I had forgotten that BOTH of Eleanor’s male love interests have disgustingly out of character hallucinations of her at different points in the story. One sees her as a dangerous siren to be conquered, the other see’s her as a passive silent wife. She deserved so much better.
She did, but then, I thought that was the point. It’s not out of character for them, in fact, it speaks volumes about the way men twist women’s behaviour.
(I also thought that the second Eleanor was actually silently judging WR, but I still don’t think any Eleanor would ever appear to that moron.)
Oh yeah, I definitely see it as an intentional point the writers are making about both men (and men in general) seeing her as a shallow archetype, who they think she is/want her to be rather than the actual person she is!
I agree that Rogers’ hallucination of her is him imagining her judging him, but at the same time it also shows how little he knew her that she’s sitting in a corner knitting.
A soft sigh left James’ lips as he gradually
stirred from his slumber. He shifted against the mattress, the resulting
sting in his muscles enough to make him hiss. Though he and Thomas had
indulged in their own affair for several weeks now, his body was still
adjusting to this type of intimacy. While he had slept with women on
previous occasions, sexual congress with another man was distinctly
different in every way. Lying back, being consumed and accepting what
was given to him instead of taking his own pleasure… it was
intoxicating. The feel of Thomas inside him was enough to make him drunk
with pleasure. The thickness of his cock, the stretch of it as he
slowly pressed inside, filling him so completely… But it was not
merely the physical aspects that had struck him. Emotionally, giving
himself to another was strangely liberating.
A part of him wondered if
he would ever grow accustomed to it. Yet this was not a concern in the
slightest. The ache in his limbs, the sting in his jaw, even the way
Thomas’ release tickled down his thigh as it slipped free of him… He
reveled in it all. That night Thomas’ lips had captured his own, bathed
in candlelight and held beneath Miranda’s bittersweet gaze, had left its
mark. It had seared his skin, igniting a flame deep within –small and
flickering though it was. Still, it was one that managed to illuminate a
piece of himself he had never known was missing.
Meg's Mumbles 