Christmas Reading '09: The Turn of the Screw

[Jozanny]

As Neely has indicated, psychoanalytic readings of the story have been around for a long time. Like Neely, I feel TOS does not necessarily have to be analyzed along classic psychoanalytic lines, but it is a useful platform.

Virgil, I think your hostility to Freud goes a little too far. He did revolutionize the way traditional western medicine looked at mental illness--which he recognized was a matter of degree, and he was one of the first to do so. My bosses respected both William James and Freud, and both men are still relevant historical scientists.

I also think, and this is a fresher view for me, that James is raising subtle questions about how believers contemplate salvation. Dickens fondly bludgeons his readers over their heads, and James, in answer to Charles, presents a more nuanced challenge, showing us that we all have degrees of self-interest, which invariably corrupts our souls, even Douglas, and he is only sketched in as a man impacted by an extraordinary experence, though I suspect he is much like Stransom in The Altar of The Dead.

I think James often challenges his readers with spiritual questions, and I will come at this with more vigor if I can manage to present something for publication in the future.

[Virgil]

What I'm saying, though, is that your interpretation and Neely's are just different species of psychological readings, and that neither exclude the possibility that the ghosts are real. Your last post was making it seem like we have to choose between a psychological reading (whether Freudian or not) and the reality of the ghosts. It tempting to slip into that either/or interpretation, but I think that kind of reading misses a lot of this story's thematic content. As I was saying above, I think much of the story is about the degree to which we pursue certainty and evil in a place that promises neither conclusively. To say that the ghosts are either entirely real or entirely delusion would cover up this question--or, at least, reduce it to a simple choice.

I see what your saying, and you're looking at the ideas in a rather abstract way. I'm looking at the story as an integrated work of art, and to have the ghost as inconclusive after a 100+ pages is theatrical manipulation - jerking the reader. I'll have more on this possibility later.

That's a lot to say so quickly. It sounds like you've got four main problems with contemporary literary theory--and maybe Freudian readings in particular:

1) That it was developed and practiced by self-important professors

2) That it reflects a leftist world view

3) That Freudianism is discredited

4) That certain theories misplace readers attention onto the critics rather than the authors

Sure I can agree with all those, though I would phrase #2 differently. "That it reflects a leftist world view" is a symptom of critics projecting their world view unto a work. It's not that the overwhelming college literature professors are left wing (though I don't care for that either ) but that they impose it on art, art that in many cases was written in an era when current ideas weren't even conceptualized. Yeah that's a serious problem.

The first points may be true, but it doesn't really prove anything one way or another. Yes, there are scholars who put their careers over knowledge, but that doesn't necessarily mean their ideas are wrong. It just means they're unpleasant people. Even if your ad hominem is a fair one, it doesn't really change my view of theory.

I would say that the treatment of art to be mere texts is a devaluation of the art. New Historicism (taken from all the deconstruction crap) goes so far as to claim that a telephone book is as much as a text as Hamlet. And that is not only the critic imposing himself on a work, but actually being superior to it.

Similarly, I'm willing to concede the second point, but I don't think it's a reason not to trust theory. Sure, much of theory reflects the leftist atmosphere of Humanities Departments. Yet this doesn't mean that theory is wrong--it just means that theory is limited.

Ok.

The third point is most damning for Freudianism, and it's why psychoanalytic readings receive the skepticism they do--even from theorist. This is stumbling block for most Freudian critics, and I don't see much of a way around it. I don't think this is true of all theory, though. It's a specific criticism of Freud.

Yes, I was being specific to Freud. Once such a theory is proven to be wrong, then any further interpretation of a work through it is flawed, except if the author is intentionally using it or believes in it. Frankly this is really moot. There aren't any real freudian critics out there any more. It's a hold over from the 1930's through 50s when Freud was credible.

The last point is the most complex. It sounds like what you're complaining about here is what called "the hermeneutics of suspicion"--a familiar phrase probably. I think you're saying that critics should interpret the text as something that's completely aware of itself--something that's consciously trying to create an effect, and either succeeds or doesn't.

