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| Not the cover of the edition I read, but the same publisher. |
A classic, of course, and, for the story, deservedly
so. But this is one of those books, from the literary past, which might
actually benefit from an update, a rewrite in the modern style. In many works
of literature, the language, style of writing, method of expression all
contribute to the overall effect of the story. This is not one of those works.
This is a ghost story, an attempt to frighten and disturb the reader. But its
effect is diminished by convoluted language, by unnecessarily complex sentence
structure and by authorial intrusion. The pace is slowed and barriers are
placed in the way of progress through the story without adding anything of
value to the tale itself. Written for a different age, when time was of little
consequence to those who had the means to read, it is a short novel that could
easily have been told in half the words employed. In fact, such shortening
would undoubtedly have improved the book.
The emotional impact of the story, once filtered
from the excess, is potentially profound. Who could fail to be moved by the
malign influence of the jealous spirits of the wicked dead on the innocence of
children? Of course, the nature of the wickedness of those dead who provide the
ghosts isn’t detailed, merely hinted at in that infuriating fashion employed by
Victorian authors writing about sexual matters. We guess, but are never made
certain, that the individuals whose spirits cause such consternation, are those
of improper lovers. But the modern reader doesn’t harbour such restricted views
of relationships, class barriers no longer exist, and the outrage felt by the
governess and the housekeeper is therefore made ludicrous. If the language
allowed the reader to accept the strictures of the day, it would have been
easier to understand and even empathise with the emotions of the narrator and
her friend. But I found the very language prevented my sympathies aligning with
the social mores so that I frequently questioned exactly what was the evil
these two dead people actually presented.
On the back of the edition I read, the blurb
describes this book as ‘Widely recognised as one of literature’s most gripping
ghost stories…’ I did not find it so. I found it tedious for much of the
narrative, self-congratulatory throughout, and more concerned with a demonstration
of the author’s cleverness than with any attempt to engage the reader with the
emotions of the protagonists. Much repetition and a deal of extraneous
information detract from the story itself. And the story is an excellent
conceit. I think it could have been written so much better by employing much
more discipline and far fewer words.
But, then, what do I know? The book has gained the
status of a classic. I read the story, by the way, in the unabridged version of
1898, as published in 1991 by Dover Publications Inc. Would it encourage me to
read more of James? I think not; I don’t have that much time to spare.
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