Thursday, July 06, 2006

the function of optical illusion and spare bedrooms in gothic coming of age stories

Or, more on plagarism in young adult fiction. Those of you who've read this stuff know that both girls are locked, as punishment, by unfeeling aunts, in strange and formal spare bedrooms, where they fantasize about their dead relatives, until . . .

"A singular notion dawned upon me. I doubted not - never doubted - that if Mr. Reed had been alive he would have treated me kindly; and now, as I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls — occasionally also turning a fascinated eye towards the dimly gleaning mirror — I began to recall what I had heard of dead men, troubled in their graves by the violation of their last wishes, revisiting the earth to punish the perjured and avenge the oppressed; and I thought Mr. Reed’s spirit, harassed by the wrongs of his sister’s child, might quit its abode —whether in the church vault or in the unknown world of the departed — and rise before me in this chamber. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs, fearful lest any sign of violent grief might waken a preternatural voice to comfort me, or elicit from the gloom some haloed face, bending over me with strange pity. This idea, consolatory in theory, I felt would be terrible if realised: with all my might I endeavoured to stifle it — I endeavoured to be firm. Shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted my head and tried to look boldly round the dark room; at this moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I asked myself, a ray from the moon penetrating some aperture in the blind? No; moonlight was still, and this stirred; while I gazed, it glided up to the ceiling and quivered over my head. I can now conjecture readily that this streak of light was, in all likelihood, a gleam from a lantern carried by some one across the lawn: but then, prepared as my mind was for horror, shaken as my nerves were by agitation, I thought the swift darting beam was a herald of some coming vision from another world. My heart beat thick, my head grew hot; a sound filled my ears, which I deemed the rushing of wings; something seemed near me; I was oppressed, suffocated: endurance broke down; I rushed to the door and shook the lock in desperate effort. Steps came running along the outer passage; the key turned, Bessie and Abbot entered." Jane Eyre, Chapter 2.

"DIDN'T the bed curtains stir and waver! She felt beads of cold perspiration on her forehead.

Then something did happen. A beam of sunlight struck through a small break in one of the slats of the blind and fell directly athwart the picture of Grandfather Murray hanging over the mantelpiece. It was a crayon "enlargement" copied from an old daguerreotype in the parlour below. In that gleam of light his face seemed veritably to leap out of the gloom at Emily with its grim frown strangely exaggerated. Emily's nerve gave way completely. In an ungovernable spasm of panic she rushed madly across the room to the window, dashed the curtains aside, and caught up the slat blind. A blessed flood of sunshine burst in. Outside was a wholesome, friendly, human world. And, of all wonders, there, leaning right against the window-sill was a ladder! For a moment Emily almost believed that a miracle had been worked for her escape." Emily of New Moon, Chapter 11.


Sorry, it's a lot of text, but I still had to cut some of the similiarties - the way the furnishings are described, the physicality of being locked in, and there's an owl in Emily's spare room too - maybe it created the "rushing of wings" Jane experienced. There are other similarities between these two desparate heroines (those pivotal tricks of the ear), and then, if you think about the horror of being locked in a spare bedroom in Jane Eyre, it, um, recurrs.

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2 Comments:

Blogger Oso Raro said...

Are you sure this isn't from Sean Wilsey's "Oh, The Glory of it All"?

10:07 AM  
Blogger zp said...

A lot of people have recommended I read "Oh, The Glory of it All" but no one has yet given me a reason as persuasive as this . . .

9:10 AM  

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