Essay Question 2: Figurativeness and Stylistic Effects in A Haunted House

[2,138 words]

In her short story A Haunted House, Virginia Woolf provides us with a cunning, albeit
unconventional, supernatural tale. Through the multiple and intricate figures of speech present in
the text, she works to subvert, rather than conform to, the conventions and expectations of the
ghost story genre, which the title immediately prompts. Nonetheless, on a closer look, the title
already indicates that this story is not about haunted houses as they are generally understood
within the conventions of horror or ghost stories, but, perhaps, just about a house which is
haunted. In my analysis, I do not hope to exhaust all the aspects of figurative language present in
the text, but only to highlight the ones that seem to generate more interesting discussions within
the rhetorical framework we have been working with in the course. In order to do that, I will
follow the order of the original story and then pull the more general features of the story
together.

The initial paragraphs already lend themselves to much discussion, opening the story with an
unreferenced “you” (l.1), which instantly implicates the reader in the text; in the absence of or
unfamiliarity with the referent, we are not invited, but rather enjoined to enter the narrative from
the start. In the following clause, the narrator sets the verb tense which will be used for most (but
not all) of the story: past, and especially the continuous (there was a door shutting), suggesting
that the situation described was ongoing, not punctual.

Still in this short paragraph, the narrator introduces us to a new set of characters – the ghostly
couple –, who abruptly interrupt a series of parallel clauses (lifting here, opening there, making
sure), resulting in a movement that is very similar to that of the previous shutting door. The very
structure of the text therefore performs the effects it describes. It is also worth mentioning that
there is a hyperbaton which foregrounds “From room to room”, not only drawing attention to the
iambic meter of this clause, but also highlighting the two words that are repeated (room/room,
hand/hand). This is significant because the whole text is built on dyads and dualities, from the
ghostly couple themselves to numerous sets opposite pairs, and the initial paragraph already
establishes the importance of such duos, which will be discussed further on.
The narrator then directly reports the ghosts’ fragmentary conversation, providing the reader
with another important element of the story: their search for a mysterious “it”, which we have no
access to. We walk alongside the narrator in not knowing the object of the ghosts’ search, and
this is one of the primary sources of suspense throughout the text, thus keeping the interest of the
reader going as the story progresses.

In the third paragraph, the narrator reveals him/herself (Farner, 2014) as part of a new set of
living characters (us), which we can assume to be a couple, considering the conclusion of the
story. He/she deepens our alignment to their perspective by once more employing a generic
pronoun (here, one) when describing their own thoughts, conjectures and actions in light of the
ghosts’ mysterious search. Interestingly, when doing so, the narrator blurs the lines that separate
reading and writing (l. 7/8), which further promotes the reader’s coincidence with their
viewpoint, growingly obsessed about the ghostly couple. This obsession is underscored by the
series of progressively longer clauses (the house all empty, the doors standing open, only the
wood pigeons bubbling with content and the hum of the threshing machine sounding from the
farm), which constitute a climax (in its broad meaning), and by the two questions (What did I
come in here for? What did I want to find?) structured parallelistically through an anaphora. In
this paragraph, Woolf also relies on onomatopoeia (bubbling and hum) to mark a distinction
between the empty and silent inside of the house, where the ghostly couple dwell, and the
ongoing life outside, setting this first antithetical pair, sound and silence.

The story progresses with yet another reference to doubles, as aforementioned. The narrator
claims that the ghostly couple have found their mysterious treasure in the drawing room, even
though they cannot be seen, which might appear to be contradictory, but is immediately followed
by a description which supports the idea that seeing things directly is not the only way to grasp
their existence. The window panes (l. 15) merely reflected the apples and the roses, that is, not
even these very concrete objects were seen face to face, but rather grasped through the glass.
This is further emphasized by the anaphorical construction of the sentence (reflected apples,
reflected roses), which mirrors the production of a double image as the very nature of reflection.
Hence, visible and not visible, concrete and perceived, real and not real also become significant
structuring oppositions throughout the text.
Suspense continues to escalate in this paragraph, constructed out of an asyndetic parallelism (if
the door was opened, spread about the floor, hung upon the walls, pendant from the ceiling)
which again results in climax or gradatio, whereby increasing tension is signalled in the text, as
the narrator-protagonists attempts to come to terms with their certainty of the existence of the
ghostly couple. This is nonetheless cut short by a dash and a one-word question (what?), so that
the main clause of the sentence is left unfinished (anapodoton) and the reader, hesitant.

What follows is the first occurrence of what is arguably one of the most important passages of
the text (the epizeuxis “Safe, safe, safe”, followed by the pulse of the house beat softly), which
not only inserts sound into the previously silent house, but also suggests that the ghosts and their
treasure are not threatening, but a soft presence entrenched in the house. It is also relevant to
notice that the pulse beats while there is light (as indicated by the passing shadow of a thrush),
and stops when light fades, so that light and dark constitute another of the dualities which
structure the text.

