I find it to be a universal truth that for some people, certain authors can only be appreciated with greater experience. No where has that been more true than in reading Henry James’ The Turn of the Screw. When I was in eighth grade and had only then begun getting seriously invested in literature, I picked out a Barnes and Noble edition of four of Henry James’ short works: The Aspern Papers, The Beast in the Jungle, “The Jolly Corner,” and The Turn of the Screw. I believe that I was at the age when Poe and Lovecraft (to a lesser extent) were major gateways towards literary studies, and so I was curious as to reading Henry James’ Gothic ghost story. However, when I, an eighth grader who had just begun reading in a serious way, was met by the opening sentence, I was, without exaggeration, appalled:

“The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as on Christmas Eve in an old house a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to note it as the only case he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child.” 

This sentence, exceedingly straightforward besides its sheer length, disgusted me, horrified me, and became the subject of ridicule and humor. I remember going to any of my peers who were willing to listen to my rapidly growing hunger for literature and explaining why none of them should ever read a Henry James novel after such a boring and convoluted sentence. 

Needless to say, as an eighth grader I was a remarkably fast reader—too fast as a matter of fact. I would sometimes gloss over sentences, just trying to get the meat of the plot without caring at all for the prose, subtlety, or anything that makes a book good. Thankfully, I matured out of that initial phase quite quickly, although my distaste for James and The Turn of the Screw took longer to change. It was not until this month that I decided to pick up this collection once more and read The Turn of the Screw, willing to give it one more shot. Thank God I did. 

Henry James’ The Turn of the Screw is an incredible masterpiece of literary fiction, written beautifully and painstakingly to make every moment perfectly ghastly, suspenseful, and uneasy. The plot, after opening in a frame narrative about a manuscript that gets used to tell ghost stories from a governess, is marketed everywhere as a ghost story, and it very well may be one. But I believe it to be much eerier than that. The plot ostensibly follows from the 1st perspective viewpoint of a young governess, having been tasked to watch over the two nephews of the owner of Bly Manor. Along the way, the ghosts of previously employed people appear to the governess and children, leading her to try and protect them and their “innocent souls” from the dreadful apparitions. However, as she finds out more and more, it seems the children are in league with the ghosts themselves and want to get away from the governess, making the situation all the more tricky and dire. 

Now, that plot summary is what you might find on Wikipedia or a shallow summary of what is said to happen. I believe that the point of this horror story is, on the other hand, not about the ghosts, the children, or the creepy manor, but in the governess herself. 

At the start of the story, we learn that the governess seems to be in love with the uncle of the two children, although their dynamic together is unclear. When she first sees the two children, Flora and Miles, she is overcome by how beautiful and how innocent they appear. Truly, near the start of the novella, the amount of times she references the children as being beautiful, innocent, and precious angels is overwhelming. She even goes so far as to refer to them frequently as “her own children,” and wanting to preserve their innocence forever. When the ghosts start appearing, the only people who demonstratively and assuredly see them ever is the governess, and the only reason we’re led to be believe they are the ghosts of former Bly employees is because an old woman at Bly, Mrs. Grose says so, despite having not seen them herself. Additionally, the unnamed governess always seems to use mental tricks to get the dim-witted Mrs. Grose to believe in her, stressing how dangerous the ghosts are to her and the children, despite the fact they don’t do anything in the whole novel besides appear. When mrs. Grose offers to inform the uncle, the governess tells her that she will leave Bly at once and abandon the children if she does, out of both misplaced love for the uncle and the desire to “be the hero” herself who saves the children. Finally, it is only when the children begin suggesting to be left alone more often (the governess is almost always with them and even sleeps in the same room as them), does she get the idea that they are conspiring against her and are in league with the evil ghosts. 

What I think the novella is about is an overprotective governess stifling the lives of two young children in order to keep them “innocent,” using threats and manipulation to achieve this, and resulting ultimately in tragedy. 

The wonderful thing, however, is that you can absolutely read this story as a true, unadulterated ghost story and also be correct. James does not tell you one way or another if the governess is crazy and overprotective or if she is right for defending the children from the spirits. The uncertainty in the narrative makes the whole experience all the more horrifying and suspenseful, showing how brilliant of a writer James truly is when given a fair read. 

Additionally, especially after reading Zola, I have become infatuated with the writings of end-of-the-century, 1800s writers. I think the way James’ unique prose and emphasis on psychological study ushers in the modernists and bridges the gap between the old English novelists (Austen and Dickens) is fascinating. I am reading his The Aspern Papers now and am similarly loving it, and, above all, I implore you to stick with great authors who one might find difficult or not gel with the first time. Appreciation of genius and artistry often comes with time longer than an eighth grade life can provide. Henry James’ prose and artistry is absolute proof of that, and I am so excited to read more of him.