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Ruminations on Themes from an Opening Paragraph
“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”
The Haunting of Hill House is exactly what you think it is. Haunting. Shirley Jackson doesn’t scare. She haunts.
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The opening paragraph of Hill House is indicative of what’s to come, as in many great novels. Let’s look at this paragraph together and see what’s hiding in Hill House.
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No live organism can continue long to exist: but what exists? In Hill House, can a live nonorganism live, and can a nonliving organism live? It seems so. The story of poor Eleanor tells this tale.
Sanely. Under conditions of Absolute Reality: A live organism cannot exist sanely, so can it exist...insanely? But we learn that this mental state is conditional on absolute reality. Is Hill House reality? Or is it not reality? But what is more important is that Sanity is conditional. We cannot be sane with conditions, but we always absorb conditions around us. One cannot be sane.
If Hill House is reality, then Eleanor could live, as a live organism, insanely or not at all. If hill house is not reality, Eleanor is dead. Will Eleanor die? I think so. You know why? The word “no.” Jackson sets up her entire novel based upon a negation; an absence of reality, or life. There must be an absence of life to come.
Sanity is conditional. Sanity is existing. There are two options: exist or don’t exist, sanely or insanely. These are conditional. By what? Reality. Understand?
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Reality is what is in question.
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But can things have sanity? Larks and Katydids, are supposed by some, to dream: dreaming is existing, but perhaps not sanely. Humans are not the only ones required to be sane! Larks and Katydids dream! So they are not sane. Dreaming is not sane! But larks and katydids are supposed to dream. So maybe they don’t. If it is supposed, it is not certain. Surely, this book will not be certain, nor sane. Is this starting to feel insane?
Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills: Hill House must be living under conditions of absolute reality because it is not sane. Hill House is conditional on its position, in reality, against its hills. Against! Hill House is fighting its hills; Hill House is insane and it is fighting. Hill House is alone.
Hill House is powerful. Hill House holds darkness; Hill House does things. But what is more important is that this darkness can be held. Darkness, tangible.
Hill House may be here for much longer. It is uncertain. It feels like most things are not going to be certain in Hill House. We don’t know how long Hill House was here. It’s uncertain. No starting and no stopping; continuity is indefinite and indeterminable. Time is unclear.
Hill House’s doors, luckily, are sensibly shut. Hill house is sensible. But Silence lay against its wood; Silence fights Sensibility. Sensibility is in flux.
Whatever Walked There, Walked Alone. All things have agency in Hill House. All things are lonely in Hill House. We are insane, in reality, in Hill House. We are sensible in Hill House. We fight sensibility when we walk alone, in Hill House. Fighting time, time unknown, we fight sanity with insanity. Things fight sanity with insanity. Sentience is uncertain and conditions are insane.
Reality, Adjacent
What frightens?
We fight what frightens.
Eleanor takes care of her unforgiving mother until her death.
Eleanor’s sister treats her terribly.
Theodora lives in a small apartment with a friend.
Theodora frightens.
Luke will inherit Hill House one day.
Luke ruins.
Dr. Montague studies psychic phenomena.
Dr. Montague invites Eleanor, Luke, and Theodora to Hill House to help him study psychic phenomena. Immediately, Jackson explains little. We do not know the history of Hill House or why we should go there. Eleanor steals her sister’s car and drives to Hill House.
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This is when we first see reality adjacent.
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Caretaker Dudley immediately gives Eleanor a hard time when she arrives at Hill House. He warns her. Hill House is dangerous and it is not sane. Shirley’s language tells us that it is not sane because Shirley does not write sanely. We know Shirley does not write sanely because Dudley surely does not speak sanely; I’ve never seen someone talk to someone the way Dudley talks to Eleanor.
The characters chat, and Nellie and Theodora become acquainted. They wait for psychic phenomena.
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Dr. Montague warns them not to walk alone.
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One night, Theodora and Nellie become isolated in a bout of psychic phenomena.
