Delusional Heights

What makes a book a classic? It's a question that the literary community has struggled with for centuries. Is there a specific set of criteria that determines how fondly a book should be remembered? What is that magical spark found within classics that "average" books lack? I myself don't know the answers to these questions, but I'll willingly fight any literary critic who tries to argue that Wuthering Heights is worthy of the pedestal it's been placed upon for all these years.
Possibly my biggest issue with Wuthering Heights is the characters. None of them, save Nelly Dean, can be described as sympathetic. Catherine is a vain and self-absorbed brat, who thinks herself and Heathcliff above everybody else. She throws tantrums and physically assaults people if she doesn't get her way. She delights in making people suffer, such as when she attacks Isabella while revealing her crush on Heathcliff to him when he comes to visit Catherine. Her object of obsession, Heathcliff, is quite possibly worse. He is equally self-absorbed and uses his enormous bitterness to justify his cruel behavior towards those around him. For heaven's sake, the man saves a baby's life and hates himself for it. That is the least heroic thing I think I've ever read. Forget sympathy for poor tortured Heathcliff, where's my sympathy for having to read about his angsty butt? Even the sometimes narrator, Lockwood, is loathsome. Most greivously, he's stupid. He makes faces at an angry mother dog, and wonders why he got attacked. He attempts to walk home across an English moor in the middle of a blizzard, and complains about getting sick afterward. Are you kidding me, Bronte? These are the types of people you're expecting me to care about, let alone root for? Better luck next time.
Of course, I realize that this is all a matter of personal taste. To some, Heathcliff and Catherine's mutual obsession could be considered romantic. Their manipulative mindgames might be described as two tortured souls, engaged in a passionate but ultimately destructive dance of love. Perhaps it's just me, then, but I can't see how anyone in their right mind would choose that interpretation of Wuthering Heights. There is nothing romantic in the setting, a dreary and miserable moor. The main characters are cruel and selfish people who seem perfectly willing to be miserable and make others suffer with them; not especially romantic, is it? And therein lies my issue with labelling books such as this a "classic". While this may have passed as romantic and groundbreaking back in the 19th century, I don't feel you can make a case for it having relevance in 21st century society, especially not in the impressionable minds of teenagers. If anything, this book just contributes to society's poisonous idea that a manipulative, abusive, disrespectful man like Heathcliff is "romantic" and a "good catch".

Hey Ayn Rand, did you know that "No" means No?

I feel we missed a very important question during our seminar for The Fountainhead, and that would be number 39. This question asks what we thought of the rape scene, and if it was truly rape even if previously, Dominique had persued Howard. Ayn Rand calls it "rape by engraved invitation". I don't know for sure if I have the words to properly describe what utter rubbish that statement is, but I'll do my best.
In The Fountainhead, Rand has a habit of forcing conversations through people's eyes. One character will glance at another, and it's as if they're handed a dossier on the thoughts, feelings, and motivations of the character they're looking at. Firstly, this is just ridiculous from a literary standpoint. People do not have conversations with their eyes in reality. It doesn't happen, and it makes it frustrating for the reader to have to sort through paragraphs of dialouge that technically goes unsaid. Secondly, this system of dramatic gazing is what allows the rape scene to take place, and for Rand to hide behind the idea that Dominique secretly wanted it. You know who else says that people who get raped really wanted it? Rapists and the sick people who apologize for rapists. This author is attempting to convert me to her philosophy of life by presenting me with rape, then telling me that it's okay because Dominique somehow telepathically communicated it to Howard that that's what she wanted? Or, even worse, was Dominique raped because that's just what Howard wanted to do, and since he's being completely selfish, it's okay? What kind of woman is okay with this happening to another woman, even if she is a fictional character?
The attitude presented by Rand and those who don't see Dominique's rape as rape represent a gargantuan problem in society today. We as women are brought up to be as sexual as possible, be it in miniskirts and tube tops or flared jeans and chunky sweaters. If some men decide that they think women look good like that, lo and behold, we all are supposed to rush out and change our wardrobes for them. But of course, we're supposed to feel empowered and independent when we do so, because that's what the media tells us we feel (the same media that promise to teach us the "Ten Things He Wants You To Try In Bed" and "How To Snag Mr. Right"). After we've been properly sexed up, we're taught to prepare for the worst. It becomes just another fact of life that as a woman, you're going to be hit on, whistled at, shouted at in the streets, and of course sexually assaulted. There are plenty of reasons why these things happen, and it's always our fault. Our skirt was short, therefore we were asking to be raped. We were walking down the street alone, so it was inevitable that we would be violated. You forgot to bring your whistle and pepper spray with you on the train, so obviously you shouldn't have expected help when somebody began groping you. Speaking of whistles and pepper spray, why are women taught how to fear every step they take outside the safety of their own home? Why don't we try a novel little idea I like to call, "Teaching Men Not To Rape Women So Women Don't Have To Learn To Not Be Raped". Just a thought.
As you can see, I have a very strong opinion on the matter of women's rights, such as the right to not expect assault at every turn. That's why Dominique's rape (and it was rape, Ayn Rand be damned) pushed my hatred of this book to heights I didn't know were possible. The notion that Dominique, in staring at Howard, making him fix her fireplace, and then staring at him some more somehow let him know that she wished for him to break into her house and violate her is one that I find sickening. The fact that she physically resisted him should be enough for anyone in their right mind to identify this as rape. The fact that this type of psychology hasn't improved in almost eighty years is horribly depressing.