The scene from yesterday’s reading in which Eleanor lay on the hill in her wild happiness with a dead flower--and the flowers pitied her for not being rooted in the ground--is certainly much clearer now. “Peace, Eleanor thought concretely; what I want in all this world is peace, a quiet spot to lie and think, a quiet spot up among the flowers where I can dream and tell myself sweet stories.” This is a death wish. And there’s so much more--Eleanor’s confusion over whether the noise is coming from her (it probably is! Or some combination of her energy and the suicidal companion’s), for example. And another hint of Theodora’s interest in Eleanor, as she pulls her closer under the blanket.
I was surprised Ruth Franklin wrote in this splendid and insightful recap that “We don’t know that the others see the same things she sees in the writing on the wall”--wasn’t there sone talk among them about it being her name? I know Eleanor and Theodora both mention it.
Such helpful commentary today. Though they all witness something....a part at least is limited to Eleanor’s perception, it seems. The shifting or stopping of time that came about at the end of the previous chapter 6 remains in place for Eleanor. She is moving through time differently and is unaware it is time for breakfast.
Also in this chapter:
The end of part 3: “Peace, Eleanor thought concretely; what I want in all this world is peace, a quiet spot to lie and think, a quiet spot up among the flowers where I can dream and tell myself sweet stories.” This echoes back to the death and dreaming first part of this chapter, as if she is dreaming this all from that quiet spot, some variation perhaps, on the “cold” spot.
Near the end of part 4, when I read Jackson’s lines:
“ No; it is over for me. It is too much, she thought, I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.”
I worry, is this Jackson letting go of her own identity in the marriage? Though sad, this brings in a more literary and tragic reading to this “haunted house” or horror genre. The personal undertow is pulling me forward as much as the plot.
I find this whole book (which I am reading a first time) reads very differently when thinking of Hill House as a dysfunctional relationship/marriage, which Jackson may have been struggling with. This insight to the real life background is so helpful. (Thank you so much, Ruth!) This gives more sadness and weight to Eleanor’s mix of disorientation, resistance, and slow giving in. And the understanding that Jackson toyed with the idea of having Eleanor leave, but found it more scary to stay in the house/relationship adds to it.
(Writing from Rome on a gray and rainy afternoon! Happy to be jumping back in the group.)
I love all the play in this post and this section of the book. That is, I love the play and ambiguity regarding who is doing what (is it Eleanor making noises or writing or is it the house), who experiences what (Theo and Eleanor sharing experiences but interpreting and reacting to them differently), and the extent to which these experiences are shared (or not) amongst the four and now six characters (7 counting the house!). It really drives home the question: what is reality and can there ever be a shared reality amongst people when so much of what each individual experiences is conditioned by their past experiences, their position in time and space, and then the sensory data that is filtered and translated by the limited capacity of our senses to that gray matter locked dark inside our skull.
I feel like in the end of this section that Eleanor is giving in to the pull of the house, and that she's somehow merging with it--it's become a mother figure for her, and is beckoning her "home." So the question of is it Eleanor or is the House (and, as I mentioned before, I think Jackson sets it up so it really is Hill House rather than any individual alone, or maybe the House possessed by the companion to become a new entity?) is...yes. Both/and.
I do really appreciate the spookiness of how the four experience one thing, and Mrs M and Arthur another, and whether the window tapping was all that he could receive, as he's obviously not as sensitive as our group of four.
I was intrigued by the mix-up Mrs. Montague has with Theo and Eleanor. Why was she so adamant about thinking Theo was Eleanor? It adds to the situation of Theo having to wear Eleanor's clothing. The two are getting closer, to the point that identity lines begin to blur.