Yes. That's essentially New Criticism, formalism, or Aristotilianism. That is the true and lasting approach to reading literature. All these other "-isms" will fade into posterity over time.

"The hermeneutics of suspicion," though, argues that the text works its effect in bad faith. It unconsciously bears the marks of the situation in which it was created. Hypothetically, from this perspective, a critic who understands these unconscious messages in the text could claim that they're superior to the author who wrote it--since they see more of the work than the author does. This seems to be your complaint.

I'm not claiming it's in bad faith. It's just a wrong headed approach. A hundred years ago, there was probably 1/20th of the number of literature professors in the world that there are today and 1/20th of the journals. Those journals need to be filled and those professors need to do something and they compete with each other for the next break through. They all want to be the next I.A. Richards or Lionel Trilling or Harold Bloom. Such quanatity and outlet and competition generates a lot of crap, though in all fairness it generates good criticism as well.

Yet I think this misses the point. It doesn't matter who is superior--critic or author. Critics are just trying to understand the text, and to do so means that they have to look at what the author consciously expresses and what the author unconsciously expressed. Clearly, there are things that are not meant to be said that somehow come out when one is speaking. When Douglas is describing the governess, it slips out that he's quite enamored of her--even though he never says so directly. When you put on certain clothes, it probably reflects your gender, class, and even nationality, but when you were dressing you probably were not thinking: I'm going to put on my middle-class, male, American outfit today. Things slip out when anyone makes a decision. "The hermeneutics of suspicion" are merely one way of decoding those things that slip out. Any critics who is honest about what they're studying has to admit that there are things like this in a text. If it gives them a big head, I guess that's a personal problem, but it isn't an interpretative one.

Those are all details the author chose, and if they fit into the story line, then fine. That is not what I'm objecting to. It is one thing to look at those items, it is another to say that the character is sexually repressed because of he is wearing tight jeans, especially if the author was before Freud. That is to draw a conclusion based on the critic's ken of knowledge, or better stated outside the author's ken of knowledge.

Virgil, I think your hostility to Freud goes a little too far. He did revolutionize the way traditional western medicine looked at mental illness--which he recognized was a matter of degree, and he was one of the first to do so. My bosses respected both William James and Freud, and both men are still relevant historical scientists.

I didn't think I was hostile to Freud, so much as condemning imposing an idea into a work that wasn't intended. But yes, i guess i don't have much respect for Freud. He was in fact a fraud. I think there are books out there that revealed he had falsified his work to reach many of the conclusions he did, and that at a minimum his scientific method was crap. He made far expansive conclusions on a sample of one or two people. As science, his theories aren't credible at all. You can look it up.

[Jozanny]

I know something about the case history controversy surrounding Freud and Breuer, if this is what you mean by calling a man who spent his life trying to improve mental health treatment "a fraud," but I think your leap is a bit too expansive, even though I understand some feminist theory hostility to Freud's work. Feminist theory hostility is no stranger to James feminine psyches either, but I am not sure that conflict is one of my primary concerns.

[Virgil]

Let me get back to the story. I was at the library today and I found the Norton Critical Edition of TOS, and of course those editions have essays and original source material after the story. I've been reading and let me list a few things I've come across so far.

1. In none of the source materials (Jame's notebook and letters and his preface to the work) does he mention Freud anywhere.

2. The germ of the story was a annecdote told to him by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

3. Where ever he mentions the ghosts, it sounds to me he's referring to them being real. Here's an important passage from the Preface:

"Good ghosts, speaking by book, make poor subjects, and it was clear that from the first my hovering prowling blighting presences, my pair of abnormal agents, would have to depart altogether from the rules. They would be agents in fact; there would be laid on them the dire duty of causing the situation to reek with an air of Evil. Their desire and their ability to do so, visibly measuring meanwhile their effect, together with their observed and described success--this was exactly my central idea; so that, briefly, I cast my lot with pure romance, the appearences conforming to the true type being so little romantic."

