The Inevitable Onset of Insanity: TotS Chapters 8-12

     As has been grimly foretold time and time again, the governess starts to lose her mind. The all-too-perfect  angel children, magnanimously spacious living quarters, and of course the enigmatic visitants' visitations begin to catch up with the determined governess. What is particularly interesting about this set of chapters is how the children begin to overshadow the actual ghosts in doing what they do best: haunt those unsuspecting people who get too close. Flora and Miles are highlighted as the main concern by the governess herself. Of course Quint and his crush are always looming over, but the closest to the governess are also the most unsettling to her precisely because of that proximity.
     Flora is looking outside the window when the governess conspicuously wakes up one night to check on her. When questioned, the heavily suggested lying indicates that Flora is not as innocent as she is made out to be; rather, her angelic veneer is an illusion hiding a far more sinister truth. How Flora apparently lies is also of interest. She maintains her uncanny innocence throughout the questioning, not once being surprised and actually turning the tables on the governess herself several times. What this implies is that Flora is an avid, practiced liar, one who has had experience in keeping composure through questions that, due to the weak response provoked, are likely memorized by the child through multiple similar instances. Furthermore, it is also heavily teased that Flora knows far more than she lets on about, but it is also simultaneously suggested in the same fashion that all the questioning and investigating to understand what is really going on is ultimately futile. Miles is no less suspicious, as he actually wanders out into the front of the house- though a good while later than the grilling Flora received- at night. At the point of questioning, Miles, similar to his sister, assumes the personality that would best help him avoid telling the actual truth to the governess, in this case being a playfully impish child. By sheer merit of his innocuousness, the second sibling manages to escape the desperate clutches of the overzealous governess. Also related is another reference to Miles's darker schoolboy side, which seems to surface frequently but never in a tangibly punishable fashion, adding to the bevy of circumstantial evidence that seems to indicate that both children are running an elaborate sham which ruins people's lives.
     Perhaps the most shocking revelation is that Quint and the former governess are connected to the children in a deeper aspect than what was previously stated. Although some implications, such as Quint's special interest in Miles, are referenced, the governess outright voices her belief that the two are here because of the children. Now the governess doing so is probably the first clear sign that she is descending into madness. Though Henry James may have subtly teased it with his valorous descriptions of the governess's sharpness and intellect, it seems obvious that the governess is now just formulating mad theories. It is also worth noting that the only instances of an otherworldly visit in this set of chapters is by a man staring at the governess for a full minute, a detail the governess seems far too proud of, and a woman's presence being felt extremely close to the governess. As the encounters become more intimate, so to does the madness. Mrs. Grose is mentioned very briefly near the end with a discussion of what to do next. When the governess remarks of leaving already, it is evident that she will not last much longer.

The Perspicacious Protector: TotS Chapters 5-8

     The novel immediately picks up after the previous otherworldly revelation. After seeing the ghost, the governess's facial expression from the perspective of Mrs. Grose suggests a significant shock has struck the former protector of the two 'angelic' children. Her awe is due to seeing a man who, later revealed to have been dead, actually being Peter Quint, the former valet of the master himself. Quint's reappearance and mysterious circumstances, coupled with the governess's amazingly accurate description, suggest that she is not hallucinating and that such appearances are real. Thus, the manifestation of Quint can be seen as the start of the tribulation that the previous governess (later revealed to be Jessel) had to face when caring for the children, the subsequent doom of the governess, at least in position, and the unraveling of the governess's mental fortitude in general. Also, the reemergence of Quint, who is mentioned to have had a particularly strong bond to Miles, foreshadows a likely parallel recurrence in the aforementioned negative traits that the boy has been so successful in suppressing from the governess. Flora, too, risks corruption of her angelic self to a more impish state due to her similarly strong bond to Jessel. 'Lady' Jessel, so-called due to her relatively high social standing, was taken in by Quint who is said to have a remarkable aptitude in procuring the women he is interested in. Basically, the cracks have already started forming, and the governess's fate is looking just as bleak as her two deceased predecessors.
     However, the governess will not go down without a fight. She makes several deductions about the former guardians of the kids, thanks in part to the eternal help of Mrs. Grose. After pressing her senior with acute, yet circumstantial observations like Quint's previous mischievousness during the presence of Quint and  the stare that Jessel only gave to Flora, the governess is able to infer that both of the kids had some sort of effect impressed upon them by the two former caretakers, an effect that was profoundly negative in relation to how the kids should have behaved in the governess's mind,  or like perfect, pure children who learn only what she explicitly shows. Clearly, the governess is jumping to strange conclusions that will probably have some part in her downfall later on. As further proof of destruction, the governess's keen interest in the children appears to intensify to an obsession that might well lead to the new protector being outmatched by forces of supernatural quality.
     As an interesting developmental observation, it is interesting to note that James also employs the use of all-capital words to accentuate general articles and verbs. Doing so further increases the inherent ambiguity emanating the novella. Plus, the strategic placing of stressed words serves to recover a small portion of interest lost due to the length and complexity of the script. Thirdly, the rather childish use of words in such a mannerism authenticates the mythical aspect of the novella that so encapsulates the ghost genre during and after the time period. By mimicking how the characters might have used them had they been real, the script likewise becomes more believable to the reader's subconscious in a very subtle way. No doubt the narrative aspect is improved due to a more genuine story therefore being synthesized. What remains to be seen is how Henry James will continue to capitalize on literary techniques and deliberate choices to retain the reader's interest whilst also keeping his famous aura of mysteriousness that so artfully permeates his writing.

