They seemed to be divided during the other hauntings, but Eleanor was always with Theo from what I remember.
What was interesting about Mrs. M.'s response is that, for all that she's the "expert," she's never aware of the hauntings (she slept through one of them!). And she doesn't recognize this scenario for what it might be, probably because she's dismissed Eleanor as someone with potential from the very start.
Yes, I've also been trying to figure out if it's possible that one (or two) of the group might be responsible for some of the things that the others (that is, someone *in addition to* Eleanor) experiences. (There are some things that can very easily be read as being experienced only by Eleanor.) However, I have trouble when it comes to the picnic and the time "Hill House went dancing." Those really can't be explained away.
I love Shirley’s garlic metaphor, and no, I don’t think those 5 symbols are overused at all, and yes, it is a very powerful technique. I think the one thing people have mentioned that has been overused is is the quote “Journeys end in lovers meeting,” and I tend to agree.
As to your next questions, I see it as both/and. The line between the house taking over Eleanor’s mind, and Eleanor losing touch with reality and her mental state infusing the house has completely blurred by this point. They are, in effect, feeding off of one another. Although my interpretation is that HH did initially target her for this eventuality because of her insecurities and vulnerabilities.
A few other things struck me:
As we saw the symbols of doubles, and words repeated twice throughout the book up to this point, in this section, I kept seeing words and phrases repeated 3 times:
“Mother,” “Somewhere,” “Here I am,”(also echoing what she thought when she first arrived) and “I am home.”
I’m also wondering if she was waltzing when she danced? 1,2,3, 1,2,3….
Another image that I kept seeing was that of a circle:
“Dancing in circles” (Back to that “Red Shoes” reference!)
The “circle dance” song again;
The spiral staircase;
The shape of the tower;
And the “circling back” to the past and back in several ways. -
As for the plot, I was thoroughly creeped out by how, from the beginning, E. is in a trance-like state, and by the time she gets to the spiral staircase, I’m not even sure if her feet are completely touching the ground or if she is floating, especially when dancing with Hugh Crain’s ghost; she feels sorry for the others because they are so “heavy.” (Funny use of adverb “gravely” when she dances for Crain.)
As I said in an earlier post, I’m wondering if the spirit of HH is the deceased first wife of Hugh Crain’s, and she has now inhabited E’s body?
Or maybe it’s Hugh himself, and he is looking for a vulnerable female he can drive insane, seduce, and carry on with him in his Hell House?
At one point, E. thinks to herself that “Time has ended” and then tries to remember how she knows the people at the bottom of the spiral staircase, going back in time to an inn, and someone riding a hill with banners flying. So maybe we’re looking back 80 years at the beginning of HH at this point, which would have been 1870’s?
Having E. knock on all the doors as the ghostly spirit herself this time was brilliant, and completes the circle of the hold HH now has on her.
Interesting that it’s when she finally recognizes T’s Face that she decides to come down the staircase with L. I was surprised at how callous they all were with her. I expected it of Mrs. M., but not the others. Dr. M. and Luke actually called her an “imbecile.” I just find this so hard to believe. Hmmm.
Finally, I just happened to notice that the first thing E. thinks she hears her mother say is “Come along” to her. —“Come Along with Me” is the title of SJ’s final, unfinished book she was working on before she died. Could just be a coincidence…. (But does make me sad)
Thanks for drawing attention to the repetition in 3s. An art director once told that odd numbered groupings are more visually interesting to brains. And, this echoes Mrs M's comment about how the spirits repeat themselves!
The comparison to Prof Trelawney that Ruth made the other day is very apt, I think. Mrs M is a curious mix of knowing and ignorance. Over confident of what she knows and ignorant of what is truly useful. Think how she might have gotten info out of Mrs Dudley! (Who always reminds me of Mrs Danvers from Rebecca, both book and Hitchcock movie.)
On this, my 3rd read of Hill House, I believe the house is accruing ghosts and absorbing them into a demonic whole that is decidedly female. Includes Mrs Crain, the elder sister, the young companion, and possibly a little girl and puppy from the family scene. The description of Hill House and Eleanor's senses is very sexually feminine.
Even normally kind members of the group react to Eleanor's climb, which is done well in the 1963 movie, with the anger a parent has w a child after a moment of severe danger--emotionally, irrationally. An angry parent might yell or strike a kid, which is useless, but I think is just our lizard brains reacting when hyped up on adrenaline.
"with the anger a parent has with a child after a moment of severe danger" this put my thoughts into words exactly--I see the other three lashing out based on fear, not real anger. And fear which is probably intensified because they don't know exactly what happened--they can talk about her attention seeking, but I don't think any one of them actually believes that. I imagine knowing something is very wrong with Eleanor, but not knowing what it is or what they can do, could have made them lash out as well.
KJ, what you said about the house "accruing ghosts and absorbing them into a demonic whole" is just what I've been thinking lately. All of the House's "victims" become one with the House. There are not multiple ghosts in Hill House, there is only one entity: Hill House.
I want to say a word in favor of the “journeys end in lovers meeting” bit of garlic. That one is not overused to me because it kept changing shape and referent. Initially, on my first reading of this book, I thought Luke might be the lover. Then I thought it might be Theodora. Then I thought, with horror, that it might be the house itself. Then I thought it was death. And I love that evolution.
Excellent point! Wishing now I would have caught that. (Btw, you live in ATX? I think we may have some mutual theater friends from back in the day... your last name seemed so familiar to me and I realized that’s the connection.)
oh wow! now that you mention it your name rings a bell as well. I am still in theater here (but am also a writer and have a couple of books out). In fact I'm in a play that was supposed to open last night but it's outdoors, and the rain, while glorious, is playing havoc with our schedule.
Missy Thibodeaux was my college roomie when we were Theater majors at UT way back when, and I think I may have even met you at some point through her. Small world. Congrats on your book career. I plan to get copies soon! Sorry about the play schedule😩 I have a book of poetry out now with Finishing Line Press. Will be doing a reading at BookWoman in January. You can find me on Instagram @lisabookgeek Cheers!