Of course you could probably read that different way.

4. Critics seem to differ as to whether the ghosts were real. Even before the 1934 essay by Edmund Wilson that first introduced the Freudian idea, some critics believed that the Governess was hallucinating.

5. There seems to be a consenus that only the Governess sees the ghosts, and that the children are led to believe what she says.

I've decided to re-read the work. It's worth it. This discussion has inspired me to try to come to some conclusion on it. Plus, now I've got a bunch of essays to go through, and it feels like I'm back in college.

[Quark]

but I think the sublimation as an explanation for the visions just about holds its ground. I didn’t go into detail above because of time, but I think a mentioned a few things previously.

I was just trying to get you to spell it out a little more. There are a number of possible psychological and Freudian readings, and I wasn't sure what exactly you were driving it. You could be saying that the ghosts are an invention of the governess, and that she projects her feelings for the gentleman uncle onto the ghosts. This really wouldn't be sublimation so much as it would be projection.

Another possible reading is that the ghosts are real, and that she diverts her feelings for the gentleman uncle into defending the children. This would be sublimation. Sublimation is the process of diverting illicit desires into some socially acceptable behavior. In The Turn of the Screw, the governess might have to sublimate her desire for the uncle because he is unobtainable. She could do so by focusing on protecting the children from a threat--since that would be something socially acceptable.

Or, perhaps the ghosts are invention of the governess that she projects her sexual desires onto, and she's sublimating her feelings by focusing on shielding the children from a perceived threat. That would combine both of the above readings.

Still another reading is that the governess is sublimating her sexual urges by focusing on defending the children, but the ghosts represent her sexual urges reemerging after being concealed by sublimation. In this reading, the sublimation wouldn't be entirely successful. The ghosts constantly remind her of her unfulfilled desires.

Those are just four possible psychological readings of the ghosts and the governess. I could keep offering up more suggestions, but it might be easier if you explained what it is you were going for. I think the fourth option I gave was the coolest, but the first one seems more in line with the story. Maybe you have something else in mind, though.

Owing to ambiguity I rated the book merely 'Average' and patiently await enlightenment before I repent.

You don't have to defend your rating, but I'm curious why ambiguity is drawback.

I also think, and this is a fresher view for me, that James is raising subtle questions about how believers contemplate salvation. Dickens fondly bludgeons his readers over their heads, and James, in answer to Charles, presents a more nuanced challenge, showing us that we all have degrees of self-interest, which invariably corrupts our souls, even Douglas, and he is only sketched in as a man impacted by an extraordinary experence, though I suspect he is much like Stransom in The Altar of The Dead.

Wow, you're pretty harsh on Douglas. Do you think he's really "corrupt[ed]" by "self-interest"?

Let me get back to the story.

It's probably best if we all do that. If you want me to respond to the post before this, I can PM you or something. I think it would lead the thread away from its topic, though, if we really got into Freud and literary theory too much here.

I've decided to re-read the work. It's worth it. This discussion has inspired me to try to come to some conclusion on it. Plus, now I've got a bunch of essays to go through, and it feels like I'm back in college.

And your research has paid off already. I think the points you make above are key to understanding the story--particularly that bit from the Preface.

[Jozanny]

Wow, you're pretty harsh on Douglas. Do you think he's really "corrupt[ed]" by "self-interest"?

Douglas is not fully fledged as a character, but yes. I think he is either the model for or modeled on Stransom, as I've mentioned. James presents him sympathetically, of course, but he is besotted with the woman, and her adventure, or both. This is not to say he is a liar, or doesn't mean well, but he sat on this, kept her and her manuscript a secret, until what we may presume to be his old age. It bespeaks obsession, and obsessions transform.

I have to go back and read Virgil's posts again and I shall. I'm also very impressed with the discussion. You have all kept me on my toes, so we all deserve a hand, and I think Henry is pleased. I feel him with me now and again.

