Episode 2 - Flowers in the Attic

Warning: this episode contains mentions of rape and incest. Listener discretion is advised.

Welcome back to another episode of The Forgotten Library, where I’m already breaking my own rules a little bit. Today’s selection is Flowers in the Attic, so . . . not necessarily forgotten, but it does fit the category of ridic fic, so I’m counting it!

These days younger adults talk about Harry Potter being the series that defined their formative years. For those of us who grew up in the late 1970s through the early 1990s (loosely), a book cover with the name V.C. Andrews was enough to make us pause.

My parents used to own a greeting card store, and we had our regulars, like Terri, who bought her Benson & Hedges cigarettes from us. Over time, she became friendly with my mom and grandma, and lent them books, namely Andrews and Danielle Steel. I remember my mom reading Flowers during lulls in-between customers, occasionally shaking ash out of the pages, and I was intrigued by the die-cut cover with the scared face of the girl in the garret window.

No one ever told me I couldn’t read these books, so I started in, around ten years old or so, and eventually read the whole Dollenganger series (then moving on to the Casteel family and others). The last two Dollenganger books required a library trip, leading a prune-faced librarian to stare at me over her spectacles and say, in an intonation to rival William Shatner’s, “This . . . is not . . . a . . . children’sbook.” My mom defended my right to read whatever I wanted (which is what librarians are supposed to do, too, by the way), even if she had to make a concession and take it out on her own library card.

It was only years later that I realized these books were a rite of passage for many a teen (and, in my case, preteen) girl. I’ve read so many books in my life, and yet, these trashy kinds of paperbacks hold a special, albeit twisted, place in my heart.

Cleo Virginia Andrews was born in 1923 into what appears to be a middle-class family. She grew up mostly in Virginia. In her early teens, she began to be plagued with the arthritis that would confine her to a wheelchair, or, on better days, crutches, for the rest of her life. Multiple spinal surgeries seemed to complicate matters, and after graduating high school, she completed a correspondence school art course while living at home. After her father died, Virginia helped to support the family with her work as a commercial artist and fashion illustrator. The thing she most wanted to do, however, was write. Interestingly enough, her first book, written in 1972 but not published until 2004 as a Simon and Schuster ebook exclusive, was a science-fiction novel called Gods of Green Mountain. She also wrote “confession” stories for those pulp magazines that were popular at the time – such classy fare as “I Slept with My Uncle on My Wedding Night.”

According to her pitch letter for Flowers, she stated that she had sold a few Gothic romances under a pseudonym and without an agent, but it doesn’t appear that anyone has been able to identify these books as hers. Pocket Books published Flowers in the Attic in 1979 and it instantly became a bestseller. According to legend, the publisher encouraged her to use initials so as not to scare off male readers.

Virginia was a bit of a recluse, even after becoming famous; she did an interview with People magazine in 1980, after which she opined to a relative that they had twisted her words and also published a picture of her in her wheelchair, which she did not appreciate. After this, she gave very few interviews. Virginia published a few more books during her lifetime: 3 of the remaining four Dollanganger series (Petals on the Wind, If There Be Thorns, and Seeds of Yesterday); a standalone novel called My Sweet Audrina; and the first two of the Casteel family series (Heaven and Dark Angel). She told a Washington Post journalist in 1981 that she had 63 brief synopses of novels tucked away in her files, but it’s unclear if this was truth or an exaggeration on her part.

Sadly, Andrews died in 1986 from breast cancer at the age of 63. At the time of her death, her estate was valued to be approximately $8 million. Her family decided that her name would live on (and the Tax Court ruled that her name was considered a taxable asset) and so, they selected a ghostwriter to flesh out her remaining story ideas and continue to churn out new books with her name still emblazoned on the cover. Starting in 1990, with the publication of Dawn, a letter was placed at the beginning of the newer novels informing readers of this decision. For years, the identity of this ghostwriter was a secret, but over time, it was revealed that the person who pens the Andrews novels today (yes, there are still new ones!!) is Andrew Neiderman, who writes thrillers under his own name, some of which have been adapted for the screen.

