copyright 2007 by By Gary L. Pullman
If God is loving, omnipotent, and omniscient, why does evil exist? That question expresses the philosophical (and theological) dilemma that’s known as “the problem of evil.” In horror fiction especially, it’s this problem that’s the basis of the antagonist, who- or whatever he, she, or it may be.
Various authors of horror fiction, past and present, have defined evil. Most of them have presented specific ideas as to what constitutes wickedness. Let’s consider some of their conclusions.
For Nathaniel Hawthorne, who wrote not only The Scarlet Letter, but also such classic horror stories as “Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment,” “The Birthmark,” “The Great Stone Face,” and “Young Goodman Brown,” evil, boiled down to its essence, is a result of sin, in the traditional sense of the term’s meaning: pride, vanity, hypocrisy, and so on.
Edgar Allan Poe, author of Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, found passion, usually combined with various mental disorders, the source of various evils, most of which culminated in murder. The protagonist of “The Cask of the Amontillado” walls up a man simply because the main character envies his rival’s knowledge and success about wines and other matters.
H. G. Wells wrote horror stories as well as science fiction classics. One of these stories, “The Flowering of the Strange Orchid,” appears on this blog. For Wells, horror derives from and takes the form of human beings’ abuse of technology, which usually results either from ignorance or arrogance or both.
The Stephen Crane of the horror genre, H. P. Lovecraft found the universe to be indifferent to human existence. His fiction is replete with otherworldly beings and strange creatures from other dimensions who are representative of a cosmic indifference to humanity, having no regard for or understanding of the humans whom they often slaughter as if they were mere cattle. Viewed objectively and impersonally, from a cosmic perspective, life, for humans, Lovecraft’s fiction suggests, is “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Evil doesn’t exist as such; it is rather, a matter of perception: people may regard meaninglessness, as represented by his fiction’s monsters, as evil, but, in itself, it’s just the nature of the universe in which such insignificant creatures happen to exist. His mosnters may be taken, therefore, as embodiments of the idea of nature as it appears apart from the control of an omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent deity such as the God posited by Christian belief.
Dean Koontz values, above all things (except, perhaps, dogs), brotherly love. In his fiction, it is the ties to one’s community, to one’s nation, and to one’s species that counts. Even against great adversity and loss, brotherly love, he implies, gives human existence dignity and significance. It seems, therefore, that, for Koontz, evil is whatever threatens or denies the maintenance and development of such love, especially an insensitive indifference to humanity as such. Koontz, despite, or in addition to, his Catholic faith, is also, in this sense, a humanist.
Whatever threatens one’s hometown (an extension of one’s home) is evil, according to Stephen King’s many works of fiction. In this sense, King’s take on wickedness is similar to Koontz’s view of evil. However, King is more provincial, most of the time, finding those nearest at hand (and, presumably, dearest) to be more valuable than strangers who happen to reside in the same state or country or upon the same planet. It is one’s family and friends, not necessarily humanity in its entirety, that seems to matter to King; therefore, whatever threatens one’s family or local community is the bogeyman. Such a theme is conveyed in the bulk of King’s many novels, from Carrie onward.
For Bentley Little, evil is the indifference of nameless, faceless bureaucracies and other impersonal organizations.
Such an alaysis helps us to see the reigning demonic spirit of the age as various literary artists, living and working at various times in the history of the human race, have envisioned it. In his poem, “The Second Coming,” William Butler Yates asks, now that Christianity has come to a close, “What rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches. . . toward Bethlehem to be born.” According to modern horror writers, the beast “with a gaze as blank and pitiless as the sun” is indifference, or apathy, at the local, organizational, or administrative, and the universal levels of human existence. However, the beast is nothing if not protean and has appeared in many previous incarnations, as indicated. Most likely, in future generations, it will assume still different forms.
Various authors of horror fiction, past and present, have defined evil. Most of them have presented specific ideas as to what constitutes wickedness. Let’s consider some of their conclusions.
For Nathaniel Hawthorne, who wrote not only The Scarlet Letter, but also such classic horror stories as “Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment,” “The Birthmark,” “The Great Stone Face,” and “Young Goodman Brown,” evil, boiled down to its essence, is a result of sin, in the traditional sense of the term’s meaning: pride, vanity, hypocrisy, and so on.
Edgar Allan Poe, author of Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, found passion, usually combined with various mental disorders, the source of various evils, most of which culminated in murder. The protagonist of “The Cask of the Amontillado” walls up a man simply because the main character envies his rival’s knowledge and success about wines and other matters.
H. G. Wells wrote horror stories as well as science fiction classics. One of these stories, “The Flowering of the Strange Orchid,” appears on this blog. For Wells, horror derives from and takes the form of human beings’ abuse of technology, which usually results either from ignorance or arrogance or both.
The Stephen Crane of the horror genre, H. P. Lovecraft found the universe to be indifferent to human existence. His fiction is replete with otherworldly beings and strange creatures from other dimensions who are representative of a cosmic indifference to humanity, having no regard for or understanding of the humans whom they often slaughter as if they were mere cattle. Viewed objectively and impersonally, from a cosmic perspective, life, for humans, Lovecraft’s fiction suggests, is “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Evil doesn’t exist as such; it is rather, a matter of perception: people may regard meaninglessness, as represented by his fiction’s monsters, as evil, but, in itself, it’s just the nature of the universe in which such insignificant creatures happen to exist. His mosnters may be taken, therefore, as embodiments of the idea of nature as it appears apart from the control of an omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent deity such as the God posited by Christian belief.
Dean Koontz values, above all things (except, perhaps, dogs), brotherly love. In his fiction, it is the ties to one’s community, to one’s nation, and to one’s species that counts. Even against great adversity and loss, brotherly love, he implies, gives human existence dignity and significance. It seems, therefore, that, for Koontz, evil is whatever threatens or denies the maintenance and development of such love, especially an insensitive indifference to humanity as such. Koontz, despite, or in addition to, his Catholic faith, is also, in this sense, a humanist.
Whatever threatens one’s hometown (an extension of one’s home) is evil, according to Stephen King’s many works of fiction. In this sense, King’s take on wickedness is similar to Koontz’s view of evil. However, King is more provincial, most of the time, finding those nearest at hand (and, presumably, dearest) to be more valuable than strangers who happen to reside in the same state or country or upon the same planet. It is one’s family and friends, not necessarily humanity in its entirety, that seems to matter to King; therefore, whatever threatens one’s family or local community is the bogeyman. Such a theme is conveyed in the bulk of King’s many novels, from Carrie onward.
For Bentley Little, evil is the indifference of nameless, faceless bureaucracies and other impersonal organizations.
Such an alaysis helps us to see the reigning demonic spirit of the age as various literary artists, living and working at various times in the history of the human race, have envisioned it. In his poem, “The Second Coming,” William Butler Yates asks, now that Christianity has come to a close, “What rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches. . . toward Bethlehem to be born.” According to modern horror writers, the beast “with a gaze as blank and pitiless as the sun” is indifference, or apathy, at the local, organizational, or administrative, and the universal levels of human existence. However, the beast is nothing if not protean and has appeared in many previous incarnations, as indicated. Most likely, in future generations, it will assume still different forms.
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