Ωραία η γραφή του Χοθορν. Η ιστορία που περιγράφει είναι ενδιαφέρουσα και μου άρεσε πολύ το πως παρουσιάζει τους χαρακτήρες και τις καταστάσεις. Ωστόσο, δεν μου άρεσε πολύ το τέλος. Μου φάνηκε σαν \\"κι έζησαν αυτοί καλά κι εμείς καλύτερα\\", κάτι που μου φαίνεται λίγο απλό και μη αρκετά ικανοποιητικό. Θα ήθελα να δω ένα τέλος πιο περίπλοκο και με περισσότερη βαθιά σκέψη. Εντούτοις, η γραφή συνολικά είναι πολύ καλή και αξίζει να διαβαστεί. Θα προτιμούσα όμως ένα διαφορετικό τέλος που να μου δίνει περισσότερο προς σκέψη και να μου αφήνει μια πιο έντονη αίσθηση.

Full disclosure, I wrote this for my discussion post and figured it would work well as a review.

The introduction of Hawthorne's The House of the Seven Gables informed me that his novel was "the nearest approach to ordinary contemporary life." Who am I to deny Hawthorne? I resolved to read this book with the most Puritan mindset I could muster. According to the US Department of Justice,

The Protestant tradition exemplified by Puritanism was not founded on the concept of human freedom as the basis of moral and religious life; instead, Puritans were convinced that humans were trapped in an inheritance of original sin.

Indeed, Hawthorne explicitly writes out themes of predestination and original sin—far more explicitly than I thought necessary to convey the issues related to the sins of our ancestors. Clifford, while fleeing from the house and simultaneously savoring his first moment of freedom, remarks, "Morbid influences, in a thousand-fold variety, gather about hearths, and pollute the life of households. There is no such unwholesome atmosphere as that of an old home, rendered poisonous by one's defunct forefathers and relatives. I speak of what I know." Yet, at this point, Hawthorne had introduced Hepzibah with the question "how can we elevate our history of retribution for the sin of long ago," and even had discussed the house as "each inheritor of the property—conscious of wrong, and failing to rectify it—did not commit anew the great guilt of his ancestor, and incur all its original responsibilities. And supposing such to be the case, would it not be a far truer mode of expression to say of the Pyncheon family, that they inherited a great misfortune, than the reverse?"

His writing is completely overdetermined. Where he might have had to mention sins and ancestors and predetermination once, twice, perhaps thrice to be certain, Hawthorne references it at every opportunity. Is Hawthorne afraid that we won't understand that we inherit the sins of our ancestors? Is he attempting to increase the burden felt by those whose ancestors have sinned by mentioning it more than necessary?

Clifford "speaks of what [he] knows," but at the same time, he doesn't know anything beyond what his own ancestors have taught him (to what extent does anyone truly know anything beyond what their own ancestors have taught them?). His self-proclaimed understanding of the pollution of his own bloodlines—to what extent is it a guess? Indeed, throughout each retelling, each reminder of the sins of the Pyncheon family's ancestors (and their [mostly the Judge's] current-day sins), Hawthorne always reminds us that these are stories—some parts of understanding have been lost to history. The language he uses to describe the sins of ancestors, while repetitive, changes slightly, first the guilt of the ancestor, then misfortune, then defunct ancestor. The differences between guilt, misfortune, and defunctness are minute, but still exist. While Clifford might be speaking of what he knows, he truly only knows bits and pieces—guesses, really.

So then, if we are to guess at the sins of our ancestors, to what extent are we trapping ourselves within the idea of original sin? Do we tell ourselves we are cursed and then, as a result, become cursed? Is Hawthorne's The House of the Seven Gables not entirely a reflection of Puritan ideals, but rather an exposé, attempting to show Puritans that the idea of original sin is foolish? "Life is made up of marble and mud"—are we looking at the marble? Or are we fixating on the mud?

Hawthorne's follow-up to the masterpiece that is The Scarlet Letter feels more self-indulgent and less cohesive and fully developed than its predecessor.

As a novel, it is constructed mostly of pictures than of characters that live and breathe--and what vivid pictures they are.

