She (Eleanor Vance) is just like me for real

[fitia]

I definitely have other, more pressing things to get to (such as locking in for finals...), but I decided to allow myself one little indulgence: I'm rereading The Haunting of Hill House! A lot of what prompted this is my current inability to read any actually new fiction and feeling painfully stagnant as to my own writing, so I decided to pick this book back up after *checks notes* three years since I'd first read it, in the hopes that a close read would remind me of how good writing and fiction works.

Also writing this here so I have a place to yap without the fear of looking stupid over giving my own thoughts on one of the most celebrated horror works of all time. Repeating to myself that what everyone gets out of art is unique, like a mantra.

I've only just re-finished the first chapter, but god, I really, really continue to enjoy Shirley Jackson's prose in this one. The flitting between ordinary sequencing of events and Eleanor's internal narration gives it such a pleasant sound and rhythm. And it has such airy, dreamy quality to it as well, especially during those long stretches where it's just Eleanor and her account of and reflection upon her surroundings. I keep coming back to this passage:

At one spot she stopped altogether beside the road to stare in disbelief and wonder. Along the road for perhaps a quarter of a mile she had been passing and admiring a row of splendid tended oleanders, blooming pink and white in a steady row. Now she had come to the gateway they protected, and past the gateway the trees continued. The gateway was no more than a pair of ruined stone pillars, with a road leading away between them into empty fields. She could see that the oleander trees cut away from the road and ran up each side of a great square, and she could see all the way to the farther side of the square, which was a line of oleander trees seemingly going along a little river. Inside the oleander square there was nothing, no house, no building, nothing but the straight road going across and ending at the stream. Now what was here, she wondered, what was here and is gone, or what was going to be here and never came? Was it going to be a house or a garden or an orchard; were they driven away forever or are they coming back? Oleanders are poisonous, she remembered; could they be here guarding something? Will I, she thought, will I get out of my car and go between the ruined gates and then, once I am in the magic oleander square, find that I have wandered into a fairyland, protected poisonously from the eyes of people passing? Once I have stepped between the magic gateposts, will I find myself through the protective barrier, the spell broken? I will go into a sweet garden, with fountains and low benches and roses trained over arbors, and find one path—jeweled, perhaps, with rubies and emeralds, soft enough for a king’s daughter to walk upon with her little sandaled feet—and it will lead me directly to the palace which lies under a spell. I will walk up low stone steps past stone lions guarding and into a courtyard where a fountain plays and the queen waits, weeping, for the princess to return. She will drop her embroidery when she sees me, and cry out to the palace servants—stirring at last after their long sleep—to prepare a great feast, because the enchantment is ended and the palace is itself again. And we shall live happily ever after.

which I sat here for a minute looking for the words to describe, but as my brain isn't cooperating, I'll just have to do with saying that this counts among my aspirational writing styles. "[...] she had been passing and admiring a row of splendid tended oleanders" is such a lovely phrase, too. I love writing that clearly has a lot of fun with the sound of words, rhyming and assonating at the author's leisure. You'd think that would make me appreciate poetry a lot more than I currently do, and yet...

And Eleanor herself!! I think that the first time around, I never managed to really fix a solid portrait of her character in my mind, and so it's been so far very rewarding to build a better understanding of her now. What struck me most, I think, was this moment in which she comes to face with Dudley the caretaker for the first time:

It’s my chance, I suppose, she thought; I’m being given a last chance. I could turn my car around right here and now in front of these gates and go away from here, and no one would blame me. Anyone has a right to run away. She put her head out through the car window and said with fury, “My name is Eleanor Vance. I am expected in Hill House. Unlock those gates at once.”

which stood out to me because of the sharp turn from her inner narration to the actual action she took. It really manages to express that disjunction between someone's rationalizing and the more deeply, strongly felt certainty of what they actually want to do or say. And it's interesting in the context of Eleanor specifically, who's a deeply lonely person so used to being in her own head and so used to being at the beck and call of others for most of her adult life (especially when it came to her mother), and who's naturally had to fit herself into the shape of a person capable of withstanding that. She's written very convincingly as a person whose years chipped away at her ability to be assertive (especially since, as far as I can tell, she's never really been so naturally) but who remains very stubborn and determined, enough to spur the occasional act of courage. "[..] insist on your cup of stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again."

Probably more I could say on this, but these are the current prevailing thoughts! Excited to go through this story again. This was the first proper horror book I've ever read, and surprised me by making me feel as much dread as I would by going through something more visual. I doubted written words could scare me, and it was fun to be proven wrong!

Comments

[dividedbyblue]

Is this the book the series is based on? I haven't read it, but the series has been in my Netflix to watch list for quite some time. I saw Bly Manor a few years ago, and was looking for a series like it when I stumbled on it. I think people said that this series is scarier. If it's too scary, I tend to have a difficult time with it however :) I saw The Fall of the House of Usher, and -while a very good series- it's also harsh.

[fitia]

I've never watched the series myself, but if you mean the one by Mike Flanagan, then yes, it is! I've heard that it diverges from the book a lot, however. I haven't sat down to watch it myself because I actually don't usually do too well with horror media, haha 😅 I'm very easily scared.

[dividedbyblue]

Yes, it's the series by Mike Flanagan :) I also have to pay attention when watching horror media, as it sometimes gets too much in my head.