Eleanor’s palpable sense of alienation – from all people – seems elevated by their apparent togetherness: “They were coming down all together, anxious, calling, “Eleanor? Nell?” / They were moving purposefully, all together, straining to stay near one another / they ran all together … looking and calling," leaving her to seek a space of chosen “aloneness” in Hill House, which she imagines protecting from all “rough” outsiders “trampling,” “poking,” “peering,” and their “slow” “deaf” “heav[iness].”
Nature reappears in its vast “aloneness” (in contrast to the “all together[ness]” of the house “guests”?) providing Eleanor with a soothing vision (and sense of purpose?): “[T]he little mists of Hill House curling around her ankles, [Eleanor] looked up at the pressing, heavy hills. Gathered comfortably into the hills, she thought, protected and warm, Hill House is lucky.”
Eleanor and Hill House seems to be mutually constitutive or “feeding off each other” (as Lisa M. notes): “Here I am … Here I am inside. It is not cold but deliciously, fondly warm. / … the stone floor moved caressingly … the soft air touched her, stirring her hair, drifting against her fingers, coming in a light breath against her mouth, and she danced in circles. / No stone lions for me … no oleanders; I have broken the spell of Hill House … / I am home … I am home, I am home.”
The callous reaction of Luke in particular reminds me that he is the heir of HH. Of course, we can understand his frustration at Eleanor as his safety is also at risk when rescuing her but it also reminds me of Hugh Crain’s scrapbook that was designed to save his young daughter from Hell through images so disturbing that no-one could articulate what they saw. A punitive patriarchy. Has the unwholesome atmosphere of the library tainted Luke or merely revealed what is already there?
It’s almost as if Luke is just going up to get E. down to prevent another scandal from happening at his future property. He scolds her like a child the entire time.
Yes I had some sympathy with Luke. He did a very brave thing at great risk to himself for what must have seemed like a woman being childish and silly. I don’t think they fully understand how entirely gone she is.
Your perspective is so interesting to me as I find the doctor ineffectual and his methods very questionable. Mrs M is overbearing but I don’t sympathise with him at all!
The mother relationship – the tenderness and torment of it - continues to haunt me. Is Eleanor seeking to be reunited with her mother, in another world? To reconcile her sense of guilt, her self-blame for not hearing her last call?: “Mother?” she said softly, and then again, “Mother?” A little soft laugh floated down to her, and she ran, breathless, up the stairs … and looked at the closed doors.”/ “You’re here somewhere” / “… the little echo … slipping in a whisper on the tiny currents of air, said, ‘Somewhere … Somewhere.’” Or is Eleanor’s haunting guilt, her breaking point, driving her to claim “home” within – and control over - a place that others will ultimately abandon? No more “magic oleanders,” nor “stone lions” for Eleanor. Does abandonment of the world, even an imagined world, becomes “home” for Eleanor? I weep for her.
This is a such a good point to pull out, thank you. I would add tangentially that I think the stone lions and poisonous oleanders of her fantasies were what kept her/people in general OUT of those imagined castles and homes--their defenders. But nothing can stop her from full entrance into Hill House now.
For me the repetition of Eleanor's original fantasy of a home with the stone lions, cup of stars, etc. is worthwhile because it reminds us just how far she has fallen. She initially seemed to have agency and hope with the fantasy of a normal independent life. Now her fantasy is that she belongs to a haunted house which of course is crazy. Our need to dream or fantasize is important for motivation and hope and it may even allow us temporarily to escape an unpleasant situation. Then there is the fantasy that is corrupted and allows us to slip into insanity. A fantasy that takes over our brain and doesn't let go. Maybe her insanity occurred because she realizes that she is never going to be accepted out in the world and she'll never have that life she envisioned on her drive to HH.
Ruth, thank you for adding the info on the "garlic" and about the recurring 5 images. Interesting that it's an odd number, like the repetition of words that Lisa notes, plus put me in mind of the 5 points of a pentagram, or a pentacle in tarot.
Ruth, I do think it's possible that Theo does care about Eleanor and that she's been unkind and manipulative, just as she was in engineering the fight w her "friend" in order to launch herself to Hill House. Theo was in the drama club at school, I think. I think Hill House has been nudging everyone, but Eleanor is the least defended. Luke and Theo are both indulging their worse selves in pushing Eleanor's buttons moving her further into the thrall of HH.
And if Theo really is telepathic as she seemed to be initially, responding to Eleanor’s thoughts, the vibes she must be getting now as Eleanor descends into madness must be quite scary and offputting
Regarding the symbols associated with a character - and the five with Eleanor - it felt promising to me early on in the novel. Yet I feel a kind of limitation as I approach the ending. I need to read the last pages before forming a final view but at this moment in time, I would say the best part of the novel for me has been Eleanor's journey to get to Hill House. And what has happened since has been inherently less interesting and less promising. I'm sure others will disagree and I look forward to reading comments!
That's a good question and I'm not sure i can fully answer it. I think that the depth of the character development is, for me, inherently less interesting than the opening journey promised. Now that I've finished the book (again - last time was decades ago and completely forgotten), I can say the propsect of the journey home (wherever 'home' is) piqued my interest all over again, and I was also somewhat disappointed all over again. It's a gripping tale for sure, but I wonder if anyone else feels something is missing? Maybe a missed opportunity though at the same time a tour de force.
On a separate point, as a recent joiner of online reading groups which I am loving on the one hand as they motivate me to keep going and give me prompts from others' responses, I do also note a pattern of my engagement peaking and then waning over the course of a read. So I wonder if it's also partly that which is more a reading process point.
That's so interesting -- thank you so much for responding. I think that I find Eleanor's narrative journey increasingly and heartbreakingly inevitable as the story goes on--which I find satisfying, to be clear. But I guess it depends on the hourney you were guessing or hoping for in that opening?
Yes, and maybe I didn't realise/was unaware of what journey I was guessing or hoping for; and only by its absence does the spectre of its possible presence become clear(er).
I don't think it depends entirely, even maybe I don't believe it depends at all on the journey one was guessing or hoping for. One could be wrong, of course, but the author can have purposefully planted expectations and either by incompetence or ironic intent not allowed them to be fulfilled. So it won't have been a matter of guesswork. And, then, too, one's disappointment with a book can very well be because the book is not very good and fails to live up to its initial promise, however much a tour de force it manages to be. Surely one is permitted to choose among interpretations. Happily, such a range of choices, allows the integrity of everyone's interpretation. No?