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Meet the Dollengangers – Corinne and Chris, the parents; Christopher and Cathy, the older children; and Carrie and Cory, the twins. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, the neighbors in Gladstone, Pennsylvania call them the Dresden dolls. An idyllic life for a beautiful family, but even from the beginning, there are some slightly strange doings afoot. Cathy, the oldest daughter, is our narrator and she tells us that they would all run to meet their father on Friday evenings after he’d been away all week, and he’d “warm their lips with his kisses.” Corinne, the mother, walks around in “filmy negligees” in front of her preteen son.

Despite that, everything is grand . . .until Chris turns 36. The family has everything ready for a party but Daddy never makes it home. Andrews really makes sure he’s dead – not only is his car hit head-on, but as he swerves to avoid it, he hits a piece of machinery in the road, which flips his car several times; “and still he might have survived,” Officer Somebody tells the assembled party, “but an oncoming truck, unable to stop, crashed into his car, and again the Cadillac spun over . . . and then . . . it caught on fire.” This is page 17, by the way, and already we’re in the deep end of the tragedy pool.

Everyone is distraught, of course – who wouldn’t be? Four kids just lost their father. They amble along for a few weeks, and then the children receive another blow. Corinne tells them they’re going to have to abandon everything and leave in the middle of the night, as the house and everything in it is being repossessed. Corinne was never good with money; she grew up with a silver spoon clamped firmly in her mouth, and Chris, even though he knew poverty, had a tendency to indulge her. And she doesn’t have any marketable skills, as she was groomed to be a trophy wife, so instead of, you know, asking for help from the network of neighbors and friends (I believe this is set in the late 1950s, so her options were slim, but childcare, cooking, and cleaning were always available), she has been writing to her parents, who disowned her when she was eighteen years old, and begging them to let her and the children come to their literal mansion in Virginia. So, in the course of one short conversation, the children learn that: they’re going to leave the only home they’ve ever known, like thieves in the night; they have old-money, living grandparents; and by the way, their name is actually Foxworth, which has a certain cachet where they’re going.

"Oh, we’re going to be so, so, SO rich! There’s just one little, itty-bitty thing – Momma needs to get back into her dad’s good graces. And he doesn’t have much longer to live, and Momma is the sole surviving heir (oh, didn’t Momma tell you she had two brothers that died in accidents?), so it shouldn’t be too hard to charm him and make him love me again, enough to write me into his will. And then I’ll parade you all around like the show ponies you are, and he will love you, too! Now go pack!"

They travel by train in the night to a depot in the middle of nowhere, then walk to the back entrance of Foxworth Hall, where the forbidding-looking grandmother is awaiting their arrival. She hustles them up to a room at the far end of the hallway. The older kids put the twins to bed, and Grandma-Scary says that they can’t sleep in the same bed. Corinne insists that her children are innocent and the grandmother sneers and says, “Yeah, that’s what we thought about you and your half-uncle!” What do we have behind door number one? Another family secret!

GrandMonster tells Chris and Cathy that they must be quiet and follow the rules, that they’ll be locked in at all times, and “until the day your grandfather dies, you are here, but you don’t really exist.” Momma comforts them and again says it will be only one night . . . until she’s ready to leave them that evening and says it might be two days, or a week, or maybe longer . . . she has no real answer, just evasiveness, guilty eyes that refuse to meet those of her children, and promises of riches greater than Rockefeller.

In the morning, the Grandmother brings up food, the rules of the house, and a healthy dose of God-fearing. One of the most important dictates is to be “modest” always – don’t use the bathroom together, always wear robes over your pajamas, that sort of thing. She also tells them in writing never to attempt to seek her friendship, pity, or compassion, as she cannot have feelings for “what is not wholesome.” The kids just think she’s crazy, Chris thinks they shouldn’t take her seriously. Oh, Chris. How little you don’t know yet.

The children go investigate the attic, as the grandmother tells them they can go up there and make a reasonable amount of noise, as long as they go up after 10am, when the maids won’t hear them below. It’s a treasure trove of all sorts of stuff – old clothes, books, record players, and also plenty of dust, mice, and spiders. Cathy is already worried about their being stuck up in this room for a while, but Chris, the sunny optimist, thinks about it as a grand game, for they have so much time now! They can read, and play so many games, and it’ll be fun, you’ll see!

