j.d. worthington asked, in another thread:
And rather than hijack the monthly reading thread, I thought I would reply here. The book is not, strictly speaking, either SF or F, but there is, at the very least, an association with our genres, because LeFanu wrote so many stories with a supernatural element. Also, there is that chilling moment, unexplained, when a voice speaks to Maud from under the hearthstone.
Having finished the book, JD, my strongest impression is that Madame and Uncle Silas are two of the most frightening characters in 19th century fiction. (A brute like Bill Sykes, for instance, wears his nature openly. You could never mistake him, or be taken-in by him. He presents no conundrum. Madame and Uncle Silas, on the other hand, do have the ability to appear as other than they are. Those who do see through them are often unable to convince others of what they see -- and end up questioning themselves.) This terrifying quality comes in Madame's case despite the fact that heraccent is like nothing on earth. Or perhaps this very improbability in her speech is part of what makes her so eldritch. She is a grotesque who would feel quite at home at Gormenghast. Uncle Silas, on the other hand, fascinates even while he repels. It is clear that Maud sees him as a sort of tarnished, if not quite fallen, angel. This Luciferan quality adds to his mystique and for much of the book places Maud in a terrible position: he terrifies her, he excites her suspicion, but her very terror and suspicion carry with them a terrible guilt. She has, after all, been brought up to view him as the family martyr.
But is Uncle Silas more than he seems? I would say the reverse. He wants people to see him as more than he is -- he almost certainly believes it himself -- he cultivates an otherworldly image, but he is really a selfish, petty, self-deluded man. And the people on whom he exerts such an overwhelming influence are all in a position of weakness: his children, his young niece, his servants, a rather fatuous clergyman, etc. It's true that his brother is also somewhat under his spell, but this is from a distance; they have not met in years. If Austin and Silas had ever come face-to-face, I believe that the older brother would have seen through the younger almost immediately. The earthy and practical Dr. Bryerly, for instance, is not impressed.
But there is that statement by Lady Knollys, that she thinks that inhuman spirits are sometimes clothed in human flesh, and that Silas might be one of them. Should we trust her instincts on this? I don't think so. Monica Knollys lives a sheltered upper-class life in which the uglier things are either ignored or glossed-over. A dissipated, ruthless man like Silas would not have come within her sphere (he would not have been "received" in respectable houses and she certainly would not have visited him) except that he is her cousin and her contemporary -- probably they played together as children. No wonder Silas puzzles her; he has qualities the like of which she has never been exposed to elsewhere.
Another thing that struck me is how LeFanu is able to satirize characters like Uncle Silas (the cologne, the mystic ramblngs) and Madame de la Rougierre (her vanity, her remarkable caperings) without diminishing their essential creepiness one bit. In fact, these things seem to heighten the effect.
And rather than hijack the monthly reading thread, I thought I would reply here. The book is not, strictly speaking, either SF or F, but there is, at the very least, an association with our genres, because LeFanu wrote so many stories with a supernatural element. Also, there is that chilling moment, unexplained, when a voice speaks to Maud from under the hearthstone.
Having finished the book, JD, my strongest impression is that Madame and Uncle Silas are two of the most frightening characters in 19th century fiction. (A brute like Bill Sykes, for instance, wears his nature openly. You could never mistake him, or be taken-in by him. He presents no conundrum. Madame and Uncle Silas, on the other hand, do have the ability to appear as other than they are. Those who do see through them are often unable to convince others of what they see -- and end up questioning themselves.) This terrifying quality comes in Madame's case despite the fact that heraccent is like nothing on earth. Or perhaps this very improbability in her speech is part of what makes her so eldritch. She is a grotesque who would feel quite at home at Gormenghast. Uncle Silas, on the other hand, fascinates even while he repels. It is clear that Maud sees him as a sort of tarnished, if not quite fallen, angel. This Luciferan quality adds to his mystique and for much of the book places Maud in a terrible position: he terrifies her, he excites her suspicion, but her very terror and suspicion carry with them a terrible guilt. She has, after all, been brought up to view him as the family martyr.
But is Uncle Silas more than he seems? I would say the reverse. He wants people to see him as more than he is -- he almost certainly believes it himself -- he cultivates an otherworldly image, but he is really a selfish, petty, self-deluded man. And the people on whom he exerts such an overwhelming influence are all in a position of weakness: his children, his young niece, his servants, a rather fatuous clergyman, etc. It's true that his brother is also somewhat under his spell, but this is from a distance; they have not met in years. If Austin and Silas had ever come face-to-face, I believe that the older brother would have seen through the younger almost immediately. The earthy and practical Dr. Bryerly, for instance, is not impressed.
But there is that statement by Lady Knollys, that she thinks that inhuman spirits are sometimes clothed in human flesh, and that Silas might be one of them. Should we trust her instincts on this? I don't think so. Monica Knollys lives a sheltered upper-class life in which the uglier things are either ignored or glossed-over. A dissipated, ruthless man like Silas would not have come within her sphere (he would not have been "received" in respectable houses and she certainly would not have visited him) except that he is her cousin and her contemporary -- probably they played together as children. No wonder Silas puzzles her; he has qualities the like of which she has never been exposed to elsewhere.
Another thing that struck me is how LeFanu is able to satirize characters like Uncle Silas (the cologne, the mystic ramblngs) and Madame de la Rougierre (her vanity, her remarkable caperings) without diminishing their essential creepiness one bit. In fact, these things seem to heighten the effect.
