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.