After nightfall, their mother comes in, shadowed by the grandmother. Corinne doesn’t quite look like herself, Cathy notices instantly. The twins instantly run up and wish for rescue from the “mean” older siblings, who kept them inside all day. Carrie begins to roar and won’t stop; the grandmother yells at Corinne to make her child cease screaming. When she just sits there, mute and hunched, the twins take on the grandmother. Carrie yells at Grandmother, leaving her to pick Carrie up by the hair. Cory, out to defend his twin, leaps off his mother’s lap and bites her leg, so that she drops Carrie onto the floor. Grandmother then slaps Cory with a beringed hand. And STILL they continue to howl, in chorus now, so the Grandmother picks them up by the scruff of the neck, like they were kittens, and tells them coldly that she will whip them until they bleed profusely if they don’t stop. That stops them, because Bitch ain’t playin’.

Grandmother derides Corinne for the “disgusting display” and then tells her to take off her blouse, as her children need an “object lesson.” Corinne turns her back to her children and eases down her blouse to show her children her bloody back, striped with red, puffy welts. Grandmother tells the children that the marks go all the way down to their mother’s feet. First, 33 lashes, one for each year of her life, then an extra 15 for the years that she lived in sin with their father. SHE was the one who wielded the whip, but Grandfather was the one who ordered the punishment. All of this leaves Cathy to wonder, WHY would our mother, our loving, kind mother, bring us HERE?

After the grandmother leaves, Momma tells them the story of how she and Chris Sr. became involved. He was her half-uncle, but they fell in love, and eloped, and came back to ask for her parents’ blessing, which of course, she did not receive. So now, she must play the role of the humbled, dutiful daughter to get back into his good graces, and she cannot show them to him until she does that. Momma seems pretty certain that he won’t hold a grudge against her. However, she also plants a seed of doubt in Cathy’s mind that will eventually bear fruit; she tells them that she is “not strong-willed” or a “self-starter.” These are not encouraging words to four children locked in one room in essentially the attic. She tells them that she’s going to enroll in secretarial school so that she can get a job and they can move out of Foxworth Hall.

Time passes and now they’ve been there two weeks. Corinne drops by to bring them games and one time, cake and ice cream. The kids find ways to eat up the time during the day, by reading, taking long baths, exploring the attic. The twins have already begun to think of Cathy as their mother. One Sunday evening, Corinne comes in much later than she usually does. They find out she’s been out sailing, which makes Cathy upset because they’re wilting in the attic while their mother is out having a grand old time. Chris, ever the optimist, tells Cathy she needs to stop picking fights with their mother. (This is a battle that will be waged for a while). Cathy pushes, however, leading Corinne to once again reveal another secret.

"Children, remember the letter that came to the house, where my parents agreed to let us live here? Well, my father wrote a little note at the bottom. He said that he was glad Chris was dead and that the evil always get what they deserve. And the only good thing about the marriage was that it had not created any “Devil’s issue.” I really want to tell him about you, but he’s old and sick and ready to die soon, so I guess you’re just going to have to wait up here until he does. Remember, when he dies, you’re going to have riches untold, and I swear I’ll make up for lost time."

Since the kids now know they’re going to up here for a while longer, they decide to set about and clean up the attic, make it a garden indoors. Corinne rolls up her sleeves and helps. She’s not advancing too well at the secretarial school, but she sure is accumulating a lot of jewelry. When Grandmother finds out what they’re doing up in the attic, she gives them a pot of chrysanthemums. Chris builds a barre in the attic so that Cathy can resume practicing her ballet lessons. The kids drag a mattress over to a window in the attic so they can sunbathe. One day, during a game of hide and seek, Cory gets stuck in an old trunk and nearly dies.

The children spend their first Thanksgiving in the attic, where Momma manages to sneak them some of the delicious meal downstairs, albeit very late in the day. Then Cory gets ill and Carrie follows suit. They’re slow to recuperate and Momma just smiles and says they need vitamins! More expensive clothes, and more gifts for the children, too, except their freedom.