The Vestigial Visitant's Vexatious Veneer: TotS Post 2

     A slow but steady broil of the ingredients of classical horror/mystery begins to cleave together in chapters two through four. There are two fantastically angelic children( a neoclassical favorite) by the names of Flora and Miles, the newly acquainted yet marvelously supportive friend, in this case Mrs. Grose, and of course the iconic and omnipresent specter: all of these elements culminate very nicely to vivify the sense of mystery so subtly placed in the first few sections of the novella. Each chapter is painstakingly placed-with a tinge of teasing- to siphon off the other's momentum. Chapter two continues to intensify the mysterious dichotomy of Miles in chapter one. Continuing on, Chapter three introduces Miles while also masterfully intermingling his, and to a lesser extent his sister's, inherent duality with an apparition. Chapter four combines the previous two and animates a new interest in Mrs. Grose, all the while still paradoxically being more ambiguous then ever.  

     The mystery of young Miles is elaborated upon in the second chapter. It is clear from a letter that he is a mischievous and troubled young boy. Mrs. Grose, however, pleads that such is not the case. Indeed, the air of ambiguity is further collaborated by the indefinite replies of Mrs. Grose to contradictions to her sworn descriptions of the children. In fact, the letter itself is open to interpretation as it simply states that young Miles regrettably cannot be kept at school grounds, a statement that Mrs. Grose vehemently swears off to the governess. Evidently, the secretive nature of the novella is displayed more and more openly. Everything, from the children to letters to even the narrating governess are called into question. Most importantly, the children, and more specifically Miles, are shown to have a dark side to their outwardly pristine image that makes the reader yearn for more details in what is to be inevitably a hopeless and self-defeating struggle that ends with no real satisfaction.

     As expected, the much-exaggerated arrival of Miles occurs in the subsequent section. Also as expected, Miles exhibits the exact traits of celestial remark as his sister Flora: a beautiful appearance, a solemn expression, and an innocent veneer. Through all this reassurance, however, the reader is also incredibly left more curious than ever as to the true nature of the children. A comparative affect can be imagined by how one wishes for the good guy to win, but yet secretly wants them to suffer as such a story is somehow more memorable. Similarly, some intrinsic human emotion desperately wants the image of the children to stay perfect and innocent, and yet craves for a dreadful corruption of said image. Henry James obviously knows of such an effect, and thus emulates it in his writings which beg to be read, a sentiment grandly supplemented by the following tidbit of the novella, a sentiment amplified with the uneasy feeling of being under a spell just like the one the governess expresses she is under.  

