Yes, it appears Eleanor is tethered to the house in a different way from Theo and Luke, who are able to make light quips and jokes and casual conversation. Mrs. Dudley is devoid of all humor and seemingly human nature- is this her defense mechanism, or has she been there long enough that the house has stripped her of her humanity? Is this where Eleanor is headed should she be there long enough?
I also found it interesting that during the first night, the Doc reads until 3am, Theo sleeps with the lights on, and Luke self soothes by having a flashlight and a lucky piece on the bedside table; Eleanor has a fantastic night of sleep...
Perhaps, they need Eleanor to be "tethered to the house differently" in order to remain untethered from grappling with the truth of their own foibles -- and the reasons that drew them to the house in the first place: "“Perhaps … quieting her [Eleanor], they quieted themselves and could leave the subject behind them; perhaps, vehicle for every kind of fear, she contained enough for all” (72).
I appreciate the contrast you show between how Mrs Dudley deflects (sticking robotically to a script as well as disdaining the guests) with how Theo and Luke do--flippantly, with irony. And Dr Montague, with his pipe, chess, Pamela, science.
A friend who taught high school English once shared that she saw the awareness of irony dawn somewhere between the grades (I forget if it was 9/10 or 10/11). On this read, I'm very aware of how emotionally stunted and inexperienced Eleanor is. She retreats to fairy tales and Shakespeare. She doesn't have any tools to protect herself from the absolute reality of the house. I'm not sure Eleanor understands irony, and it sounds as if after her dad died, she didn't get love. She really is a child in a woman's body, I think.
Also note the silliness implied in her name. Dudley Do-right was a cartoon character who first appeared in 1959. And I can’t help feeling an anachronistic kinship to the Dursleys who are the bane of Harry Potter’s existence.
I could be wrong, but I think I remember hearing somewhere that The Secret History was based on the same disappearance that Jackson's Hangsaman was based on. Look up the Bennington Triangle if you're interested.
Sorry, but this is one of the hills I will die on: Hangsaman isn't based on the Paula Welden case, as so many people have said (based on an error in a previous biography, I suspect)—Jackson's story "The Missing Girl" is. There's no missing girl in Hangsaman!
It's true that there's no missing girl (other than the imaginary one) but the circumstances around Paula Welden's disappearance (the college girl inexplicably visiting a forest trail alone at night, the hitchhiker witnesses) are similar enough that it seems strange to me to exclude the possibility that Jackson took it as her inspiration, especially considering that "The Missing Girl" proves it was on her mind. Of course, Hangsaman isn't identical to the Welden case, but it would be strange if it was reproduced exactly; I don't know of any good artists or writers who would confuse taking inspiration from something with simply copying it.
Exactly, Emily. I would say that Hangsaman seems very much *inspired by* the Paula Welden case (among other things), even if not technically "based on" it.
I like to believe that Mrs. Dudley, both the Dudleys, are ghosts. They have taken care of the house for so long, it’s imbedded into them. Mrs Dudley walks ‘without making a sound’, has specific places for things, specific times, specific lines she repeats tirelessly. Almost as if she is stuck in a time loop of her own, of Hill House.
I keep thinking of the house’s structure/layout, the built-in distortions, the inner non-windowed rooms & the veranda that (freakishly) wraps all the way around. Brings to my mind Teresa of Ávila’s “interior castle”--is Hill House a miniature of the human soul?
I was thinking something similar but this is much better articulated. Especially those rooms with no exterior windows (that's illegal nowadays of course, as it guarantees fatalities in a fire)--those parts of the soul that we keep hidden whether on purpose or because we are unable to surface them. I will say that in the south where I live fully wraparoundveradnas are not at all uncommon in big fancy houses.
Ooooo I love this. The soul or the human heart- chambers vs the valves and the dance they cycle together to keep order (the doors slamming shut, for instance)
I love that idea. I also can’t help but think of the 9 Rings of Hell in Dante’s “Inferno” when Dr. Montague says “.. The ground floor is laid out in in what I might almost call concentric circles of rooms; at the center the the little parlor......”
In thinking about why Mrs. Dudley sticks to her canned lines, I think that self-protection is certainly a possibility. Another that occurs to me is that she’s been programmed by the house, a cult member. Mr. Dudley as well--he too utilizes canned phrases--though perhaps he is afforded slightly greater latitude in dialogue because his post isn’t quite so close to the heart of the house. The house does like everything in its proper place. Another is that only people who remain rigidly attached to their rituals are less affected by the house and consequently able to survive longer exposure to Hill House.
