During Christmas holidays, we will be reading The Turn of the Screw by Henry James.
Please post your comments and questions in this thread.
Online text
Printable View
During Christmas holidays, we will be reading The Turn of the Screw by Henry James.
Please post your comments and questions in this thread.
Online text
One of the things that I find interesting about this book, is considering the nature of the story which is being told within, it is passed down in a sort of urban legend sort of way.
You know how urban legends are always told by a friend who heard it from their cousin, who got it from their cousins friend's brother, and it just keeps going on like that.
Within The Turn of the Screw the reader is reading a manuscript written by the narrator transcribing a story that Douglass told from a manuscript written by his sister's governess.
It is this chain of indirect hearsay that is passed down primarily through word of mouth from person to person.
I will start by posting that I will have some things to post, and will make the time to post them because Jamesians have responsibilities to future generations who will be introduced to James.
At the same time, I do not want to put anybody off, so if I wax too loquacious unplug my battery charger in warning and I will attempt to moderate my enthusiasm.
Let me make note of three things:
1. In his mid-career, James saw himself as the dialectic rival of Dickens, and wrote some novels to attack the sentimentality of the more popular Victorian. I cannot say for certain that TOS competes with A Christmas Carol in the same direct way as some other texts, but knowing what I know I think a strong case can be made for it.
2. This is one of the few stories by James of any length where he uses the technique of multi-narration, or a narrator boxed in by another narration, something Joseph Conrad would later excel at (and James tried to help Conrad as the more established author of their day).
3. And this is my last opening point--as a seasoned reader of this text, I newly made note of two things in the opening paragraphs--the summary of the first ghost story involves the disruption of maternal solicitude, which I find a nice foreshadowing of the "dread" to follow, to use Douglas's descriptive term, and I am going to do a search to see if Griffin's ghost means anything, as James was very careful in his language.
That is interesting, as I have just finished reading A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Writings by Dickens' and Dickens uses a ghostly theme in several of his Christmas stories.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
The Turn of the Screw actually makes me think of A Christmas Tree by Dickens' as there is a scene within the story in which a group of people are sitting around telling ghost stories and than Dickens' gives a brief account of a variety of different types of ghost stories, as a sort of preview of the stories that were being told among the party.
Dark,
Your use of the term urban legend somehow resonates with me. James' masterpieces seem to have that quality, plausible real world situations that yet evolve into a sort of transfiguration. In this instance, the framing of the narrative within an outer narrative may have something to do with it.
Google offered me nothing on the nomenclature of the ghost in the opening, except a link to my own post here, but I think the Griffin is a mythological creature of some sort.
I have not advanced much beyond the dread of Douglas, but I know the story very well and no one has to worry about spoiler posts for me. I worry more about the opposite, since it took me years to realize certain keynotes about this story--keynotes I will not mention yet--but I should advance more over the weekend.
Yes the Griffin sometimes spelled Gryphon is a creature with the talons, head, and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion, sometimes said to have a snake for a tail. They originated in India and than merged into Greek and Roman mythology.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
This being my second reading of the story, though it has a been a while, it is interesting to see, now that I know the outcome, the way in which the wording and language of certain things has a particular significance now, than the first time I read the story. Some things just jump out at me more and seem to be reflections or foreshadow of what is yet to come, and offer clues to the mystery, as to it being truly a genuine paranormal experience, or physiological.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
I took 'Griffin' to be the name of the person who told the first story, though I did hesitate for a moment and read back, thinking 'What Gryphon?', so maybe the name did have a sort of deeper resonance. If nothing else, it sets the scene for the appearance of unnatural or mythical beings.
I find the idea that this is a sort of 'anti-ghost story' interesting. I could not see the relevance of the Christmas Eve setting, but with this background information, it makes the altogether nastier nature of this ghost story fall into perspective. (This is apropos of nothing at all, so forgive me for meandering off the point, but I am reminded of a post in the current Crime Book Club reading, in which the poster quoted Chandler as saying he wanted to put Crime back on the streets where it belonged, in a dirty place rather than the genteel setting of the English Country House. It seems to me James was doing the same with ghost stories, making them almost tragedies with their evocation of Pity and Terror, rather than cosy fireside tales.)
