Novel & Cerita First Edition Of Wuthering Heights

The first letter arrived on a Monday. Tucked inside a worn paperback of Wuthering Heights, it was folded neatly on cream stationery and scented faintly like sandalwood. Camille hadn’t seen who returned the book. It had simply shown up in the after hours bin. Curious, she opened it. Camille, I’ve watched you shelve novels barefoot after closing. Your lips move when you read. You blush when you touch certain passages. I want to know what part of you flushes deepest.

“Erm...It ...The title is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte ...Here, You can have it “She said giving it to him. He collected it and observed it. “Must be interesting, Can you lend me when you are done reading it ?” “Sure ...you can take it now...I will read it later “she said immediately. “Oh finish reading it. I will collect it when you are done okay “He smiled and stood up to leave. He turned to look at her. “Anyways can I have your digits?”He said and flora mentally slapped herself to be sure she is not dreaming. She was about to say something when the homeroom teacher, Miss Doris entered the classroom.

Instead, I heard myself say, “Do you have any more like it? First editions? Or… anything rare?” He tilted his head, studying me again. The silence stretched just long enough to make my skin prickle. “Come to the back room,” he said finally. “I’ll show you what I have.” My heart skipped. I followed him through the narrow aisles, past towering shelves that smelled of aged paper and ink. The back room was smaller, warmer, lined with glass cases and locked cabinets. He unlocked one and pulled out a slim volume. “First edition of Rebecca,” he said, handing it to me. “Signed by du Maurier.”

“It's okay, I also just walked straight, didn't look to the right or left.” “It's Jane Eyre.” Diana couldn't help herself when she saw the cover of one of the books on the front in her arms. “I also have one at home.” “Oh yeah?” the woman glanced at her book and smiled shyly. “I was on vacation in Bandung and purposely bought a lot of books as a friend of my boredom. From the synopsis at the back of the book, it seems like an interesting book.” “It is very interesting. This is a romance book from old English literary writings, first published in 1847 and the love story still survives today.” Diana rolled her eyes. “When Charlotte Brontte published it that year, it generated a lot of controve

He wasn’t the evil grandfather I’d built up in my mind… or the one Adrian had warned me about. To my surprise, we actually had a lot in common. His suite was straight out of some old-money, vintage film. When he asked me to fetch him a book from his library, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek. And there it was. Wuthering Heights. He owned an original archive copy. An actual archive of one of Emily Brontë’s first published editions… one I’d spent years looking for. It had sold out everywhere when I was a kid. He offered to let me borrow it.

I walked angrily down the hallway on the way to my own bedroom and laid down. Groaning, I grabbed one of my English Lit books, 'Wuthering Heights,' and tried to get some reading done. That was a mistake… Cathy and Heathcliff were at least 20 years apart in age, at least that was what the analytical footnotes in my academic copy told me. Well, I'd succeeded in distracting myself from Bethany, but now Ellis crept back into my mind.

I unwrap it in the lift. Inside the box, wrapped in tissue, is a first edition. A novel. The one I told Derek in the first year of our marriage was the book that made me understand what writing was supposed to do. I mentioned it once, over dinner, and I barely remember saying it and I certainly did not expect him to remember it. It is the original nineteen fifty three printing. I know what this costs because I looked it up once, briefly, the way you look up things you cannot have.

Dark hair fell across his forehead, and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with lean muscle. The door creaked open. Elena slipped inside, her backpack slung over one shoulder. At eighteen, she was all long legs and curves barely contained by her private school uniform, the pleated skirt that seemed shorter than regulation, the white blouse unbuttoned just one notch too many. "Mr. Thorne," she said, her voice a low, honeyed thing. "I forgot my copy of Wuthering Heights." He didn't look up. "It's on the shelf by the door, Elena. Take it and go."

I open it with curiosity and I jump up my seat when I realize what it is. “Leopold this is crazy! How did you get this?!” I ask perplexed. “No, it’s not crazy, it’s a present. Do you like it?” Leopold asks amused. “How could I not? Are you kidding? Of course, I do!” I exclaim thrilled. Inside the package, there is a three-volume first edition from 1816 of the novel Emma by Jane Austen. I look at the old books in disbelief. This is an invaluable antique. It must have been extremely expensive and hard to get.

"I know it's your favorite novel, and it isn't often that a first edition comes on the market, so I had to buy it ... do you like it ?" I look at the beautiful first edition of Jane Austen's Emma, complete with a handwritten word from the author saying 'To my dearest friend, may you follow your dreams and find your own Knightley. Yours Jane'. "Like it Tom, no I don't like it, I absolutely love it". "I am happy you do". He smiles softly at me and I quickly, but carefully places the book back in the box and puts it on my nightstand, before linking my hands behind Tom's neck and pulling him in for a loving kiss.