I've been reading a little bit about spiritualism lately, so I find the parts about the planchette interesting. As far as I know, it doesn't seem like spiritualists personified their tools the way Mrs. Montague does, although having a spirit guide (which I assume is what Merrigot is) is very standard. But the fact that Mrs. Montague conflates the spirit with the tool is strange enough to call her mediumistic abilities into question, even if everything else in the text was on her side. As it is, she comes off as ridiculous, but I can't help wondering if her "pure love" idea has some merit. The house seems to be playing off of the characters' inherent psychological struggles, so it would make sense if someone with a genuinely positive frame of mind would fare better in Hill House, even if she's not actually able to contact spirits.
I thought it was interesting here that the planchette wants "mother," because "child." There's never been a mother living in Hill House; Eleanor has never been a mother, except to her own mother. Eleanor was the nurse/parent in her mother's later years, and it doesn't sound like her mother was ever very supportive or loving. So there's a weird slippage happening here between the two roles: Does Hill House want Eleanor to be a mother figure, or does Eleanor become identified with Hill House in wanting a mother?
"My dear, how can I make you perceive that there is no danger where there is nothing but love and sympathetic understanding? 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 ..."
Clearly, Mrs. M. is not acting out of anything like love, but her own hubris and aggrandized sense of self-importance. And yet another way that Jackson underscores the true lack of love, in the house, in E.'s life, perhaps in the lives of all the characters, in one way or another.
The dialogue sparkles - so clear and precise.
Mrs. M. is blinded by her own hubris and therefore, protected?
So Dr. M's attempts at some kind of gallantry though never carried out seem especially unnecessary, and show his dependence on his wife, however much she abuses him.
And E.'s dependence on the others seems more and more dangerous for her. A piece with her sense of "disappearing inch by inch into this house." At the end of section 4 Theo calls her 'baby' and speaks to her like she is one.
I think to Ruth's question that at this point there is no meaningful separation that can be made.
Dr. M. chose to invite E. to Hill House and she chose to come. Presumably she could have left at any time before this. The previous impulses and messages to leave have been supplanted by the impulse and messages to stay, or come home. E. was never strong enough to resist whatever was going to happen.
Perhaps she used up all of that kind of strength in her frenzied escape TO Hill House?
Merrigot/Merricat - is Merricat some version of Mary Kate? Whereas Merrigot sounds French and more like a surname.
Just sharing a well-placed adverb Jackson uses in one of Arthur's comments: '"Not a fatal illness, you understand," Arthur said gravely. ' An uncomfortably amusing choice in relation to the content of the comment - 'fatal illness'. But also, like advertising, reinforcing a message of graves and death in the reader's conssciousness.
I might be alone in this, but I didn't take "peace, a quiet spot to lie and think, a quiet spot up among the flowers where I can dream and tell myself sweet stories" as the grave. I take it as E's (or SJ's) desire to rid herself of the house, of the horror of domestic duty, and find some quiet in which to write.
Also, is Arthur's gun Chekhov's gun that must necessarily be fired by the end of the story?
Hello! I’m very late to this gathering, and have spent the past three days reading (re-reading) HH, after about 10 years, as well as Ruth’s illuminating commentary. (I love all the links and SJ’s own drawn maps of HH!! Thank you so much!) I’ve also read all of your really thought-provoking and insightful comments. What a marathon treat this has been.
I will comment on today’s reading and then go back and comment on previous days (I took notes-wouldn’t Dr. M. be proud?)
As for Ruth’s questions, at this point in the book, I think there is very little distinction, if any, between reality and what’s happening in E’s mind. It struck me that perhaps the entire incident of the house bouncing around all over the place during the night could have actually been CAUSED by E. without her even realizing it, much like the falling stones of her childhood- Or do you think that was already obvious to the other characters and the reader?
It is at this point that she thinks “I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.” And then, “I’ll come” aloud.
E. has “surrendered” (as mentioned in an earlier chapter, I think maybe in a trancelike state?) to HH.
To go back a little, during this event, she thinks “We are in the eye of the storm; there is not much time left.” She feels like she is “disappearing
inch by inch into this house” and even puts her hands to her face to feel if it is still there. She seems to be completely dissociated from her physical self.
