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isfjmel-phleg · 2 years

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Thoughts on Tenthragon, Chapters 1-6

For @valiantarcher, who recently read this book, as promised. I had a lot of detailed thoughts, so I’m going to break this up into parts to avoid being overwhelming (for both you reading it and me translating long lists of incoherent notes into thoughts).

Spoilers ahead!

Chapter One

Savery makes efficient use of the first chapter to set up an atmosphere of uncertainty and terror. Thragoness is established as formidable and Paddy as unconsciously perceptive about the situation he was born into.

“...decide for yourself whether any sane man--sane means sensible, Paddy--would call his house Dragon’s Nest. It’s a hateful creature--all spikes and scales and curls and flames!” This leads the reader to suspect that the Tenthragons are not sane, or at the very least not normal.

Paddy’s behavior after coming to his new home--quiet, staring, no smiling, no laughing for a week--hints at his upbringing. This is a child who, even at this young age, has been mistreated.

The recurring motif of dual selves makes its first appearance in Paddy’s impression of his past life being lived by another boy. This is a coping mechanism, trying to dissociate himself from trauma.

This book is sometimes described as a “psychological fantasy.” Although nothing actually fantastical happens, Savery gives it the feel of such through association with dragons and fairy tales and legends. Patric’s overactive imagination, which sees everything in fantastical terms, creates an uncertainty in his memories that will not only add to the terror but also explain how he will so easily conflate his father and Brendon: “The Sherrington children were never sure which of the stories were fiction and which were based on fact. The uncertainty invested with fantastic charm all that Paddy said: and they regarded Thragoness almost as a fairy house, a dwelling that had no real existence at all. It belonged to a vanished age--it was a place like Shalott or Lyonnesse or Camelot, wrapped about in silence and dim dreams.”

(I had to look up Lyonnesse. It’s a legendary kingdom in Cornwall that is supposed to have been sunk by the sea in a single night. Its connections to Arthurian legend and to Cornwall--where the Tenthragons originally came from--make it a fitting reference.)

The book Brendon gives Paddy doesn’t seem to be one that exists. I can’t find the Agravaine and the dragon story anywhere. Did Savery invent it for the story?

Paddy’s never getting past meeting the dragon in the story is foreshadowing. When he actually does meet “the dragon,” he has no idea what to expect, not knowing the whole story, which makes the encounter more fearsome.

Gervingham is not an actual place name, and neither are any other locations in this book. My best guess is that Thragoness is somewhere in South West England, likely close to Cornwall, but I don’t know enough about this area to say for certain.

Continuing the motif of uncertain stories--Mr. Sherrington’s doubtful account of Paddy’s past, which we will find out later is full of misinformation.

Paddy’s “flat, slow voice, as though he were repeating a lesson learned long since and now unexpectedly called to memory” when he says he needs to obey Brendon foreshadows what we will later learn: this is something his dreaded father told him.

Paddy is frequently associated with the color blue throughout the book. He comes to the Sherringtons in a blue rug and leaves in a blue car.

Brendon is described as unsettling, “so grave, so detached, so--so still.” As relatively stable as Brendon is compared to the rest of family, he has also been traumatized by his upbringing, which has affected his ability to emote and to connect with other people. He seems to have developed a coping mechanism of detachment.

“I liked young Tenthagon’s face. It may look as though it had been cut in marble, but children can turn even marble into flesh and blood. I dare say that if you were to see them both two years hence you would have cause to reconsider your opinions.” This line takes on new meaning by the end.

The Sherringtons remember Paddy as “a faint, pleasant memory of the past, tenderly remembered as a lost brother might have been.” Not only does this make us fear this child’s fate, but it also subtly connects him with the Tenthragon he most resembles: Robin, the first brother to die.

We never see (and hardly hear of) the Sherringtons again. The first chapter’s being from their POV sets up the Tenthragons from an outside perspective as not normal and potentially dangerous and creates some fear for Paddy’s future, before the narrative switches over to Paddy’s POV henceforth (with one notable exception).

Chapter Two

The Thragoness grounds, before they ever reach the house, are foreboding, and the illusion of a dividing ditch instead of a wall signals that this is a house where nothing is as it seems and unforeseen dangers lurk.

Thragoness is an E-shaped house, which was common in the Elizabethan era. The house might date from that time.

Mary’s harsh foreboding and commands leave Paddy in “unwonted fear” although his new room has “nothing alarming in it.” Fear for him from now on will be created frequently by others’ influence and his own imagination.

