Interactive Novels: Northanger Abbey

I just arrived in Bath for the 250th anniversary of the birth of Jane Austen. I am in a corner of the Pumproom, seated on a comfortable chair made of real wood, it is finely decorated, there are birds and flowers. The seat is covered in a fiery red velvet, the backrest and armrest are brown.

Everyone, including me, wears the clothes of the XIV Century. 

It’s funny to notice that outside the immense window, which reminds me of an immense altarpiece, there is a white delivery van, the delivery man is packed with boxes of various geometrical shapes.

It is not finished, on the other side of the table is set with glasses, cutlery and plates of the era. The tablecloth is linen and the candlesticks are silver. A cute girl is looking at me with her fiancè, a handsome man with a digital clock hidden under his white shirt.

I am here to see the letters written by Jane dated October 27. 1811.

These two papers are 214 years old, I see clearly what is written. I cannot touch the paper but it is consistent. 

Through my glasses I activated the function that brought me to that period, in a few seconds I recognised Catherine Morland, she was chatting with Eleonor Tilney at Northanger Abbey..

Above my head there is an immense chandelier with many lit up candles, here there is a strong smell of wax.

A girl asked me if she could sit on the table I nodded, after a reciprocal smile she told me her name Eleonor Vance. I remained perplexed. Isn't she a character from The Haunting Of Hill House? I thought that the algorithm had made an error, so I didn't report the anomaly. Being extremely curious I asked her her provenance, she said Hill House. I smiled at her, what a fantastic sensation.

Catherine Morland told me to dance with her but I remained seated, she went away.

I realised I had offended her and I used the excuse of being tired. She didn’t look at me but at my fingers dirty of a black ink. Catherine told me if I was a writer I said that I was a publisher and an editor, I entered her world.

Catherine introduced herself with a sensual calm voice and asked me what I was publishing.

Before answering, I drank the remaining tea, after having landed the cup I told her that I was reading a manuscript written by someone who signed with two letters SJ.

I explained the plot, Eleonor Vance told me to have lived that life I invited her to be my proofreader, she accepted.

Very calmly, I began to tell the story of a group of scholars who lived for a while inside a villa called Hill House. Eleonar Vance said to me, is it my house? I said Hill House had a long story.

When I started to describe Hill House a very mysterious place hidden in the middle of a forest, probably secular oaks, with branches that seemed to lovingly embrace the house. Catherine interrupted me saying that it could be the other way around: the branches were suffocating the house. I asked her if she could figure out how the night was inside a room.

Without hesitation she said that it is infested by ghosts. Her vivid imagination exploded, she told us that last night the ghosts were speaking to her, through the branches.Eleonor Vance told us to have had a similar dream. I said to her to be more precise Catherine was excited. Eleanor closed her eyes. She seemed possessed by some spirits, she was listening to a continuous creaking of a rusty gate at least a mile away. Catherine told her if there is a tower, Eleonor told us that someone was climbing the stairs up and down all night. I asked her who is him, Eleonor without opening her eyes told us that the door was closed for decades and how a ghost could be so heavy.

It was dark at Northanger Abbey, behind the clouds, flashes of light and sparks, they enchanted my eyes. The wind scattered dry leaves everywhere. A gust of wind opened the windows causing them to slam violently against the walls and a lightning bolt ripped in two parts a giant tree that lined the main road. I shouted “It’s like Hill House”

Catherine shouted in her face who was terrified. I calmed her down by touching her fluffy hands.The two women told me what was wrong. I said to them that in my mind there isn’t a clear border between reality and fantasy when it is so well written.

Eleanor Vance introduced herself she said had had a difficult life.

“I lived for eleven years with my disabled mother without friends and boyfriends, during these years none told me happy birthday even my mother who was in another dimension. One day I received a phone call from Dr. John Montague to join a group of scholars to study paranormal events that occur at Hill House”. She told us to be very happy especially when on a wall she read “Eleonor Come Home” her eyes burned of life, for the first time in her life someone cared about her.

It was clear that the ghosts were part of her. Her narration was so real at the point that Catherine began to stammer. When she calmed I proposed to them to write a short story on her happiness at Northanger Abbey and Northanger Abbey.

I gave some specific clues to find a connection between Hill House and the Abbey.

Eleanor Vance interrupted us proposing a suggestion describing her psychological fragility infatuated by evil ghosts and Catherine with a strong personality who can tame the ghosts for her good purposes. The girl remained silent, Catherine told us that she will transform General Tilney as a vampire who doesn’t drink blood but the soul of her wife.

My room and those of Catherine overlook the lawn of Nortanger Abbey. On the horizon I see carriages of horses of all types and colors.

The window of my room looks like an altarpiece.

Outside our windows there is a terrace with tables and chairs, some plants and two gazebos.

The sunlights are mitigated by oaks very close to the house, a perfect place to smoke a cigar and read The Observer, the one on my hand is dated 18th November 1818.

I’m struck by the lack of graphics, there is only the name of the newspaper and the date.

The paper and the ink are different from the newspapers of the XXI Century.

It’s a pleasure to read this kind of newspaper, it smells of a strange fragrance.

At dinner I asked Henry how the newspapers are made. He found my question exotic.

He told me that inside the paper there are pieces of wood making them readable for decades.

I never imagined that each newspaper has its own smell. It comes out when ironed by the servant.

At Northanger Abbey the breakfast is delicious, all the raw materials are processed by hand, no products are packaged, for example the sausages taste totally different and the fish and chip smell of the countryside and of the sea.

After breakfast we went to the library with Henry, it’s paradise with a lot of books, portraits of writers.

The books are catalogued in maniacal order, there is not a book out of place or horizontally.

I don’t understand why it is forbidden to open the curtains and the windows.

Here there is only artificial light. Undoubtedly the candlelights are magic, it seems to me that they are dialoguing with the books and the writers

In the lower room I see a little library dedicated to the servants. Here there are only a few books, mostly cookbooks and a copy of The Mysteries Of Udolpho thrown to the ground.

I asked Henry if there was a particular reason he shouted to me “It’s garbage” 

He realised that he had offended me because I publish gothic literature and told me to make him change his mind.

He started saying that this novel has negatively influenced Catherine's thought.

I disagree with him , so I proposed to him to encourage Catherine to write a good incipit it should begin from the old pieces of paper, that she read last night during a tempest and throw them the day after. If she read the third page discovered that it was a cover for a secret diary of the wife of General Tinley where she describe in detail the evil nature of her husband, The General Tilney.

Henry shouted It’s like Montoni. I smiled at him.