The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson
Hill House is haunted. It is tucked deep in the hills, out of reach of the nearest town - completely isolated, and full of an inexplicable darkness. When occult scholar Dr Montague sets out to investigate the house's phenomena, he invites volunteers to join him; they will take up residence within its haunted walls, and see what happens. Only three rise to the challenge - Eleanor, Theodora and Luke - and so the haunting begins. I don't read much gothic horror, but when a friend lent me his copy of this spine-tingling classic, I was magnetised towards it as though invited by Montague himself. I, too, I decided, would venture into Hill House, and see what unfolded.
Shirley Jackson is a master of her craft. Of that I am certain. Before anything at all supernatural happened, she created a fantastic and overwhelming sense of unease. Everything was just slightly off. The house's architecture, for example, is mind-bending. The layout is concentric, such that whole rooms exist inside other rooms; corridors lead in circles, doors open into unexpected places, and rooms you've just walked out of are suddenly hard to find. On top of this, the floor is sloped and the angles of the walls are irregular, meaning that doors swing shut apparently of their own accord. There's nothing exactly ghostly about this - but there's a pervasive wrongness in the house even from the beginning.
Then there's Mrs Dudley, the aged housekeeper. Every day she cooks for the guests - breakfast at nine, dinner at six - and she leaves at sundown. Ostensibly quite normal, but she completely sets you on edge. Mrs Dudley is unsettling because she's a little bit robotic. Her face is always expressionless, she moves around noiselessly, she appears from the shadows without warning. She never once deviates from her precise routine, but follows the same predictable motions day after day - breakfast at nine, dinner at six, leave before dark. Most uncannily of all, she speaks as though reciting from a script. She delivers the same ominous words to every guest as they arrive, rigid as an automaton. Like the architecture, she's not monstrous - but she's brilliantly unnerving.
As for the actual scares - well, it's safe to say that Jackson takes her readers beyond 'mild apprehension'. The prickly unease with which we enter this novel soon escalates to proper fear, as we encounter a series of paranormal episodes that get increasingly terrifying. I won't give the details away, other than to commend Jackson's execution of the unseen terror trope. The ghost behind the door is scarier than the ghost in front of our face - because it's unknown. Our imaginations do the work, and they create something far scarier than any description could evoke. This technique tracks back as far as Ann Radcliffe's iconic black veil (from her 1794 novel 'The Mysteries of Udolpho') and still abounds in contemporary horror: it has become a staple of the genre, and with good reason. 'The Haunting of Hill House' is a masterclass in suspenseful terror.
Suspense, of course, only works if there is ebb and flow. One can only hold one's breath for so long before keeling over, or more often, dissolving into laughter. Again, Jackson handles this brilliantly: the tension rises and releases, rises and releases. The ghostly manifestations are offset with scenes of relaxation in the drawing room, where the dialogue is sparring and often quite funny (especially when Dr Montague's insufferable wife arrives). This push and pull of terror and humour was very effective.
What's perhaps most interesting about 'The Haunting of Hill House', though, is its psychological aspect. Eleanor, through whose narration we experience the novel, is a troubled young woman. She might accurately be described as 'haunted' before she even sets foot inside Hill House. We learn that Eleanor has spent many difficult years caring for her invalid mother, and that she has been pushed aside by her siblings. She is friendless and fragile, and Hill House is a tempting escape route. It's an opportunity to be part of a harmonious family, a chance to rebel and a chance to reinvent.
Reinvent she does: Eleanor's narration quickly becomes tarnished with falsehoods and illusions as she fabricates herself a backstory and imagines relationships. The line between what's real and what's a figment of Eleanor's mind becomes increasingly blurred, to the point where we start to question whether the hauntings are actually being caused by the house, or whether they may be coming from Eleanor. The more we read, the more we realise that we are watching the psychological unravelling of the heroine - and there's something macabrely captivating about it. We are scared, but we can't look away.
Perhaps that's the greatest terror of Hill House - even as it undoes you, it holds you captive. That's what Eleanor experiences, when she tries to run away from her demons and finds herself all the more entangled, and it's what we experience as readers, when the backs of our necks are prickling but we keep on turning the pages. We know we are being lured in, but we take the bait anyway. I think this is the sign of a well-executed gothic horror. 'The Haunting of Hill House' was a thrill to read, and I would certainly recommend it.
You can buy 'The Haunting of Hill House' from Waterstones by following this link (I'll receive a small commission if you do!):
The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson - Waterstones