Foreshadowing in dragon pictures and a knight resembling Brendon!

Paddy’s conflating Brendon with his memories of his father is influenced by Mary’s scary portrayal of Brendon, despite being at odds with Brendon’s kindly persona. His switch to “grave and stern” sets up a pattern of Paddy’s never knowing what to expect from the adults around him.

Paddy’s reply to question of remembering parents is not given. Brendon’s hugging him suggests it was “No.”

I was unfamiliar with what a “gate-legged table” is. It’s a type of dropleaf table with sections that swing out like gates from the central portion of the table to prop up the leaves when folded out.

Another duality in another, kinder Mary. So far every adult that Paddy is meaningfully encountering at Thragoness seems to have two wildly-contrasting sides.

“Lord, I pray Thee keep / Watch about my sleep. / May I rest in Thee, / From all danger free.” I cannot find this poem in any other source. Did Savery invent it?

Chapter Three

There is a marked contrast between appealing contents of shop (sweets) and the unpleasant shopkeeper and what she sells to Mary. Meadowsweet is a plant known for its fragrance and its use as a flavoring or medicine. Using something meant to be pleasant as an instrument of punishment and cruelty points to the corruption still at work in the house.

Brendon was at the shop the day before “to buy pine candy for a visitor.” Paddy doesn’t realize it, but his cousin is going out of his way to provide good things for him and has not been at the shop to buy a switch.

The “old and wise” Sherratt children are contrasted with the “fat and rosy and dimpled” Sherringtons. There’s such a blight over this area that local children with no direct ties to the Tenthragons are unchildlike.

The reveal of Mary Janetta and Mary Anne, twins, fits with the theme of duality and hints at a challenge to Paddy’s concept of a sort of Jekyll-Hyde nature in everyone around him. Mary does not have two sides; there are two separate but related Marys--just as there are not really ”two Brendons, one for the day and one for bedtime” but two men of very different natures who happen to look similar.

Chocolate dragees (a suitable name, with its resemblance to “dragon”!) are a bite-sized candy with a hard outer shell, in this case with chocolate in the center. Something like M&Ms, more or less.

“His fear of Brendon went deeper than the mere dread of punishment; it was a habit of the soul.” The early effects of having the abusive Quentin as a father have been so deeply ingrained into Paddy that even though he has no distinct memory of his father, the fear associated with him is second nature.

Chapter Four

Thragonwell resembles Paddy’s imagined version because he’s almost but not quite remembering having been there before.

Duality is taken a step further with the Muskern triplets. I’m not exactly sure what the literary purpose of having three of them is, but their descriptors--like frightening “goblin creatures” and “dwarfishness”--dehumanize them and incorporate them into Paddy’s fantastical interpretation of the world as villainous creatures.

Thragonwell’s description, like Thragoness’s, creates mood. It’s lacking life, lacking sunshine.

“Paddy had heard no tales, but as she spoke the words a thrill ran through him as if some cold memory stirred and made a struggle to wake again to life.” It doesn’t seem likely that Sarah would have tormented Paddy in early childhood, but she is associated with his father and that is enough to awaken that trauma.

Why is Sarah Muskern so intent on terrorizing Paddy? He’s the son of her favorite, and she’s under no orders to punish him. Although Brendon insists that “Old Sarah was in quite a friendly mood,” she really does seem to be going out of her way to scare this child.

Another foreshadowing of where the plot’s going: Paddy believes the terrifying tales of someone bent on torturing him and doubts Brendon’s reliability, but Brendon proves himself reliable, if a bit disdainful (”Use your common sense a little more, Patric”).

“...she began to numerous allusions to the strange ways of life at Thragonwell, cloaking all she said in obscure and cloudy language, so that her hearer was terrified more by the surmises he was forced to make than by any definite statement of hers.” This story would have been very different if Paddy were not constantly left to the workings of his own imagination. The refusal or inability to communicate openly and honestly in terms a seven-year-old will understand is not protecting him from dangers but just creating more terror.

Chapter Five

The atmosphere of fear results in Paddy’s feeling he has to hide mishaps. This is not an environment that breeds honesty.

Paddy’s dream of Other Dragon’s Nest as a long room full of dancing with a dais and a dragon that closely resembles Hugh contains a lot of fairly accurate details that he shouldn’t have any way of knowing at this point. Is the dream prophetic somehow? Or did he somehow catch a glimpse and conflate it with a dream?

