The following article analyzes the ways in which nineteenth-century regional writer Mary E.
Alongside a body of work, which thanks to the work of Fetterely and Pryse in America and Cécile Roudeau in France, has become more critically explored over the years, there is yet another, centered on elements of the supernatural and in which haunted houses play a key role.Standing on the threshold of the narrative, this male figure forbids any revelation but makes it possible for Rebecca to embark on her quest and have a story to tell: “ ‘Seems as though I ought to have told her, Thomas.’ ‘Let her find it out herself,’ replied the man” (10). dating portale vergleich Oldenburg Finding out what happened to her niece is precisely what Rebecca Flint wants, as her quest and wandering plot the narrative Mr. From the start, then, the feminine is linked to peregrinations and adventures while the masculine blocks and forbids.Widely read in the century, perhaps because with their supernatural overtones they have been likened to the gothic tradition, whose prestige has sometimes been overshadowed by Romanticism.1 However, often written by women and for women, these nineteenth-century gothic narratives are more than merely innocuous hair-raisers.While they certainly may be ascribed to women’s need for economic independence, the emergence of a leisured middle class and the development of the American magazine industry, these popular stories also function as distorting echo chambers resounding with highly problematic issues. Wilkins Freeman’s stories “The Lost Ghost,” “The Southwest Chamber,” and “The Wind in the Rosebush,” belong to such a group of haunted tales and allow for the veiled exploration of such disturbing issues as abused children, frustrated female desire and socially “improper” feelings, like jealousy and female envy.
Chat flirt Moers
Dans ces récits aux accents gothiques, le moment de révélation est constamment différé par d’ingénieuses narratrices qui inventent des histoires sans fin, comme si leurs secrets ne pouvaient se dire.De manière paradoxale, cette , le sens de ces récits, où l’interaction constante du masculin et du féminin se révèle éminemment fertile, n’est livré que par fragments, intermittence et indirection.As Lawrence Buell states: The conceptualization of the village as utopia and the village as backwater developed symbiotically during our period, the balance finally shifting decisively from the first to the second not simply as the function of the economic and cultural change but also as a result of the fact that village culture had been done to the point of cliché (Buell, 1986, 318).The secondary characters that Rebecca meets on the boat operate as regional clichés as well, haunting the text with their strange peculiarities and odd idiosyncrasies. Amblecrom is introduced as “mildly stupid” and inarticulate, “opening her mouth to speak, making little abortive motions” (8) while her husband is described as a grounded and pragmatic man whose “stolid keenness” (9) makes him believe only what his eyes can see; there is no room for abstract thought here.Si le traumatisme au cœur du texte fait donc retour, il ne peut se dire que par les voies dérobées de l’indirection, une rhétorique que Freeman assimile au “House said to be haunted. Your niece, Agnes Dent, died a year ago, about this time” (“The Wind in the Rosebush”) “I wouldn’t go into that house if they would give me the rent.
I’ve seen enough of haunted houses to last me as long as I live” (“The Lost Ghost”) “Nobody knew how this elderly woman with the untrammeled imagination of a child dreaded to enter the southwest chamber, and yet she could not have told why” (“The Southwest Chamber”) Regionalist writer Mary Wilkins Freeman (1852-1930) is best known today for her keen portrayal of New England local life and for the way in which her short stories challenge ready-made representations of the region in post-bellum America.
The role played by the “scribbling women” in these texts, spinning yarns while playfully deferring the revelation of ever-elusive meanings, is indeed striking and attention will need to be given to this feminine rhetoric of indirection, which is nonetheless framed by spectral but authoritarian male figures.
“The Wind in the Rosebush” is the story of Rebecca Flint, a typically hard working, slightly masculine (flint) and self-sacrificing New England heroine who has taken care of her mother up to her dying day and who, freed from that burden after her mother’s death and having inherited some money from her uncle, is able to quit her teaching job and travel to Ford Village to bring back her dead sister’s sixteen-year-old daughter to live with her.
This results in the production of ever-elusive meanings, in which the interaction between the Cet article se propose d’étudier comment Mary E.
Wilkins Freeman met en scène, mais de façon très indirecte, des récits traumatiques d’enfants battus, de violence domestique et de désirs féminins frustrés.