I first encountered Henry James in an American Literature survey class. A survey class is interested in breadth of knowledge as opposed to depth, meaning we didn't do intense study of any author or piece in particular but got a fair idea of a large number of them. We read Henry James's short story The Real Thing, which was published in the 1890s. I remember coming to class and being surprised to find out how many people did not like it (I can't remember why they didn't). I really enjoyed the story and my professor told me he thought I would—weird, when you don't think your professors have a real idea of your reading habits. Sometimes you want to sit them down and ask just what they know about you or have figured out, just so you're on the same page.
Since then, I have been meaning to read more of James's work, and after reading Eric L. Harry's Society of the Mind, I reached out to James to provide me with a palate cleanser. I wanted to keep reading, but I felt like I had overdosed on sub-par (but still enjoyable) science fiction. I picked up a small book—it's the perfect size for a purse book, by the way, if you carry a purse and don't have a device to read on but get bored in long lines—that contained two works of his: The Turn of the Screw and Daisy Miller. Since they are together in the book, I'm going to talk about both of them in this blog post.
The Turn of the Screw's title is partially an advertisement in and of itself; James was attempting to tighten the tension involved in your average scary story, making it even more anxiety-ridden. He did this by including children. I saw an online review blame this book for all the creepy-child elements in horror stories and movies today. With that said, please note that this book is incredibly tame in terms of violence or any of your usual horror tropes.
I was thoroughly creeped out soon after he started the story of a governess who is given charge of a young boy and girl in a secluded place where she is not allowed to contact her employer. She has the other servants and the children, and that's all—excepting the ghosts.
When I was younger, one of my weird but real fears was that some henchman would come to my window in the night and peep in at me. I seem to remember my mental image of them resembling Horace and Jasper from 101 Dalmatians. Something about being seen like that, of looking out and seeing an ugly, dark face staring in at me, was terrifying. It took me years to feel safe with my blinds open at night.
I'd love to get someone else's take on this, because I know it was this personal fear of mine that made this book especially creepy. My fear is what happened in the book, and the main character was appropriately alarmed.
Like with any haunted house, the ghosts never actually touch the mortal characters. This may make it seem incredibly tame, but one needs to remember the audience James was writing for. Stephen King wasn't around. I will say to James's credit, however, that at one point I sat back and thought simply, "This guy is good."
The one thing that I see as a drawback to this story is the ambiguity. I closed it and immediately went to Google to find out if I had understood correctly or if I had missed something. It turns out I had gotten it all correct, so it's fair to say the story is easy to understand. No events are sloppily told; we know exactly what happened. The ambiguity comes because there is not a whole lot of "why" or "how" in this book. It is simply a retelling of the facts using a biased point of view.
For his audience, I think it would be scarier to know the "what" but not the "why" or "how." They "how" was probably immediately attributed to the devil, in any case. That's what James waves his arm toward whenever we think to ask.
Moving on to Daisy Miller, I wanted to say that James is a naturalist. That's the term for a style of writing wherein everything is normal—realistic almost to an extreme. Naturalist tales have been called "teacup tragedies," with the idea being that instead of the fate of the world being at stake, it's really just the breaking of a teacup that is the climax. Because, you know, that's realistic.
Daisy Miller does involve a death, but for the most part, it fits the teacup tragedy description. An American girl goes with her mother and younger brother to Europe and flirts up a storm without realizing that everyone is judging her for it and she is ruining her reputation.
This is another story that needs to be seen through the lens of its intended audience. The narrative neither condones her actions as progressive nor decries them as satanic, which is nice; instead, she is labeled as ignorant of social expectations. This makes the book anything you want it to be—feminist, a warning to society, the tragedy of a young life gone astray.
Here is a small excerpt from Daisy Miller so you can get a feel for James's writing style and figure out whether or not you want to give him a shot:
The Turn of the Screw's title is partially an advertisement in and of itself; James was attempting to tighten the tension involved in your average scary story, making it even more anxiety-ridden. He did this by including children. I saw an online review blame this book for all the creepy-child elements in horror stories and movies today. With that said, please note that this book is incredibly tame in terms of violence or any of your usual horror tropes.
I was thoroughly creeped out soon after he started the story of a governess who is given charge of a young boy and girl in a secluded place where she is not allowed to contact her employer. She has the other servants and the children, and that's all—excepting the ghosts.When I was younger, one of my weird but real fears was that some henchman would come to my window in the night and peep in at me. I seem to remember my mental image of them resembling Horace and Jasper from 101 Dalmatians. Something about being seen like that, of looking out and seeing an ugly, dark face staring in at me, was terrifying. It took me years to feel safe with my blinds open at night.
I'd love to get someone else's take on this, because I know it was this personal fear of mine that made this book especially creepy. My fear is what happened in the book, and the main character was appropriately alarmed.
Like with any haunted house, the ghosts never actually touch the mortal characters. This may make it seem incredibly tame, but one needs to remember the audience James was writing for. Stephen King wasn't around. I will say to James's credit, however, that at one point I sat back and thought simply, "This guy is good."
The one thing that I see as a drawback to this story is the ambiguity. I closed it and immediately went to Google to find out if I had understood correctly or if I had missed something. It turns out I had gotten it all correct, so it's fair to say the story is easy to understand. No events are sloppily told; we know exactly what happened. The ambiguity comes because there is not a whole lot of "why" or "how" in this book. It is simply a retelling of the facts using a biased point of view.
For his audience, I think it would be scarier to know the "what" but not the "why" or "how." They "how" was probably immediately attributed to the devil, in any case. That's what James waves his arm toward whenever we think to ask.
Moving on to Daisy Miller, I wanted to say that James is a naturalist. That's the term for a style of writing wherein everything is normal—realistic almost to an extreme. Naturalist tales have been called "teacup tragedies," with the idea being that instead of the fate of the world being at stake, it's really just the breaking of a teacup that is the climax. Because, you know, that's realistic.Daisy Miller does involve a death, but for the most part, it fits the teacup tragedy description. An American girl goes with her mother and younger brother to Europe and flirts up a storm without realizing that everyone is judging her for it and she is ruining her reputation.
This is another story that needs to be seen through the lens of its intended audience. The narrative neither condones her actions as progressive nor decries them as satanic, which is nice; instead, she is labeled as ignorant of social expectations. This makes the book anything you want it to be—feminist, a warning to society, the tragedy of a young life gone astray.
Here is a small excerpt from Daisy Miller so you can get a feel for James's writing style and figure out whether or not you want to give him a shot:
Winterbourne was not in the best possible humor as he took his seat in Mrs. Walker's victoria. "That was not clever of you," he said, candidly, while the vehicle mingled again with the throng of carriages.
"In such a case," his companion answered, "I don't wish to be clever; I wish to be earnest!"
"Well, your earnestness has only offended her and put her off."
"It has happened very well," said Mrs. Walker. "If she is so perfectly determined to compromise herself, the sooner one knows it the better; one can act accordingly."
"I suspect she meant no harm," Winterbourne rejoined.
"So I thought a month ago. But she has been going too far."
"What has she been doing?"
"Everything that is not done here. Flirting with any man she could pick up; sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o'clock at night. Her mother goes away when visitors come."I recommend for your consideration Henry James. His writing somehow draws me in, but it does so without being exciting or even beautiful. Instead, it is intriguing. Also, these two stories are both novellas, so they are quick to knock out if you just want a taste without a serious commitment. Above that, they served as perfect palate cleansers for someone who has overdosed on sub-par science fiction.
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