Thanks too for pointing out the nature of the narrative, Jozanny - it's a sort of initial disclaimer: don't blame me if you find this incredible, I'm just passing on what I was told.
Can Douglas' attachment to the 'governess', which he claims to be totally innocent, be seen as a kind of foreshadowing of things to come? (Oh dear, isn't it difficult, discussing this sort of thing without 'spoiling' ?)
I'm glad we're doing the James - gives me an excuse to re-read it.
BTW, I notice that the BBC has done a new adaptation of it - I think it airs sometime between Christmas and New Year. It could be interesting to see what they do with the story!
I'm trying to get through those first ten pages of the frame section, prior to the tale. But i have to keep re-reading it. It doesn't want to sink in.
Yes, that is James though, but it is worth sticking with. I have said before about this that it is one of the longest short stories I've ever read!Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
I first read this the year before last to go with psychoanalysis of which this story is surely a solid set text? I think it highly likely that James was even feeding directly from the work of Freud, he probably was, either way it doesn't matter of course.
I also think that it is highly significant that we start at the fireplace, but don't end there (I won't go into details of the end though of course). This sort of technique has been done before and since no doubt, and seeks to trap you into the narrative without giving you the freedom of realising that it is "only a story" at the end.
Oh I finally got it, the frame narrative. For some reason I thought Douglas was actually two separate people. I can see it's Douglas and the frame narrartor talking, with an occaisional woman chiming in. I'm now four chapters into the Governess's tale, and yes I'm definitely enjoying this.
Neely: Freud has written about his professional relationship with William James, the equally famous younger brother who was the father of modern American psychology, so that Henry was channeling psychoanalytic theory was not unlikely. I am uncertain, however, in relation to dates, as I know Freud's reference to be about 1910 or so. I will ask on the Jamesian listserv, and am debating wading in further over dinner, as I am snowbound, and I cannot drive my power chair outside for quite some time:p. (Thankfully I can meet all of my needs online for awhile.)Quote:
Originally Posted by Neely
Virgil--James is "like that" so you aren't alone. It has taken me over 20 years to understand how he *says* things without saying them. Dr. Hathaway suggests just letting it flow:D. You'll be fine.
***
Additions:
kasie, you are correct about the possessive of "Griffin's ghost" as Mrs. Griffin is one of the minor supporting characters in the opening, but I am preoccupied with James use of the proper name, simply due to the fact that I am looking for deeper clues, if they are to be had, and I do not think Griffin is arbitrary. It is the famous creature, with your alternate spelling too, and I find this on Wiki:
Douglas also met the governess at Trinity College, and gives the manuscript to his narrator on the third day, as is mentioned, so, just like Dickens, James is playing with some of the most powerful symbolism within Christianity. Dickens has three ghosts, James has Trinity, etc.Quote:
A 9th-century Irish writer by the name of Stephen Scotus[citation needed] asserted that griffins were strictly monogamous. They not only mated for life, but also, if either partner died, then the other would continue throughout the rest of its life alone, never to search for a new mate. The griffin was thus made an emblem of the Church's views on remarriage.
I am also curious as to Douglas's credibility, as James was the master, in his maturity, on making the careful reader question the reliability of the teller's authority. Douglas loved this woman, who apparently suffered no adverse consequences over her conduct or her subsequent course of action.
James is at best, diffident about intimacy, and while Douglas vouches for the governess, I am not sure the "I" of the story, the outside narrator, vouches for the veracity of either.
The ancient crones on the list are sniping with each other about a layman's attack on Dickens and their own personal reputations, things I have been weary of for a long time, but I hope tomorrow some of those whom I respect will assist me with some questions. I know it is not kosher to talk about internal fractures within other communities, but trust me, you can take comfort in the fact that we are all flawed, vain, petty mortals at times :rolleyes:.
My insufferable list-antagonist writes me thus: "You might say The Turn of the Screw is the flip side of A Christmas Carol, "sinister romance" vs. "a good cry...[combined] with uplift." Whether James consciously had Dickens' story in mind is a matter of conjecture."
He would know, much more than even I'd care to (sigh).
It is funny, I remember the first time I read the story, while I enjoyed it, I was not really over-awed with it to say the least, but than at the time I was reading it for school and taking multiple different English classes, so I did not have leisure in my reading of it, and had other things to think about, as well was not reading it just for the sake of personal enjoyment.
