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Curiosity Killed the Cat…
But it only succeeded in having man adapt it as his foremost virtue
The sisterhood of night is a casual seeming tale about the paranoia and insignificant politics of a small town in USA in the early 20th century. The story is that a group of young girls has formed a secret organization that meets at nights after their parents have gone to sleep and engage in illegal activities and wild sexual orgies. But through the tale is gradually revealed that the organization doesn’t necessarily stand up to its reputation but instead is a platform for young girls to meet and do nothing at all, to sit separately and enjoy their time without the constant pressures of family, society and school applied to all young women in that era. Though it is never stated, it is clear as day that the story is being narrated by a middle aged gentleman, casting aside the notion that only old wives and little girls had the free time to waste gossiping about mundane events in the town. In this case is it a gentleman who relates his town's newest teenage fad: Girls who sneak out of their homes in the middle of the night to gather in the woods and, apparently, do nothing. No drugs, no sex, no Satanic rites; but also no peer pressure, no parental shrieks, no requirements to do or say anything. The narrator ends by wondering whether this could be more potentially subversive than any cult or gang; Millhauser leaves you feeling like it just might.
The tale begins by whipping up an aura of witchery, "erotic frenzy" and unnatural experimentations. In the middle of this panic, the Sisterhood's secret is slowly unfolded, revealing the girls to be far more intuitive than their accusers. Millhauser uses the hysteria of the narrators to drain the reader, leaving only a lingering sense of betrayal. The shadowy narrators have been exposed in all their weakness, and so too has the reader. Though the secret of the Sisterhood is there on the page, there is something deeper inside, still hidden, which continues to tantalize and infuriate the reader long after the story is over.
This tale has to do with the dark side of small-town existence, and the light hidden behind such shadows. When it comes to breaking boundaries, Millhauser is especially fascinated by our capacity for self-inflicted wounds. “The Sisterhood of Night,” for example, shows how a community’s obsession with conclusive answers about whether or not a group of young girls is engaging in witchcraft or a simple moment of solitude leaves the community prey to its ability to generate endless possible answers.
Millhauser's fictions explore not only the magnificent obsessions of the unfettered imagination, but also the darker, subterranean desires that fuel them.
Most of Millhauser’s stories employ a favorite of his devices: the first-person narrative as communal historian, an erudite witness/ chronicler who reports events in obsessive detail but can only guess about their meanings. This controlling consciousness enables Millhauser to employ his preferred narrative modes, exposition and description, rather than dramatizing scenes. In "The Sisterhood of Night," this communal witness becomes one of the story's most important characters. "What shall we do with our daughters?" is his repeated lament after-packs of adolescent girls are discovered leaving their "snug and restful rooms" in the middle of the night to seek out "dark and secret places." All manner of licentious behavior is suspected, and, as the mystery deepens, the story becomes a delicious allegory for the chronic struggles of parents and children.
And Millhauser doesn't stop there. Deemed one of is spookiest tales, "The Sisterhood of Night," flips this formula of context and aftertaste on its ear. In the great tradition of American witch hunts, Millhauser carefully crafts an aura of hysteria around absolutely nothing. Once again, the "we" narrators appear, this time to cast aspersions on "covens" of teenage girls roaming the town at night. The author designates himself the spokesman for the "others," but does not want to take sole responsibility for their opinions. Instead, he draws the reader into the heart of the story - placing even the most passive of readers on the jury. What makes these speakers even more off-kilter is the ambivalence with which they treat bizarre events.
Milhauser stands out as a great prose stylist and he spins great yarns too. His sentences and paragraphs, lovely as they are, are always held subordinate to his fantastical plots--which, clever as they are, are always held subordinate to the heart and dignity with which he endows his characters. However it seems a quaint, oddly noble project. You might even call it quixotic--Millhauser can't quite pull it off, and it is doubtful that anyone else could either. You can't write 19th-century fables in 1998 without sounding affected. There is something stilted and off-putting about Millhauser's prose, as though it were a translation. Also, his stories are not about the nameless oppressions of Kafka. They are, many of them, about the purpose and limits of art, themes more self-conscious, academic, and mainly vague. Too many of them feel unfinished--not in a way that reverberates and makes you ponder them later on, but in a way that leads you to imagine all of the confusion and questioning reviews that will be written about them.
Each of his stories is less a slice of life than a slash of life, oozing vivid description and rich in detail. Millhauser's world is one that demands the reader to accept certain givens: Space on earth is infinite, carpets fly, summer nights never end. Yet for all the inventive moments in these stories, something darker lies just below the surface. Reading “The Sisterhood of Night” is like finding a bug under your pillow - you can get rid of the bug, but every itch you have for the rest of the night comes from phantom insects taking revenge.
Throughout his works, Millhauser questions the need for concrete answers. To him, readers too often demand an explanation for the unknown, when perhaps it is better to remain in the dark. And leave you in the dark he does. Readers are left to garner their own conclusions, not only about the plots, but the most incidental of details. The confusing gist of this story is perhaps summed up by the bottomless statement that "The Sisterhood of Night" is about a mysterious nocturnal society of adolescent girls --its secret purpose seems to be nothing but secrecy itself.