for which the strip is renowned. It is the inclusion of such heartfelt panels, though, which creates some sense of understanding, of admiration, of kinship, for Heathcliff. He's a far from perfect being... but then, to understand his roots is to understand the beast himself.
Heathcliff: Wanted is the must-read book for any fan of the character.