His actual first encounter with the dragon consists entirely of ominous noises, which conceals the dragon’s identity and heightens the terror (as long as he can’t see the dragon, it could be anything!). Paddy’s taking action to lock out the person calling for Brendon points to another, more final locking-out later on.

When Paddy tries to tell the truth about his encounter, Mary calls him a liar and accuses him of disobeying out of malice. This sets a precedent that influence his descent into deception later.

However, this scene also reveals to Paddy who Brendon really is, although conflicting information later will make him doubt it. He gets called by his diminutive for the first time. Brendon seems “less unapproachable” and “gentler, almost human,” and Paddy decides that this kinder persona is “the true Brendon [...] not the dreadful other one [...]”

Brendon also gets a chance to explain himself; he doesn’t know how to interact with his young nephew because he “was never a child.” Thus, the effects of the abuse he suffered are hurting not only him but the next generation. Nevertheless, he is taking active steps to break the pattern where he can. He frankly tells Paddy, “Come and tell me when you get into trouble, won’t you? I will not be hard on you.” But for a child already so fearful and distrustful of the world, these words are easy to disbelieve.

Paddy’s illness is likely strep throat or scarlet fever, either of which can lead to rheumatic fever, which he narrowly escapes.

All we know of Eann Tenthragon, Quentin’s father, is that he chose money instead of his inheritance, squandered it, and died. What happened to Quentin’s mother? (Also dead, but when and how?)

The story of the ring is told in an uncertain, shadowy manner, in keeping with the atmosphere of uncertainty and terror, leaving Paddy to question whether he made it up or not. The placement of this story relatively early in the text builds on the Gothic tone but also is important for the reader to know before meeting Hugh.

Quentin as “the Snake”--malicious people in this family become reptiles.

Brendon’s allowing Paddy a glimpse into the empty ballroom of Other Thragoness is a surprising risk for him to take! He’s probably counting on his brother’s limited mobility and likelihood of being downstairs to prevent an accidental meeting.

Chapter Six

The legend of the dwarf who made the chest contributes to the fairy-tale atmosphere.

Why is the old man disappointed when Brendon opts to buy the “unlucky” chest? The look Brendon exchanges with him suggests that the man knows it’s for Hugh. “You won’t be breaking the tradition,” Brendon tells him.

“After seven months of life in Thragoness he spoke almost as Brendon spoke, slowly, evenly. It was not a childlike manner of speech, and perhaps Brendon noticed this; for a troubled look crossed his face.” The atmosphere of fear is gradually crushing Paddy’s spirit and reawakening who he was when he came to the Sherringtons. Brendon is realizing that, despite his efforts, the pattern is beginning over again. Although, should he be surprised, considering how Mary treats Paddy (which he has witnessed)? You would think he’d put a stop to that, send her away, something. But is Mary’s behavior so normal to him after everything he’s been through that he isn’t piecing together just how harmful such treatment is to a sensitive, fearful child?

“Fairy music”--once again, the unreal quality, but here it serves as mysterious beauty rather than the stuff of nightmares.

Given Hugh’s comments later on which instruments the brothers play, it’s probably Brendon on the piano and Hugh on violin.

“It’s just like that poem about the bugles--you know the one, Prue--the poem about the purple glens and the castle on the mountain and the fairy horns...” Probably a reference to “Blow, Bugle, Blow” by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

The brothers’ music seems to be a joint creative outlet, reflective of their shared experiences. As Prue observes, “They’re partial to gloomy things for the most part, and times I’ve heard them play in a way that makes your blood run cold.” Understandable, considering what kind of life they’ve led.

The named pieces that the brothers play are Chopin’s Cradle Song (Berceuse), one of Schumann’s Nachtstucke (described as “mournfully sweet” with “deep repeated bell notes tolling forth amid the melodious rippling runs that accompanied them,” but I don’t know enough about music to say which of the pieces this best fits, so I’m linking the first, which is my best guess), Afton Water, and Luther’s Cradle Hymn (”Away in a Manger,” incorrectly attributed to Luther).

The quoted verse is from “Christmas Eve” by John Davidson.

The version of the poem linked above uses “anemones” rather than Savery’s “anomes,” which seems to be the correct word. Context seems to indicate that it refers to some musical instrument. Although I could trace a few sources using it in that light, its precise definition remains unclear. Clarigolds are not marigolds, as Paddy misquotes later, but (according to the OED) a stringed musical instrument, also known as a clarichord or clavichord (a precursor of the modern piano).

#Tenthragon #Constance Savery

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