That is a fair and impartial setting out of the array of options. I'd also add that if one is re-reading a book, one brings memories or, even less, vague impressions to the second or later reading. This lens can overlay the direct experience of the book and affect the response. To clarify, I'm not exactly disappointed with this book. I'm more disappointed with my different response to it than what I suppose my response was when I first read it. Perhaps I was expecting the same satisfaction as a mature reader and that was the journey I was hoping for. In many ways, it's as or more interesting to have a different journey and a different journey's end.
I had a similar experience. I listened to the whole novel (for the first time) just as this reading was starting and was reveling in those early chapters, especially Eleanor's journey, but it became less compelling for me too. I have enjoyed going back and reading it closely since, along with people's comments. I find Jackson's writing exceptional throughout (a tour de force, as you say below). But my initial experience still strikes me. I was so delighted at first and then less so. I wearied of the group's dynamics: Theo and Luke's constant banter, the doctor's semi-parental manner. And I wanted something more or better than madness for Eleanor. It struck me as a disappointing cliche that this unmarried woman, wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively, could end no other way than how she does here, especially when the beginning was such an awakening for her--promising, as you say.
"And I wanted something more or better than madness for Eleanor. It struck me as a disappointing cliche that this unmarried woman, wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively, could end no other way than how she does here, especially when the beginning was such an awakening for her--promising, as you say."
"Wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively."
Ah, yes. So beautifully put.! And why be afraid of saying it? So memorably, so endearingly!
Yes, a great collection of adjectives which captures the ragged or jagged edges of any personality. The more I reflect on it, the more disappointing in a way I've found The haunting of hill house this time round, simply as a work on its own. My curiosity is piqued to find out more about Jackson though I think that might be somewhat unsettling. However, the discussions around the book in this group have been energising in a healthy way and it's occurred to me that we're a parallel group convened by Ruth to spend some time at a virtual Hill House. As a cast of characters we're equally as interesting as those in the novel. I was/am just sorry to have missed the ending in the online group discussion but perhaps some things are better left open-ended!
"and it's occurred to me that we're a parallel group convened by Ruth to spend some time at a virtual Hill House. As a cast of characters we're equally as interesting as those in the novel."
That and everything else in your post, wonderful, amazing, lovely! Can you think of any more stupid words like that, that are lazy and stupid exclamations of joyous approval but that are wonderful and warranted all the same because it would be just too non-vernacular pedantic to go looking for less hackneyed better educated alternatives? I can't. So I'll just repeat them. Wonderful, amazing, lovely, stunningly impregnated with forever. Can you hang in there? I have an idea but don't know where to start. It's there in my head but too amorphously for saying clearly yet. Conveniently, though, Ruth has declared the seminar not over. Our virtual parallel Hill House group is still convened. There's still time! You were right. Some things are better left open-ended. PS: I wasn't at the online discussion either.
"And I wanted something more or better than madness for Eleanor. It struck me as a disappointing cliché that this unmarried woman, wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively, could end no other way than how she does here, especially when the beginning was such an awakening for her--promising, as you say."
"Wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively."
Ah, yes. So beautifully put.! And why be afraid of saying it? So memorably, so endearingly!
I hope what I am going to try to say is not a misrepresentation of what you said. Or a miscalculated follow-on to what you said. If either turns out to be the case, please accept a contrite apology.
On the morning after, when the euphoria has died down, the euphoria which I now find came more from the eloquent seriousness of the communal voice of the participants, all our voices together, reading the book, not from the psychological clarity, not from the psychological profundity of the book itself, I do definitely agree with you: “but at this moment in time, I would say the best part of the novel for me has been Eleanor’s journey to get to Hill House. And what has happened since has been inherently less interesting and less promising.”
I would be inclined to go one crucial step further and speculate that the work as a whole simply lacks the authorial genius – intellectual, intuitive, poetic, psychological, whatever the word or combination of words – to actualize the ironic complexity and beauty of the promise of the initial journey, be it in terms of pathos-laden tragedy or bitterly accomplished joy. (I too hear the unfulfilled echo of Eliot’s children in the rose garden and the end in which is my beginning). All of which, if true, is painfully disappointing because SJ’s writing is often so achingly exquisite.
The following is the passage I love best from the entire book. In my mind I have it on a par for now with things that I love best from Emily Dickinson and Gerard Manley Hopkins. So all the more pathetic my disappointment that Jackson seemed not to know how to actualize the psychological intent and/or symbolic implications of this imaginal fantasy and, in particular, the incredibly beautiful image, at once cosmic and utterly individuated, of the stars in the teacup, the sky-blue teacup, or chalice if you will, image of totality and self-completion, of a human destiny fulfilled. At last, after how many long decades, I have found the antidote to Auden’s “crack in the teacup that opens a lane to the land of the dead.” But then I don’t think it was ever claimed that SJ was a student of Depth Psychology.
"‘I have a little place of my own,’ she said slowly. ‘An apartment, like yours, only I live alone. Smaller than yours, I’m sure. I’m still furnishing it—buying one thing at a time, you know, to make sure I get everything absolutely right. White curtains. I had to look for weeks before I found my little stone lions on each corner of the mantel, and I have a white cat and my books and records and pictures. Everything has to be exactly the way I want it, because there’s only me to use it; once I had a blue cup with stars painted on the inside; when you looked down into a cup of tea it was full of stars. I want a cup like that.’"
How eloquent, thank you. A pleasure to read your comment which resonates and articulates further some of my feelings. I'm now interested to know if SJ was interested in psychology (depth or otherwise). I noted that passage too which has many echoes from her journey to Hill House.
Thank you. I am so glad I wasn't as much off-target as I might have been. Thank you for allowing me to bring my participation in the seminar to such an agreeable conclusion.
I thought this little bit fascinating: "The scarf Theodora had been wearing lay across the back of her chair; I can take care of THAT, too, Eleanor thought, her maid's pathetic finery, and put one end of it between her teeth and pulled, tearing, and then dropped it..."
I felt a strong echo of the scene in Jane Eyre in which Bertha/Antoinetta rips the bridal veil in front of Jane. And Eleanor is tipping into madness despite warnings just as Antoinetta was in Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea.