Another possibility: Jackson may turn the Dudleys into such caricatures for purposes of economy. The characters heighten the creepy atmosphere while streamlining the storytelling. In her multiple appearances, we only need a line or two of her stock phrases to recreate her whole monologue for ourselves.
Finally, I’m not sure if this is its first appearance, but side characters repeating the same lines? That’s a trope of horror movies.
I agree the ritual speech seems significant. The behavior is like those of people in a cult. You have those who are under the spell and it almost seems at times that Eleanor starts to fall in and then out of the houses spell. The house needs an innocent victim and the others aren’t innocent.
I’d wondered why Eleanor is particularly vulnerable to the house’s spell, and I’d considered her loss and loneliness as ways she’s made vulnerable. I hadn’t considered her innocence--nicely spotted.
If you're looking for a statement of theme for the book (and perhaps for Gothic horror in general), you could do worse than the Dr's musing on p. 78 (penguin): "The doctor said we have grown to trust blindly in our senses of balance and reason, and I can see where the mind might fight wildly to preserve its own familiar stable patterns against all evidence that it is leaning sideways. ..We have marvels still before us." Shades of Hamlet "“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
It's becoming so much clearer that Hill House is the lover at the end of Eleanor's journey. I posted elsewhere that shared traumas often draw people together--often in unhealthy ways, too--and the traumas she and this house share, from the bitter sisters and the disputed inheritance to the neglected young companion, are like a knot that keeps tightening.
This section of the book seems to expand on the first paragraph: Hill House is not sane, as everything in it is tilted and twisted. The doors are "sensibly shut," but it's not a sane sensibility, so the rules are inflexible without purpose or meaning. It would be more convenient if the doors were open, and it would be more kind if Mrs. Dudley allowed them to be propped open or extended breakfast time for people who got lost their first day, but the only thing that seems to matter is mindless rule-following. In my mind I get the impression of someone who is clinging to structure to avoid facing some kind of chaos.
Yes: "Clinging to structure to avoid facing some kind of chaos!" Sadly, I am struck by the relevance to today's world - the ways in which we often default to inflexible rules - in the name of "sane sensibility" when indeed, such inflexibility is neither "sane" nor "sensible." Perhaps, we could benefit from a journey to a 21st century Hill House, in which we might discover a "haunting" illumination of the fears that foster intolerance, as well as, an alternative to running from any odd-angled, "masterpiece of architectural misdirection" that is "a little bit off center." Why do our mind[s] so often "fight wildly to preserve [their] own familiar stable patterns against all evidence that [they are] leaning sideways"?
"'I dreamed about [the wicked sister] too,' Eleanor said. She looked at the doctor and said, 'It's embarrassing. To think about being afraid, I mean.'... 'It's worse if you try not to show it,' the doctor said." - This passage seams to reflect the house, the deep-seated fears - or rooms - we cannot or will not show. And the good doctor, like any good therapist tells us we must try.
"She backed away [from the tower door], overwhelmed with the cold air of mold and earth which rushed at her. 'My mother - ' she said, not knowing what she wanted to tell them." More withholding - from the characters and readers - to create tension. What about Eleanor's mother?
That's the line that stood out the most for me today. Is she remembering some past life that she experienced at the house? Or channeling the spirit of a former inhabitant? That "My mother" seems to come not from her, really.
I was intrigued by this too. I thought perhaps it had to do with her mother's recent death and consciousness of the grave, which the smell of mold and earth calls to mind. In a sense, she was buried alive with her mother for twelve years, and a part of her maybe went to the grave with her.
Good point about how Eleanor is unable to make ironic quips as Theo & Luke do... so the reader feels Eleanor’s disquiet.
Yes, it appears Eleanor is tethered to the house in a different way from Theo and Luke, who are able to make light quips and jokes and casual conversation. Mrs. Dudley is devoid of all humor and seemingly human nature- is this her defense mechanism, or has she been there long enough that the house has stripped her of her humanity? Is this where Eleanor is headed should she be there long enough?
I also found it interesting that during the first night, the Doc reads until 3am, Theo sleeps with the lights on, and Luke self soothes by having a flashlight and a lucky piece on the bedside table; Eleanor has a fantastic night of sleep...