Now reading it for the second time, when I can read it at my leisure and now that I already know what to expect, I have more of a luxury to focus upon the prose of the story, and I am beginning to like it a lot more the second time around than I did the first.
Jozanny - further to William James - my edition of Oxford Companion to Eng Lit (6th ed, pub 2000) has James' Priciples of Psychology published in 1890, some eight years before TotS, so Henry would surely have known of his brother's opinions. OCtEL says this book shows James' psychology has 'a tendency to subordinate logical proof to intuitive conviction' - might be something to bear in mind as the story in TotS develops?
Also re: griffin/gryphon - Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable gives further info that the creature 'was sacred to the sun and kept guard over hidden treasures'. (You see how, when in doubt, I have recourse to the book-shelf rather than the Net - must be my age...) I haven't heard of the symbol used with regard to marriage/fidelity but perhaps it foreshadows the relationship between the two former employees at Bly?
Dark Muse - I am finding the same thing - the date in my copy is forty-one years ago: I was deep into Finals at the time and I think I must have acquired TotS as background reading as Portrait of a Lady was the James title on the set reading list.
kasie, I am wary of being too hemeneutical, of course, but still, I have the feeling I may have stumbled onto a fresh insight, and that is exciting, but I shall hold it in reserve.
By the time Douglas is in the actual recital, however, we know a few things. The governess is the daughter of a parson, she is nervous, impressionable, was taken with the uncle, thinks the situation grim, but accepts it, even with his somewhat hideous *condition* imposed, and we also have this foreshadowing about Miles, from the uncle himself, which in this reading I more readily picked up on:
If the actual evil of the story is to be sourced, I think it stems from the uncle's desire to abnegate his responsibility to his brother's children, a responsibility that involves more than throwing money and shelter at them, and the primacy of his own interests, which the poor young woman accepts, but evidently not without becoming conflicted by it.Quote:
She would also have, in holidays, to look after the small boy, who had been for a term at school -- young as he was to be sent, but what else could be done? --
James may be indicating some interesting things about desire which exists, but ferments, unrealized. We are also made aware of the death of the lady before her, at this point.
I think the pressure does start to get to the governess being placed under such circumstances, as there is a lot going on within the story to work against her and let her mind start to play tricks upon her or perhaps for stress to just start to shape itself in various different ways.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
For she herself is a young and inexperienced woman who is put in a position of being fully responsible for these two children knowing she has no real support system.
It is alluded to the fact that she may have fallen in love with the Master, even if her contact with him is all but non-existent so she is eager to please him by not forcing him to have more responsibility but takes it all upon her own shoulders to appease his wish to be left completely out of it. Her only confidant being Mrs. Grose who is not much help at all.
Her first introduction to the young boy being under the condition of some mysterious trouble he got himself into and Mrs. Gose's evasiveness about the nature of the child's behavior.
In addition to the rather vague disappearance of the former governess coupled with the background of being mostly alone within this rather large and strange house.
It would put quite a strain upon a person and cause their thoughts to start to crop up various different plausible scenarios to try and make since of some of the vague and elusive mysteries that do hover around the house and those connected to the house.
That makes me think of her first encounter with the "figure" whom she sees within the tower, and rather conveniently the image appears to her shortly after she had just been contemplating now nice it would indeed be if she were to encounter another person upon her walk.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
Mmm. This is why I have always loved reading James so much, as even old, he is new. Even now though, from the very introduction to this woman's POV, her perceptions are not quite trustworthy, from her "flights and drops" to her calling Flora "my little girl".
Another cue, as the child isn't her little girl. It may seem innocent and tender enough to develop an attachment to a beautiful orphan--but for me the possessiveness of that statement raises a flag that the governess is too invested from the very start.
I do want to thank you all, because I am beginning to envision the prospect for a possible paper to the HJR; a small one to be sure, but possible, and I am internally connecting the dots, and have contact, if needed, with the editor. It will take some real legwork, and I would have to get to a research library and get hold of an MLA manual, but Michael, who is one of my blessed ghosts on my shoulder, always urged me to write an article, and I think I see a way, after all these years, of aiming for a quiet byline.