[Quark]

I think he is either the model for or modeled on Stransom, as I've mentioned.

That probably means more to you than it does to me. I'm not so well-read on James. In fact, I could count the number of Henry James stories I've read on one deformed, six-fingered hand: The Aspern Papers, Portrait of a Lady, The Bostonians, The Turn of the Screw, The Golden Bowl, Daisy Miller. You'll have to explain the Stransom comparison to me.

James presents him sympathetically, of course, but he is besotted with the woman, and her adventure, or both. This is not to say he is a liar, or doesn't mean well, but he sat on this, kept her and her manuscript a secret, until what we may presume to be his old age. It bespeaks obsession, and obsessions transform.

I completely agree with that. His estimation of the governess is clearly suspect if he's as enamored of her as Mrs. Griffin seems to believe. Of course, Mrs. Griffin is a bit of a ditz, so I'm not sure if we should believe her. She seems a little overeager to draw these kinds of connections.

[Jozanny]

That probably means more to you than it does to me. I'm not so well-read on James. In fact, I could count the number of Henry James stories I've read on one deformed, six-fingered hand: The Aspern Papers, Portrait of a Lady, The Bostonians, The Turn of the Screw, The Golden Bowl, Daisy Miller. You'll have to explain the Stransom comparison to me.

Not a bad selection at all Quark; when you are of a mind try this one. . What can I say Altar is about? Living in memory? Not living at all but feeding on those who do? It is definitely James at his most Catholic. The French director Truffaut made a movie adaptation.

My most beloved works by James are all of three:

The Portrait of A Lady
The Beast In The Jungle
and
The Altar of the Dead

I could not live without these--not that I haven't read almost everything, but these--they are sheets of soul music that makes everything worth it. I am going to sleep now

[Gladys]

I don’t understand why any story with an open ending would automatically qualify that text as “average” or a “joke” ... Is every text that doesn’t provide definitive closure to be treated in the same way?

You don't have to defend your rating, but I'm curious why ambiguity is drawback.

I adore the majestically obscure endings in such works as Dostoyevsky's The Idiot, Woolfe's To the Lighthouse, Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things, Conrad's Heart of Darkness and Ibsen's Ghosts. All of them offer the possibility of a preferred interpretation. The ending in The Turn of the Screw seems to me impenetrable, simpler, emptier, and therefore of less enduring interest. I find less to ponder, less to inspire. While 'definitive closure' is unnecessary in a novel, the potential for closure is!

5. There seems to be a consenus that only the Governess sees the ghosts, and that the children are led to believe what she says.

A consensus whether or not the ghost are deemed real, I presume?

[LitNetIsGreat]

I've decided to re-read the work. It's worth it. This discussion has inspired me to try to come to some conclusion on it. Plus, now I've got a bunch of essays to go through, and it feels like I'm back in college.

That’s cool!

I was just trying to get you to spell it out a little more. There are a number of possible psychological and Freudian readings, and I wasn't sure what exactly you were driving it.

Yes, ok that’s far enough. I think like Virgil though, I really need to return to the text and to gather my thoughts a little better. In short, I don’t see the ghosts as real ghosts at all, but as figments of the governess’s imagination as a result of pent up sexual frustration/repression. I was thinking sublimation mixed with transference really, to answer for the visions of Jessop and Quint. Sublimation, in that she believes that these figures really after the children – which would but her in a socially noble position as defender of the children - mixed with transferring or projecting her love for the master onto the image of Quint - which would explain why he is being classed as an “actor” wearing the master’s clothes etc, etc. I can piece together a few things later today or tomorrow maybe.

As an aside there was a very good BBC adaptation of this story over Christmas (the BBC are good at such dramatisations) and they went to pains to obviously allow for the psychoanalytical reading, even more so than the book suggests. I don’t know if anybody saw it, but it worth a view if anyone can get hold of it.