Christmas arrives; the children make a gift for the hated Grandmother, which she rebuffs, leading Cathy to destroy it. Momma brings boatloads of gifts, including a huge dollhouse for Carrie that was hers when she was a girl. She also regifts them the portable television set her father gave her. This leads Cathy to ask if this means her father has forgiven her; she says that the following week she will be written into the will. He’s even throwing a party tonight for her, and she confidentially tells Chris and Cathy where they can hide and watch for a little while.

So much wealth and opulence! And what’s this? It appears Momma has a suitor, a guy with a huge moustache who keeps bringing her drinks and dancing with her. They find out from some gossip near their hiding place that his name is Bartholomew Winslow. After they return to the room, Chris gets the brilliant idea to go exploring in a disguise, for who knows when they’ll get the chance again?

Unfortunately, he doesn’t come back before Corinne does, and when she finds out what he’s done, she tells Cathy they’ve “betrayed” her, and she’s never letting them out again. Hmm. When Chris sneaks in, Corinne slaps him, hard, on both cheeks, then says she will whip him and Cathy if he ever pulls a stunt like this again. It begins to dawn on Cathy that their mother is changing into a stranger. Corinne, in an attempt to mitigate the hurt, kisses Chris all over his face, draws his head down into her swelling breasts, and then kisses him full on the lips after promising never to hurt them. This mollifies Chris, who defends his mother once again to his sister.

Then he tells her all about his house-prowling adventure – the gist of which is, Momma and that Bart guy are definitely into each other, and she has a swan bed. Which is an opulent type of bed where the frame is literally shaped like a swan. Apparently, Mae West had one and she would recline in it to give interviews. Actually, Momma’s whole bedroom suite is extremely fancy and expensive with the plush carpeting and the huge walk-in closet and black marble tub, etc.

Puberty arrives, on its little cat feet. Cathy notices Chris will occasionally stare at her oddly; her breasts are beginning to show. Corinne comes up to give Cathy the “What’s happening to my body?” talk, and Cathy notices that her mother has started to ignore the twins when she comes to visit. She does bring them gifts for their sixth birthday, and they discover that Cory has an ear for music. This leads Momma to tell them more about their uncles, both deceased. Then she stays away for over a week, and she returns briefly to state that her father is near death. He recovers, however. This coincides with a full year in prison.

Another year drags by and Chris and Cathy have taken to sunbathing on the roof, in a corner where no one can see them from the ground, on the day all the servants leave the house for shopping and pleasantries. One day, Cathy wants to see herself naked, but the only good mirror is in their living quarters above the dresser. She strips off her clothes and preens in front of the mirror, and Chris comes down from the attic and sees her. Before she can put her dress back on, the grandmother comes in and catches them. She returns with, not a whip, but a huge pair of scissors; she says she’s going to cut off all of Cathy’s hair. The hair goes, or no food for a week, and she leaves Chris to do her bidding. Chris just shrugs it off and says that Momma will come back and they’ll be fine; SHE won’t let them starve! They eat sparingly, just in case.

She doesn’t come that night, and Cathy has a weird Hansel and Gretel like dream. In her sleep, the grandmother has drugged her and poured hot tar all over her head. Chris gets it out, but no food arrives. They decide to just cut the front part and wrap her head in a turban, as if she’s embarrassed by her cropped locks. But no one comes for two weeks. Not only do they run out of food, but also soap and toilet paper. Chris slashes his wrist and gets the twins to drink his blood. It’s been two weeks and they are flagging. Chris says they’ll use their sheet ladder to escape the attic, but first, they need to eat to gain their strength, so he prepares two mice that were caught in traps. He goes to get some salt and pepper to make them more palatable, then comes up with an overflowing picnic basket. Also in the basket, a new treat – four powdered-sugar doughnuts.

