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Women in Horror Fiction: What Would Mary Shelley Think?

Miniature of Mary Shelley Frankenstein author by Reginald Easton

 

Any time the topic of women in horror fiction comes up, someone almost immediately mentions Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. It’s a little frustrating to me because usually she’s the only one, or one of a very select few, whose names are repeated over and over, even though there are a wide variety of women writing horror. But I can certainly understand it. She wrote a novel that has resonated with countless individuals on many levels,  reimagined in a variety of media, with varying interpretations. Even people who don’t know who Mary Shelley is and have never read the book are familiar, in some way, with the Frankenstein story. It is that ingrained into our culture. It is an incredible accomplishment that a teenage girl not only had a terrifying vision– we all have nightmares at some point– but that she penned her story with such passion and horror that, if you can get past the clunky beginning, it stirs the reader’s emotions and twists at the heart. In her own words:

When I placed my head on my pillow, I did not sleep, nor could I be said to think. My imagination, unbidden, possessed and guided me, gifting the successive images that arose in my mind with a vividness far beyond the usual bound of reverie. I saw – with shut eyes, but acute mental vision – I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together; I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out; and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half-vital motion.

Frightful must it be; for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavour to mock the stupendous mechanism of the creator of the world. His success would terrify the artist; he would rush away from his odious handiwork, horror-stricken. He would hope that, left to itself, the slight spark of life which he had communicated would fade – that this thing, which had received such imperfect animation, would subside into dead matter, and he might sleep in the belief that the silence of the grave would quench for ever the transient existence of the hideous corpse which he had looked upon as the cradle of life. He sleeps, but he is awakened; he opens his eyes, behold the horrid thing stands at his bedside, opening his curtains, and looking on him with yellow, watery, but speculative eyes! I opened mine in terror.

The idea so possessed my mind that a thrill of terror ran through me…

I returned to my ghost story – my tiresome unlucky ghost story! O! if I could only contrive one which would frighten my reader as I myself had been frightened that night! Swift as light and as cheering was the idea that broke in upon me. “I have found it! What terrified me will terrify others; and I need only describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow.”

In The Monsters: Mary Shelley and the Curse of Frankenstein, Thomas and Dorothy Hoobler describe Mary’s life in great detail. At eighteen, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, not yet married to Shelley, was intimately familiar with the creation and destruction of life. Her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft died eleven days after she was born, an event which shaped the rest of her life.When her father remarried, she was displaced by a stepbrother. At sixteen, she had already run off with Percy Shelley, who was already married (although estranged from his pregnant wife). Before the summer of 1816, she had borne two children, the first of whom died before she had even been named. By the age of eighteen, Mary was very familiar with how easily life can slip away. Percy Shelley, unstable but brilliant, was fascinated with the supernatural and Gothic and also with science, interests that he did not seem to find at odds. Their companions during the “Haunted Summer” of 1816, Lord Byron and John Polidori, were similarly fascinated with both: Polidori, a medical doctor, also began the story that became the classic horror novel The Vampyre that summer. The idea that science, when bent to the manipulation of creating and animating (or, particularly, re-animating) life, could be as destructive and frightening as any supernatural force, was her nightmare, and she made it ours.

I, Frankenstein, yet another interpretation of the Frankenstein story, comes out in movie theaters this Friday. The reviews I’ve seen haven’t been great. Honestly, some of the other versions of the Frankenstein story that have appeared over the years have moved far away from the waking vision Mary Shelley had on a dark and stormy night. Whatever her other tragedies, and there were many in her life, her creation, and her Creature, has changed and grown, and whatever else it has become, there is no doubt that with her novel, she brought them to life. Would she look upon the many incarnations today the way that Victor Frankenstein did when he first saw his creation come to life? Would she be amazed by the tremendous impact a little novel she had to publish anonymously has had on the world?  What would Mary Shelley think of the way so many people have co-opted her “midnight spectre?”

The Compulsive Power of Reading: Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews


V.C. Andrews’  1979 novel Flowers in the Attic has been adapted into a Lifetime movie with Ellen Burstyn and Heather Graham, which will premiere later this month (see the trailer here). This movie promises to stay much closer to the book than the 1987 adaptation, which left out some important parts of the book. She also has a  new book coming out soon, The Unwelcomed Child (Andrews died in 1986, after writing just seven novels, and now has over 80 published books– making her possibly the most prolific dead writer ever).

