As the title suggests, film director Anna Biller’s debut novel Bluebeard’s Castle is a new take on the Bluebeard story. It follows novelist Judith de Courtenay as she is swept up into her own Gothic romance with the mysterious Gavin, who whisks her away to his castle in the country. He’s perfect: handsome, wealthy, titled, and he shares Judith’s passion for 1950s cinema. But it soon becomes clear that Gavin has a dark side.
Bluebeard’s Castle wears its influences on its sleeve, at once a pastiche of Hitchcock, Jane Eyre, and Rebecca, among others (their castle is even called Manderfield, which certainly elicited a chuckle). Judith herself is an avid fan of the genre, consciously comparing Gavin to her favourite brooding literary heroes as she attempts to tame him and win his love for good, as the genre dictates. The characters are less real people than they are archetypes – the Gothic heroine and the Gothic hero, the victim and the abuser. It makes for a fascinating feminist deconstruction of Gothic romance, equal parts loving and critical, but it also means the reader is held at arm’s length. Judith’s internal monologue existed as something in-between a film reference repository and an Instagram infographic about victims of domestic abuse, which occasionally made it difficult to truly understand her decisions. In Jane Eyre, the reader knew well before Rochester that Jane was not soulless and heartless, but the same can’t be said for Judith de Courtenay.
Feminism is at the heart of Bluebeard’s Castle and is at the forefront of Judith’s thoughts. The particular brand of feminism espoused by Judith often felt uncomfortably gender essentialist, and whilst the gender essentialism in Biller’s 2016 film The Love Witch came across as satirical, here it felt less so. There were a few comments taking aim at sex-worker-inclusive feminism that equally left a bad taste in my mouth. On the other hand, Judith is shown to be wrong in her initial misogynistic impressions of some of the other female characters in the novel, so she is certainly not held up as a perfect feminist, and, ultimately, the novel’s message is an important one: no matter how beautiful, submissive, and understanding you are, you cannot fix an abusive man, and you cannot tame his violence.
Bluebeard’s Castle did leave me with some reservations, but it was nevertheless utterly gripping. It was difficult not to get swept up in the early days of the relationship alongside Judith or to not fall in love with the old castle and its ghosts. I even found myself staying up late to finish it and becoming distracted from my work because I was so desperate to find out if Judith would finally be able to free herself. It was as engaging as it was thought-provoking, and I know I’ll be re-reading it before too long.
Bluebeard’s Castle will be available from Verso on the 10th of October.
Image via Isabella Santini.