Through yet another parallelism derived from an anaphora (Death was the glass; death was
between us), Woolf underlines the metaphorical idea that Death was the glass that made it
impossible for the narrator to see the ghostly couple; this image builds on the previously
discussed topic of the reflections, with Death functioning, as the window panes did then, both as
a barrier that impedes direct contact with the ghosts and as the very aspect which enables the
narrator to perceive them, although not concretely. We are then offered a glimpse into the
ghostly couple’s past, Death being associated with the darkness that befell the house until the
return of the man. This movement of first distancing and then returning to the starting point is
encapsulated in one sentence, in which an asyndeton underscores the man’s desperate attempt to
run away from the house where the woman died, only to come full circle and go back to that
same house, which, in its turn, welcomes him back gladly, for now the treasure is restored and
safe. This account of the ghosts’ life story seems to lend itself to assuring their non-threatening
nature, while also enabling the reader to feel empathy towards these characters (Hughes, 2012).
Furthermore, although it gives the reader some background into the characters’ lives, it still does
not resolve the suspense around the buried treasure, keeping up the tension, as the reader still
needs to find out what it is and how it relates to the characters.
From this point on, there is a sudden shift in the verb tenses employed: the narrative is no longer
told in the past, the present being established as the new tense of the story. The gap between the
actions in the narrative and the narrative act itself is thus bridged, to such an extent that the
reader can further identify with the narrated situation, strengthening their emotional involvement
with the story (Farner, 2014). Such a choice is quite fitting to this last part of the story, for, as we
approach the conclusion, the author resorts to whichever ways she can to maintain and, if
possible, increase the suspense surrounding the text, which is achieved by the artificial
impression conveyed by the present tense that we are witnessing or even experiencing the actions
at first hand, uncovering the secrets and answers together with the narrator-protagonist.

Also interesting about this paragraph (l. 30-33) is that all the sentences which refer to natural
elements or objects (wind, trees, moonbeams, lamp and candle) are disposed paratactically, that
is, they are short and simple sentences with a preference for coordinating conjunctions. In
contrast with the much longer and more complex sentence referring to the ghostly couple
(Wandering through the house, opening the windows, whispering not to wake us, the ghostly
couple seek their joy), these convey a violence that the ghosts lack in their quiet search for joy,
once more drawing attention to their gentle disposition. Then, the narrator directly reports
another sequence of fragmented lines spoken by the ghostly couple, seemingly broken off in the
middle because they were overcome with the emotion brought about by the memories they
shared in the house (aposiopesis), which is effective in building tension and moving the reader
pathetically.

In the ninth paragraph (l. 42-45), the unusual foregrounding of “Long” in two parallel clauses
(Long they look; Long they pause) emphasizes the duration of these actions, which are further
stressed by the occurrence of anaphora in describing their positions (the faces bent; the faces
pondering; the faces that search the sleepers…). More remarkable, though, is the ambiguity in
the possessive pronoun their – whose joy are the ghostly couple seeking? Theirs or the sleepers’?
Rather than becoming a problem to the short story, this irresolvable ambiguity is exploited to
enhance the very nature of a text in which nothing is absolutely stated, but merely suggested; a
story in which nothing is concretely seen, but reflected. In the end, what matters most is to
understand that the ghostly couple have identified their joy – their buried treasure! – in the set of
living characters, whom we can better delineate as a couple at this point, when they are
juxtaposed to the ghosts.

While the latter slowly approach the narrator-protagonist and his/her partner, the final
occurrences of the “Safe, safe, safe” epizeuxis allow us to view the slight modifications that each
repetition carries, thus building a global understanding of how they function in the text. At first,
the pulse beats softly, but the reader can follow closely how that is expanded as the story
progresses, in a climactic shift to gladly (when referring to the return of the man of the ghostly
couple to the house), then proudly (as the ghosts see in the sleepers their hidden joy), and,
finally, wildly, with a change even in the punctuation, as the narrator-protagonist comes to the
realisation of what the buried treasure is. This realisation is accompanied by a recovery of the
light and not visible themes, composing a metaphorical understanding of love – this light in the
heart that is not supposed to be physically seen, but felt, arising from the memories and
experiences the two couples have shared or still do.

Given the discussed features of figurativeness within the text, as well as their stylistic effects, it
is important to note that extratextual factors (Farner, 2014) also have significant value in
determining how a piece of writing is read. In this case, Woolf’s choice of title and setting locate
her within the genre conventions of a ghost story, creating expectations about how the plot of her
story will unravel.

If we swear by M. R. James’ principles (2014 [1911]), which state that ghosts should be
maleficent or odious, that the characters should be introduced at first undisturbed and going
about their ordinary businesses, and that the writer must set the atmosphere and a ‘nicely
managed crescendo’, we cannot fail to see how Virginia Woolf has worked in A Haunted House.
It is striking that, while indeed attending to the language which characterises the genre, Woolf
has managed to subvert all other aspects of the ghost story genre, especially plot-wise. Carefully
crafting her language within the framework of ghost stories conventions, particularly with regard
to the many ways whereby she builds suspense and which were previously discussed (such as
parallelisms, asyndeton, repetitions, verb tenses and the unstable narrative focus), the author
concocts a story which drives the reader in the opposite direction of what a ghost story
presumably would. With her non-threatening and gentle ghosts who start the story having
already disturbed the narrator-protagonist, Woolf pulls us towards a conclusion that is not
horrifying or even adventurous at all, but rather optimistic and introspective, quite contrary to
James’ ‘If I’m not very careful, something of this kind may happen to me!’.

References

Farner, G. 2014. Literary Fiction: The Ways We Read Narrative Literature. New York:
Bloomsbury.

Hughes, S.A. 2012. “Critical Analysis of Virginia Woolf’s A Haunted House”. In: Innervate,
Volume 5.

James, M. R. 2014 [1911]. “Preface to More Ghost Stories of an Antiquary”. In: Collected Ghost
Stories. Adelaide: The University of Adelaide Library.

Silva Rhetoricae