Wuthering Heights is not a love story, please stop saying that

Everybody in this book is horrible to everybody else, for two generations, on a very windy hill. Heathcliff hangs a dog. I don't understand how this ended up on lists of great romances.

And yet I love it. It's wild and strange and it doesn't care if you approve. The way it's told, a stranger hearing it all second-hand from a servant who is clearly taking sides, makes it even odder. Read it in winter if you can. We don't really have winter in Dhaka, so a load-shedding evening will have to do.