The characters of Phoebe and Holgrave serve as a tribute to his marriage. Phoebe is even the nickname he has for his wife, Sophia. But Holgrave is not much of a hero- though charming and enigmatic. We can imagine him very clearly as a young, beatnik Nathaniel who once lived in a Utopian experimental community and was friends with Henry David Thoreau. Phoebe is an idealized portrait embodying all of his wife's attributes.

At the center of the novel stands poor Clifford and poor Hepzibah, siblings linked by the shackles of a gloomy old house. Within these shadows: Judge Pyncheon, a double for the murdered Pyncheon of the past, central to the curse and old negative energy that pervades this Gothic abode.

Hawthorne is exorcising his own ancestral past and the past of the inhabitants of Salem and the injustices that murdered so many witches and \\"wizards.\\" The echo, God will give you blood to drink, reverberates and is given to the wizard Maule but was an actual quote by one of the condemned witches of Salem.

Still, what a treasure-trove of Symbolism and what Hawthorne is best at. Even the chickens in the backyard are a symbol....of hierarchies and class distinctions. Poor Hepzibah still sees herself as \\"a proper lady\\" but alas the world around her is a-changing.

This is a novel about the passing of the Old and the dawning of the New. And seen by its details, Hawthorne is brilliant. In one scene, he conjures the spirit world with an aliveness that is marvelous. Yet all the parts do not fit together as a cohesive whole in a way that would be more satisfying. The House of the Seven Gables is itself a symbol and a portrait more than a story.

There is so much to analyze here. It encompasses much of Hawthorne's philosophical musings on American culture and it prophesies somewhat the future--the New Dawn that was coming. It is a part of Transcendentalist literature and I feel much of what Hawthorne has to say is valid.

I have read and re-read this many times.

“...the act of the passing generation is the germ which may and must produce good or evil fruit, in a far distant time”.

Thus speaks Hawthorne in the course of his book. To a large extent, this statement neatly summarises the theme and plot of the story.

The book is a natural progression from his previous work, The Scarlet Letter. It is almost like an updated (by 150 - 200 years) sequel. Hawthorne began it just 6 months after the publication of The Scarlet Letter. Here, he shows what occurs as the seeds of the Salem type of puritanism germinate throughout the generations, specifically through the Pyncheon family line.

My relationship with this book dates back a very long way. I bought it as a boy in a village jumble sale (do they still have such things?). I was determined to read it. Not surprisingly, I struggled at first. But with the help of a dictionary and reading slowly, I managed to get through it. I’ve been hooked on it ever since, often returning to it and to my beloved Nathaniel Hawthorne.

As a boy, I could identify with the characters in the book, especially the reclusive Miss Hepzibah Pyncheon. For me, she was like my widowed grandmother, with whom I spent a great deal of time. Like Hepzibah, my grandmother had virtually withdrawn from the world after the early death of my grandfather. She rarely went outside. Her arthritis, which had painfully and cruelly deformed her limbs, made it difficult for her to do so anyway. Like Hepzibah, she could also scowl. But, as in the case of Hepzibah, this was often misinterpreted. Both women were short-sighted and lovely in their own way. My grandmother’s house, although not as large as Hepzibah’s, had been the family home for 3 or 4 generations. There was also a shop attached to it where my father carried on his trade, the same as his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him. The idea of my grandmother crossing the threshold of the shop, as Hepzibah did, to make a living selling a few sweets filled me with horror. It wasn’t for snobbish reasons; after all, we were a family of shopkeepers. But my grandmother was painfully shy.

At the risk of overstating the case (no pun intended….), my grandmother had a large garden, somewhat neglected like Hepzibah’s. Here, my father kept a few chickens. The book is very personal for me, and I have returned to it, almost like to my childhood home, many times. I sense that it is also very autobiographical for Hawthorne. As a young man/adolescent, he shut himself up in his room for several years, perhaps with a guilty secret?

Hawthorne is quite particular about labelling this book a romance rather than a novel. This gives him the freedom to use his mirage style of storytelling. So, we’re never quite sure whether what he tells us is pure fantasy, fact, or a combination of both. This romance is about sunshine and shadow, sadness and joy, laughter and tears, age and the future. The book will also focus on double standards, false values, and justice, which Hawthorne is an expert at examining.