Overall, I think HH has been calling to E. from the very beginning. HH is, in a sense, her spiritual mother, and she, its child, perhaps? Or E. wants a mother, - someone to take care of her- as further indicated by the message received by Merrigot (Merricat is one of my all-time fav characters in literature, btw) so HH takes complete advantage of this to suck her in, as it were.
The fact that the final sentence of chapter 7 has Theo calling E. “baby” and talking to her as if she were her young child reinforces this. Does Theo really talk to her this way? Is it in E’s head? Does it matter at this point?
As for Mrs. Montague and Arthur, I personally enjoyed the comic relief and found myself laughing outloud, at both her character in general, and how the others were so embarrassed for Dr. Montague. But hey, like Ruth said, she did manage to summon a pretty good message from HH for them!
***I do have some ideas about the colors in the house, as well as the layout of the house, (and other themes too) but those took place in earlier chapters. If I post my comments with those earlier chapters here, will readers here still get notifications, or should I do it somewhere under this post? (Sorry to be such a late-comer. Due to a family illness..)
Im a psychotherapist but am not really satisfied with psych interpretations or feminist ones. Both feel reductionistic. Both perspectives are relevant and contribute, as does sj’s history but it is still a powerful ghoststory! We also want to reduce it to FACTS
Oddly, given the paradoxical darkness of the sentiment, this line made me chuckle: “I swear that old biddy’s going to blow this house wide open with that perfect love business; if I ever saw a place that had no use for perfect love, it’s Hill House” (146).
Oct 25, 2023·edited Oct 25, 2023Liked by Ruth Franklin
My mind's musing fixated on repeating patterns of "cold, sound, silence, and self (awareness)," and left me with Hill House's Haunting Elements (perhaps - or perhaps not?) ---
Cold: “unreal cold”/ “deadly cold in spite of Theodora’s arms around her”/ “sickening, still cold surrounded them”/ “cold … little swimming curls of fear on our backs.”
Sound: “rocking to the pounding – which seemed inside her head - holding tight to Theodora … [she] “pulled Eleanor ever nearer to her under the blanket” / “little babbling murmur” / “tiny laughter”/ “laughter swelled … became a shouting” (147). / “laughter … thin and lunatic, rising in its little crazy tune."
Silence: “suddenly, quiet … secret creeping silence” / “door was shaken, violently and silently”/ “door was attached without sound”/ “the door was quiet … a little caressing touch began on the doorknob, feeling intimately and softly … patting and fondling the doorframe … wheedling to be let in."
Self: “I [Eleanor] am disappearing inch by inch into this house, I am going apart a little bit at a time because all this noise is breaking me”/ “it’s inside my head and it’s getting out, getting out, getting out” /“It knows my name” / “it will go on and on … it will just go on and on and on”/ “I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all.”
This seems an odd admission – the willingness to relinquish “this self of mine” to “abdicate” … what [Eleanor] never wanted at all” - when all along, Eleanor’s journey seems to be shaped by her desire to define her own life, to control her choices, to claim independence, while still seeking connections with others - seeking solidity in belonging. Is this a critique of “belonging,” which requires conformity to societal norms as a prerequisite to inclusion? Does one need to “break” from the self in order to align with or conform to societal expectations of worthiness, as a prerequisite to being “invited” into mainstream society? Must one succumb (one’s authentic self) to “it” (the laughter swelling, mocking, as it “fondles the doorframe, wheedling to be let in” – the metaphorical sounds of “inclusion”? Or exclusion?). Hmmm. Harrowing thoughts haunt my mind.
"Whether the haunting is all in Eleanor's head" reminds me of The Turn of the Screw and whether the ghosts were real or all the governess's imagination. (Another great APS Together read.)
On a silly side note-- there is some unexpected construction in the office above me--lots of loud banging and slithering swishing sounds coming from an unseen source. I laughed because my thoughts went straight to this book.
