The Haunting of Hill House Scares Us!

I'm hoping that some of you listening to this episode are fans of Netflix's adaptation of Shirley Jackson's 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House, which also happens to be my favorite novel of all time.  I understand why you liked it -- many, many people did; you're not alone -- but I'm hoping you might check out the book, and give the original Eleanor Vance a shot.  Enjoy the semicolons; enjoy, heartily, the adverbs; enjoy the shifting of reality, and see if you agree with me or not:  if Hill House is haunted, what is it haunted by?

If you're playing along at home and you're trying to guess the number of copies of HoHH  I possess, you can start counting the hardcovers.  Many of them are gifts from my friend Angie (the blue British edition in the top left hand corner; the gorgeous embossed copy from Easton Press; the blue and yellow hardcover on the bottom row).  The two with the creepy yellow flowers and the house lurking in the background were Holy Grails for me; one I found on Etsy for a bit of a price, and the yellow copy (with the jacket attached), which was rebranded in 1968, three years after Shirley's death, I found for a song on Abe Books, I believe (check 'em out).  I am not, however, a huge fan of the copy from Guillermo Del Toro on the bottom left.  The copy displayed on its spine is the Reader's Digest Condensed version I found in a thrift shop in Glasgow the summer of 1994, when I discovered Shirley initially; it has stunning illustrations that perfectly encapsulate the characters for me, exactly as I pictured them.  I'll post those below as well.

Here are the paperback copies.  It's amazing to me how many different editions exist, especially in softcover; as I've said before on the podcast, if I like a book I will buy as many different editions asI can get my paws on (which explains why I have sixty billion copies of The Wizard of Oz, Dracula, and King's 'Salem's Lot).  The two copies in the bottom right corner are the two I referred to during the episode:  the one with the gingham-looking border, featuring Luke glaring at the audience, was the first copy I ever owned, and the one beside it is the first copy I actually ever read, donated to me by the librarians of Hellgate High School.

An excellent British paperback edition I do not possess (yet).

A closeup of the Penguin edition from 1984, and the first I ever owned:  there's Luke, looking directly at us, and Eleanor, huddled in the corner; headless Dr. Montague; and Theo, tucked neatly into the chair with her legs over the arm.  I have been known to attack a chair myself in just that manner.  While I enjoy it, it certainly doesn't seem to proclaim that this is a horror novel, or even a ghost story.  (Although I do enjoy the "fatuous little cupid" statue Jackson describes perched up on the mantle.)

Summer of 2010, showing Ryan my (as-of-yet unowned) Holy Grail (in the Glasgow library). 

A closeup of the first edition dustjacket.  Powell's Bookstore in Portland, Oregon, has a signed first edition for $2000.

The illustrations by Ben Stahl from the 1959 Reader's Digest Condensed version.

 

Eleanor tries to run over Dudley-at-the-gate.

 The core four hanging out in the shadows of Hill House.

Theo tempts the statue of Hugh Crain.

Eleanor and Theo clutch each other as something unseen bangs on the door.  What was it?  Stephen King insists that the door be opened; I disagree.

A giant shift in tone:  the arrival of the irascible Mrs. Montague and cowardly Arthur Parker.

Eleanor spies on Theo and Luke, who aren't talking about her at all.

Eleanor, going higher and higher ...

And Whatever Walked There, Walked Alone

I am obsessed with houses.

That's probably why The Haunting of Hill House is my favorite novel; it also doesn't hurt that I grew up in the following:

So I suppose I should explain that this isn't quite how the house looked when I lived there (from 1985-1992, and then 1995-1997; my folks were there until 2007), but it's not that far off either (though it was a bit more painted; also, the windows weren't quite so ... broken).  But it always had that sort of brooding air, like something was watching you ... always watching.

I was a bit surprised to find this ... um ... garbage pit (?) that definitely did not exist during my tenure there; note that this is also a pit of bones!  Bone-us!  (Did I just say that?  Yes, yes I did.)

This was the bedroom I shared with my brother until we were both 9 and 8, at which point we moved into the (significantly scarier) basement; I was so thrilled to finally have my own bedroom I didn't care about the ghosts (the shredding sounds in the middle of the night, the sound of someone pacing back and forth behind the headboard of my bed, the glowing green lights in the middle of the night; you know, the usual).  When Ryan and I visited, we disturbed two birds that had become trapped in this room and were unable -- or, perhaps, unwilling -- to escape.  Sing it with me now:  BIRDS BIRDS BIRDS BIRDS BIRDS BIRDS BIRDS!

"Exorcism cannot alter the countenance of a house; Hill House would remain as it was until it was destroyed." -- The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (1959)

Haunted Mirrors Scare Us

I took this picture in my brother's old bedroom last summer; there was no light except the flash from my camera.  Look closely into the mirror ... if you dare!