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书名：Wuthering Heights  呼啸山庄
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数880L
作者：Emily Bronte艾米莉·勃朗特
出版社名称：Bantam Classics
出版时间：1981
语种：英文
ISBN：9780553212587
商品尺寸：10.6 x 2 x 17.4 cm
包装：简装
页数：316 （以实物为准）

Wuthering Heights《呼啸山庄》是英国女作家勃朗特姐妹之一艾米莉·勃朗特的作品，是19世纪英国文学的代表作之一，世界十大文学名著之一，被誉为“英国文学史上震撼人心的奇特小说”。英国知名小说家毛姆曾评论：“我不知道还有哪一部小说，其中关于爱情的痛苦、迷恋、残酷、执着，曾经如此令人吃惊地描述出来。” 
书被评论为以散文写成的诗作，主要讲述两位男女主人公凯瑟琳和希思克里夫之间舍生忘死的爱情故事。作者以散文诗的笔触描绘，以风景画为背景衬托，并用奇幻的梦境渲染了两人的爱恋之情，使这部小说极具艺术特色。
要书为Bantam Classics出版的便携简装英文原版，内容无删减，采用轻型环保纸印刷，便于随身携带阅读。
“My greatest thought in living is Heathcliff. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be... Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure... but as my own being.” 
Wuthering Heights is the only novel of Emily Bronte, who died a year after its publication, at the age of thirty. A brooding Yorkshire tale of a love that is stronger than death, it is also a fierce vision of metaphysical passion, in which heaven and hell, nature and society, are powerfully juxtaposed. Unique, mystical, with a timeless appeal, it has become a classic of English literature.
Review
“It is as if Emily Brontë could tear up all that we know human beings by, and fill these unrecognizable transparencies with such a gust of life that they transcend reality.” —Virginia Woolf

Wuthering Heights《呼啸山庄》是英国女作家勃朗特姐妹之一艾米莉·勃朗特的作品，是19世纪英国文学的代表作之一。小说描写吉卜赛弃儿希斯克利夫被山庄老主人收养后，因受辱和恋爱不遂，外出致富，回来后对与其女友凯瑟琳结婚的地主林顿及其子女进行报复的故事。

The intense and wildly passionate Heathcliff tells the story of his life, his all-consuming love for Catherine Earnshaw and the doomed outcome of that relationship, leading to his revenge. Poetic, complex and grand in its scope, Emily Bronte’s masterpiece is considered one of the most unique gothic novels of its time. 

艾米莉·勃朗特（Emily Jane Bronte，1818年7月30日－1848年12月19日），19世纪英国作家与诗人，有名的勃朗特三姐妹之一，世界文学名著《呼啸山庄》的作者。这部作品是艾米莉·勃朗特一生中惟一的一部小说，奠定了她在英国文学史以及世界文学史上的地位。此外，她还创作了193首诗，被认为是英国一位天才型的女作家。
Emily Jane Brontëwas an English novelist and poet who is best known for her only novel,Wuthering Heights, now considered a classic of English literature. Emily was the third eldest of the four surviving Brontë siblings, between the youngest Anne and her brother Branwell. She wrote under the pen name Ellis Bell.

CHAPTER 1
1801. I have just returned from a visit to my landlord---the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist’s heaven: and Mr Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still farther in his waistcoat, as I announced my name.
“Mr Heathcliff!” I said.
A nod was the answer.
Mr Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts—
“Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,” he interrupted, wincing. “I should not allow anyone to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it—walk in!”
The ‘walk in’ was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, “Go to the deuce”: even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathizing movement to the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.
When he saw my horse’s breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put out his hand to unchain it, and then sullenly preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we entered the court: “Joseph, take Mr Lockwood’s horse; and bring up some wine.”
“Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,” was the reflection suggested by this compound order.
No wonder the grass grows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.
Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps, though hale and sinewy. “The Lord help us!” he soliloquized in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.
Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr Heathcliff’s dwelling. 

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