The doctor’s comment that the manifestations could be caused by “subterranean waters” and Theodora’s rejoinder—“Then more houses ought to be built over secret springs”—reminded me of another wonderfully spooky novel I read not long ago: The Drowning Kind by Jennifer McMahon, which takes up this very premise. I assume McMahon, who lives in Vermont, is a Jackson fan—I wonder if her novel is a deliberate response to Hill House? Anyway, I recommend it for anyone who doesn’t think Hill House is scary enough.
“It wanted to consume us, take us into itself, make us a part of the house,” Eleanor says. She understands what the house is up to. (Or she thinks she does.) Is she already of “the state of mind which would welcome the perils of Hill House with a kind of sisterly embrace”? Has she always been? She has a sister, of course, with whom she doesn’t share that kind of embrace; the sisters who previously occupied Hill House didn’t, either. She and Theodora are also a sisterly kind of pair—I don’t pick up on any sexual tension between them, even in the nail-painting scene—and they embrace on Theodora’s bed while whatever it is bangs on the doors. Is the house itself a kind of sister to her? A lot of questions.
“I could say, ‘All three of you are in my imagination; none of this is real,’” Eleanor says early in the scene. By the end of the scene, she and Theodora are at each other’s throats: Theodora accusing Eleanor of having written the sinister words herself, Eleanor calling her a “spoiled baby” with “iron selfishness.” Luke and the doctor think that Theodora deliberately provoked Eleanor to prevent her from being frightened; Eleanor believes Theodora was messing with her head. What is imagination and what is real? As always, Jackson shows us how tricky it can be to draw the line.
With all the emphasis on exact repetition, notice here that Theodora actually says two different things: “Maybe you wrote it yourself” and “Maybe you wrote it to yourself.” What’s the difference, exactly?
The message itself can be read in multiple ways. Help Eleanor come home—an imperative. Help, Eleanor, come home—a plea. Are there more?
This is the first scene in the book that really took spark for me. It’s been a slow, pleasant, but subdued read up until this point -- finally we seem to have passion and threatening stakes for Eleanor. She is suddenly in a desperate conflict with both the House and with Theodora.
So many things jumped out at me in this section as well as the interesting points raised in today's post. Just a series of observations and questions....
For instance, the doctor's comments on the mind: 'One cannot even say that the ghost attacks the mind, because the mind, the conscious, thinking mind, is invulnerable;... the menace of the supernatural is that it attacks where modern minds are weakest, where we have abandoned our protective armor of superstition and have no substitute defense. ...the mind's instinctive refuge—self-doubt—is eliminated. We cannot say, 'It was my imagination,' because three other people were there too.' The collective apprehension of a fleeting sensory experience, the ghost, has a different impact than the writing on the wall. It slips through their fingers, it's an intangible memory, a shiver along the spine. Does the physicality of the writing on the wall, with its underlying ambiguity and uncertainty of source, seem more 'real' than the shared apprehension of the ghost? Is it more or less reassuring than the memories?
Eleanor sees herself as potentially the 'public conscience of the group' and also 'outside, she thought madly, I am the one chosen, and she said quickly, beggingly, "Did I do something to attract attention?...Now I am back in the fold' Interesting use of adverbs - madly and beggingly. The anxiety of being outside the group, the ambivalent desire to attract attention yet still to be included.
'we can't afford to have you break up, you know' - this makes me think of both the individual breaking up, falling apart and also of her breaking up the group?
Eleanor and Luke's exchange also attracts attention: "you want me to go writing your name every- where? Carving your initials on trees? Writing 'Eleanor, Eleanor' on little scraps of paper?" He gave her hair a soft little pull. "I've got more sense," he said. "Behave yourself." What's going on between them?