And to think I begrudged rereading TOS again-- that should teach me a lesson :rolleyes:
Not to mention Miles the little boy. By nothing more than her first laying eyes upon him she completely disregards the letter which came from the school about his behavior, and presumes because he is a "beautiful" child that he must be innocent.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
So she automatically within the first seconds of meeting the boy decides that the school where the boy has been attending for sometime must either be lying for some unknown reason, or made some horrible mistake.
She does not even decide to try and get further information from the school about the incident.
I'm seeing all sorts of parallels with Jane Eyre in the opening part of the story - the lonely, young, orphaned outsider, retained by a handsome, mysterious man to care for a dependent child (or in this case, two) with whom he has no wish for contact, an isolated house, a solidly sensible housekeeper who is holding back information. The young Jane even dreads 'seeing' the ghost of her dead uncle. Rochester, however, does become involved in the events at his country home, whereas this man (are we ever told his name?) is reluctant to have anything to do with his charges and for no given reason - is he resentful of their dependence on him or just idle?
Given her circumstances, I don't think it is so strange that the governess develops a strong attachment to her charges - teachers can be a bit like that!
I've noticed however how often she refers to them as 'angelic' or 'heavenly'. I'm reading now with half an eye on brother James' idea of 'intuitive psychology' and am beginning to wonder if big brother Henry is quietly saying he is more than a little wary of relying on intuition as a guide to judging people.
This story makes me think of Jane Eyere as well. I think that he just does not like being bothered by the children. It was a responseblility that came upon him rather unexepcedly and to say the least suddenly finding yourself with children will disrupt your life. He probably does not like the inference they have on his routine.Quote:
Originally Posted by kasie
Even so, I think it is a little insensible to decide that just by the child's appearance before she has even said a word to him that he must be innocent of any charges against him. I would think a teacher would want to actually investigate the matter of his possible behavior problems and not just dismiss because he is pretty to look at.Quote:
Originally Posted by kasie
Here is what could be a direct reference to Jane Eyre and knowing the that woman by her own admission is given to flights of fancy if we suppose she has read the novel, thus finding herself in a similar position, and seeing by the reference to Udolpho her tendency for Gothic novels it is easy to see where these things would start to play within her mind being in such a house under such circumstances.Quote:
a mystery of Udolpho or an insane, an unmentionable relative kept in unsuspected confinement?
Ok, I'm half way through and really enjoying this. I do want to highlight an important sentence from chapter 1 that I think brings together several motifs that I'm seeing running through this.
First that's a great sentence. I love the winding nature of it, and the modifying clauses that are tacked on, extending the experience and linking so many things together. What I'll point out I'll call motifs because without having read the entire story yet, I don't know if they're full fledged themes or how they relate to the themes, but they do see to recur. First is this notion of beauty and how that's associated with the children. That stands in contrast to the "evil" of the ghosts. There's no particular reason that I can see why the ghosts must be evil (it doesn't have to be by definition), but the Governess (we never do get a name for her, do we?) seems to jump to that conclusion. However, the anglic beauty versus evil contrast is very stark and intentionally so.Quote:
But it was a comfort that there could be no uneasiness in a connection with anything so beatific as the radiant image of my little girl, the vision of whose angelic beauty had probably more than anything else to do with the restlessness that, before morning, made me several times rise and wander about my room to take in the whole picture and prospect; to watch, from my open window, the faint summer dawn, to look at such portions of the rest of the house as I could catch, and to listen, while, in the fading dusk, the first birds began to twitter, for the possible recurrence of a sound or two, less natural and not without, but within, that I had fancied I heard.
Second motif is this notion of natural and unnatural. I'm not sure this is clear to me, but certain things seem to be associated with natural, like the birds here, and unnatural such as the ghost of Peter Quint. Certainly Quint's cause of death is an unnatural act.
Third is the notion of "fancied" or what the Governess imagines and what she discerns as fact. It seems to me that there is a sort of blurring of the two going on and we aren't always sure. I do think the ghost is discerned and real.
Fourth and I think most important of all is the notion of the visual and the act of seeing. Here the Governess takes in the entire scene, a visual listing (and audio in this case as well) of the surroundings. "To watch" and "to look" seems to be a predominant, recurring action in the story. Almost every other page seems to have a reference to the visual. I keep circling them as I come across them and they are so frequent that it's beyond just a story teller describing the action. James is clearly making a point. Here let me list a few:
From chapter 2:
From chapter 3:Quote:
She was evidently grateful for such a profession. "See him, miss, first. Then believe it!" I felt forthwith a new impatience to see him; it was the beginning of a curiosity that, for all the next hours, was to deepen almost to pain. Mrs. Grose was aware, I could judge, of what she had produced in me, and she followed it up with assurance. "You might as well believe it of the little lady. Bless her," she added the next moment--"Look at her!"