“I can remember knowing that I was frightened, but I can’t imagine actually being frightened--”
Nellie is reality adjacent, a common occurrence in Shirley’s writing. The threats in Hill House appear physical, real, nonpsychic. The house shakes. Noises appear. Reality alters.
But, Dr. Montague tells us that “No physical danger exists...The only damage done is by the victim to himself.”
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I ask, what did Hill House do to itself?
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The physical cannot exist; it would transcend all reality. Hill House simply cannot behave in the way it is behaving. Nellie, therefore, is only doing damage to herself.
Dr. Montague tells us that psychic phenomena is not supernatural.
It is...psychic.
Nellie proceeds into a bout of paranoia; it ascends with each chapter. She is constantly in fear of people judging her. She hears things sometimes. She never does anything right. “What did I say again?” She says to herself.
Paranoia increases as psychic phenomena increases. But, if Nellie is not sane, why do others see the same phenomena?
Reality is suspended in Hill House because Hill House is not sane. It sits in reality but is not sane inside.
Slowly, Nellie becomes not sane. It’s like a Russian Nesting Doll. Inside the insane we see the insane; everyone sees it. Because we’re in Hill House. But Nellie sees even more because Nellie is not sane. Inside Nellie it is not sane, but Theo and Luke and Dr. Montague are not inside of Nellie. They’re inside only Hill House.
If Hill House is reality adjacent, is it haunted, or is this simply Shirley crafting one big metaphor for mental illness; contrasting it with reality, suspending its continuity, and equating its ability to instill fear to that of a haunted house.
It seems so. But I’m not sure yet.
We haven’t learned about The Planchette.
Anxiety. Nellie surely has some of that. Is anxiety a precursor to the insane, or did the insane augment her anxiety? I’m not sure we know that.
But we should probably learn about Planchette.
Planchette
Mrs. Montague comes to visit and we learn about Planchette. Let me briefly introduce Planchette:
Planchette [ plan-shet, -chet ] (n.): a small, heart-shaped board supported by two casters and a pencil or stylus that, when moved across a surface by the light, unguided pressure of the fingertips, is supposed to trace meaningful patterns or written messages revealing subconscious thoughts, psychic phenomena, clairvoyant messages, etc.
Mrs. Montague is very interested in psychic phenomena, perhaps more so than her husband. She comes to visit Hill House; this is the first time we learn how long they’ve been there. One week, I suppose.
She wants to use Planchette.
Planchette, a proper noun, perhaps sentient, will help us communicate with psychic phenomena.
One night Theodora finds her room covered in blood. It tells Nellie to come home.
One day the hallway reads “ELEANOR COME HOME.”
Planchette tells Eleanor to come home.
Dr. Montague is very skeptical about Planchette, but seems to agree with his wife when she uses logical reasoning to defend it. Maybe he knows it works and he is scared. Maybe he thinks his wife is not sane.
Planchette loves to repeat itself, and Planchette repeats lost. Also home. Also Eleanor, and Mother.
It makes it seem like Planchette found Eleanor’s late mother, and Planchette says she is lost, and Eleanor needs to come home to her.
Is this all a tale about an abusive mother?
Clearly, Hill House is not sane, and it is producing psychic phenomena. The question is, how does Planchette know about Mother?
Perhaps, the darkness held within Hill House has found the not sane within Nellie.
Did psychic phenomena control Planchette? Or, did Hill House?
Psychological or Supernatural?
Eleanor feels like she doesn’t Belong.
Theodora prays on Eleanor’s deepest insecurities. Eleanor tells Theo that she will live with her after Hill House. She will stay with her, indefinitely.
But Theo doesn’t want Eleanor. Theodora makes it quite clear, perhaps too clear, that she absolutely does not want Eleanor to stay with her. She repeats it. She makes sure Eleanor knows that she does not want her at all.
Eleanor perseveres. Eleanor is determined to stay with Theo.
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But Eleanor does not belong.
Theo prays on Eleanor’s biggest fear: she does not belong. Hill House tells Nellie that she belongs. What could that mean? I suppose Hill House reveals the psychological disturbances present within all of us, and then Hill House promises to fix it. By fixing it, we absorb into Hill House and become one. Hill House is not sane. Those who are not sane do not belong.