Here are a couple of snippets:

“Stay a moment if you please! Said the Judge, again beaming sunshine out of his face...” But appearances can be deceiving. Just a page or so later, his expression has changed: “To know Judge Pyncheon was to see him at that moment. After such a revelation, let him smile with what sultriness he would, he could much sooner turn grapes purple or pumpkins yellow, than melt the iron-branded impression out of the beholder’s memory”.

Hepzibah’s brother Clifford to his sister - “We are ghosts! We have no right amongst human beings – no right anywhere, but in this old house, which has a curse on it, and which therefore we are doomed to haunt...It is an ugly thought, that I should be frightful to my fellow-beings, and that children would cling to their mother’s gowns, at sight of me…..”

I spoke of sunshine and shadow. Here, as the book nears its end, an old character, much loved by the Pyncheons, who often spoke of retiring to his “farm” (the workhouse) says:

“But I suppose I am like a Roxbury Russet – a great deal the better, the longer I can be kept”.

I guess this is much too personal to be an objective review, but what the hell! I love this book.

A clueless group on goodreads.com selected this as its book of the month under the "Horror" genre, despite there being no horror in it. The author labeled it a "Romance," but there is no romance either, except for a brief and unmistakably phony declaration of love between two protagonists at the end. In fact, this is a sex book set in the sexually repressed mid-19th century.

There is a large, old house with seven gables and a dark past dating back a hundred years or so. Inside, there is a portrait of the house's builder and original owner, Colonel Pyncheon. The current occupants are a brother and sister, both Pyncheons and descendants of the Colonel, who are decrepit and poor. The brother, Clifford, has lost his mind and acts like a child at times.

They have a boarder, a young and good-looking artist, who occupies one of the house's seven gables. Later, another Pyncheon, a cousin of the brother and sister, comes for a visit and eventually becomes an occupant. She is young and pretty. And of course, there is a villain, Judge Pyncheon, another cousin who is rich, powerful, and looks like Colonel Pyncheon in the portrait and is said to be as evil as the original.

Everything needed for gothic sex is present: a big, old, gloomy "house" (which, in the dictionary, can mean a brothel), reminiscent of the castle in Marquis de Sade's "120 Days of Sodom"; an unattractive, sex-starved character (the sister, a spinster with a permanent scowl and a sado-masochistic name, "Hepzibah"); one with an infantile taste for sex (the brother, Clifford, who is off in the head); the stud (the artist/boarder, Holgrave), a staple in all porn films; a nubile object of delectation and ready for corruption (the young lady from the country, Phoebe); and a villain (Judge Pyncheon).

The first sex scene (symbolically only, as this was in the 19th century when the Philippines was still under Spanish rule) occurs when Hepzibah opens her small store to earn a living, as if she is opening her legs for the first time in her life after being forced into prostitution. Her first customer is the stud/artist. He offers to assist her further in her preparations. When Hepzibah sees his smile and hears his kindly tone, she first breaks into a hysteric giggle and then begins to sob. The stud, Holgrave, gives her words of encouragement, telling her that her feelings will pass once she is in the midst of her enterprise.

For Clifford, the retard, nothing is more beautiful than Phoebe. He takes note of every charm of her sex and sees the ripeness of her lips and the virginal development of her bosom. But since he is like a child, all he can do is touch her flower and smell it. With Phoebe by his side, his little weapon comes alive.

As for the villain, Judge Pyncheon, he is compared to the long-dead Colonel Pyncheon, and the clear implication is that both were as debauched and cruel as any of Marquis de Sade's sick "heroes." The story of the Judge's wife getting a death blow in the honeymoon for having to serve him coffee every morning at his bedside, as if he were her liege lord and master, is highly suggestive and could be interpreted as a euphemism for something more debasing.

My full review of this book is much larger than GoodReads' word-count limitations. Find the entire essay at the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com].