From chapter 4:Quote:
It produced in me, this figure, in the clear twilight, I remember, two distinct gasps of emotion, which were, sharply, the shock of my first and that of my second surprise. My second was a violent perception of the mistake of my first: the man who met my eyes was not the person I had precipitately supposed. There came to me thus a bewilderment of vision of which, after these years, there is no living view that I can hope to give. An unknown man in a lonely place is a permitted object of fear to a young woman privately bred; and the figure that faced me was--a few more seconds assured me--as little anyone else I knew as it was the image that had been in my mind. ...It was as if, while I took in--what I did take in--all the rest of the scene had been stricken with death. I can hear again, as I write, the intense hush in which the sounds of evening dropped. The rooks stopped cawing in the golden sky, and the friendly hour lost, for the minute, all its voice. But there was no other change in nature, unless indeed it were a change that I saw with a stranger sharpness. The gold was still in the sky, the clearness in the air, and the man who looked at me over the battlements was as definite as a picture in a frame. That's how I thought, with extraordinary quickness, of each person that he might have been and that he was not.
And these from chapter 6:Quote:
He appeared thus again with I won't say greater distinctness, for that was impossible, but with a nearness that represented a forward stride in our intercourse and made me, as I met him, catch my breath and turn cold. He was the same--he was the same, and seen, this time, as he had been seen before, from the waist up, the window, though the dining room was on the ground floor, not going down to the terrace on which he stood. His face was close to the glass, yet the effect of this better view was, strangely, only to show me how intense the former had been. He remained but a few seconds--long enough to convince me he also saw and recognized; but it was as if I had been looking at him for years and had known him always. Something, however, happened this time that had not happened before; his stare into my face, through the glass and across the room, was as deep and hard as then, but it quitted me for a moment during which I could still watch it, see it fix successively several other things. On the spot there came to me the added shock of a certitude that it was not for me he had come there. He had come for someone else.
Quote:
This chance presented itself to me in an image richly material. I was a screen--I was to stand before them. The more I saw, the less they would. I began to watch them in a stifled suspense, a disguised excitement that might well, had it continued too long, have turned to something like madness. What saved me, as I now see, was that it turned to something else altogether. It didn't last as suspense--it was superseded by horrible proofs. Proofs, I say, yes--from the moment I really took hold.
Notice how all these paragraphs have a reference to seeing or the act of the visual. I can't say it's voyerism, but it is a passive act. I don't know what to make of it yet, but it's there in almost every chapter.Quote:
Suddenly, in these circumstances, I became aware that, on the other side of the Sea of Azof, we had an interested spectator. The way this knowledge gathered in me was the strangest thing in the world--the strangest, that is, except the very much stranger in which it quickly merged itself. I had sat down with a piece of work--for I was something or other that could sit--on the old stone bench which overlooked the pond; and in this position I began to take in with certitude, and yet without direct vision, the presence, at a distance, of a third person. The old trees, the thick shrubbery, made a great and pleasant shade, but it was all suffused with the brightness of the hot, still hour. There was no ambiguity in anything; none whatever, at least, in the conviction I from one moment to another found myself forming as to what I should see straight before me and across the lake as a consequence of raising my eyes.
It is interesting the way in which the age old notion of good vs. evil is rather contorted within this story, and questions where does the true good and the true evil lie? If they exist at all? Considering that it is all within the own mind of the governess and how she becomes so truly obsessed with the children whom she constantly likens to angels.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
So by contrast of the children our angels than the apparitions must thus be evil as it is interesting the way she than sets herself up in the position of being the protectors to these little heavenly beings. Perhaps within it there is some notions of self-grandeur as she refers to herself as being the "heroine"
It is also a complete invention of her own mind that the ghost/Quinn must be after Miles, there is nothing in her brief encounter with the apparition to suggest that he has any interest in the boy. But she out of the blue makes this presumption and than convinces herself of its truth by taking the vague information that Mrs. Gorse gives her.