The scene from yesterday’s reading in which Eleanor lay on the hill in her wild happiness with a dead flower--and the flowers pitied her for not being rooted in the ground--is certainly much clearer now. “Peace, Eleanor thought concretely; what I want in all this world is peace, a quiet spot to lie and think, a quiet spot up among the flowers where I can dream and tell myself sweet stories.” This is a death wish. And there’s so much more--Eleanor’s confusion over whether the noise is coming from her (it probably is! Or some combination of her energy and the suicidal companion’s), for example. And another hint of Theodora’s interest in Eleanor, as she pulls her closer under the blanket.
I was surprised Ruth Franklin wrote in this splendid and insightful recap that “We don’t know that the others see the same things she sees in the writing on the wall”--wasn’t there sone talk among them about it being her name? I know Eleanor and Theodora both mention it.
Such helpful commentary today. Though they all witness something....a part at least is limited to Eleanor’s perception, it seems. The shifting or stopping of time that came about at the end of the previous chapter 6 remains in place for Eleanor. She is moving through time differently and is unaware it is time for breakfast.
Also in this chapter:
The end of part 3: “Peace, Eleanor thought concretely; what I want in all this world is peace, a quiet spot to lie and think, a quiet spot up among the flowers where I can dream and tell myself sweet stories.” This echoes back to the death and dreaming first part of this chapter, as if she is dreaming this all from that quiet spot, some variation perhaps, on the “cold” spot.
Near the end of part 4, when I read Jackson’s lines:
“ No; it is over for me. It is too much, she thought, I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.”
I worry, is this Jackson letting go of her own identity in the marriage? Though sad, this brings in a more literary and tragic reading to this “haunted house” or horror genre. The personal undertow is pulling me forward as much as the plot.
I find this whole book (which I am reading a first time) reads very differently when thinking of Hill House as a dysfunctional relationship/marriage, which Jackson may have been struggling with. This insight to the real life background is so helpful. (Thank you so much, Ruth!) This gives more sadness and weight to Eleanor’s mix of disorientation, resistance, and slow giving in. And the understanding that Jackson toyed with the idea of having Eleanor leave, but found it more scary to stay in the house/relationship adds to it.
(Writing from Rome on a gray and rainy afternoon! Happy to be jumping back in the group.)
I love all the play in this post and this section of the book. That is, I love the play and ambiguity regarding who is doing what (is it Eleanor making noises or writing or is it the house), who experiences what (Theo and Eleanor sharing experiences but interpreting and reacting to them differently), and the extent to which these experiences are shared (or not) amongst the four and now six characters (7 counting the house!). It really drives home the question: what is reality and can there ever be a shared reality amongst people when so much of what each individual experiences is conditioned by their past experiences, their position in time and space, and then the sensory data that is filtered and translated by the limited capacity of our senses to that gray matter locked dark inside our skull.
I feel like in the end of this section that Eleanor is giving in to the pull of the house, and that she's somehow merging with it--it's become a mother figure for her, and is beckoning her "home." So the question of is it Eleanor or is the House (and, as I mentioned before, I think Jackson sets it up so it really is Hill House rather than any individual alone, or maybe the House possessed by the companion to become a new entity?) is...yes. Both/and.
I do really appreciate the spookiness of how the four experience one thing, and Mrs M and Arthur another, and whether the window tapping was all that he could receive, as he's obviously not as sensitive as our group of four.
I was intrigued by the mix-up Mrs. Montague has with Theo and Eleanor. Why was she so adamant about thinking Theo was Eleanor? It adds to the situation of Theo having to wear Eleanor's clothing. The two are getting closer, to the point that identity lines begin to blur.