     In the fourth part of the actual story, the ghost aspect of the novella finally becomes plain. When the governess is wandering, she sees in an inconspicuous tower a peculiar man. It seems to the governess as if the man has always known her. After a long and mutual stare, the stranger turns sharply and disappears to the corners of the tower in the governess's new residence. What is most interesting is that a feeling of relatability  is expressed similar to what the governess experienced with the children and, to a lesser extent, Mrs. Grose. Just like the previous relationships, the governess conveys universal human emotions that the reader is no doubt supposed to likewise exhibit, albeit in a more limited and less profuse spectrum. Thus, the characters can be seen more as representations, with their actual names of no special import, of beings that make the titular ghost story exciting for many. To top the heightening feeling of mystery off, the visitant once again appears, prompting the governess to follow; when Mrs. Grose asks what has occupied the governess so, the revelation of the spectator shocks the former. Next is chapter five. 

     Evidently, James can be seen as the ideal writer for the modern horror genre. His stories contain all the typical elements that characterize what scary has come to mean in present times. In a deeper sense, his tales are supremely psychological. The bountiful ambiguity plays off the previous chapters, the questionable cast of characters, and most of all  the dichotomy of primal human emotion. It is always a background thought that the tale is being told by someone else around a fire, therefore making the story more irrelevant. At the same time, the fact that it is more or less a ghost story due to its oral retelling by a dramatic source invigorates a want to figure out the truth as finding the truth out of a fictional story is far more arduous and ingrained in the subconscious than a fact as stories were told in such a mannerism for hundreds of years prior to the modern age. Even today, parents tell their children of fantasies that remain unsolved to this day. James's intricate method of packing every passage with a great amount of detail while also paradoxically making his narrative more ambivalent serves to accentuate the problem. By delving further into the novella, one plunges deeper into an expansive abyss of mystery all the while knowing that one is only exacerbating their dilemma. Such contradictions and their incremental divulgement in relation to the psyche are at the heart of why humans continue to be drawn to the horror genre. 

Setting up the Scene for the Twist: Post 1- Henry James's The Turn of the Screw(TotS)

     So the scanning of the novella begins round a smokey bonfire, soothingly warm, light and inviting. The story is told by a well-off, charming individual by the name of Douglass who immediately captivates his  female audience with his abrupt, melodramatic monologues laying sweet, succulent morsels, however sparse they may be, of what is, by all vetted prospects, to be a grand, delicious tale. It is an easy-going, lethargic gathering, with an atmosphere saturated with gleeful anticipation and promised reward for those who choose to listen. Yet, an ominous air lingers lightly from the story, which, though subtle, has, decidedly, a very foreboding feel to its origin and content, thus emulating a sharply bilateral divide. Such language constitutes how Henry James chooses to convey the atmosphere, describes things and, especially like the latter-most sentence of this blog, constitutes a plethora of commas to drench the reader in vivid detail; he throws in a tinge of anticipation via a sprinkle of dread as to top off his well-formed, if dense, story.
     Clearly, James has a very deliberate sense of style, mimicking the the mysterious nature of the ghost story presented by starting off gentle. The commas serve mainly as a way to give tidbits of superficial information. But their dual purpose, which can easily( and understandably) be misconstrued as bad writing, is arguably to slow the reader down so that they may enjoy a good horror story more. Indeed, the implementation is quite well-done, mixing the slow, bountiful narration with the characters' dialogues, mainly that of Douglass, the supremely theatrical story-teller truly at the center of the tale. What therefore follows is a nice, rewarding read for those who make the time and patience to read the slow yet entertaining narrative and a painful slog for those who want to rush through, seamlessly intertwining the narrator's careful structure with a likewise cautious orator. As a result, the story is a steady flow that is remarkably cohesive. From the introduction when the audience learns of the quaint-yet-strange background, the first-person narrator, and of the quirky Douglass, to the rich-yet-awkward employer of the governess who will come to take care of two angelic children (the man's nephews) and whom Douglass claims the story's manuscript is from, to her first days of arrival, the story is filled with a slight yet omnipresent uneasiness. Ultimately, the audience is left with a bevy of questions: what is the purpose for Douglass and the narrator's out-of-place stares? Is Douglass telling the truth or is he a fraud? Why has the rich man had trouble with finding a governess? If the narrative is really a ghost story, are things not too perfect? What will happen to everyone, both in the miniature narrative being told and the one of the narrator's "real life?" Ultimately, the untitled introduction and the first part serve only as hooks and as fillers to the grander narrative. A narrative that appears to be more intriguing than even what was originally envisioned.