So Hill House really mustn’t be evil. Hill House didn’t belong either; it stands alone, against the hills, fighting the hills. It fights the hills because it doesn’t belong. It brings in everyone who doesn’t belong and gives them a place. But that place is in death, in the house, in the dark, against the hills.
I wonder, if Nellie feels guilt, and IF, and only if, Nellie maybe... possibly, killed her mother, or, perhaps could have saved her mother, what is Shirley trying to tell us?
There is something supernatural about the psychological.
Hill House perhaps is not haunted at all. Perhaps, because Hill House is not sane, it brings out the not sane in all of us.
Knock. Bang! Bang!
Hill House speaks at night.
Sometimes at night we think about what we did. In the Dark. When we can’t sleep. When it’s dark outside and we are supposed to be sleeping, we do not sleep. Sometimes.
When these things happen we think about our wrongdoings. Or what we perceive to be our wrongdoings. Are we right about those things, too harsh, too kind to ourselves?
Sometimes I think we can be too kind to ourselves about certain things, like guilt.
I think Hill House senses all of the things about which we fool ourselves.
Bang!
Hill House senses something in Nellie because Hill House tries to speak to her.
Come Home Eleanor! It calls her.
Hill House speaks at night. It speaks to Eleanor.
Eleanor is plagued by something...could it be…guilt?
Eleanor took care of her mother until she died; but Nel doesn’t notice when her mother dies and wonders if she could have lived if she had noticed.
Mother wants Eleanor to come home. Hill House wants Eleanor to come home.
Eleanor worries what it’s wondering about her.
Where was I?
Hill House remembers.
Why couldn’t I hear her?
Hill House screams.
Did I really mean to?
Mother is upset, Nellie. Mother says come home.
The house begins to destroy itself. Nellie thinks that the house is destroying herself. When Nellie is supposed to leave, she drives into a tree.
Nellie destroys herself; Hill House prays on our deepest fears. In the Dark, at night, in the Dark we fear ourselves.
Belonging, Eleanor
Theodora
Theodora, sweet Theo. I have two theories about Theodora: she is a manifestation of a sane Eleanor, or her insanity drives her to become Eleanor.
Luke takes a liking toward Eleanor early on; Theo points it out. But by the end, Theo and Luke are close, closer than comfortable. They are close against Eleanor.
But, one could ask if this is all in Eleanor’s head? Maybe so. Either way, Theo took Luke. Eleanor loses Luke.
Theo adores Eleanor at the beginning of the novel; she cherishes her, cousins perhaps. But Theo turns on Eleanor. She tells her that she doesn’t belong. She isolates Eleanor and prays on her biggest insecurities. Eleanor fears Theo by the end. But why?
Theo takes each piece of Eleanor and projects onto it; she accuses Eleanor, questions her, Eleanor thus feels crazy. Is this all in Eleanor’s head? Maybe, maybe so.
But whether or not it is in Eleanor’s head, Theo takes something from Eleanor, and consequently, Eleanor cannot live alone, separately from Hill House, anymore.
I think that Theo took her personhood, the parts that were sane. Theo begins the book seeming easily agitated, hungry. She is frightened, frightful. By the end, all of the attention is on Eleanor. Eleanor is the concern. Eleanor must leave; she is not sane. Theo is allowed to stay, Theo belongs.
Poor, sweet Nellie. Hill House brings out what is real in people. Maybe there was nothing real in Theo; she was a parasite, drinking the parts of Nellie that can stand alone because maybe Theo can’t stand alone.
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Alone, in the Dark. Hill House shows us what is real.
Hill House and I
Hill House taught me. I love Hill House; a special place in my heart will be held for Hill House, always. Why is Jackson important now?
To follow the trope of any given introspective piece of writing in the past year and a half, I must talk about COVID-19.
When I think about the “deep pandemic,” as some call the initial quarantine period, I think about uncertainty. I think about an utter lack of grasp on reality, my life, everyone’s life around me. Who will live? Who will keep their job? What will change?
