Formulating Horror

I grew up with more traditional horror — H.P. Lovecraft, Lord Dunsany, and even comics when I was a kid like “Tales from the Crypt,” as well as the 19th century classics like Shelley, Stoker, etc. More recently, under Dean’s influence, I picked up a copy of Saki’s short stories. The themes were, as you say, Jennifer, often of damaged, wounded people transformed into monsters rather than of mindless destroyers of human life. But another important sub-theme in 19th and earlier 20th century horror was of nature’s revenge against impudent humans, like Frankenstein or in José Vasconcelos’ classic “The Boar Hunt.” Saki’s “Sredni Vashtar” is wonderfully written so that you know what the protagonist believes and wants to happen, and his wishes are seemingly granted — but did it happen the way he wanted it to — which implies a supernatural intervention — or was the outcome just a coincidence? We, the readers, are left to wonder.

In a sense, a horror story is just a mirror version of the hero’s journey, where someone must find and confront some evil — and where that evil comes from informs a big part of horror stories — and overcome that evil, usually by the thinnest of margins. (In modern Dystopian horror, the hero loses and dies.) In the recent film “Annihilation,” the only two characters to emerge alive from the anomaly are shown by a glint in their eye to have somehow internalized and taken something of the anomaly into their bodies. It has become a part of them.

I haven’t read much modern (meaning, post-1960s) horror fiction, though I’m always open for suggestions. I was once lent a compendium of Clive Barker short stories, but only found a couple stories worth remembering. Most of its was Hollywood-style blood and gore, very visual, very visceral. It was less horror and more disgust. Only a handful of Hollywood horror films have ever really scared me — most are based on such ridiculous premises that I just can’t invest much belief in them. Any story that involves the fantastic or the supernatural must use these elements sparingly and only to advance the story; they must be able to be believable enough to convince you to “join the story,” so to speak, and willingly suspend your beliefs for the duration of the story. I have no fears of any of Lovecraft’s monsters coming and getting me, but he was a master of putting me in some room or trapped environment with something I did not want to be in that environment with, making me squirm.

So what do I want in a horror story?

— Science doesn’t bother me — Matheson goes into some detail in his “I Am Legend” trying to explain how vampires could biologically exist — so long as it doesn’t get in the way of the story. “Annihilation” and “Jurassic Park” both require some science education up front. And it can work, if done well.

— I like the psychological element, certainly over the gore element. If I want to barf, I’ll just watch the news. Not that I mind some gore — “Jaws” was fun, and had just the right amount of gore. After all, you need to be shown what the monster/nasty critter/antagonist is capable of doing. But films like the “Saw” series to me are mindless slasher-porn. For me, there has to be a very real and believable threat to my life, as well as some hope (however tiny or tenuous) that I can somehow survive, if I do the right things. Without that hope, there’s no story. Without hope, a story becomes like the Cthulu Mythos, where Cthulu believers pray to Cthulu that he (she?) eats them first when Cthulu finally breaks into our realm and destroys all, so at least they don’t have to see their loved ones suffer when they are eaten.

— Supernatural: The supernatural can be a fun plot device but it is used and abused sometimes, methinks. It is sometimes used as a weak plot device to explain short-comings in the story the author couldn’t quite bridge. After all, you don’t have to explain the supernatural –who can? But that said, I like a good ghost or supernatural critter sometimes too. It adds an important variable dimension to stories — because supernatural critters don’t have to play by the usual rules the rest of us do. Part of the hero’s story in a horror tale is figuring out some of the rules the supernatural critter * is * playing by, and using them to stop them.

— Agree on the real characters bit. We, as readers, need to be able to invest in them, and care about them — at least enough so that we give a crap when they are threatened or suffer tragedy in the story. That said, it’s OK to have some “Red Shirts” who get munched early on, for dramatic effect. 😉

— One of the things I like about Lovecraft is his ability to transform early 20th century New England into a medieval European-style Gothic horror setting. So yeah — atmosphere and setting are key. Some of my favorite Lovecraft stories have very lavish settings, though he’s good at isolating his protagonists. In Anne Rice’s original book, “Interview with the Vampire,” her vampires — though powerful against individual humans — were vulnerable against larger groups of humans and had to hide from civilization, sometimes in the dank cellars of abandoned homes or even in sewers, living literally among (and surviving on) rats.

— And tragedy: Yup. To win, there has to be some loss. The hero (in classic fashion) has to win in the end, but not without suffering some damage. Their victory comes at a cost, and they must be profoundly changed by that cost. They purchase their victory dearly. A good horror story should prompt the reader to wonder what they would be willing to sacrifice to confront and defeat evil.

Nice write-up, Jennifer!

LikeLike