Also, the scarf is Eleanor's, right? Who is the maid, who is the her, and why is it pathetic finery?
That incident was confusing to me. I really did not understand what was going on there. Was she hallucinating that she was back in time and one of the sisters or the stepmother? I don’t really have a clue....
I don't know what was going through Eleanor's mind (could anyone?), but I thought this passage was a great description of Eleanor being the House's "poltergeist" during this particular haunting episode.
That was my tentative interpretation also. Eleanor’s subjectivity has disintegrated and so the distinction between herself and the women who lived there before is blurred.
Earlier in the book Theodora says “ I am a Lord‘s daughter. Ordinarily, I go clad in silk and lace and cloth of gold, but I have borrowed my maids finery to appear among you. I may, of course, become so enamored of the common life that I will never go back.”
Sorry if this is a duplicate: i think lukes response to E is reasonable if he still oerceives her as attn seeking and self indulgent. Theo on the otherhand is able to intuit Es real danger either fm disintegration or true identification with the house
The symbols technique really is powerful, although rather than a symbol, I might call them memories. For example, the tower is a symbol that carries the same meaning across different texts and Tarot decks. As the doctor says, in a house that has a tower, the companion could hardly be rumored to have hung herself anywhere else. But the oleanders, etc are specific to Eleanor: they call back to earlier parts of the story, which had to be established firmly enough for the reader to remember them when they return. They’re Eleanor’s personal memories.
As for Theodora, I do think she cares about Eleanor in her way, but she strikes me as a bit defensive. She tempers her emotional closeness with little barbs that give her a safe distance. Eleanor is so vulnerable and traumatized that she has no tolerance for that.
I was furious at Mrs. Montague this entire chapter. When Eleanor is just an apparition knocking at her door, she's kind and welcoming--but the moment she's a real, living person, Mrs. Montague writes her off entirely and scolds her (as do the others, but they, at least, care about Eleanor and want her down and safe).
She says, "I am here to /help/ these unfortunate beings--I am here to extend the hand of heartfelt fondness and let them know that there are still /some/ who remember, who will listen and weep for them; their loneliness is over" (pg. 185 in the Penguin edition; part 4 of chapter 7). How much good would those sentiments do for Eleanor? At least, if they had been given before--it feels too late now.
How true, and how sad. She has more compassion for the dead than for the living. Makes me wonder if SJ saw this dynamic among the people in her own life’s experience.🥲
“She had awakened with the thought of going down to the library, and her mind had supplied her with a reason: I cannot sleep, she explained to herself, and so I am going downstairs to get a book…” Hmm. This implies something else, besides Eleanor’s mind, is operating here, and her mind is providing the veneer to make it acceptable, reasonable, actionable?
“It was warm, drowsily, luxuriously warm.” The spirits have heretofore announced themselves with cold, but when Eleanor is held by the presence outside and now in the house itself, there is no cold, only warmth. Even the cold spot at the nursery threshold is gone.
When Theodora raises the alarm, Eleanor has a strange reaction I have trouble unpacking. “Poor house, Eleanor thought, I had forgotten Eleanor.” In this case, she isn’t Eleanor, nor has she merged with the house. She seems to be identifying with something that inhabits the house, feels bad for it, and forgot about the existence of Eleanor, whom the others will now seek.
She is still not “allowed” in the library, or “to touch even the outside” until the others force her in there with their pursuit. And then she thinks, “I am home” and “Time is ended.” I wonder what would have happened had the others not found her, broken the spell (making her afraid when she wasn’t before), and brought her down literally and figuratively. They are patient enough (in their terror), but the men can’t summon any tenderness for her afterwards. Theo seems bemused but has some understanding (“I suppose you had to do it, Nell?”). That stone floor, which at first “moved caressingly, rubbing itself against the soles of her feet,” must feel cold indeed at the end of this section, when she remembers and offers her mind’s feeble excuse.
Please keep on asking and speculating. Please, please do not give up.
Is the novel itself clear or unintentionally confused? I have even wondered at times if the pre-existence world - Wordsworth said our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: something, some universal one, some pre-existent origin is our GLORIOUS home - is this pre-existent thing, or condition, or however we name it, Eleanor's salvation, is psychologically, philosophically, metaphysically, Eleanor's lover? However ghastly-seeming its manifestations? Is this, paradoxically, her salvation, her rescue, her redemption from the horrific Satanism that seems to occupy the very heart of Calvinism (Craine's birthday scrapbook for his daughter) and the source of Eleanor's tortured self-sacrifice on behalf of her mother - as was the case with Jackson's own mother whose lifelong hatred of her either began or had its highwater mark in telling Jackson she was the product of a botched abortion. All of which might mean that Eleanor's "suicidal" death is only a seeming suicide, is ironically her salvific homecoming? So was Montague ritualistically pointing her in the right direction when he said she had to go back he way she had come? Was her "insanity" or seeming "insanity" really an initiation, a necessary prelude to her angelic liberation? And is that why Theo - gift of God - and possibly Eleanor's own alter-ego, gets it and says "I suppose you had to do it, Nell". I do not believe all this to be actually the case, but if the novel itself is not insane, how does it somehow allow one to so easily fall into such untoward speculation?
They seemed to be divided during the other hauntings, but Eleanor was always with Theo from what I remember.
What was interesting about Mrs. M.'s response is that, for all that she's the "expert," she's never aware of the hauntings (she slept through one of them!). And she doesn't recognize this scenario for what it might be, probably because she's dismissed Eleanor as someone with potential from the very start.
Yes, I've also been trying to figure out if it's possible that one (or two) of the group might be responsible for some of the things that the others (that is, someone *in addition to* Eleanor) experiences. (There are some things that can very easily be read as being experienced only by Eleanor.) However, I have trouble when it comes to the picnic and the time "Hill House went dancing." Those really can't be explained away.
I had to almost LOL when I read that passage--I think it's one of the funniest things Shirley Jackson wrote! Mrs. M has absolutely no clue!