Cathy notes that Chris seems finally broken – he puts their mother’s picture away and seems to share her sentiment that Momma doesn’t give a shit about them anymore. They do use their rope ladder (it’s summertime) to steal out in the middle of the night to the nearby lake for a swim. Cathy says that they could take the twins and leave that night, but Chris, despite everything, still holds a bit of hope that she will free them.

Soon after, Chris is insolent to the Grandmother and she whips him. Cathy makes a ruckus and so the Grandmother whips her too, until the willow switch breaks, after which she uses a hairbrush and beats her about the head with it, causing her to black out. When she comes to, Chris is tending to her cuts and laying naked beside her. He kisses her, and in a romantic way, not a brotherly way, in case you're not getting that.

Cory finds a mouse still alive in one of their traps, and they free him so Cory can have a pet. The twins have stagnated, growth-wise, in the two years they have been living in the attic. They have only grown two inches, during a time when they should have been shooting up like weeds.

Later that day, Momma returns! She’s puzzled that none of her darlings jump up to greet her. Chris is actually the one to turn a scornful eye on her mountains of guilt offerings. He also tells her that they’ll just leave and be out of her hair, for obviously, they make her life SOOO complicated. Of course, Corinne plays the victim, a role she was born for. "Haven’t I done the best for you? If not for me, you’d be starving in the streets! You agreed to stay here until my father dies. You have a safe place to live, and I bring you everything you want. You’re so ungrateful, when your grandfather will die any day, and you’ll be rich and free to do whatever you want – what does two years in captivity make? Oh, you ungrateful children!! I am leaving, and won’t return until you can treat me with the love and respect I deserve!"

They open the gifts, and while she does still remember their tastes and interests, Cathy notes that she has not taken age into account. The books are ones they read years ago, the dresses have no room for Cathy’s burgeoning breasts, that sort of thing. This causes Cathy to spew her most secret thoughts, that she wishes they were all dead, because it’s just like rotting away, being up in the attic. She thinks about throwing herself off the roof, but doesn’t.

Corinne stays away for ten days. When she does, they act chastened like she has done with her own father. Her big news is that she was away on her honeymoon in Europe; she married Bart. Her father didn’t want her to marry again, but he likes Bart, so she can still inherit, whoop de fucking doo. "Bart is so wonderful and kind and loving, and I just know he will love all four of you! But, he’s also my father’s attorney, so I can’t tell him about you yet. You still have to wait until Malcolm dies. I’m so sorry, my precious darlings, but it won’t be long now! I know it’s been over two years, but any day, my father could die and the money and house will be mine . . . I mean, ours!"

Meanwhile, Cathy and Chris are becoming closer and closer, and doing all sorts of regular brotherly and sisterly things like . . . laying his head on his sister’s naked chest and kissing her nipple, that sort of thing. They resolve they need to make their escape, so they bank on their mother’s carelessness and pilfer the key temporarily so they can make a copy. Cathy tells her that they tend to get sick pretty often, and she just tells them to make sure they keep their food in the attic, where it’s cold.

Once they have a key, they sneak out to steal from their mother and her new husband, as they live in Foxworth Hall. When Corinne says they’re going out for an evening, Chris pilfers small amounts of money to add to their reserves. Cathy goes with him one night to see for herself, and while roaming about, she finds a sex book hidden in one of the drawers, which Chris also sees.

One night, Chris is sick, so he sends Cathy out to sneak. She encounters her stepfather asleep in the bedroom and she walks up and kisses him. She only tells Chris she couldn’t find any money. Months later, he goes a-skulking and hears Momma and Bart returning so he hides in the closet, where he learns, first, that Bart AND Momma (always so careless with money) have realized that they are missing small amounts; and two, that Cathy had kissed her stepfather, because he relates the dream to his wife. This makes Chris angry enough to yell at his sister, and in a normal situation, that would be enough. Because yeah, she could have blown their cover, and they need more money, etc.

But Chris is not satisfied with yelling and shaking her. He says Cathy will always be his and he’ll make it so . . . TONIGHT! NOW! He chases her and assaults her in the attic, and then when everything calms down, is basically, “Sorry I raped you.” He didn’t mean to do it, he swears he didn’t! And of course, Cathy blames herself, too, because she could have stopped him, and she shouldn’t have worn little skimpy garments around her brother, etc. He also says that he loves her and that there’s never going to be another woman for him, because it’s “too late” for him to love anyone else. Dude, you’re a teenager. Please. Chris also resolves to steal some of Momma’s jewelry next time he goes foraging.