I adore the majestically obscure endings in such works as Dostoyevsky's The Idiot, Woolfe's To the Light House, Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things, Conrad's Heart of Darkness and Ibsen's Ghosts. All of them offer the possibility of a preferred interpretation. The ending in The Turn of the Screw" seems to me impenetrable, simpler, emptier, and therefore of less enduring interest. I find less to ponder, less to inspire. While 'definitive closure' is unnecessary in a novel, the potential for closure is!

OK, I think I see what you are getting at, though for me there is plenty to ponder! Of course people have different opinions on such things which is perfectly understandable and right.

[Virgil]

It's probably best if we all do that. If you want me to respond to the post before this, I can PM you or something. I think it would lead the thread away from its topic, though, if we really got into Freud and literary theory too much here.

No, that's alright. I've had my fill of Freud.

My most beloved works by James are all of three:

The Portrait of A Lady
The Beast In The Jungle
and
The Altar of the Dead

Oh those are my three favorites too. But I would add The Ambassadors to the list. I loved that one too.

I adore the majestically obscure endings in such works as Dostoyevsky's The Idiot, Woolfe's To the Light House, Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things, Conrad's Heart of Darkness and Ibsen's Ghosts. All of them offer the possibility of a preferred interpretation. The ending in The Turn of the Screw" seems to me impenetrable, simpler, emptier, and therefore of less enduring interest. I find less to ponder, less to inspire. While 'definitive closure' is unnecessary in a novel, the potential for closure is!

Outstanding point Gladys. There are several approaches to ambiguity for an author. It is appropriate to end a story with the future unresolved, though the issues contained in the story are resolved. For instance in the classic "The Lady or the Tiger" the reader is left with a decision. I don't find that kind of ambiguity troubling. More profound examples of that are the D.H. lawrence novels Sons and Lovers and The Rainbow. But when there is ambiguity on the foundational crux of the story, whether the ghost is real or not, and the author takes us through a 100+ pages and leaves it there, I feel that's cheap and just a trick. There better be a very good reason for that.

A consensus whether or not the ghost are deemed real, I presume?

No. It seems some think the ghost is real and some don't. That's why I need to read the story again.

[Quark]

What can I say Altar is about? Living in memory? Not living at all but feeding on those who do? It is definitely James at his most Catholic. The French director Truffaut made a movie adaptation.

I'll have to give it a read at some point. It really wasn't on my radar until you mentioned it, but if both you and Virgil are supporting it then I'll look it up. I don't think it's a long story, so I'll try to read it before this thread closes.

If I had to compare this story to another Henry James work, though, it would probably be Daisy Miller. I think there's a strong parallel between the governess defending the children and Winterborne trying to discover whether Daisy is innocent. Both characters pry into the lives of others and are obsessed with corruption and evil. Both stories make us question what the root of the obsession is, and whether Winterborne and the governess are making the right decisions. Yet I think I like The Turn of the Screw better on this issue since it leaves this issues undecided. The closure of Daisy Miller makes it seem more moralistic. The ending to The Turn of the Screw is more realistic because we never really know whether we've gone too far or whether the evil we were fighting against is real. It's a judgment that we have to make with limited information.

A consensus whether or not the ghost are deemed real, I presume?

No, probably not. The critics seem just as confused by this story as we are.

As an aside there was a very good BBC adaptation of this story over Christmas (the BBC are good at such dramatisations) and they went to pains to obviously allow for the psychoanalytical reading, even more so than the book suggests. I don’t know if anybody saw it, but it worth a view if anyone can get hold of it.

Yeah, the psychological reading makes the story more interesting, but I don't think it's very present in the text. James seems to have focused on telling a good ghost story in the original, and only vaguely sketched alternate psychological interpretations. I think they're there, and that they make the story more worthwhile. I'm glad the BBC version incorporates them into the story. But, in the end, they're only loosely conceived in the novella.

That's why I need to read the story again.

Everyone's rereading the story, I guess. I probably need another reading myself, but I'm short on time at the moment. Besides, it takes all my effort just to keep up with the thread. It's quite a busy conversation.