Yes, the manifestations are right in front of and all around her. And the dragon... :)
Yes, the dragon! What a great touch! 😄
I love Shirley’s garlic metaphor, and no, I don’t think those 5 symbols are overused at all, and yes, it is a very powerful technique. I think the one thing people have mentioned that has been overused is is the quote “Journeys end in lovers meeting,” and I tend to agree.
As to your next questions, I see it as both/and. The line between the house taking over Eleanor’s mind, and Eleanor losing touch with reality and her mental state infusing the house has completely blurred by this point. They are, in effect, feeding off of one another. Although my interpretation is that HH did initially target her for this eventuality because of her insecurities and vulnerabilities.
A few other things struck me:
As we saw the symbols of doubles, and words repeated twice throughout the book up to this point, in this section, I kept seeing words and phrases repeated 3 times:
“Mother,” “Somewhere,” “Here I am,”(also echoing what she thought when she first arrived) and “I am home.”
I’m also wondering if she was waltzing when she danced? 1,2,3, 1,2,3….
Another image that I kept seeing was that of a circle:
“Dancing in circles” (Back to that “Red Shoes” reference!)
The “circle dance” song again;
The spiral staircase;
The shape of the tower;
And the “circling back” to the past and back in several ways. -
As for the plot, I was thoroughly creeped out by how, from the beginning, E. is in a trance-like state, and by the time she gets to the spiral staircase, I’m not even sure if her feet are completely touching the ground or if she is floating, especially when dancing with Hugh Crain’s ghost; she feels sorry for the others because they are so “heavy.” (Funny use of adverb “gravely” when she dances for Crain.)
As I said in an earlier post, I’m wondering if the spirit of HH is the deceased first wife of Hugh Crain’s, and she has now inhabited E’s body?
Or maybe it’s Hugh himself, and he is looking for a vulnerable female he can drive insane, seduce, and carry on with him in his Hell House?
At one point, E. thinks to herself that “Time has ended” and then tries to remember how she knows the people at the bottom of the spiral staircase, going back in time to an inn, and someone riding a hill with banners flying. So maybe we’re looking back 80 years at the beginning of HH at this point, which would have been 1870’s?
Having E. knock on all the doors as the ghostly spirit herself this time was brilliant, and completes the circle of the hold HH now has on her.
Interesting that it’s when she finally recognizes T’s Face that she decides to come down the staircase with L. I was surprised at how callous they all were with her. I expected it of Mrs. M., but not the others. Dr. M. and Luke actually called her an “imbecile.” I just find this so hard to believe. Hmmm.
Finally, I just happened to notice that the first thing E. thinks she hears her mother say is “Come along” to her. —“Come Along with Me” is the title of SJ’s final, unfinished book she was working on before she died. Could just be a coincidence…. (But does make me sad)
Thanks for drawing attention to the repetition in 3s. An art director once told that odd numbered groupings are more visually interesting to brains. And, this echoes Mrs M's comment about how the spirits repeat themselves!
The comparison to Prof Trelawney that Ruth made the other day is very apt, I think. Mrs M is a curious mix of knowing and ignorance. Over confident of what she knows and ignorant of what is truly useful. Think how she might have gotten info out of Mrs Dudley! (Who always reminds me of Mrs Danvers from Rebecca, both book and Hitchcock movie.)
On this, my 3rd read of Hill House, I believe the house is accruing ghosts and absorbing them into a demonic whole that is decidedly female. Includes Mrs Crain, the elder sister, the young companion, and possibly a little girl and puppy from the family scene. The description of Hill House and Eleanor's senses is very sexually feminine.
Even normally kind members of the group react to Eleanor's climb, which is done well in the 1963 movie, with the anger a parent has w a child after a moment of severe danger--emotionally, irrationally. An angry parent might yell or strike a kid, which is useless, but I think is just our lizard brains reacting when hyped up on adrenaline.
"with the anger a parent has with a child after a moment of severe danger" this put my thoughts into words exactly--I see the other three lashing out based on fear, not real anger. And fear which is probably intensified because they don't know exactly what happened--they can talk about her attention seeking, but I don't think any one of them actually believes that. I imagine knowing something is very wrong with Eleanor, but not knowing what it is or what they can do, could have made them lash out as well.
KJ, what you said about the house "accruing ghosts and absorbing them into a demonic whole" is just what I've been thinking lately. All of the House's "victims" become one with the House. There are not multiple ghosts in Hill House, there is only one entity: Hill House.
I want to say a word in favor of the “journeys end in lovers meeting” bit of garlic. That one is not overused to me because it kept changing shape and referent. Initially, on my first reading of this book, I thought Luke might be the lover. Then I thought it might be Theodora. Then I thought, with horror, that it might be the house itself. Then I thought it was death. And I love that evolution.
Excellent point! Wishing now I would have caught that. (Btw, you live in ATX? I think we may have some mutual theater friends from back in the day... your last name seemed so familiar to me and I realized that’s the connection.)
oh wow! now that you mention it your name rings a bell as well. I am still in theater here (but am also a writer and have a couple of books out). In fact I'm in a play that was supposed to open last night but it's outdoors, and the rain, while glorious, is playing havoc with our schedule.
Missy Thibodeaux was my college roomie when we were Theater majors at UT way back when, and I think I may have even met you at some point through her. Small world. Congrats on your book career. I plan to get copies soon! Sorry about the play schedule😩 I have a book of poetry out now with Finishing Line Press. Will be doing a reading at BookWoman in January. You can find me on Instagram @lisabookgeek Cheers!
oh wow! oh poetry is the genre I love best and fear most. Congratulations! I will hunt you down on IG.
Eleanor’s palpable sense of alienation – from all people – seems elevated by their apparent togetherness: “They were coming down all together, anxious, calling, “Eleanor? Nell?” / They were moving purposefully, all together, straining to stay near one another / they ran all together … looking and calling," leaving her to seek a space of chosen “aloneness” in Hill House, which she imagines protecting from all “rough” outsiders “trampling,” “poking,” “peering,” and their “slow” “deaf” “heav[iness].”
Nature reappears in its vast “aloneness” (in contrast to the “all together[ness]” of the house “guests”?) providing Eleanor with a soothing vision (and sense of purpose?): “[T]he little mists of Hill House curling around her ankles, [Eleanor] looked up at the pressing, heavy hills. Gathered comfortably into the hills, she thought, protected and warm, Hill House is lucky.”