Shortly thereafter, Cory gets sick again. Violently sick. Cathy breaks rules and speaks to the Grandmother, who returns with Corinne; they look Cory over and then confab in the corner. This enrages Cathy, who shouts at her mother than Cory obviously needs a hospital, and Corinne is too selfish and thinking of herself and her riches to care about her youngest son. Corinne yells at her that “It’s always you!” and slaps her face. Cathy slaps her back and Chris has to drag her away before more damage is done. But he can’t stop her mouth, so Cathy damns her mother to hell and says she’ll get her revenge. After her tirade, interestingly enough, the evil grandmother agrees with Cathy’s assessment that “the child” must go to the hospital. The two come back at nightfall and take Cory away. They will not let Cathy go with them.

The next day, Corinne returns and says she took him to the hospital, registered him under a false name and said he was her nephew. Cory had pneumonia, and though the doctors did all they could, Cory is dead. There will be no funeral, as Corinne says she already had him buried, with a false name put on his tombstone.

This resolves the children that they can’t stay any longer; they’ll take what funds they have and go. It has now been over three years since they ascended the stairs to this attic prison. Chris goes for one last foraging attempt to Momma’s bedroom, and doesn’t return for a very long time. He discovers that Momma and Bart are gone, cleared out of Foxworth Hall; the only thing she left behind of value that he could take was a picture of Chris Sr. and her engagement ring and wedding band from her first marriage. He thought about robbing the grandmother, but she was awake when he passed her bedroom.

Finally, he decides to go down to the grandfather and confront him. But the room is empty and appears to have been so for quite a while. Chris nearly gets caught by John Amos, the butler, who is attempting to make it with one of the servants. They divulge quite a bit of gossip while Chris is hiding behind the sofa. The old man is dead and has been for nearly a year. The servants know that the grandmother goes up to the attic with a picnic basket full of food to kill the mice up there. That was the reason they long ago had to stop hiding in the attic on the last Friday of the month; originally, that was the servants’ cleaning day, but the grandmother told them that the attic was overrun with mice, and she was taking care of it.

With food coated in arsenic.

Which is white, like powdered sugar.

Powdered sugar, like the doughnuts given to them each day as a treat. [dun dun DUNNN]

Despite Cathy doubting so much, she refuses to believe this, until they give Cory’s beloved mouse, Mickey, a piece of doughnut. He dies, and pretty horribly for such a little creature. Cathy still thinks that the grandmother was the one who was poisoning them. When they escape the house however, Chris tells her the final piece of the gossip he heard that night in Foxworth Hall – dear old Momma inherited everything from her father, yes, but he added a codicil to his will; if she was ever found to have children from her first marriage, she forfeits all of her inheritance, and in addition, if she has any children with Bart, she will also lose everything.

The children buy bus tickets to Sarasota, and that’s where this installment ends.

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So, there you go, a bit of schlocky fiction – potboiling, crazy, ridiculous. And yet, it endures and has even garnered some scholarly attention. Why?

Flowers in the Attic fits a lot of the hallmarks of traditional Gothic fiction. “Standard sources describe classic Gothic fiction as a genre in which horror, violence, and supernatural effects combine with medieval elements, generally in a setting reminiscent of Gothic architecture—a castle or a crumbling cloister” (Huntley, 1996). Or, in this case, a two-hundred-year-old imposing mansion in the Virginia hills. Andrews hews more to the female Gothic tale, in which the horror and violence come from within, rather than going out to meet it (think more Jane Eyre and Rebecca versus Melmoth the Wanderer).

Cathy is our Gothic heroine – young, a little naïve, but curious enough to poke about in places where she shouldn’t. She also “display[s] the female Gothic heroine’s characteristic ambivalence about being a woman, about possessing a traitorous body that is capable of betraying [her] into uncomfortable situations” (Huntley, 1996). This becomes more apparent later in the series but even here, we see Cathy’s burgeoning physical maturity give her issues – such as, her brother having romantic designs on her, and embroiling her in a tug-of-war with her mother for Chris’ affections.