Yes, the Governess seems to take what vuage facts she manages to preduce from Mrs. Grose and than she completely runs away with it, and starts filling in the blanks to come up with all of these wild assumptions which she convinves herself must than be the truth.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
My library does not have a copy and cannot tell me when they can get me a copy because of Christmas and New Year holidays so will have to skip this one.
Though I cannot take in all Virgil's leaps at once, and I am taking a break from all this reading I am doing to work, ludicrous as the idea may be three days before holiday week is in full swing, my assessment of Miles' dismissal is that the governess assumes too much, and assumes the worst, where a more experienced caretaker might have been more pragmatic. When *Miss* says to Mrs. Grose that the headmaster's refusal to have Miles back can *only* have one meaning, she is sorely mistaken. This is a young boy probably better able to remember his parents, and grieve them, than his sister, and might have as much acted on this impulse as any desire to *contaminate* or *corrupt*.
If, over the years, I have come to distrust her voice and dislike her character, my distaste becomes all the stronger the closer I read the text.
I am not sure I will finish reviewing all the rest tonight, as I am preparing notes for a possible paper, I will probably conclude by Thursday.
When reading the story today I was particularly struck by a curious idea, though know I am not sure how much validity there is to support the idea. In the start to the text when Douglass introduces the story, it alludes to the fact that the Governess was in love with the Master.
Though considering how much she comes to care for the children it seems hard to believe that she could have such feelings for the man whom neglected them in such a way and shows no interest in them (but then she is young and unreasonable)
There is a moment where she reflects upon the character of the Master, which does not seem to be overly flatteringly and does not appear to come from a woman given to strong emotions whim is in love with such a mysterious figure in her life:
I began to wonder if in fact she was in love with Miles, for those she cares for both of the children it seems to me that she does take a most particular interest within the boy.Quote:
This squared well enough with my impressions of him: he was not a trouble-loving gentleman, nor so very particular perhaps about some of the company HE kept. All the same, I pressed my interlocutress. "I promise you _I_ would have told!"
Though when going back and re-reading the introduction to the story it was a bit more specific about her alleged feelings for the Master than I had first thought or remembered. But of course this information is given 2nd and could perhaps just have been Douglas' impressions and his reliability as a narrator has already been put to the question.
I meant to ask about the Master. Did I miss it? Why is he not around?
It does not really explain but the general impression is that he simply dosen't want to have any bother or trouble with anything to do with the children. He wants to kept out of thier life and concerns as much as possible. Though just where he is, I do not think is made known. He stays away from the house becasue the children are there.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
I'm getting the impression that she is attempting to win him the master - over. She threatens to leave if Mrs Grose tells the Master. Is this because that would go against the wishes of the Master, and she would have failed in the task given her?Quote:
Originally Posted by Dark Muse
I also take Virgil's point about about seeing. As he says, there are lots of references to views etc, but perhaps the Governess' view is meant to contrast with our own. As has been pointed out, the Ghosts are attributed with evil intentions by the Governess, but we only have her point of view about that, and the narrative structure allows us to question her account.
Also, does she see Quint and the former governess as rivals for the care ofthe children?
I just find it interesting that considering how emotional she is, and the fact that she doesn't show any real restraint or sensibility of anything else, and the way she gushes over the children, and how passionately she does feel things, she doesn't really express any feelings for the Master, but the occasional thoughts that do seem somewhat critical regarding his inattention to the children.Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Her threats to leave if Mrs. Grose tells the Master, could perhaps come from her fear of the Master interfering in her personal heroisms for the children. As she declares herself as "their shield" the one who must stand between them and evil. Perhaps at this point she does not want now the Master to come between her and the children. She has set herself up in this self-important role of the defending of good against evil and doesn't thing anyone else can do what she can for the children.
I also can't help but to wonder, just what is Mrs. Gorse's view. Does she truly believe the Governess in her claims? Or is she just sort of humoring the Governess?Quote:
Originally Posted by Paulclem
Because in observering one the conversations that the Governess had with her after she saw the ghost of the woman. Mrs. Grose was really just asking the Governess clarifying questions on just how she did come up with her conclusions she did and the Governess than took the questions as validation, but that could just as well be her own fancy.