The CCLaP 100: In which I read 100 supposed "classics" for the first time, then write reports on whether or not I think they deserve the label

Book #2: House of the Seven Gables, by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The story in a nutshell:

Like any good horror story, the spooky House of the Seven Gables actually tells two stories at once. It is simultaneously the historic tale of the cursed Pyncheon family, who have been the concurrent owners of a reputedly haunted house in Salem, Massachusetts for over two centuries. It is also the specific tale of the most recent generation of this family, dealing with the same curse that has haunted all the Pyncheons since Puritan times. The original owner, old Colonel Pyncheon, got a man named Maule killed as a witch to avoid paying the construction costs of the house, despite knowing he was innocent. Maule, in turn, issued a curse on the Pyncheon family as he died, which has haunted any member who has had anything to do with the house. Meanwhile, there is a persistent rumor that the Pyncheon family owns a lot more land in Salem than just the Seven Gables estate. If they could find the 200-year-old evidence, they could get the state government to reimburse them and make them rich. In this respect, House of the Seven Gables is as much a morality tale as it is a horror or haunted-house story. Any Pyncheon who takes an interest in finding the old evidence ends up obsessed and ultimately ruined, just like those affected by the supposed magical curse and the tormented ghosts within the house's walls.

As a result, the book tells two stories at once. The majority of it is dedicated to the current Pyncheon family in the mid-1800s. There is bitter spinster Hepzibah, who has had to open a cent-store on the first floor to make ends meet. Her elderly brother Clifford is a broken man who has just gotten out of jail after 30 years for a crime he didn't commit. Judge Jaffrey is a haughty and hard old man who is thinking of running for governor and is convinced that Clifford knows where the hidden Pyncheon real-estate evidence is. And then there is Young Phoebe, a rural cousin who is visiting that summer to help out the terminally dour family. She is like a little rainbow compared to the rest of the family's endless thunderstorms. Combine all this with a lot of melodrama, a series of semi-supernatural events, and a liberal sprinkling of backstory about the doomed Pyncheons of yore, and you have yourself one very Victorian novel indeed.

The argument for it being a classic:...

Nathaniel Hawthorne was a long line descendant of Puritan ancestors, including a Magistrate in the Salem Witch trials. Losing his father at the young age of four, his mother kept him isolated, which formed him into the shy, bookish writer he became.

The House of Seven Gables can be considered more than just a romance novel. It is rather a Gothic Romance, with the run-down mansion being a character of the novel. The house has mystery; it is dark and gloomy, containing secrets of the past, ghosts, and strange happenings of former residents.

The life of the Pyncheon family is the story. It tells how the house came to be and a curse that endures throughout the family's existence. With tragedy striking the family, the house protects others with its spaciousness.

The book is rough in spots to read at times but enjoyable overall. The ending is totally unexpected! It made me smile a bit. It leaves the reader with a sense of wonder and a desire to explore more of Hawthorne's works.

Halfway through this novel, I was all set to pen a scathing review.

The reason being that it took an excruciatingly long time for the plot to progress. However, from chapter 13 onwards, it did manage to become more engaging.

Even then, there were chapters that seemed rather self-indulgent, such as "Governor Pyncheon". In this chapter, the author basically seemed to be patting himself on the back for having added some action to the story in the preceding chapter.

Nevertheless, now that I have managed to make it all the way to the end, I find myself glad that I did. My most significant issue with Hawthorne is that while the overall story he presents is of interest, his writing style is rather laborious to read.

He truly shines in this story when it comes to Holgrave's dialogue. Holgrave has some extremely interesting points of view. In fact, there is one part that is almost like a motor home commercial! It's quite an unexpected and unique addition to the narrative.

Despite the flaws in his writing style, the overall story and the interesting characters do make it a worthwhile read in the end.

This book remained unnoticed by me until my wife and I visited Salem, Massachusetts. There, she expressed a desire to see the renowned House of the Seven Gables. As it transpired, Nathaniel Hawthorne had indeed visited the said house, yet it didn't possess seven gables at that time and was likely one of several structures that served as inspiration for the book. Nevertheless, the charming tour motivated me to pick it up.

