How would we have felt if, as children, our father returned home with a boy of an alien ethnic group and forced it into our bedroom as a new “brother”? How would we have felt if, after resenting this betrayal and picking on the unfortunate intruder—as children usually do—, our father sends us, not the intruder, to a boarding school?
Forget every film you have seen to date: because that’s how the real Wuthering Heights novel began.
In his travels Mr. Earnshaw finds a homeless boy. Once more, forget every Hollywood image because the skin of this boy was similar to that of “a little lascar.” Mr. Earnshaw decides to adopt him and name him “Heathcliff.” Brontë describes Heathcliff as “dark-skinned gypsy in aspect.” Naturally, Mr. Earnshaw’s legitimate son, Hindley, finds himself robbed of his father’s affections and becomes bitterly jealous of the little lascar. (The poor intruder was not even a half-bro or an illegitimate child of Mr. Earnshaw with a gypsy woman.)
Every single critic of the novel, even the most conservative, seems to have missed the racial aspect of this drama.
I would go so far as to suggest that, once the ethno-state is established Wuthering Heights will be picked as one of the classics to symbolically convey the tragedy of pushing, against the legitimate heir’s will, an illegal alien that after some time hostilely takes over the entire family estate and starts hunting down key Anglo-Saxon characters in a life dedicated to revenge (such is Wuthering Heights’ plot—gypsies are so good at that…).
Furthermore, the real Wuthering Heights is no love story at all. The 1939 adaptation with Lawrence Oliver is as detached from the original story as, say, Disney’s Pinocchio from the original, and far more sinister, Carlo Collodi tale. Catherine and the gypsy are the polar opposite of heroine and hero. The first Catherine is precisely an early embodiment of the contemporary out-group altruism that has been destroying the West since we committed the blunder of empowering women.
The drama of the novel only ends when—after the deaths of Mr. Earnshaw, Catherine Earnshaw, Isabella Linton, Edgar Linton, Hindley Earnshaw and Linton Heathcliff, the son of the gypsy who dies as a result of the abuse perpetrated by his father—Heathcliff finally dies and the second Catherine can, at last, reclaim a life together with her first cousin: the survivors.
Only pure whites survive at the end of the drama.
And how come no one has done such obvious reading of this classic of English literature, that the tragedy only ends when the gypsy dies?
Wuthering Heights ought to be presented to European-descended peoples as the perfect metaphor of what Europeans have been self-inflicting in the last decades: importing millions of hostile “gypsies” to displace the native “Hindleys.” In fact, in the novel Mr. Earnshaw, whose Christian, altruistic fondness for the gypsy boy would cause havoc, reminds me the proverb “a dog that wags its tail for strangers and barks at its own people.”
Mr. Earnshaw, whose altruistic fondness for the gypsy boy would cause havoc, reminds me what these Swedes are doing not with a single family, but with their entire nation: a deranged Christian sense of compassion à la St Francis transmuted into secular, runaway liberalism.
The drama of Wuthering Heights was located, of course, in the Yorkshire manor. But presently this is happening by means of non-white immigration into every white heartland; Sweden, just one of the most notorious examples.
Reread Brontë’s novel to understand the Swedes!
7 replies on “Wuthering Heights”
You’re right. Although Heathcliff’s non-whitness didn’t elude me, I hadn’t thought about the book’s plot in racial terms.
The other day you wrote something to the effect that you were not a lover of literature. Be it as it may, there is another telling narrative concerning race relations in the English literary canon: Othello. A stupid (albeit noble) nigger kills the also stupid (albeit sweet) Desdemona. Have you read the play? Naive Desdemona elopes with the apish warrior, against her old father’s will, and is killed by the nigger during a fit of anger, out of jealosy. The plot brings to my mind stupid Europeans importing blacks and other non-whites against the common sense of their foreparents, with similar tragic results.
Very interesting. I certainly am no lover of literature but now that you mention this I agree with Sunic that this sort of reading the classics is a must to understand what’s happening in the World today. (Not exactly what some OD commenters like to say unabashedly: that they love watching American sports even when niggers are the stars of such junk culture.)
You see, I’m a Literature guy, that’s my stuff. My White nationalist sympathy is based on the perception that you can’t have a White culture and civilization without Whites. Left to their own devices, non-Whites not only will not produce any high art worthy of this term, but will also neglect the cultural heritage that was handed down to them — much like the blacks and mulattos in relation to the ancient Egyptian civilization that they inherited and destroyed, as Kemp narrates in his great book. Think of a bunch of apes being put in charge of the Louvre Museum and you get the picture.
I said I don’t read much literature because I come from a family where music and the visual arts were their fortes. I should have been movie director; not blogger or a researcher on child abuse (what I eventually became). But at least I have the sensibility to appreciate great literature, as that novel by Vidal that nobody in the movement seems to appreciate; or that book by Zweig on Nietzsche and other tormented souls that tomorrow I will quote again (just compare it with what some ODers like to watch…).
When I was younger, there were more bookstores in Mexico City and even stores exclusively dedicated to sell LPs of classical music. Now they are becoming scarcer and scarcer and the few remaining whites at town are so infinitely stupid as not to realize what is happening just in front of their silly blue eyes: all this as this city increases in millions upon millions of browns within our lifespans.
As you said in the other thread, Latin American whites who have mudblood relatives are the worst sort of Body-snatched Pods in the whole continent…
The only problem with literature is that it is built with a material that changes and dies over time: language. In this sense music (and more exactly instrumental music) is the only really perennial form of art, unlike literature or the plastic arts, which depend on physical and therefore perishible materials for their existence.
In a certain sense, Schopenhauer got it right: music is the supreme form of art. In addition to its perennity, it speaks straigh to the soul. I mean, much as I prefer literature, you simply can’t compete with the emotional appeal of things like this: link.
Regarding Einstein, see the writings of Christopher Jon Bjerknes, such as “The Manufacture and Sale of Saint Einstein” (a free PDF download at: link
Bjerknes also wrote the book “Albert Einstein: The Incorrigible Plagiarist”. At (link) the book description says:
“The name ‘Einstein’ evokes images of genius, but was Albert Einstein, in fact, a plagiarist, who copied the theories of Lorentz, Poincare, Gerber, and Hilbert? A scholarly documentation of Albert Einstein’s plagiarism of the theory of relativity, ‘Albert Einstein: The Incorrigible Plagiarist’ discloses Einstein’s method for manipulating credit for the work of his contemporaries, reprints the prior works he parroted, and demonstrates through formal logical argument that Albert Einstein could not have drawn the conclusions he drew without prior knowledge of the works he copied, but failed to reference. Numerous republished quotations from Einstein’s contemporaries prove that they were aware of his plagiarism.”
And most importantly, the full connivance on the part of the media about it, why is it?
A few days ago I was discussing it. Yes, Einstein like as Freud or Sartre became the new gods of the intelligentsia. You can not say anything bad about their careers that people who think they are smart, will come with four stones in hand to attack you.
It is interesting in the case of Sartre. There was one day a colleague of mine invited me to watch a documentary on the life of the” philosopher”. I was ‘surprised’ when I saw that ‘beautiful’ Sartre had said again, something as fantastic as
” The man must live by yourself” (More or less so).
In other words, the guy says the most obvious thing in the world and is still treated as a genius.