If you were a girl growing up in the 1970s or 1980s you’ve probably at least heard of Flowers in the Attic. It’s been a long time since I read it, but I have a strong memory of reading it. You wouldn’t think that a story about four kids locked in an attic for years would be a compelling read– how much action can there really be? Maybe as a 12 year old the plot didn’t feel as telegraphed to me as it does now. The language feels like it comes straight from “old-skool” romance,  but the setting is gothic and the tone is disturbing. I wasn’t a critical reader at that age, I was just caught up in the story, as told by a grown Cathy Dollanganger about her 12 year old self.  Flowers in the Attic was a compulsive read and I read it cover to cover, and the other books in the Dollanganger saga, although my favorite Andrews book is the stand alone My Sweet Audrina.

At the same time that I am tempted to go back to it, though, I haven’t quite been able to bring myself to do it. It’s like being a moth attracted to bright light– I’m not sure I want to get close enough to go back to the awfulness of the grandmother, the monstrosity of the mother, the incest, rape, physical abuse, and abandonment. It probably doesn’t bother an uncritical teenage reader dealing with unfamiliar (or maybe familiar, but under the surface) emotions and physical changes, but do I want to go there again? Andrews’ books have been compared to the Twilight books because they’re such compulsive reads, across generations–once you start, resistance is futile. Do I really want to lose my weekend to the Dollangangers?

What makes Flowers in the Attic so compelling? Lots of people have tried to come up with an answer to why girls and women would read a story this full of crazysauce (a term I picked up from Sarah Wendell that fits this book so very well) and I’m not sure any of them got it quite right. And unlike Twilight, it doesn’t seem like there will be an entire shelf of knockoff crossover YA creepy family horror stories  in the bookstore anytime soon. Her books, with their distinctive covers, still seem to me like the kind you read under the covers.

In researching V.C. Andrews I discovered that people who asked about books similar to Flowers in the Attic were mostly given lists of Andrews’ books, and more than once someone said that her books are their own genre. In an article on Andrews, Sara Gran and Megan Abbott note:

Though there’s an obvious debt to the Brontë sisters, nineteenth-century sensation novels like Lady Audley’s Secret, and Daphne du Maurier’s Gothic fiction, at heart Andrews’s novels have little in common with the genres where they ought to fit. They’re too offbeat for romance, too slow to qualify as thrillers, too explicit for Gothic, and far too dark and complex for young adult.

Young adult books have gotten pretty dark and complex, if you ask me, but with an audience including 12 year olds and 60 year olds, it does make it difficult to know where to shelve the book.

Curiously, for someone who makes a living duplicating Andrews’ style, Andrew Neiderman, who ghostwrites her books, said in an interview:

The wonder of V.C. Andrews, which makes it hard for people to duplicate, is that it’s not just one genre. It’s not just horror stories or love stories—it’s a recipe, a mixture of these genres in the books that makes it work, that people have not been able to emulate, because a lot of people have tried.

I’d love to know what authors or books he’s referring to, because even if they’re not totally successful, it would be interesting to see what other people have come up with in their attempts to emulate her work. Do people graduate from her books? What do they read next?

Will I go back and read Flowers in the Attic in honor of the new movie? I haven’t decided. But just learning more about Andrews and her books (an interesting challenge) was compelling enough on its own to make me really, really tempted.

 

For some perspectives on the books (and occasionally, some drinking games) here are some links you might check out.

 

“”I May Look Like Her, But Inside I Am Honorable”! Flowers in the Attic, Daughters, and Moms”  by Tammy Oler at Slate.com

 

The Complete V.C. Andrews. This unofficial website links to a variety of articles on V.C. Andrews, her books, and related topics.

 

“Interview with Ann Patty, Editor of Flowers in the Attic by Robin Wasserman at The Toast.net

 

“V.C. Andrews and Disability Horror” by Madeleine Lloyd-Davies at The Toast.net. I loved this. I have been thinking about disability horror a lot lately.

 

Dark Family: V.C. Andrews and the Secret Life of Girls” by Sara Gran and Megan Abbott, in the September 2009 issue of Believer Magazine. This is as close to serious analysis as I found, and I think the authors did a pretty good job of nailing why the books appeal to girls. Although I’m middle-aged, so you would probably be wise to check it against the experience of teen girls of your acquaintance.

 

Twilight vs. Flowers in the Attic: Sick Sex Smackdown, Eighties Style” by Alyx Dellamonica at Tor.com. Another informal look, this one with some more critical thought put into it. I like Dellamonica’s idea that the book falls into a stretch of development between  “unreal” childhood fears like the monster under the bed and the ability to deal with realistic threats in the wider world. I wasn’t a fan of her conclusion, though.