Hawthorne has crafted a story with elements of autobiography. His own great-great-grandfather, John Hathorne, was a judge in the Salem Witch Trial. In "The House of the Seven Gables," it is the Pyncheon family that bears the burden of having executed a man for witchcraft. However, in this account, there was actual witchery. Matthew Maule, as he was condemned to death, cursed Judge Pyncheon to drink blood, and so it happened. The judge died mysteriously, passing the curse to his heirs. Every few generations, the Pyncheon/Maule rivalry recurs, and we witness it unfold again in the lives of the aging Hepzibah and Clifford Pyncheon and their young cousin Phoebe.

The delight of the book lies in its descriptions. Hawthorne can take a single moment and dwell on it at length, painting the characters, environment, and interior landscapes with exquisite detail. Some of these descriptions, allusions, and bouts of wordplay are extremely humorous or clever, and I found myself highlighting many. For instance, a young boy repeatedly visits Hepzibah's cent shop to buy large animal-shaped cookies. After purchasing a whale-shaped cookie, Hawthorne makes this hilarious reference to Job: "The great fish, reversing his experience with the prophet of Nineveh, immediately began his progress down the same red pathway of fate whither so varied a caravan had preceded him." He also pauses to offer profound moments, such as when describing the aged Clifford's discomfort with seeing unfamiliar things.

At the same time, this depth of description means that not much actually occurs in the story, and it progresses very slowly. Most of it takes place within the dark and dismal confines of an aging house, and much of the descriptive effort is used to discuss death, regret, aging, and forgetfulness. I relished the wordplay and the wonderful vocabulary (which I also highlighted and shared with my son), but I caution that this book demands patience and perseverance from a modern audience.

Near the end, I was pleasantly surprised by a turn of events that causes Clifford and Hepzibah to act out of character, but I won't reveal it here. Some aspects of the conclusion I also didn't anticipate, so hopefully, this story will reward you similarly if you persevere.

A classic written by an American novelist. I have long desired to incorporate more classics into my reading plan. Recently, I happened to come across this particular one.

Regrettably, I discovered that it was overly dry and had a sluggish pace. It was extremely detailed and rich in symbolism.

This is likely a work that is frequently utilized in classrooms to exemplify imagery and symbolism in writing. However, it is not an especially pleasurable read.

Perhaps with a different mindset or a more in-depth understanding of the era and the author's intentions, I might be able to appreciate it more fully.

Nonetheless, for now, it has left me with a somewhat underwhelming impression.

Not going to be a favorite. This statement holds true for many reasons. Firstly, there are a lot of words used, yet the plot seems rather thin. It's as if the author has sacrificed substance for the sake of verbosity. The excessive use of words can make the reading experience tiresome and may even cause the reader to lose interest before reaching the end.

Secondly, without a strong and engaging plot, the story fails to capture the reader's attention and keep them hooked. A good plot is the backbone of any literary work, and without it, the words seem to fall flat. The reader is left wondering what the point of it all is.

In conclusion, while a rich vocabulary can enhance a story, it cannot substitute for a well-developed plot. This work, with its abundance of words and lackluster plot, is unlikely to become a favorite among readers.

Nathaniel Hawthorne is a remarkable figure in American literature. I discovered him through Herman Melville, one of my favorite writers. Their friendship was so profound that Melville dedicated his masterpiece, Moby Dick, to Hawthorne, calling him a genius. Another great admirer of Hawthorne was Edgar Allan Poe, who praised his inventiveness, creativity, imagination, and originality in his review of "Cuentos dos veces contados".

However, reading "The House of the Seven Gables" is a slow and sometimes exasperating process. Hawthorne takes too many detours to explain actions or define characters, which can make the story seem tedious. This is similar to my experience with Melville's "Pierre, or the Ambiguities".

Despite this, I persevered with "The House of the Seven Gables" because of my respect and admiration for Hawthorne. The novel has some interesting elements, such as the use of the house itself as the main character, similar to Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher" and Walpole's "The Castle of Otranto".

Overall, I believe that Hawthorne's best work is in his short stories, which are often perfect in execution. His novels, on the other hand, may present a challenge to readers not accustomed to his style. It requires patience and time to read them, but for those who are willing to put in the effort, they can be rewarding.

"Ya en el umbral sintieron cómo su inexorable garra caía sobre ellos. Porque ¿Qué otra celda más oscura que el propio corazón y qué carcelero más implacable que el yo mismo?"