These plot devices are also hallmarks of fairy tales – good versus evil, but with relatively flat characters. Like fairy tales, we have “the dangerous crone (the grandmother), the powerful but absent king (Malcom/the grandfather), the attractive suitor (Bart Winslow), and the faithful retainers (John the Butler, who most certainly knows the ‘empty’ room is inhabited not by mice but human beings)” (Huntley, 1996).

Their imprisonment smacks of Rapunzel (and indeed, their flaxen hair grows long during their time behind those walls). Andrews’ take on fairy tales is a bit more fractured – not all the children triumph in this one; they gained their freedom by helping themselves, but at what cost? Cory’s death, surely, but also their health, well-being, education; three years is a long time in the life of a child.

Viewing Flowers in the Attic through a feminist lens, the women bow to patriarchal power. Corinne’s father, Malcom (the grandfather), holds her in thrall, as well as her children; even though they never see him, his presence is felt due to the fact that Foxworth Hall is his demesne. Corinne as sheltered daughter has only ever seen herself through the men with whom she lives. She even refers to herself, right after the children’s father dies, as a “pretty useless ornament who always believed she’d have a man to take care of her.” Later, she makes a comment about how her father likes to collect things and Corinne used to be one of those things. Despite this insightful comment, it doesn’t do anything to help the children’s predicament, as she refuses to shoulder the burden of responsibility; she readily marches back into step at Foxworth Hall under her father the drill-sergeant and attempts to destroy her own progeny. “In choosing wealth over her children, Corrine succumbs to the power of the patriarchal structure that prescribes her behavior and limits her control over her own body” (Huntley, 1996).

It’s a matter of speculation whether Flowers in the Attic was based on a true story. Andrews, in her pitch letter, says it’s a fictionalized account of a true story; one of her relatives stated in an interview that it might have been based on the life story of a doctor who treated her. He claimed that he and his siblings had been locked up for six years to preserve the family wealth. However, it does not appear that this story has ever been substantiated.

Of course, in real life, there HAVE been stories of family members locked away for various reasons. One that’s kind of in line with the Flowers story is that of Blanche Monnier. Blanche was a beautiful young socialite in Poitiers, France, who had the misfortune to fall in love with a penniless lawyer. Her miserly mother disapproved of the match, but Blanche continued to sneak out and meet him in secret. Not long after, the young woman disappeared from sight; her mother and brother mourned her publicly, but Blanche was in a tiny room inside the house, hidden away from anyone’s view. Ms. Monnier lived this way for TWENTY-FIVE years, subsisting on the scraps her mother gave her from the regular meals downstairs.

One day in 1901, an anonymous note was sent to the attorney general in Paris, informing him of Blanche’s whereabouts; this seemed impossible at first, as Blanche’s mother was from a good family and gave to charitable institutions in the city. The police forced entrance, despite initial protestations, and there, in a tiny room on the second floor, was Blanche, now 50 years old and weighing the same amount of pounds. She had a mattress on the floor and no windows, so no sunlight for 25 years.

One of the policeman’s comments were noted:

The unfortunate woman was lying completely naked on a rotten straw mattress. All around her was formed a sort of crust made from excrement, fragments of meat, vegetables, fish, and rotten bread…We also saw oyster shells, and bugs running across Mademoiselle Monnier’s bed. The air was so unbreathable, the odor given off by the room was so rank, that it was impossible for us to stay any longer to proceed with our investigation.

Her mother was arrested and died in prison two weeks after being incarcerated. Her brother was arrested and sentenced but was eventually set free without serving any time. Poor Blanche, however, was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where she lived out her remaining 12 years of life.

Sources:

Author’s success yields estate taxable asset. (1994). CPA Journal, 64(7), 16.

F., Jennifer. The Complete VC Andrews. http://www.completevca.com

Huntley, E.D. (1996). V.C. Andrews: a Critical Companion. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc.

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