I've been reading a little bit about spiritualism lately, so I find the parts about the planchette interesting. As far as I know, it doesn't seem like spiritualists personified their tools the way Mrs. Montague does, although having a spirit guide (which I assume is what Merrigot is) is very standard. But the fact that Mrs. Montague conflates the spirit with the tool is strange enough to call her mediumistic abilities into question, even if everything else in the text was on her side. As it is, she comes off as ridiculous, but I can't help wondering if her "pure love" idea has some merit. The house seems to be playing off of the characters' inherent psychological struggles, so it would make sense if someone with a genuinely positive frame of mind would fare better in Hill House, even if she's not actually able to contact spirits.
I thought it was interesting here that the planchette wants "mother," because "child." There's never been a mother living in Hill House; Eleanor has never been a mother, except to her own mother. Eleanor was the nurse/parent in her mother's later years, and it doesn't sound like her mother was ever very supportive or loving. So there's a weird slippage happening here between the two roles: Does Hill House want Eleanor to be a mother figure, or does Eleanor become identified with Hill House in wanting a mother?
Is Dr. M. being cuckolded?
Just wondering!
"My dear, how can I make you perceive that there is no danger where there is nothing but love and sympathetic understanding? 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 ..."
Clearly, Mrs. M. is not acting out of anything like love, but her own hubris and aggrandized sense of self-importance. And yet another way that Jackson underscores the true lack of love, in the house, in E.'s life, perhaps in the lives of all the characters, in one way or another.
The dialogue sparkles - so clear and precise.
Mrs. M. is blinded by her own hubris and therefore, protected?
So Dr. M's attempts at some kind of gallantry though never carried out seem especially unnecessary, and show his dependence on his wife, however much she abuses him.
And E.'s dependence on the others seems more and more dangerous for her. A piece with her sense of "disappearing inch by inch into this house." At the end of section 4 Theo calls her 'baby' and speaks to her like she is one.
I think to Ruth's question that at this point there is no meaningful separation that can be made.
Dr. M. chose to invite E. to Hill House and she chose to come. Presumably she could have left at any time before this. The previous impulses and messages to leave have been supplanted by the impulse and messages to stay, or come home. E. was never strong enough to resist whatever was going to happen.
Perhaps she used up all of that kind of strength in her frenzied escape TO Hill House?
Merrigot/Merricat - is Merricat some version of Mary Kate? Whereas Merrigot sounds French and more like a surname.
Poor eleanor… while being more and more subsumed by the house she may also be becoming more obviously unhinged to the group
Just sharing a well-placed adverb Jackson uses in one of Arthur's comments: '"Not a fatal illness, you understand," Arthur said gravely. ' An uncomfortably amusing choice in relation to the content of the comment - 'fatal illness'. But also, like advertising, reinforcing a message of graves and death in the reader's conssciousness.
I might be alone in this, but I didn't take "peace, a quiet spot to lie and think, a quiet spot up among the flowers where I can dream and tell myself sweet stories" as the grave. I take it as E's (or SJ's) desire to rid herself of the house, of the horror of domestic duty, and find some quiet in which to write.
Also, is Arthur's gun Chekhov's gun that must necessarily be fired by the end of the story?
Hello! I’m very late to this gathering, and have spent the past three days reading (re-reading) HH, after about 10 years, as well as Ruth’s illuminating commentary. (I love all the links and SJ’s own drawn maps of HH!! Thank you so much!) I’ve also read all of your really thought-provoking and insightful comments. What a marathon treat this has been.
I will comment on today’s reading and then go back and comment on previous days (I took notes-wouldn’t Dr. M. be proud?)
As for Ruth’s questions, at this point in the book, I think there is very little distinction, if any, between reality and what’s happening in E’s mind. It struck me that perhaps the entire incident of the house bouncing around all over the place during the night could have actually been CAUSED by E. without her even realizing it, much like the falling stones of her childhood- Or do you think that was already obvious to the other characters and the reader?
It is at this point that she thinks “I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.” And then, “I’ll come” aloud.
E. has “surrendered” (as mentioned in an earlier chapter, I think maybe in a trancelike state?) to HH.
To go back a little, during this event, she thinks “We are in the eye of the storm; there is not much time left.” She feels like she is “disappearing
inch by inch into this house” and even puts her hands to her face to feel if it is still there. She seems to be completely dissociated from her physical self.