Perhaps, they need Eleanor to be "tethered to the house differently" in order to remain untethered from grappling with the truth of their own foibles -- and the reasons that drew them to the house in the first place: "“Perhaps … quieting her [Eleanor], they quieted themselves and could leave the subject behind them; perhaps, vehicle for every kind of fear, she contained enough for all” (72).
Interesting observation. HH is certainly making sure she is comfortable, isn’t it?
I appreciate the contrast you show between how Mrs Dudley deflects (sticking robotically to a script as well as disdaining the guests) with how Theo and Luke do--flippantly, with irony. And Dr Montague, with his pipe, chess, Pamela, science.
A friend who taught high school English once shared that she saw the awareness of irony dawn somewhere between the grades (I forget if it was 9/10 or 10/11). On this read, I'm very aware of how emotionally stunted and inexperienced Eleanor is. She retreats to fairy tales and Shakespeare. She doesn't have any tools to protect herself from the absolute reality of the house. I'm not sure Eleanor understands irony, and it sounds as if after her dad died, she didn't get love. She really is a child in a woman's body, I think.
Perhaps, but Theo and Luke's relentless irony seems immature to me too. It's their carapace.
That’s what I thought as well. I don’t know that Eleanor has the life experience to even make ironic statements, or understand irony.
Mrs. Dudley reminds me of Mrs. Danvers in Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. Cold, standoffish, not out of aloofness, but seemingly with a purpose.
Mrs. Dudley is the walking dead.
Also note the silliness implied in her name. Dudley Do-right was a cartoon character who first appeared in 1959. And I can’t help feeling an anachronistic kinship to the Dursleys who are the bane of Harry Potter’s existence.
Thank you, Ruth Franklin.
Sorry, I am just catching up here.
I wonder if The Secret History by Donna Tartt had any connection to the reputed kidnappings, as she went to Bennington.
So much drapery. like a funeral parlor, while Jackson's characters try to inject the fun into funeral parlor.
I love the Dreyer analysis of the first paragraph. That comma is like a heart stutter, or the momentary, cold intrusion of a ghost.
I could be wrong, but I think I remember hearing somewhere that The Secret History was based on the same disappearance that Jackson's Hangsaman was based on. Look up the Bennington Triangle if you're interested.
Sorry, but this is one of the hills I will die on: Hangsaman isn't based on the Paula Welden case, as so many people have said (based on an error in a previous biography, I suspect)—Jackson's story "The Missing Girl" is. There's no missing girl in Hangsaman!
I’ve always been so confused by this comparison, Ruth! Thanks for the clarity. Man, I love Hangsaman.
It's true that there's no missing girl (other than the imaginary one) but the circumstances around Paula Welden's disappearance (the college girl inexplicably visiting a forest trail alone at night, the hitchhiker witnesses) are similar enough that it seems strange to me to exclude the possibility that Jackson took it as her inspiration, especially considering that "The Missing Girl" proves it was on her mind. Of course, Hangsaman isn't identical to the Welden case, but it would be strange if it was reproduced exactly; I don't know of any good artists or writers who would confuse taking inspiration from something with simply copying it.
Exactly, Emily. I would say that Hangsaman seems very much *inspired by* the Paula Welden case (among other things), even if not technically "based on" it.
“A Visit” is an amazing story. After my last read of it, I then read just its dialogue to dissect how Jackson did it.
I've done that too - isn't it incredible?
I like to believe that Mrs. Dudley, both the Dudleys, are ghosts. They have taken care of the house for so long, it’s imbedded into them. Mrs Dudley walks ‘without making a sound’, has specific places for things, specific times, specific lines she repeats tirelessly. Almost as if she is stuck in a time loop of her own, of Hill House.
they do behave just like ghosts
I was thinking the same thing; they're like those stories of ghosts that are stuck reenacting their past actions, like Civil War soldiers.
I keep thinking of the house’s structure/layout, the built-in distortions, the inner non-windowed rooms & the veranda that (freakishly) wraps all the way around. Brings to my mind Teresa of Ávila’s “interior castle”--is Hill House a miniature of the human soul?
I was thinking something similar but this is much better articulated. Especially those rooms with no exterior windows (that's illegal nowadays of course, as it guarantees fatalities in a fire)--those parts of the soul that we keep hidden whether on purpose or because we are unable to surface them. I will say that in the south where I live fully wraparoundveradnas are not at all uncommon in big fancy houses.
