Bennett and Royle, in their book "An Introduction to Literature, Criticism and Theory", state that "the relationship between literature, secrecy and secrets is fundamental1". In the novels I have chosen, this “fundamental” dynamic is seen in their portrayal of secrets as hidden and dark, and yet possessing pervasive power; this power is seen in their influence on the narrative structure and diegetic worlds of the text. This total control over both plot and discourse can be seen in the sheer multiplicity of mysteries within Great Expectations, where open and unanswered secrets mingle and obscure each other, creating moments of explosive revelation and defining the dark and secret interiority of the novel's protagonist. Pip. This dual supremacy and prevalence of secrecy is seen again in Jane Eyre and Frankenstein, now under the guise of "secret spaces" within their narratives; these domestic crypts, occluded from the everyday, serve as a site for both entrapment and empowerment in their respective figurations as repressive tombs and powerful wombs. Through exploring these different representations of enigma and mystery, I hope to demonstrate the enduring narrative power and thematic dominance of secrecy within the texts I have chosen. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay As mentioned above, Great Expectations is an excellent example of a novel full of secrets that direct and dictate the direction of the plot. Yet perhaps the novel's greatest mystery, the identity of Pip's benefactor, is initially presented as an open secret. This oxymoron is best explained by Jacques Derrida, in his essay “Passions: An Oblique Offering,” when he states “There is something secret.” But he doesn't hide.' Derrida's particular interpretation of the peculiar paradox of the open secret is anticipated by Great Expectations, where despite being told that his benefactor's name is a "deep secret", Pip immediately assures the reader that "Miss Havisham would have made her fortune in a blink of an eye." large scale'. By keeping the novel's central mystery open - despite how "deep" it is, it initially "does not hide" - Dickens creates an elaborate red herring; for, as we know, the identity of Pip's benefactor is not Miss Havisham at all, but the criminal Magwitch. Yet despite this intricate creation of a double secret within the narrative, the identity of Pip's benefactor is always "in principle discoverable"; Pip himself states that "Everything would come out in due course." This turn of phrase clearly illuminates the paradoxical nature of secrecy in the novel; its central mystery is both secret and otherwise. Thus, all of the puzzles in the plot of Great Expectations are essentially all open secrets, puzzles with a solution that will be clearly revealed "in good time" to both Pip and the reader. However, beneath the surface of these "solvable" mysteries lies a darker secret that defies both clear interpretation and conclusion. This darkest mystery is obviously the secret to Pip's nebulous sense of guilt, which defines his character and manifests itself through his "deep sense of guilt." affinity with the criminal world. In his essay "The Hero's Guilt: The Case of Great Expectations," Julian Moynahan recognizes "a certain discrepancy" between Pip's guilt and his actual wrongdoings, identifying an almost primal sense of guilt buried deep within Pip's character. Pip. This innate sense of guilt is best perceived in Pip's description of how his secret had "grown within meand had become a part of myself." The verb "grew" lends a haunting, organic quality to the persistent growth of Pip's bond with Magwitch in all aspects of his character, providing a psychological context for the continual recurrence of the iron in his leg , of the file and of the convicts in all phases of his life. Therefore, Pip's sense of guilt is to be attributed to what he defines as his "secret terms of criminal association with convicts"; stain of prison and crime", combined with what Hubble calls his "naturally evil" nature, provides a powerful motive for Pip's attempts to cloak his secret criminality under the guise of kindness; a kindness ironically entirely financed by his “secret terms of conspiracy” with the inmate Magwitch. Another way in which the supremacy of secrecy is represented in the novels I have chosen is through the prevalence of “secret spaces” within their narratives. In his essay “The Topographies of Derrida,” J. Hillis Miller writes that “every secret, it seems, is hidden in a kind of crypt.” These "crypts" are defined as secret spaces that "are there and are not there"7, existing within everyday domestic life but also occluded by it; it is from this paradoxical position that these "crypts" maintain their disturbing power. The hidden, taboo and yet thematically dominant nature of Bertha Mason's "room without a window", and the hidden red room within Gateshead, are evocative examples of this dynamic in Jane Eyre. The "goblin cell" buried in Thornfield's stately country house is the most explosive secret space in the novel. The revelation of this space's existence brings to its thematic climax the anxiety of domestic entrapment, latent in earlier depictions of Lowood's "thick black bars" and "wide enclosure". It is this explicit naming of the room as "cell" and its prisoner as "goblin" that ultimately reconfigures Thornfield's mundane domestic life into an oppressive prison, with monstrous consequences for the continued existence of women within it. Much earlier in the narrative, the red room that briefly traps Jane serves as both a thematic precursor to Bertha's attic and a powerful secret space in its own right. Jane observes that "no prison was ever safer", and it is in this figuration of the red room as a hidden domestic "prison" - "silent", "remote", and "rarely entered" - that it acts as a powerful mirror of Thornfield's secret "cell". Serving as both a prelude and a reflection of this other secret space, the red room has its own powerful thematic charge; it is the foundation and genesis of the discomfort with domestic oppression and closure that echoes throughout Jane's narrative. In addition to serving as compelling symbols of entrapment, the secret places within the novels I have chosen can also function as powerful spaces for self-empowerment. and creation within narrative. The most powerful secret space in these terms is Frankenstein's "lonely chamber, or rather cell," hidden in his student apartments, in which he hopes to create his "new species." This "laboratory of foul creation" is explicitly feminised, with Frankenstein described as suffering from "nightly labors", before finally bringing his "filthy creation" to life; the adjective "dirty" reinforces both the biological and taboo nature of this unnatural conception. This figuration of Frankenstein's "cell" as a site of empowered female creation anticipates Gilbert and Gubar's interpretation of the hidden rooms and caves as an intensely feminine space, in which "knowledge. 270-278