Eleanor and Hill House seems to be mutually constitutive or “feeding off each other” (as Lisa M. notes): “Here I am … Here I am inside. It is not cold but deliciously, fondly warm. / … the stone floor moved caressingly … the soft air touched her, stirring her hair, drifting against her fingers, coming in a light breath against her mouth, and she danced in circles. / No stone lions for me … no oleanders; I have broken the spell of Hill House … / I am home … I am home, I am home.”
The callous reaction of Luke in particular reminds me that he is the heir of HH. Of course, we can understand his frustration at Eleanor as his safety is also at risk when rescuing her but it also reminds me of Hugh Crain’s scrapbook that was designed to save his young daughter from Hell through images so disturbing that no-one could articulate what they saw. A punitive patriarchy. Has the unwholesome atmosphere of the library tainted Luke or merely revealed what is already there?
It’s almost as if Luke is just going up to get E. down to prevent another scandal from happening at his future property. He scolds her like a child the entire time.
But she had put him in very real danger on the tower stairs
True. I know you’re right, but I’ve always just had a soft spot for Eleanor.....
Yes I had some sympathy with Luke. He did a very brave thing at great risk to himself for what must have seemed like a woman being childish and silly. I don’t think they fully understand how entirely gone she is.
It's a great technique and one I think I'll be borrowing at some point.
Theodora definitely seemed genuinely frightened of what could have happened. And Luke's bravery, is at odds with how he's been portrayed so far.
I do wish the Dr would stand up to his wife, my dislike for her is so strong that I almost can't bear reading the sections she is in ⚠️😂🤷
Your perspective is so interesting to me as I find the doctor ineffectual and his methods very questionable. Mrs M is overbearing but I don’t sympathise with him at all!
Oh he is that. I think I'm frustrated that he doesn't say anything about what they've discovered and she is steamrollering everyone.
Agreed!
The mother relationship – the tenderness and torment of it - continues to haunt me. Is Eleanor seeking to be reunited with her mother, in another world? To reconcile her sense of guilt, her self-blame for not hearing her last call?: “Mother?” she said softly, and then again, “Mother?” A little soft laugh floated down to her, and she ran, breathless, up the stairs … and looked at the closed doors.”/ “You’re here somewhere” / “… the little echo … slipping in a whisper on the tiny currents of air, said, ‘Somewhere … Somewhere.’” Or is Eleanor’s haunting guilt, her breaking point, driving her to claim “home” within – and control over - a place that others will ultimately abandon? No more “magic oleanders,” nor “stone lions” for Eleanor. Does abandonment of the world, even an imagined world, becomes “home” for Eleanor? I weep for her.
Beautifully said. Thank you for articulating that. I weep for her as well.
This is a such a good point to pull out, thank you. I would add tangentially that I think the stone lions and poisonous oleanders of her fantasies were what kept her/people in general OUT of those imagined castles and homes--their defenders. But nothing can stop her from full entrance into Hill House now.
I think of Jackson’s mother, who never fully accepted her and offered blunt, cruel criticism throughout Jackson’s life.
For me the repetition of Eleanor's original fantasy of a home with the stone lions, cup of stars, etc. is worthwhile because it reminds us just how far she has fallen. She initially seemed to have agency and hope with the fantasy of a normal independent life. Now her fantasy is that she belongs to a haunted house which of course is crazy. Our need to dream or fantasize is important for motivation and hope and it may even allow us temporarily to escape an unpleasant situation. Then there is the fantasy that is corrupted and allows us to slip into insanity. A fantasy that takes over our brain and doesn't let go. Maybe her insanity occurred because she realizes that she is never going to be accepted out in the world and she'll never have that life she envisioned on her drive to HH.
Yes!
Ruth, thank you for adding the info on the "garlic" and about the recurring 5 images. Interesting that it's an odd number, like the repetition of words that Lisa notes, plus put me in mind of the 5 points of a pentagram, or a pentacle in tarot.
Ooo, I like the idea of the 5 points too!
Ruth, I do think it's possible that Theo does care about Eleanor and that she's been unkind and manipulative, just as she was in engineering the fight w her "friend" in order to launch herself to Hill House. Theo was in the drama club at school, I think. I think Hill House has been nudging everyone, but Eleanor is the least defended. Luke and Theo are both indulging their worse selves in pushing Eleanor's buttons moving her further into the thrall of HH.
And if Theo really is telepathic as she seemed to be initially, responding to Eleanor’s thoughts, the vibes she must be getting now as Eleanor descends into madness must be quite scary and offputting
Regarding the symbols associated with a character - and the five with Eleanor - it felt promising to me early on in the novel. Yet I feel a kind of limitation as I approach the ending. I need to read the last pages before forming a final view but at this moment in time, I would say the best part of the novel for me has been Eleanor's journey to get to Hill House. And what has happened since has been inherently less interesting and less promising. I'm sure others will disagree and I look forward to reading comments!
I would love to hear more about why!
That's a good question and I'm not sure i can fully answer it. I think that the depth of the character development is, for me, inherently less interesting than the opening journey promised. Now that I've finished the book (again - last time was decades ago and completely forgotten), I can say the propsect of the journey home (wherever 'home' is) piqued my interest all over again, and I was also somewhat disappointed all over again. It's a gripping tale for sure, but I wonder if anyone else feels something is missing? Maybe a missed opportunity though at the same time a tour de force.
On a separate point, as a recent joiner of online reading groups which I am loving on the one hand as they motivate me to keep going and give me prompts from others' responses, I do also note a pattern of my engagement peaking and then waning over the course of a read. So I wonder if it's also partly that which is more a reading process point.
That's so interesting -- thank you so much for responding. I think that I find Eleanor's narrative journey increasingly and heartbreakingly inevitable as the story goes on--which I find satisfying, to be clear. But I guess it depends on the hourney you were guessing or hoping for in that opening?
Yes, and maybe I didn't realise/was unaware of what journey I was guessing or hoping for; and only by its absence does the spectre of its possible presence become clear(er).
