Although The Little
Stranger explores the effects of both World Wars on the British class
system, it does so through a myopic focus on the Ayres family. Mrs. Ayres
acknowledges her conscious shutting out of the outside world, saying that she
has “stopped listening to the news; it’s too alarming” (Waters 22). Other than
occasional, vague references to changes in the national health care system, the
text remains focused on the Ayres’s small circle of family and friends.
Taking this
scope into consideration, it seems that applying Achille Mbembe’s “necropolitics,” the idea that political
sovereignty comes from the power to dictate which human bodies die, to Waters’s
novel is impossible. The essence of Mbembe’s argument – which hinges on the
contemporary creation of “death-worlds” and war machines by those in power –
ill fits with the domestic drama of The
Little Stranger. However, at its most abstracted level, Mbembe’s claim that
power comes from those with control over death can certainly find purchase in the
novel.
Faraday does a
poor job of disguising his desire for power over Hundreds Hall. “It’s
heartbreaking,” he tells a fellow doctor, “to see it all so changed. I don’t
know if Roderick knows what he’s doing. It doesn’t much look like it” (33). He
slowly inveigles his way into daily life at the house and grows closer to the
family, especially Caroline. He uses that proximity to exert influence on the
family’s choices, such as institutionalizing Roderick later in the novel, and
eventually becomes engaged to Caroline, allowing him a legitimated way into
power over the Hall. Although he never actually uses his profession as a doctor
for evil purposes, the novel acknowledges the potential for that power.
Caroline Ayres jokes about having to kill Faraday after letting slip a family
secret, but then admits how difficult it would be, “since [he] must know all
the tricks [himself]” (43).
However, it is not these social
maneuverings that allow Faraday his ultimate control over the Hall, but
supernatural ones. The novel suggests that the hauntings experienced by the
Ayreses arise from Faraday’s subconscious; he is no more aware of their
provenance than they, but the ghost constantly acts out the doctor’s desires. The
psychological effects of the hauntings drive Mrs. Ayres to commit suicide – she
hangs herself in her room – and lead Caroline into a fatal accident – she falls
down the stairs. Caroline has just broken off her engagement to Faraday,
thereby denying him his future at Hundreds. The night of the accident, Faraday
dreams of going to the Hall and the maid attests that Caroline ran off the
landing after crying out “You!”, calling as if “she had seen someone she
knew…but as though she was afraid of them. Mortal afraid” (494). Roderick, though
alive, is gravely ill and in a mental institution, where he frequently attempts
to commit suicide.
The actions of the
Faraday-poltergeist cause the deaths of the Ayres family members, but only
indirectly. To borrow the political language of Mbembe’s article, Faraday’s takeover
uses soft power rather than hard power. Unlike Mbembe’s necropolitics, which
includes a vision of state-employed “terror” that is deployed to affect the
greatest number of citizens at once, the terror that emerges in Waters’s novel
is specifically targeted to affect this family. The haunting assumes a form to
each of them that is most likely to distress them: for instance, Mrs. Ayres,
who has never gotten over the death of her first child, experiences the ghost
as little Susan.
The ghost never directly,
physically kills them and the family never connects the ghost’s actions with
Faraday. Indeed, Faraday himself never connects his latent desires with the actions
of the poltergeist. What does it mean when a “tyrant” doesn’t know that he’s
terrorizing his “subjects”?
(word count: 625)
(word count: 625)
6 comments:
Kate:
Your final question is fascinating! Is it practically possible to have someone exerting power/terror unconsciously? On the large scale, I find this impossible: power at higher levels (government, the institution you mention) comes with an implicit understanding of the existence of subjects. Ashley's post for the week also raises the question of Mbembe's use of scale--his conception of tyranny seems to be on the national/global scale as well. But in a smaller network where the hierarchies are allegedly nonexistent, a center of power is much harder to locate. Intriguing!
Hi Kate (and Samantha!)
Continuing the discussion of scale in Mbembe, I actually had a problem with the fact that as much as he wants to talk about how necropolitics operates in a "state" he never really says what a "state" is. Although he does place his necropolitics on a global scale and seems to want to equate "state" with "nation," he also repeatedly uses the example of a colonial plantation to illustrate his points about necropolitics – thus suggesting that perhaps the definition of “state” is a fluid one. Why then can we not view Hundreds Hall and the Ayres family as a microcosm of a necropolitic state?” Certainly in early modern times, the home was sometimes described as a mini-state in which the male ruled unconditionally over the lives of his subjects (family). Nor was the the notion of him carrying the power of death over his family members is not unheard of in public culture (I’m thinking of Egeus in A Midsummer Night’s Dream as one example).
The real question then becomes, how can Faraday, as an outsider (and it seems absolutely important that he does always remain an outsider no matter how close he comes to being a member of the family) exert control over Hundreds Hall and the Ayres? Your final question is a fantastic one, but how can Faraday be a tyrant over a “state” that he never truly had control of? Thinking about your idea that the poltergeist is possibly a manifestation of Faraday’s subconscious desires (fantastic close reading by the way!), the ghost seems not an SS-like killing machine running around Faraday’s empire doing his dirty work, but rather an invading army attempting to colonize a race of “others” in a new land that is ripe for the taking. What does it say then that ghost goes too far and eradicates all of the subjects, leaving Faraday the viceroy, not the ruler, of an empty kingdom?
Thank you so much for your comments, Samantha and Lee! Lee, I'm on board. I wrote my post about Mbembe precisely because of your point: why couldn't the Hall be a microcosm of the state? However, I hadn't thought of your final question before. What, exactly, is Faraday looking for when he desires power over the Hall? In order to gain control over it, he has to control the lives of the Ayres family, but once that is done, as you say, what does that ownership entail? It seems that maybe the real inapplicability of Mbembe here is not of scale, but of what Faraday wants. A dictator like Trujillo in Zach's post, for example, seems to want the power itself that derives from necropolitics. What Faraday ultimately desires is... not that. Something closer to prestige than real power.
Right! And does Faraday ACTUALLY ever gain control of Hundreds Hall? He seems to come close but I'm not convinced of achievement (unlike Trujillo, for instance). That's sort of why I called Faraday a viceroy, not a ruler. But please mediate every comment I make with the knowledge that I have not read the novel and so am not as intricately aware of the plot as you are!
Lee - no, I think you're right. To say that he truly owns and controls the house at the end of the novel is certainly not true. To give you (and everyone else) a little more context, the novel ends with the Ayres family dead or institutionalized and the house up for sale. Because of the stories the house has accumulated surrounding the deaths and haunting, no one buys it. Faraday appoints himself unofficial caretaker - he simply never gave back the keys they gave him - and takes it upon himself to do the upkeep on the house. It's interesting because he, as narrator, clearly wants to envision the end of the novel as a "success" - that he maintains the house against the ravages of time. But clearly, as I picture him skulking through these dingy, uninhabited halls, we have to question his representation.
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