Monday Morning

On Monday morning, Jeanne woke up rested. It was 10:00. She had class at 11:30. She showered, ate, and surfed the internet while she drank coffee she had bought. Then she went to class. It was her British Literature class, and today they were discussing Northanger Abbey, which had for some reason become an academic classic, probably as a reactionary measure against Pride and Prejudice and Emma, which were far too obvious for syllabi.
Jeanne’s professor, Mrs. Weiss, was in her forties and did not say anything which Jeanne herself might not say. Mrs. Weiss did not suffer a generational gap. She was very up-to-date, she was very sensitive to her student’s concerns. If ever anybody approached her after class to suggest a “more personal” essay topic, she was not unwilling to listen, but would often deflect the opportunity for cursory emotional involvement by claiming she was just like them, and she “loved” the things they loved, and how we could “all” write papers about things we were actually interested in, but how would that be educational?
Today Jeanne sat down with a Diet Coke and opened up her binder in which to take notes. She wrote, “Northanger Abbey, day three” at the top.
Mrs. Weiss began, “Now, today I’d like to talk about the supernatural aspects of this novel. I don’t get it, and maybe you can all help me figure out why Jane Austen wanted to turn this book into, basically, a ghost story. Is Catherine just paranoid that all of this mystery is too much for her to take, or is she totally sane, and is the house haunted?”
Jeanne raised her hand.
“I think the house is haunted.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because if the house wasn’t haunted, why would Austen write about it as if it were?”
“Maybe she’s trying to say something about Catherine’s character.”
“Maybe she’s trying to say that ghosts are real, even though everybody would never believe it, and that people think witches are real, so why wouldn’t they think ghosts are real?”
“I think we’re getting a little bit off the topic. What evidence do you have for the house being haunted?”
Jeanne tried to remember a specific detail about a ghost in the novel. She flipped through her copy of Northanger Abbey, which was a library lend.
Missy, who was sitting next to Jeanne, but who had been half unconscious, suddenly spoke up, “The house is haunted because of the drawing room. That’s where she sees the first ghost, or hears the first strange sound?”
“But isn’t that supposed to be her potential father-in-law?”
“I don’t think so. If it were, he could just have a normal entrance.” Missy’s pride began, “I mean, if you look at other novels written before this, there’s always this supernatural aspect that nobody can ever explain. I think it’s the most important thing in this book, because it’s something that even three hundred years later, we still can’t tell whether she’s telling the truth or just trying to tell a scary story. Unknowable things, the way a single person perceives the world in a single vision. That’s what’s important.”
“That’s very interesting Melissa. How about we look at that passage where she senses the first supernatural occurrence. Can we all agree that this drawing room scene is the right one?”
The fifteen students mumbled approvingly and started flipping through their books. Mrs. Weiss found the appropriate passage. She read from it. Everybody listened. Afterwards she said, “Now, it seems to me that Austen is making a commentary on the psyche of young girls in her time. Prone to fantastic delusions and beset by romantic longing. She wants so badly to be married, but she is unsure of her suitor, and the supernatural bad vibes in the house are Austen’s way of expressing Catherine’s insecurity. She’s just been brought to this house, pretty much out of the blue, she’s a young girl who supposedly knows almost nothing about the lifestyle of the privileged, and here she has to play ball. Of course it’s going to seem a little off to her, the place she grew up is the size of the drawing room itself. She doesn’t know anything about the way sound can reverberate through a long hall, she thinks she hears things. She hasn’t seen half the beautiful things that so-called privileged people buy for their own vanity. She is confused, she is lost, she doesn’t even know anything about her suitor, and she kind of has to go along with it. Her thinking the house is haunted is another thing to keep her mind on, so she doesn’t have to think about what could end up being a painful reality for her. But it does tie together, the two—she doesn’t want to end up like the ghosts, and the thought is, maybe she will if she marries this guy.”
She looked at her watch. Class time was up. She said, “Two more chapters tonight. We will take it nice and slow from now on, like the French. I wouldn’t want you to miss anything”