I don't think it depends entirely, even maybe I don't believe it depends at all on the journey one was guessing or hoping for. One could be wrong, of course, but the author can have purposefully planted expectations and either by incompetence or ironic intent not allowed them to be fulfilled. So it won't have been a matter of guesswork. And, then, too, one's disappointment with a book can very well be because the book is not very good and fails to live up to its initial promise, however much a tour de force it manages to be. Surely one is permitted to choose among interpretations. Happily, such a range of choices, allows the integrity of everyone's interpretation. No?
That is a fair and impartial setting out of the array of options. I'd also add that if one is re-reading a book, one brings memories or, even less, vague impressions to the second or later reading. This lens can overlay the direct experience of the book and affect the response. To clarify, I'm not exactly disappointed with this book. I'm more disappointed with my different response to it than what I suppose my response was when I first read it. Perhaps I was expecting the same satisfaction as a mature reader and that was the journey I was hoping for. In many ways, it's as or more interesting to have a different journey and a different journey's end.
I had a similar experience. I listened to the whole novel (for the first time) just as this reading was starting and was reveling in those early chapters, especially Eleanor's journey, but it became less compelling for me too. I have enjoyed going back and reading it closely since, along with people's comments. I find Jackson's writing exceptional throughout (a tour de force, as you say below). But my initial experience still strikes me. I was so delighted at first and then less so. I wearied of the group's dynamics: Theo and Luke's constant banter, the doctor's semi-parental manner. And I wanted something more or better than madness for Eleanor. It struck me as a disappointing cliche that this unmarried woman, wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively, could end no other way than how she does here, especially when the beginning was such an awakening for her--promising, as you say.
I agree with everything you say, Maureen!
Yes, as Maureen put it:
"And I wanted something more or better than madness for Eleanor. It struck me as a disappointing cliche that this unmarried woman, wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively, could end no other way than how she does here, especially when the beginning was such an awakening for her--promising, as you say."
"Wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively."
Ah, yes. So beautifully put.! And why be afraid of saying it? So memorably, so endearingly!
Yes, a great collection of adjectives which captures the ragged or jagged edges of any personality. The more I reflect on it, the more disappointing in a way I've found The haunting of hill house this time round, simply as a work on its own. My curiosity is piqued to find out more about Jackson though I think that might be somewhat unsettling. However, the discussions around the book in this group have been energising in a healthy way and it's occurred to me that we're a parallel group convened by Ruth to spend some time at a virtual Hill House. As a cast of characters we're equally as interesting as those in the novel. I was/am just sorry to have missed the ending in the online group discussion but perhaps some things are better left open-ended!
"and it's occurred to me that we're a parallel group convened by Ruth to spend some time at a virtual Hill House. As a cast of characters we're equally as interesting as those in the novel."
That and everything else in your post, wonderful, amazing, lovely! Can you think of any more stupid words like that, that are lazy and stupid exclamations of joyous approval but that are wonderful and warranted all the same because it would be just too non-vernacular pedantic to go looking for less hackneyed better educated alternatives? I can't. So I'll just repeat them. Wonderful, amazing, lovely, stunningly impregnated with forever. Can you hang in there? I have an idea but don't know where to start. It's there in my head but too amorphously for saying clearly yet. Conveniently, though, Ruth has declared the seminar not over. Our virtual parallel Hill House group is still convened. There's still time! You were right. Some things are better left open-ended. PS: I wasn't at the online discussion either.
And synchronously this has just turned up. I haven't listened yet but i sense it might possibly connect with some of your previous comments: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/for-the-life-of-the-world-yale-center-for-faith-culture/id1505076294?i=1000633068481
More balm to hurt hearts. Thank you.
"And I wanted something more or better than madness for Eleanor. It struck me as a disappointing cliché that this unmarried woman, wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively, could end no other way than how she does here, especially when the beginning was such an awakening for her--promising, as you say."
"Wounded and eccentric but also imaginative and lively."
Ah, yes. So beautifully put.! And why be afraid of saying it? So memorably, so endearingly!
I hope what I am going to try to say is not a misrepresentation of what you said. Or a miscalculated follow-on to what you said. If either turns out to be the case, please accept a contrite apology.
On the morning after, when the euphoria has died down, the euphoria which I now find came more from the eloquent seriousness of the communal voice of the participants, all our voices together, reading the book, not from the psychological clarity, not from the psychological profundity of the book itself, I do definitely agree with you: “but at this moment in time, I would say the best part of the novel for me has been Eleanor’s journey to get to Hill House. And what has happened since has been inherently less interesting and less promising.”
I would be inclined to go one crucial step further and speculate that the work as a whole simply lacks the authorial genius – intellectual, intuitive, poetic, psychological, whatever the word or combination of words – to actualize the ironic complexity and beauty of the promise of the initial journey, be it in terms of pathos-laden tragedy or bitterly accomplished joy. (I too hear the unfulfilled echo of Eliot’s children in the rose garden and the end in which is my beginning). All of which, if true, is painfully disappointing because SJ’s writing is often so achingly exquisite.
The following is the passage I love best from the entire book. In my mind I have it on a par for now with things that I love best from Emily Dickinson and Gerard Manley Hopkins. So all the more pathetic my disappointment that Jackson seemed not to know how to actualize the psychological intent and/or symbolic implications of this imaginal fantasy and, in particular, the incredibly beautiful image, at once cosmic and utterly individuated, of the stars in the teacup, the sky-blue teacup, or chalice if you will, image of totality and self-completion, of a human destiny fulfilled. At last, after how many long decades, I have found the antidote to Auden’s “crack in the teacup that opens a lane to the land of the dead.” But then I don’t think it was ever claimed that SJ was a student of Depth Psychology.
"‘I have a little place of my own,’ she said slowly. ‘An apartment, like yours, only I live alone. Smaller than yours, I’m sure. I’m still furnishing it—buying one thing at a time, you know, to make sure I get everything absolutely right. White curtains. I had to look for weeks before I found my little stone lions on each corner of the mantel, and I have a white cat and my books and records and pictures. Everything has to be exactly the way I want it, because there’s only me to use it; once I had a blue cup with stars painted on the inside; when you looked down into a cup of tea it was full of stars. I want a cup like that.’"
Alfred-Patrick
How eloquent, thank you. A pleasure to read your comment which resonates and articulates further some of my feelings. I'm now interested to know if SJ was interested in psychology (depth or otherwise). I noted that passage too which has many echoes from her journey to Hill House.