The Governess makes the automatic presumption that the ghost she saw, whom she presumes to be Miss Jessel must be a wicked woman, while Mrs. Grose replies "tell me how you know" which in fact could just be a simple valid question asking her, just how she is so certain that the figure she saw was one of evil since she does seem so certain of it. But the Governess interprets the question as a way of confirmation that indeed the specter must truly be evil.Quote:
She brought me, for the instant, almost round. "Oh, we must clutch at
THAT--we must cling to it! If it isn't a proof of what you say, it's a
proof of--God knows what! For the woman's a horror of horrors."
Mrs. Grose, at this, fixed her eyes a minute on the ground; then at last
raising them, "Tell me how you know," she said.
"Then you admit it's what she was?" I cried.
"Tell me how you know," my friend simply repeated.
Dark,
I have no doubt that the governess has an excess of feeling for Miles. One of the prevailing literary interpretations of the story is in fact heavily based in psychoanalytic theory, but since I do not want to sound too pompous, I will let you all dig that up on your own.
Where I disagree with you though, is about what she feels for the uncle. Though we are getting this through the frame of the narrator framing Douglas who in turn frames the governess, the governess is also framing herself--she is a mature woman chronicling herself as nearly a young girl. To use modern language, if you will all excuse me for doing so, the uncle who is a cad turns her on, but she knows full well she ranks well below his caste, and aside from that, is out of his league. She transfers this unmet desire onto his neice and nephew, in a sense, trying to protect them from her own needs, needs unmet, like Douglas's, in fact.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
I just feel that there is nothing to go on regarding her feelings for the Master outside of the fact that Douglas tells us that she was in love with him and we have no way of knowing where he got this information. There is no particular reason to suppose it from the manuscript itself. It seems that the idea of her feelings for the Master come completely from Douglas's interpretation, which in itself makes it suspect. For in a way he could be transferring his own feelings for the governess by imagining that she had this attachment to the Master.
Though the manifestation of Quinn and Jessel and their "evil" nature, and the suggestive things of which the Governess begins to allude to and project onto them, could be a transference of her own desires and her acting out inappropriate feelings towards the children based upon her attraction to the master.
Ah, but the opening of the third chapter, before she projects her vision, has a highly sexualized connotation:
If that is not a passionate longing unfulfilled, I do not know what is, because it is shortly after this that she has what could possibly be construed, in modern terms, as a psychotic break.Quote:
It was a pleasure at these moments to feel myself tranquil and justified; doubtless, perhaps, also to reflect that by my discretion, my quiet good sense and general high propriety, I was giving pleasure -- if he ever thought of it! -- to the person to whose pressure I had responded. What I was doing was what he had earnestly hoped and directly asked of me, and that I could, after all, do it proved even a greater joy than I had expected. I daresay I fancied myself, in short, a remarkable young woman and took comfort in the faith that this would more publicly appear. Well, I needed to be remarkable to offer a front to the remarkable things that presently gave their first sign.
It was plump, one afternoon, in the middle of my very hour: the children were tucked away, and I had come out for my stroll. One of the thoughts that, as I don't in the least shrink now from noting, used to be with me in these wanderings was that it would be as charming as a charming story suddenly to meet someone. Someone would appear there at the turn of a path and would stand before me and smile and approve. I didn't ask more than that -- I only asked that he should know and the only way to be sure he knew would be to see it, and the kind light of it, in his handsome face. That was exactly present to me --
Though I like, as well, the affinity kasie found to Bronte.
I really might, if possible, go to the ALA conference on James in late spring, and this cheers me up immensely. What I owe to LN after all, eh? :)
In a way I think that her alleged feelings for the Master is really just another fabrication of her own mind, that is to say, I do not think she genuinely is attracted to the Master, or has real feelings for him, but rather is carried away with the excitement the idea of being in love would bring her.
She alludes to Jane Eyre and makes a direct reference to The Mystery of Uldolpho so we can see she enjoys these Gothic Romance type stories, and clearly she has a very active imagination. She finds herself now in this house which feels so much like one of the stories she enjoys reading and to say the least just being a plain old governess is not all that exciting nor particularly important outside of the realm of the children whom she is in charge of.
