01/10/17: Shirley Jackson – The Haunting of Hill House (1959)

"Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more."

This is the best haunted house story of them all. Crucially, Jackson understands that it's what you don’t see that can frighten you the most. She never destroys the brilliantly controlled build-up of tension by revealing the actual face of the evil walled up within the "clashing disharmony" of Hill House. Instead, she lets this take form in the reader's mind. This is a stroke of genius as it allows us to emphasise with Eleanor, whose own mind is being slowly filled and possessed by dark imaginings (which may, in fact, be the 'true' reality of the house). As one of the characters puts it: "an atmosphere like this one can find out the flaws and faults and weaknesses in all of us and break us apart in a matter of days".

I love the way the very architecture of the building has a harrowing awfulness about it: "Eleanor shook herself, turning to see the room complete. It had an unbelievably faulty design which left it chillingly wrong in all its dimensions, so that the walls seemed always in one direction a fraction longer than the eye could endure, and in another direction a fraction less than the barest possible tolerable length..." That wrongness is described so perfectly. (There's no way Stephen King could have written The Shining without reading this novel.)

The book is quite funny in places (notably the characters' attempts at stoical chatter to banish fear), and Jackson is especially gifted at describing the developing relationships between the four main characters. Part of the horror for Eleanor is a social one, and the conversations she struggles through brilliantly illustrate the way a bit of teasing (perhaps cruel, perhaps good-natured) may lead a fragile soul to despair.

Jackson shows how fear can corrupt the soul, and that those individuals who are open and sensitive to what's around them (e.g. Eleanor) are far more vulnerable than the thick-skinned (e.g. Mrs Montague). Furthermore, she suggests that sensitive people may be granted glimpses of a more multifaceted reality – with all the benefits of its sensory wonders and all the drawbacks of its inescapable terrors. This insight resonated deeply with me – particularly upon this second reading, during which the book seemed even richer and sadder.

This short, subtle novel achieves a great deal. Elegantly written, it's so much more than a mere ghost story.