Ooooo I love this. The soul or the human heart- chambers vs the valves and the dance they cycle together to keep order (the doors slamming shut, for instance)
I love that idea. I also can’t help but think of the 9 Rings of Hell in Dante’s “Inferno” when Dr. Montague says “.. The ground floor is laid out in in what I might almost call concentric circles of rooms; at the center the the little parlor......”
Am I reaching here?
In thinking about why Mrs. Dudley sticks to her canned lines, I think that self-protection is certainly a possibility. Another that occurs to me is that she’s been programmed by the house, a cult member. Mr. Dudley as well--he too utilizes canned phrases--though perhaps he is afforded slightly greater latitude in dialogue because his post isn’t quite so close to the heart of the house. The house does like everything in its proper place. Another is that only people who remain rigidly attached to their rituals are less affected by the house and consequently able to survive longer exposure to Hill House.
Another possibility: Jackson may turn the Dudleys into such caricatures for purposes of economy. The characters heighten the creepy atmosphere while streamlining the storytelling. In her multiple appearances, we only need a line or two of her stock phrases to recreate her whole monologue for ourselves.
Finally, I’m not sure if this is its first appearance, but side characters repeating the same lines? That’s a trope of horror movies.
I agree the ritual speech seems significant. The behavior is like those of people in a cult. You have those who are under the spell and it almost seems at times that Eleanor starts to fall in and then out of the houses spell. The house needs an innocent victim and the others aren’t innocent.
I’d wondered why Eleanor is particularly vulnerable to the house’s spell, and I’d considered her loss and loneliness as ways she’s made vulnerable. I hadn’t considered her innocence--nicely spotted.
Thanks
If you're looking for a statement of theme for the book (and perhaps for Gothic horror in general), you could do worse than the Dr's musing on p. 78 (penguin): "The doctor said we have grown to trust blindly in our senses of balance and reason, and I can see where the mind might fight wildly to preserve its own familiar stable patterns against all evidence that it is leaning sideways. ..We have marvels still before us." Shades of Hamlet "“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
It's becoming so much clearer that Hill House is the lover at the end of Eleanor's journey. I posted elsewhere that shared traumas often draw people together--often in unhealthy ways, too--and the traumas she and this house share, from the bitter sisters and the disputed inheritance to the neglected young companion, are like a knot that keeps tightening.
This section of the book seems to expand on the first paragraph: Hill House is not sane, as everything in it is tilted and twisted. The doors are "sensibly shut," but it's not a sane sensibility, so the rules are inflexible without purpose or meaning. It would be more convenient if the doors were open, and it would be more kind if Mrs. Dudley allowed them to be propped open or extended breakfast time for people who got lost their first day, but the only thing that seems to matter is mindless rule-following. In my mind I get the impression of someone who is clinging to structure to avoid facing some kind of chaos.
Yes: "Clinging to structure to avoid facing some kind of chaos!" Sadly, I am struck by the relevance to today's world - the ways in which we often default to inflexible rules - in the name of "sane sensibility" when indeed, such inflexibility is neither "sane" nor "sensible." Perhaps, we could benefit from a journey to a 21st century Hill House, in which we might discover a "haunting" illumination of the fears that foster intolerance, as well as, an alternative to running from any odd-angled, "masterpiece of architectural misdirection" that is "a little bit off center." Why do our mind[s] so often "fight wildly to preserve [their] own familiar stable patterns against all evidence that [they are] leaning sideways"?
"Mindless rule-following," of course, is also one of the themes of "The Lottery."
"'I dreamed about [the wicked sister] too,' Eleanor said. She looked at the doctor and said, 'It's embarrassing. To think about being afraid, I mean.'... 'It's worse if you try not to show it,' the doctor said." - This passage seams to reflect the house, the deep-seated fears - or rooms - we cannot or will not show. And the good doctor, like any good therapist tells us we must try.
"She backed away [from the tower door], overwhelmed with the cold air of mold and earth which rushed at her. 'My mother - ' she said, not knowing what she wanted to tell them." More withholding - from the characters and readers - to create tension. What about Eleanor's mother?
That's the line that stood out the most for me today. Is she remembering some past life that she experienced at the house? Or channeling the spirit of a former inhabitant? That "My mother" seems to come not from her, really.
I was intrigued by this too. I thought perhaps it had to do with her mother's recent death and consciousness of the grave, which the smell of mold and earth calls to mind. In a sense, she was buried alive with her mother for twelve years, and a part of her maybe went to the grave with her.
Love this...great thought!
You wrote exactly what was in my thoughts!