I think particularly out of boredom, and perhaps because of the responsibility which has been placed on her because of the Masters complete neglect of the children and leaving everything up to her, she fancies herself as being a Jane Eyre like figure and begins to create this scenario of herself being in one of her stories. So her attraction to the Master does not come so much from the flesh and blood person, but rather from the fairy tale she weaves in her mind to make herself feel more important than she really is.
I think the events that are soon to follow come more from her being a young woman who is board, perhaps lonely, and has an over active imagination than they do from some great unrequited passion.
She expresses that she has these delusions of grandeur when she declares herself the hero of the children and wants to make her role seem all the more significant by creating this great epic battle between good and evil in which she must be the sole defender to goodness against the dangers of the lurking evil.
I caught the reference to Ward's Udolpho in section IV. I may not have known its full import in the past because I am not sure I ever looked it up before and never read Ward, although she is now on my kindle and I may get The Italian too, eventually, if I can stomach the former, whenever I get to it; for someone so marginalized in her social structure I have taken on not a few insignificant burdens in recent months, but as always, James refuses not to intrude! :rolleyes:. Every reading I give him opens new possibilities, even when I have exclaimed, "Oh so that's it, boy was I stupid..."
I pretty much adhere to the psychoanalytic reading of the story, which is that the governess, by degrees, descends into an hysteric insanity, by which she then terrorizes Flora and possibly frightens Miles to death, though this is not absolutely certain--as must be the case when dealing with James--but he is toying with Gothic conventions too.
I may finish tonight as I had intended, as I have more than one motive for taking some furious notes.
I am on my own for this part of the holiday, not on scrupple but because travel is too difficult for me this year, given what I have been through and the age of my old power chair, so I may actually finish up early Christmas Day.
********
To be honest, I bought a mah jong solitaire program for myself, and after 15 minutes of writing, blew it off and played some formats. I like GameHouse versions the best, but the Quests aren't really that much worse for being cheaper, -- really, I should wrap up my review by tonight...
Okay, I am now back to *unblowing* as it were, and I am almost finished this reread, and wanted to qualify that psychoanalytic plotting points are not the beginning and the end of plugging in to the ambiguity of the text. One can also look at a homoerotic coda, very subtlely immersed within the text, that, to use a Jamesian clause not my own, "subverts the normal Victorian bonds"; it may be slightly less obvious in TOS than in other of James's works, but it is there.
Since I am falling asleep in my Quickie and have to transfer to bed yet, my last observation in relation to my progress this morning is--if one doesn't want this woman to be crazy when she starts seeing Quint, by the time she suspects 10 and 8 year old children to be in collusion with spirits--it is time to call William James and get lithium in caplet form. Even in the text itself, she starts to lose Mrs. Grose's sympathy at this point, meaning the housekeeper cannot follow where the governess is going. I will add a bit more later.
**********
12/30: I also would have missed the importance, in earlier readings, of the reading material the governess has busied herself with on the night of Flora's so called cavorting. Has anyone read Fielding's Amelia? I have just downloaded it, as I just realized I confused Joseph Andrews with Tom Jones and own the former as opposed to the latter.
But as you can see, James is having a lot of fun in TOS playing upon cultural references: the art of Raphael, the various literary tropes, even fantasy, which is rare for James.
I will feel badly if my passion for the Master has deterred anyone from making further comments; I hope not, but I will have more to add on the by and by. I may extend my posts into the New Year.
Well it made me a little hesitant, but, no, it hasn't completely deterred me. Really, I've just been away from LitNet so much that I haven't had time to get into a book club discussion. I'd like to, though. Is the conversation still going on? Give me a couple of days and I think I can start posting.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
As for me, I just fell behind on my reading of the story over the holidays.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
Absolutely not. I've had a break in my reading, but I will get back to this tomorrow. :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Jozanny
Cool Quark, I am a bit overwhelmed myself, and this is all a fault of my own making, so I will ease up for at least a few days and give you a chance to catch up.Quote:
Originally Posted by Quark
I guess it is okay if we extend the discussion into January--since I do not intend to earn any money on it, I may post my abstract here, I will think about it, as I do not want to be laughed at by James scholars who write these proposals for a living. The gent in charge was perfectly polite to me, however, and said he'd be happy to read it, and told me I can attend the conference either way--though I could envision making a buck or two on a James article for an education periodical.
Happy New Year to all! (Virgil, Dark, kasie, Neely...)