How Does Wuthering Heights Start

So, you’ve finally decided to crack open Wuthering Heights. Maybe you saw it on a list of “Books to Read Before You Die,” or a friend with a moody haircut swore it changed their life. Either way, you’re probably bracing for doom and gloom. But let’s talk about how this beast actually starts—because it’s weirder and more relatable than you think.

It begins with a grumpy narrator who just wants some peace

The first thing you meet is Mr. Lockwood, a city guy who’s rented a fancy manor called Thrushcross Grange. He’s basically that friend who moves to the countryside, posts aesthetic photos of fog, then complains that the Wi-Fi is slow. He decides to visit his landlord, Heathcliff, at the nearby farmhouse, Wuthering Heights.

Right away, Lockwood describes the house as having “narrow windows deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones.” In plain English? It looks like a medieval bunker designed by someone who really hates surprise parties. You can almost hear him mutter, “I should’ve just stayed home with a pizza.”

Inside, the welcome is… chilly

Heathcliff doesn’t offer him tea or a handshake. Instead, he just glares. Lockwood describes him as a “dark-skinned gypsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman.” Translation: Heathcliff is wearing nice clothes but looks like he could punch you in the face for breathing too loud. It’s like showing up to a potluck where the host brings only anger and a bag of stale chips.

The dogs aren’t friendly either. Lockwood gets attacked by a pack of snarling mutts, which he calls “four-footed fiends.” Honestly, if a dog growls at you before you’ve even sat down, you know it’s going to be a long visit. Lockwood, being the eternal optimist, just brushes it off and decides to come back the next day. Classic city fool.

Why Wuthering Heights has quote marks around its title has finally

Then, things get really weird

On his second visit, a snowstorm locks Lockwood inside the farmhouse. Heathcliff grudgingly lets him stay overnight. But instead of a cozy guest room, he’s shoved into a chamber that used to belong to a woman named Catherine Earnshaw. The walls are covered in her name scratched like graffiti—Catherine Earnshaw, Catherine Linton, Catherine Heathcliff. It’s like a tween’s diary exploded on the wallpaper.

Lockwood, being a snoop, finds a book where Catherine wrote her childhood thoughts. He starts reading a dream she had about being in heaven, throwing a fit because the angels made her “miserable.” She basically says, “Heaven? Nah, I’m bored—send me back to Earth.” That’s the most relatable thing you’ve ever heard, right? Who hasn’t complained about a party that’s too perfect?

Prime Video: Wuthering Heights, Season 1

And then the ghost shows up

While falling asleep, Lockwood has a nightmare. He hears a tap on the window, and a ghostly hand reaches through the glass. The hand belongs to Catherine’s ghost, who wails, “Let me in—I’m come home!” Lockwood, being a sensible guy, screams, rubs the wrist across the broken pane to bleed on it, and then yells for help. Honestly, my reaction would be: “Nope, I’m out. Burn the house.”

Heathcliff bursts in, sees the ghost is gone, and then loses his mind. He throws himself at the window, sobbing, “Come in! come in!” while the snow swirls around him. Imagine your grumpy landlord suddenly crying like a toddler who lost their favorite toy. That’s Heathcliff. The book hasn’t even started, and you already know this guy needs therapy.

Wuthering Heights | KET

Why this start works (and why you’ll stay)

So, how does Wuthering Heights start? With a clueless outsider, a hostile house, and a ghost that’s more melodramatic than a reality TV star. It’s the literary equivalent of walking into a party, judging the host for having no snacks, and then accidentally stumbling into the host’s emotional breakdown. You’re hooked not because of gothic drama, but because you’ve been that outsider—or you’ve known that one friend who insists on visiting people clearly not ready for guests.

Lockwood’s your stand-in, the normal guy who just wanted to borrow a book, and instead got a front-row seat to a centuries-old soap opera. The beauty is, you don’t need to be a literature scholar to get it. The first chapter is pure, relatable cringe: awkward social visit, bad weather, creepy vibes, and a host who should probably see a shrink. By the time Heathcliff is weeping into the snow, you’re already thinking, “Okay, fine, I’ll read one more chapter.”

And that, my friend, is how a 19th-century masterpiece tricks you into caring about moody people who can’t use a door properly. It starts with a whimper—and a ghostly wrist. Just like your last group chat.