In Nathaniel Hawthorne, we find a writer who centers his stories in a foreign, unknown, somewhat ignorant, superstitious, ambitious, greedy for possessions, and fearful of divine designs. This particular mixture is what makes up the American population, the one that populated lands, forged cities, and settled in the unknown, in the seized. And perhaps for that reason, it adhered to a primary, mixed, almost eclectic religiosity that has mutated but still permeates their consciences, even today.

Perhaps for that reason, this novel is dense, complex from the start, because in some way it attempts to explain the origin. That's why it talks about disputes over lands, about lineages that transmitted ambition, the greed for possession. It also talks about the dispossessed, those who in turn at some point seized from the original owners, and thus impotent before their equals, they hurled curses, believed in witchcraft or spells, but above all in the power to use them as a last way to take revenge.

"Tradition - which sometimes preserves truths that history has let escape, but which more often is only the crazy nonsense of an era."

That greed awakens and never extinguishes in humans, allowing them to act in a reprehensible way and at the same time fabricate a spotless conscience that invariably positions itself every morning to face the world.

One walks through that old, gloomy, broken, dark, humid house, but does so blindly, with the hand outstretched to be able to touch where one is going, on tiptoe so as not to wake the ghosts that inhabit, that sleep, that accompany, that guard secrets. The living in that house also walk like the dead, accustomed to inaction, to the fatalism of an uncertain but gloomy destiny. Only hunger reminds them from time to time that they are still alive.

Although so much darkness is depressing and oppressive, one also gets used to it, so much so that when the light touches a corner, we feel the disconcertion that the very characters do, as if something unusual were happening.

At the end of the book, I thought that it is most similar to contemplating the birth of a dawn, a lethargic wait immersed in total darkness, without hope, and suddenly the sun peeks out, the clarity emerges, the miracle happens.

"Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! We, who are still alive, will be able to get up in time. As for him, who has died today, his tomorrow will be that of the resurrection."

For I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation… Exodus 20:5.

This passage has always been a source of wonder for me. Why should punishment be meted out in such a way? The idea of descendants suffering for their forefathers' mistakes is a recurring theme in literature. The Bible passage is just one example, and there are countless others, such as Nathaniel Hawthorne's The House of Seven Gables.

In Hawthorne's novel, the life of Colonel Pyncheon and his descendants is marred by darkness and gloom. The infamous line "God will give him blood to drink!" sets the tone for the story. But why involve the innocent? Why stain the pure with blood before they even take their first breath?

It occurred to me that even without such obvious curses, the lives of future generations are often greatly affected by their ancestors. If an ancestor leaves a legacy of poverty, it is more likely that the descendant will be born into hard circumstances. On the other hand, if an ancestor provides the advantage of luxury, the descendant may have a head start in life. Our lives seem to be dictated by the decisions of those who came before us, which is both fascinating and a bit laughable.

This common occurrence in literature, of making descendants suffer for their ancestors, serves as a tool to emphasize the power that an ancestor holds over his lineage. It shows the effects of that power in a more obvious form. In contrast, the building of a great house for posterity, like the House of Seven Gables, represents the good intentions of an ancestor but can also lead to wrong thinking about the welfare of the lineage.

The novel also explores the feud between the Pyncheons and the Mauls, which is another example of how people can be tangled in bitter conflict because of events that happened generations ago. The resolution of the feud is more optimistic than expected, but the rivalry because of lineage is still a contemptible practice.

In the end, I agree with Holgrave's discourse that the living should be more accountable for their decisions and more responsible for the changes that occur during their lifetime. While we cannot discount the influence of our ancestors, we have the power to control our own destiny.

The House of Seven Gables is a good read that shows certain tendencies of the human state that can be improved upon. It exposes qualities regarding lineage and folklore that can be outlived. However, it also has its faults. It gives too much faith to mesmerism and hypnotism, and it did not live up to my expectations of an epic sweeping across generations. Despite these flaws, I still believe that the novel is worth the time and effort. It ends on a positive note, and its optimism in the face of darkness is a testament to Hawthorne's romanticism and virtuosity.

In conclusion, if I were to sum up the wisdom imparted by this book in a sentence, it would be: Live by your own accord, then let others live by theirs.

I can clearly understand why English teachers have a penchant for this book. The vocabulary employed within it is alone sufficient to make it worthy of perusal. Moreover, it is replete with all those themes and symbolisms that English teachers are so fond of discussing.

Regrettably, Nathaniel Hawthorne also had a penchant for expounding on themes and symbolisms, which renders this book to feel like an interminable treatise on the same. I mean, seriously, Nathaniel Hawthorne drones on and on and on, and then continues some more about these matters. He doesn't merely convey to you once that it is a degradation for Hepzibah to have to establish a shop or that Judge Pyncheon is malevolent. He hammers it into your head. This makes me wonder - did Nathaniel Hawthorne consider his readers to be obtuse? Did he think that people would read about Judge Pyncheon threatening to incarcerate Clifford in an asylum and muse, "Hmmm, I wonder if he's the villain?"

What Hawthorne failed to elucidate was the plot. After leading us through countless soliloquies regarding human nature, avarice, the sins of the fathers, class deterioration, the advantages of trains, and seemingly any other topic that crossed his mind whilst penning this work, he concludes the plot with such haste and carelessness that the reader is left pondering what on earth transpired.

*Spoiler Alert*

Judge Pyncheon meets his demise whilst menacing Clifford, and we are left to surmise that Clifford is the culprit, for after all, Clifford is somewhat deranged and Hawthorne has been intimating for the past hundred pages or so that Judge Pyncheon is implicated in Clifford's thirty-year incarceration. Clifford and Hepzibah flee the town and board a train.

Phoebe and Holgrave discover the deceased judge, but instead of presuming that Holgrave has been slain (He has a bloodstain on his chest) by one of the fugitive pair, Holgrave informs Phoebe that he has taken a photograph of the Judge (well, who wouldn't?) and has compared it to the Judge's previous picture, and somehow this purports to prove Clifford's innocence. How, you might inquire? Hawthorne doesn't enlighten us.

Just as he doesn't disclose to us why Clifford and Hepzibah return from their train journey when surely they are cognizant that they will be held accountable for the judge's death.

But they aren't. Hawthorne simply skims over any further details regarding the townsfolk's reaction to the judge's demise. I mean, he is discovered lifeless in a chair within the abode of those he has wronged, with a bloodstain on his shirt, yet somehow nobody seems to suspect foul play because Clifford conveniently inherits the judge's wealth and they relocate.

Um, yeah.

I might perhaps have cared about all those themes that Hawthorne is imposing upon the reader, but I am unable to do so when the plot is so disjointed.