Copyright 2018 by Gary L. Pullman
As the foremost
writer of horror fiction, Poe exhibits several techniques of terror
from which we can learn. In The
Annotated Poe, editor Kevin
J. Hayes points out several.
In
an earlier post, “Writing
Dramatic Scenes,” we saw how Poe's descriptions anticipated
filmmaking techniques, well in advance of Hollywood studios' use of
them. Hayes cites a paragraph in “Metzengerstein”
as an example:
The career of the horseman was, indisputably, on his own
part, uncontrollable. The agony of his countenance, the convulsive
struggling of his frame gave no evidence of superhuman exertion; nut
no sound, save a solitary shriek, escaped from his lacerated lips,
which were bitten through and through, in the intensity of terror
(The Annotated Poe, 34).
As
Hayes notes:
The cinema has much to offer when it comes to
understanding Poe, partly because his work has contributed so much to
its development. The great Soviet filmmaker Sergei
Eisenstein found that Poe's writing anticipated visual techniques
that would not be fully utilized until the invention of motion
pictures. This paragraph provides a good example. Poe depicts
Metzengerstein in close-up (the “agony of his convulsions”),
pulls back to show him from a distance (“the convulsive struggling
of his frame”), and then supplies an extreme close-up (“his
lacerated lips, which were bitten through and through”). The rapid
shifting of images quickens the narrative pace, which the ensuing
cacophony of sound—the shriek of Metzengerstein, the clatter of
hoofs, the roar of the flames, and the shriek of the wind—further
intensifies, thus providing a narrative running start for the horse's
final bound up the staircase (The Annotated Poe, 34).
In Introduction
a la litterature fantastique
(1970), Tzvetan Todorov distinguishes between the “uncanny”
and the “marvelous.” That which is presented in certain types of
literature, including the horror genre, as fantastic, Todorov says,
is usually resolved as being either uncanny (susceptible to
explanation via scientific knowledge or natural law) or marvelous
(inexplicable via scientific knowledge or natural law). Only that
which remains ambiguous at the conclusion of such stories retains its
fantastic character. In “Manuscript Found in a Bottle,” Poe sets
up a similar “dynamic between the narrator's love of scientific
explanation and the supernatural events of the story” by the way
Poe describes the story's narrator; as Hayes points out, the
narrator, is “a man who has 'a strong relish for physical
philosophy'” (37). The narrator's description of
the particulars of material objects, such as the ship upon which he
embarks as a passenger (“a beautiful ship of about four hundred
tons, copper-fastened, and built at Bombay of Malabar teak”) also
shows the narrator's character as “a man who has 'a strong relish
for physical philosophy'” (37). According to Hayes, “Poe has
learned well the need, in a fantastic adventure tale, of a credible
witness” (38).
Poe's use of
blanks in dates, “18—“ in “Manuscript
Found in a Bottle,” for example, was not new with Poe. It was
an established convention, Hayes says. Used to enhance “mystery”
by implying that the story being told is based on “a true story
whose details have been deliberately withheld to protect those
involved” (37). The device is similar to the notification, at the
beginning of a movie—and often a seemingly fantastic film, at
that—that the picture is “based on a true story.”
Such a
statement may make the dubious incidents seem more believable,
despite the fact that movies “based on a true story” often depart
substantially from the facts of the “true story” itself. (For
example, Backcountry
is “based on a true story,” but the roles of female victim and
the male survivor are changed, among other alterations of the facts,
with the male being killed and the female escaping in the movie
version. Likewise, in The
Exorcist, the possessed
person is a girl, whereas, in the “true story” upon which the
film is based, this individual is a boy. Examples of such changes
could be multiplied extensively.)
Poe
employs the juxtaposition of contrasts to heighten horror, as when he
alternates between “static and dynamic imagery” in describing, in
“Metzengerstein,” the
appearance of “a gigantic ship” at sea (42):
At
a terrific height directly above us, and upon the very verge of the
precipitous descent, hovered a gigantic ship . . . . What mainly
inspired us with horror and astonishment, was that she bore up under
a press of [an unfurled] sail in the very teeth of that supernatural
sea, and of that ungovernable hurricane. When we first discovered
her, her bows alone were to be seen, as she rose slowly from the dim
and horrible gulf beyond her. For a moment of intense terror she
paused upon that giddy pinnacle, as if in contemplation of her own
sublimity, then trembled and tottered and—came down.
Poe's
shift of tense in the same story indicates a compression of “space,
time, and information,” that, anticipating “the technique of a
cinematic montage,” increases the story's pace, “propelling
readers toward its climax” (Hayes, 43).
Through
description, Poe suggests similarities, both superficial and
significant, between his characters. As Hayes notes, “Making
narrator and captain the same height (5'8”), Poe draws the reader's
attention to a deeper resemblance between the two men. Both are men
of science,” or, rather scientism, “relying too heavily on
science to explain everything.” (46).
Even
cliches are used for effect in Poe's story, characterizing his
characters: “The 'eagerness of hope' and 'the apathy of despair'
are cliched proverbial phrases. The narrator's growing reliance on
stock phrases suggests he is lost for words as he approaches the
unknown” (Hayes, 48).
Poe
uses the dialogue that a particular character uses, including his or
her choice of words, as a way to suggest subtle motivations for their
behavior. In “Ligeia,” the narrator's “mellifluous word
pairs—a”thrilling and enthralling,” “steadily and
stealthily,” “unnoticed and unknown”—reveal a narrator
deliberately shaping personal experience into ornate literary prose,”
Dorothea E. von Mucke contends (Hayes, 66).
Poe
also enriches the possible implications and meanings of his tales
with frequent allusions, mostly to the Bible, to classical mythology,
to history, and to literature, but he also refers to folklore,
legends, and occult systems of belief. These allusions make his
stories seem predicated upon ancient knowledge or traditions,
associate them with existing worldviews or metaphysical themes, and
suggest his own work is, at times, commentaries or innovative
adaptations or extensions of these previous materials.
In
summary, Poe uses a number of techniques, the chief among which is
description, to accomplish a variety of narrative effects. These
techniques include those which anticipate cinematic techniques yet to
be developed, dates deliberately left incomplete, descriptive
characterization (i. e., characterization via description),
juxtapositions of contrasts, deliberate shifts of tense, descriptive
motivation (i. e., implication of motive via description), the
deliberate use of cliches to characterize characters, and various
allusions.
Note:
Poe's use of additional techniques of terror may be considered in a
future post or two.
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