Speaking of good conversations, I'm sure we would all have one over Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy. It's nominated for the Valentine's Day discussion. Go vote for it here:

http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=50061

[Jozanny]

I may look up a particular passage here or there, but I have read it many times, and have much on my plate, so, you will all forgive me if for right now I leave a full rereading for a fresh year.

As to the displeasure of Gladys and Virgil, I will say one or two things and then leave well enough alone, as I know I cannot be brought around to The Idiot and I would fain bring around those who deconstruct James with less sympathy, but

1. To me James very strength is he realizes getting hold of an idea is dangerous, even when it goes against committing himself, like to another man, for instance, or to love in general. I think one of his major themes in all of his work is that passion is a double-edged sword.

2. I believe he is in fact a very spiritual writer, but he wants me, as a reader, to decide for myself which way I want to go, how I choose to see modes of redemption.

3. As to the open ending, love it or hate it, the debate goes on. Honestly, I don't know if the ghosts are real or manifestations at any number of levels, but I can never trust the veracity of any of the three narrative voices, and that is where I have to leave that.

And kasie, Miles last words I think, are directed at the governess, essentially asking if she sees Quint, and calling her the devil. That's how I read it.

4. As to James's humor, one caveat: It is easy to forget that nearly all of his work is a comedy of manner, though be it with serious motifs in play.

[Gladys]

A consensus whether or not the ghost are deemed real, I presume?

Sorry for my poor English and the consequent misunderstanding. While there is 'consensus that only the Governess sees the ghosts, and that the children are led to believe what she says', I presume there is widespread disagreement on reality of ghosts that only she sees?

In this regard I am most interested in Mrs Grose. Does she see the ghosts? Either way, does she believe in them, is she thoroughly superstitious, or is she just kindly humouring the governess? Why is Mrs Grose so guarded about the past and, in particular, the history of Quint, Jessel and the Master? Is she hiding something sinister as the governess suggests, or simply declining to gossip out of respect for the privacy and reputation of others?

I find myself frustrated that none of these questions about Mrs Grose seem answerable, even tentatively.

And kasie, Miles last words I think, are directed at the governess, essentially asking if she sees Quint, and calling her the devil.

Here's ambiguity at its worst: “Peter Quint — you devil!” can equally be read either way!

It is easy to forget that nearly all of his work is a comedy of manner, though be it with serious motifs in play.

Like Austen and Dostoyevsky, Henry James is deftly amusing.

[Quark]

4. As to James's humor, one caveat: It is easy to forget that nearly all of his work is a comedy of manner, though be it with serious motifs in play.

There is a quiet wit about everything that Henry James writes. I don't know whether there's any real guffaws in his works, but certainly there's humor. The opening frame of the story is quite funny, as are some of the exchanges between the governess and Mrs. Grose. I particularly like the description the governess gives Mrs. Grose of Quint:

"What's he like?"
"I've been dying to tell you. But he's like nobody."
"Nobody?" she echoed.
"He has no hat."

I would have made that little back-and-forth my signature if it wasn't too many lines.

In this regard I am most interested in Mrs Grose. Does she see the ghosts? Either way, does she believe in them, is she thoroughly superstitious, or is she just kindly humouring the governess? Why is Mrs Grose so guarded about the past and, in particular, the history of Quint, Jessel and the Master? Is she hiding something sinister as the governess suggests, or simply declining to gossip out of respect for the privacy and reputation of others?

Mrs. Grose is hard to gauge in this story because the governess's view of her is so condescending. It's possible she could be as dimwitted as the governess makes her out to be, but that seems unlikely.

It's also hard to determine her views because she doesn't have any direct contact with the ghosts or the letter about Miles. She's always away from the ghosts or shielded from them in some way, and her illiteracy means she can't read the letter.

I'm not sure if we can really come to any conclusion on her interpretation of events. I tend to think of her as acquiescing to the governess, but secretly doubting her at the same time. I'm not exactly sure what makes me say that, though. I'll have to think about it more.