Dr. Montague raises the question of whether Hill House was “born bad” or acquired its evil from the people who lived there. The story is not a happy one. Hill House was intended to be a family home—did you notice that the door knockers are shaped like children’s heads?—but the wife of the original owner, Hugh Crain, died in a carriage accident in the driveway, leaving him with their two daughters. A story of disputed inheritance between the sisters ensues. The question of whether the house itself caused these problems or simply absorbed them from its unhappy inhabitants is left unresolved.
I often get asked about the queer subtext of Jackson’s fiction. In addition to the character of Theo, I think we’re not wrong to hear it again here in the story of the older sister, who is said to have been “crossed in love… although that is said of almost any lady who prefers, for whatever reason, to live alone.” Is there a little wink at the end of that sentence? Eventually she lives in Hill House with a girl from Hillsdale, “a kind of companion,” to whom she leaves the house. The girl is rumored to have neglected her to dally in the garden with “some village lout,” but Dr. Montague doesn’t believe it. It’s clear from the way Jackson tells the story that we’re meant to sympathize with the companion, whom the younger sister attempts to disinherit and then proceeds to harass with letters, accusations, and physical threats, until she’s eventually driven mad. Dr. Montague gets a lot of the best lines in the book, including this one:
“Gossip says she hanged herself from the turret on the tower, but when you have a house like Hill House with a tower and a turret, gossip would hardly allow you to hang yourself anywhere else.”
Another sly comment from Dr. Montague: “Camping. At my age. And yet that they believed.” Notice the way Jackson uses humor throughout to lighten the mood, which otherwise might threaten to get ponderous.
Something silly: I keep thinking of Tim Curry’s performance as Wadsworth the butler in the movie Clue, whenever Dr. Montague takes the floor. Something less silly: this section recalls Poe’s obsession with houses, and also his wonderful “The Man of the Crowd,” in which we can feel the loneliest reaches of obsession, where obsession itself creates an apartness. Hill House, too, can’t be claimed, absorbed, or explained--it refuses love, or it responds naturally to love having been fractured/refused within its walls. The attempt by Dr. Montague to trace its “badness” via its origin story is so satisfying to me as a reader--houses have genes too! Is it nature v nurture etc--and I love how raptly everyone listened. The house, it seems, has feelings, and crises, and to accept it as a sentient entity transforms the idea of the “haunt” into a dynamic relationship: it takes one to haunt, and one to believe in the haunting. (Much like love--is it love if it isn’t received as such?!)
Good morning! I am so enjoying this re read of Hill House and that it's in October. I read it last February and that was the wrong time for it.
I empathize w Dr Montague about camping. Not for me.
I do think there's definite queer coding in the older sister. It reminds me of the relationships in Dorothy L Sayers mystery w the old woman who died who had a nurse but before that had owned horses and had a live in friend, Unnatural Death. Did Jackson read Sayers?
The missing china and silver denied to the death by the younger sister is a terrific touch. This book blends the real and perhapsish very well to create its uneasy mood.