 

Lurid: Flowers in the Attic” by Karina Wilson at LitReactor.com. A rather gleeful look back and critical once-over of the author’s personal favorite “Bad Book”.

 

Flowers in the Attic: Ain’t Sexy, He’s My Brother”. Lizzie Skurnick’s  original column at Jezebel on Flowers in the Attic, which appears in a more polished form in her book Shelf Discovery.

 

“Flower Scowler” by Erin Callahan at Forever  Young Adult. The first post in a series where Callahan reads and dissects each chapter in Flowers in the Attic, which includes the Flowers in the Attic drinking game. This is a very informal, funny examination of the book.

 

Revisiting My Sixth Grade Bookshelf: Flowers in the Attic” by Ashley Perks at xoJane.com. An informal look back at the book.

 

“In The Attic: Whips, Witches, and a Peculiar Princess” by Gillian Flynn at NPR.org.  The author of Gone Girl writes about her infatuation with the book as a teen and how it inspired her interest in “wicked women”.

 

Flowers (And Family Dysfunction) in the Attic” by Heidi W. Durrow at NPR.org. Durrow writes about her personal love of the book, no analysis involved.

 

 

 

Stephen King Goes To The Theater: The Ghost Brothers of Darkland County

 

When we first saw the advertisement for The Ghost Brothers of Darkland County, we were pretty excited. A collaboration between John Mellencamp and Stephen King has all kinds of potential for coolness. Stephen King is a great storyteller, and for a rock musical in a southern gothic atmosphere, I can’t think of anyone who I’d rather have making the musical contribution than John Mellencamp (to clarify, he wrote the music, but didn’t sing it). The description of the show included the information that this collaboration had been thirteen years in the making. We were very intrigued, and made the tickets to the show our anniversary present to each other.

I am a huge believer in the power of live performance. I love storytelling and I love opera, and once you’ve seen those live, film provides only a pale imitation. I don’t think that is necessarily true of horror, though. Maybe it has something to do with the realism that a horror movie has to have to give you that emotional punch. So I wondered how that would present itself in a musical on stage.

The honest answer is that I’m really not sure whether this lives up to its billing as a collaborative horror musical. The music was tremendous, as I expected it would be, and the acting and singing were fantastic. Both the choreographer and whoever was in charge of lighting deserve awards. But… the plot? Character development? I think Stephen King was taking a nap.

The story is along these lines. In a small town in the South, a rift has developed between two brothers. One brother is an auto mechanic who plays in a local band, whose girlfriend, Anna, has just dumped him for the other brother, a writer who has just sold his first book. Their father, Joe,  meets them at the family’s lakeside cabin to tell them the story of his own brothers as a warning. Decades earlier, his older brothers also turned against each other and both died tragically because of their differences over a girl named Jenna.  Joe’s brothers and Jenna now haunt the cabin, providing commentary and acting out the backstory. There is a creature called The Shape hovering around the edges of events (and often stealing the stage– the actor took his part and ran with it), encouraging all the characters to act on their worst impulses.

The plot is pretty thin, in other words. On stage, sets are often pretty minimal, and that’s the case here. So realism isn’t really an option. You’ve either got to have action or character development to catch your audience. Spectacle, music, and talent (and this show has all three), can carry you pretty far, but to get really invested there has to be movement and change of some kind. And especially with horror, you have to be invested. But we never get to know the characters enough to find them sympathetic, or even care much about their troubles. None of them are particularly likable and their parts just don’t gel together. As a result, the final events, which actually were objectively really horrifying, didn’t pack the emotional punch of, say, the final events of Rigoletto, or Carmen. I feel like the actors made the most of what they were given to work with, particularly the Shape. Mellencamp’s music, played by members of his band, was great, and especially the women had great voices and stage presence (Anna in “That’s Who I Am”, Jenna in “Home Again”, and the boys’ mother, Monique, in “You Don’t Know Me”). Unfortunately, not even lighting that made it look like the actors were dripping in blood was enough to disguise the thinness of plot and character development.

I am likely to buy the musical’s soundtrack (especially as it has Sheryl Crow, Rosanne Cash, Kris Kristofferson, and Elvis Costello singing on it), and I’m not sorry I went, because I will be able to easily picture the acting  that went along with the music, but I can’t say that I think either of us think this is a must-see live performance (although apparently many Stephen King fans disagree). It’s quite possible that as a film, set in the South with realistic detail, that many of the shortcomings of the live performance could be overcome… although, most likely at the expense of the Shape’s impact on the characters and scene. You can’t beat Mellencamp’s music live, though, and that, I think, was worth the price of the ticket.