Overall, I think HH has been calling to E. from the very beginning. HH is, in a sense, her spiritual mother, and she, its child, perhaps? Or E. wants a mother, - someone to take care of her- as further indicated by the message received by Merrigot (Merricat is one of my all-time fav characters in literature, btw) so HH takes complete advantage of this to suck her in, as it were.
The fact that the final sentence of chapter 7 has Theo calling E. “baby” and talking to her as if she were her young child reinforces this. Does Theo really talk to her this way? Is it in E’s head? Does it matter at this point?
As for Mrs. Montague and Arthur, I personally enjoyed the comic relief and found myself laughing outloud, at both her character in general, and how the others were so embarrassed for Dr. Montague. But hey, like Ruth said, she did manage to summon a pretty good message from HH for them!
***I do have some ideas about the colors in the house, as well as the layout of the house, (and other themes too) but those took place in earlier chapters. If I post my comments with those earlier chapters here, will readers here still get notifications, or should I do it somewhere under this post? (Sorry to be such a late-comer. Due to a family illness..)
Im a psychotherapist but am not really satisfied with psych interpretations or feminist ones. Both feel reductionistic. Both perspectives are relevant and contribute, as does sj’s history but it is still a powerful ghoststory! We also want to reduce it to FACTS
Oddly, given the paradoxical darkness of the sentiment, this line made me chuckle: “I swear that old biddy’s going to blow this house wide open with that perfect love business; if I ever saw a place that had no use for perfect love, it’s Hill House” (146).
My mind's musing fixated on repeating patterns of "cold, sound, silence, and self (awareness)," and left me with Hill House's Haunting Elements (perhaps - or perhaps not?) ---
Cold: “unreal cold”/ “deadly cold in spite of Theodora’s arms around her”/ “sickening, still cold surrounded them”/ “cold … little swimming curls of fear on our backs.”
Sound: “rocking to the pounding – which seemed inside her head - holding tight to Theodora … [she] “pulled Eleanor ever nearer to her under the blanket” / “little babbling murmur” / “tiny laughter”/ “laughter swelled … became a shouting” (147). / “laughter … thin and lunatic, rising in its little crazy tune."
Silence: “suddenly, quiet … secret creeping silence” / “door was shaken, violently and silently”/ “door was attached without sound”/ “the door was quiet … a little caressing touch began on the doorknob, feeling intimately and softly … patting and fondling the doorframe … wheedling to be let in."
Self: “I [Eleanor] am disappearing inch by inch into this house, I am going apart a little bit at a time because all this noise is breaking me”/ “it’s inside my head and it’s getting out, getting out, getting out” /“It knows my name” / “it will go on and on … it will just go on and on and on”/ “I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all.”
This seems an odd admission – the willingness to relinquish “this self of mine” to “abdicate” … what [Eleanor] never wanted at all” - when all along, Eleanor’s journey seems to be shaped by her desire to define her own life, to control her choices, to claim independence, while still seeking connections with others - seeking solidity in belonging. Is this a critique of “belonging,” which requires conformity to societal norms as a prerequisite to inclusion? Does one need to “break” from the self in order to align with or conform to societal expectations of worthiness, as a prerequisite to being “invited” into mainstream society? Must one succumb (one’s authentic self) to “it” (the laughter swelling, mocking, as it “fondles the doorframe, wheedling to be let in” – the metaphorical sounds of “inclusion”? Or exclusion?). Hmmm. Harrowing thoughts haunt my mind.
"Whether the haunting is all in Eleanor's head" reminds me of The Turn of the Screw and whether the ghosts were real or all the governess's imagination. (Another great APS Together read.)
On a silly side note-- there is some unexpected construction in the office above me--lots of loud banging and slithering swishing sounds coming from an unseen source. I laughed because my thoughts went straight to this book.