Thank you. I am so glad I wasn't as much off-target as I might have been. Thank you for allowing me to bring my participation in the seminar to such an agreeable conclusion.
I thought this little bit fascinating: "The scarf Theodora had been wearing lay across the back of her chair; I can take care of THAT, too, Eleanor thought, her maid's pathetic finery, and put one end of it between her teeth and pulled, tearing, and then dropped it..."
I felt a strong echo of the scene in Jane Eyre in which Bertha/Antoinetta rips the bridal veil in front of Jane. And Eleanor is tipping into madness despite warnings just as Antoinetta was in Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea.
Also, the scarf is Eleanor's, right? Who is the maid, who is the her, and why is it pathetic finery?
That incident was confusing to me. I really did not understand what was going on there. Was she hallucinating that she was back in time and one of the sisters or the stepmother? I don’t really have a clue....
I don't know what was going through Eleanor's mind (could anyone?), but I thought this passage was a great description of Eleanor being the House's "poltergeist" during this particular haunting episode.
The maid might be alluding to the one sister's companion, and Eleanor is embodying the other sister, who was at odds with them?
Could very well be....🤔
That was my tentative interpretation also. Eleanor’s subjectivity has disintegrated and so the distinction between herself and the women who lived there before is blurred.
Earlier in the book Theodora says “ I am a Lord‘s daughter. Ordinarily, I go clad in silk and lace and cloth of gold, but I have borrowed my maids finery to appear among you. I may, of course, become so enamored of the common life that I will never go back.”
Ahhh!! Thank you!
Yea thank you! That phrase had been haunting me (hahaha “haunting”)
Thank you!
Sorry if this is a duplicate: i think lukes response to E is reasonable if he still oerceives her as attn seeking and self indulgent. Theo on the otherhand is able to intuit Es real danger either fm disintegration or true identification with the house
The symbols technique really is powerful, although rather than a symbol, I might call them memories. For example, the tower is a symbol that carries the same meaning across different texts and Tarot decks. As the doctor says, in a house that has a tower, the companion could hardly be rumored to have hung herself anywhere else. But the oleanders, etc are specific to Eleanor: they call back to earlier parts of the story, which had to be established firmly enough for the reader to remember them when they return. They’re Eleanor’s personal memories.
As for Theodora, I do think she cares about Eleanor in her way, but she strikes me as a bit defensive. She tempers her emotional closeness with little barbs that give her a safe distance. Eleanor is so vulnerable and traumatized that she has no tolerance for that.
I was furious at Mrs. Montague this entire chapter. When Eleanor is just an apparition knocking at her door, she's kind and welcoming--but the moment she's a real, living person, Mrs. Montague writes her off entirely and scolds her (as do the others, but they, at least, care about Eleanor and want her down and safe).
She says, "I am here to /help/ these unfortunate beings--I am here to extend the hand of heartfelt fondness and let them know that there are still /some/ who remember, who will listen and weep for them; their loneliness is over" (pg. 185 in the Penguin edition; part 4 of chapter 7). How much good would those sentiments do for Eleanor? At least, if they had been given before--it feels too late now.
How true, and how sad. She has more compassion for the dead than for the living. Makes me wonder if SJ saw this dynamic among the people in her own life’s experience.🥲
“She had awakened with the thought of going down to the library, and her mind had supplied her with a reason: I cannot sleep, she explained to herself, and so I am going downstairs to get a book…” Hmm. This implies something else, besides Eleanor’s mind, is operating here, and her mind is providing the veneer to make it acceptable, reasonable, actionable?
“It was warm, drowsily, luxuriously warm.” The spirits have heretofore announced themselves with cold, but when Eleanor is held by the presence outside and now in the house itself, there is no cold, only warmth. Even the cold spot at the nursery threshold is gone.
When Theodora raises the alarm, Eleanor has a strange reaction I have trouble unpacking. “Poor house, Eleanor thought, I had forgotten Eleanor.” In this case, she isn’t Eleanor, nor has she merged with the house. She seems to be identifying with something that inhabits the house, feels bad for it, and forgot about the existence of Eleanor, whom the others will now seek.
She is still not “allowed” in the library, or “to touch even the outside” until the others force her in there with their pursuit. And then she thinks, “I am home” and “Time is ended.” I wonder what would have happened had the others not found her, broken the spell (making her afraid when she wasn’t before), and brought her down literally and figuratively. They are patient enough (in their terror), but the men can’t summon any tenderness for her afterwards. Theo seems bemused but has some understanding (“I suppose you had to do it, Nell?”). That stone floor, which at first “moved caressingly, rubbing itself against the soles of her feet,” must feel cold indeed at the end of this section, when she remembers and offers her mind’s feeble excuse.
Please keep on asking and speculating. Please, please do not give up.
Is the novel itself clear or unintentionally confused? I have even wondered at times if the pre-existence world - Wordsworth said our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: something, some universal one, some pre-existent origin is our GLORIOUS home - is this pre-existent thing, or condition, or however we name it, Eleanor's salvation, is psychologically, philosophically, metaphysically, Eleanor's lover? However ghastly-seeming its manifestations? Is this, paradoxically, her salvation, her rescue, her redemption from the horrific Satanism that seems to occupy the very heart of Calvinism (Craine's birthday scrapbook for his daughter) and the source of Eleanor's tortured self-sacrifice on behalf of her mother - as was the case with Jackson's own mother whose lifelong hatred of her either began or had its highwater mark in telling Jackson she was the product of a botched abortion. All of which might mean that Eleanor's "suicidal" death is only a seeming suicide, is ironically her salvific homecoming? So was Montague ritualistically pointing her in the right direction when he said she had to go back he way she had come? Was her "insanity" or seeming "insanity" really an initiation, a necessary prelude to her angelic liberation? And is that why Theo - gift of God - and possibly Eleanor's own alter-ego, gets it and says "I suppose you had to do it, Nell". I do not believe all this to be actually the case, but if the novel itself is not insane, how does it somehow allow one to so easily fall into such untoward speculation?
Does the house become Eleanor or is Eleanor becoming the house? She always wanted a home, and now she is creating one--