Thoughts on Hill House by Shirley Jackson

My first impression of this book was: Wow. How have I NEVER read this before. This book is exactly up my alley. I had heard of it before but somehow never picked up that is was less Ghost horror and more a psychological exploration of fear (and arguably, mental illness. Or inhereted mental illness, which is a whole different point). I wholeheartedly agree with everyone who considers this book a staple of horror literature. 

While all the characters were fun, Eleanor no doubt was my absolute favorite. She reminds me greatly of my character Rota, which made it easy to be so endeared by her. Her whimsy/childishness and sense of defiance around identity made her a fantastic character. Though childish is the wrong word. I think what I want to call childishness is more just a show of exactly how sheltered she is; the world around her is new and different without her family. I think the cup of stars is a perfect example on what exactly I mean: an idea she encountered in the wild, loved, and then sort of enveloped into her own sense of self. She mentions the cup of stars later on when talking about herself, as well as the statues outside of the apartment she passed.

“Don’t do it, Eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of  stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else  you will never see your cup of stars again; don’t do it; and the little  girl glanced at her, and smiled a little subtle, dimpling, wholly  comprehending smile and shook her head stubbornly at the  glass. Brave girl, Eleanor thought; wise, brave girl.” (Page 16). 

Her insistence on her own identity throughout is also incredibly interesting to me. There are multiple points where she asserts to herself on how she belongs, or how she’s the kind of person to wear a red sweater because she bought it so she must be the kind of person. I, personally, think that grapple with her own identity is what makes her so susceptible to Hill House itself. That kind of wandering soul that has no idea how to create its own identity or no place to call home. When somebody is so aimless as to need to forge their own adult identity from scratch, an uneasiness from a place like Hill House can strike so much deeper. 

And anyone who knows me knows how much I LOVE identity and building horror, especially when they’re interconnected. I could wax poetic about how the fear of your own home/environment is among the deepest/purest horror, but I will let Hill House make this point for me:

“ Almost any house, caught unexpectedly  or at an odd angle, can turn a deeply humorous look on a  watching person … but a house arrogant and hating, never off guard, can only be evil … It was a house without kindness, never meant to be  lived in, not a fit place for people or for love or for hope. Exorcism  cannot alter the countenance of a house; Hill House would stay as  it was until it was destroyed.” (Page 26).