The life-altering uncertainty of COVID is inexplicable, quite unique, honestly. It felt like life was in limbo, like purgatory, but with a slight shift toward the Hell side. The pandemic made the world my Hill House. Not sane. Nothing really was sane. Psychic phenomena? Perhaps. Surely not sane.
The incidences of mental illness nationwide augmented astronomically during COVID. Nobody was sane because nobody had ever lived like this. In our Houses, in fear, fear of people, fear of outside.
Psychological states deteriorated in Hill House. Nobody had ever lived in a house like that. In the Dark, in fear of its history, in fear of ghosts, in fear of oneself.
These perpetually uncertain phenomena bestowed with rock solid confidence, as Raymond McDaniel so apty phrases it. Shirley makes us uncomfortable with her confidence in uncertainty. In this time, we envy the confidence in uncertainty. We want to know how she does it, what it means. Shirley teaches us that fear is inescapable and superbly human; what we fear, in the night, in the dark, is what we cannot control.
The Haunting of Hill House, 2018
The miniseries deviates from the novel quite a bit, to be honest. The miniseries follows a family, Hugh Crain’s children, as they confront their past demons that they encountered while living in Hill House as children. Nellie and Theo are sisters, in fact.
The deviation allows for a quite haunting tale, to say the least. Hill House is wild, untamed, absolutely ghoulish. But this isn’t Shirley’s novel. This is a horror series.
The alternating plotlines generate a sense of confusion and uncertainty; this is an altogether new type of uncertainty, diverting from Shirley’s approach. You fear the demons, ghosts, and whatever is living in Hill House. You fear something in Hill House that has the power to leave and haunt you forever. You fear the jump scares, the corners and the doors. You do not fear yourself.
This is the pinnacle difference: the book makes you fear yourself, not the house. You are not really scared of the house. You are curious about the house and you want to know what’s going on in the house. In fact, you like the house. You ask the house what is going on, can it explain please?
What Shirley does to scare you, and surely she does, is erecting a fear of yourself. What happens when you are not sane, in the Dark?
The Haunting, 1963
The film presumes to know what Shirley wrote for us not to know. The Haunting, 1963 is more accurate than expected. But Hill House? The infamous, nasty, eerie Hill House. Can that be replicated?
Nellie. Shirley doesn’t want us to know what she thinks and what she knows, I believe. For Eleanor isn’t certain about her own psyche, and as such, how can we tell what she sees? Uncertainty is the pinnacle aspect of Jackson’s writing that, in my opinion, cannot be replicated in a film.
Certain phenomena in Shirley’s book are left unassuming, unanswered. Was Hill House phenomena connected to Eleanor’s guilt to her mother? The film seemed to try to forge this connection further than the book wanted, I think.
I certainly wish there were a way to depict omnipotent uncertainty and unknowing into a film. But I think that film adaptations are not meant to hold such things. I think adaptations are their own art.
The Hill House plot and themes are wonderful content for a movie. The film is wonderful standing alone; it is eerie, suspicious, unsettling, suspenseful. But these qualities share a mere venn diagram with the novel. They overlap on plot and content, but they do not overlap in how they make the reader feel.
The novel leaves a reader with such uncertainty that it is almost pivotal to question the plot and whether you understand what is occurring. This lack of grasp on the content leaves the reader with a pit in the stomach; it replicates the reality of the novel itself.
Certainly, the warped and twisting camera angles alongside the distorted laughter and clamour reinforce that Hill House is not sane. We know that Hill House is not supposed to be sane. The movie succeeds in generating a fear of this house.
But Jackson’s novel does more than induce fear. Fear is a secondhand thought in her novels; it is a necessary repercussion of the Unsettling.
And that’s what Jackson masters in Hill House. Her depiction of the supernatural is all too real. It is not real because the house appears haunted. It is real because the supernatural manifests as the psychological; we have all felt like Nellie. Lost, insecure, anxious, and out of place. The feelings that are intrinsically tied to the psychic phenomena in Hill House are so human that it frightens us.
