Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranormal. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 26, 2021

Structural Elements of Horror

 Copyright 2021 by Gary L. Pullman

An analysis of horror films discloses the use of a number of specific types of scenic elements that tend to recur frequently in such movies. Except for the prologue and the epilogue, the order in which these scenic elements occur may differ, and not all may be present in a film, although, typically, many, if not all, appear. In addition, each scenic element can be shown by itself or in combination with another (for example, an abduction can stand alone or be followed by a rescue or a murder). (Those common to more than one of the films analyzed in this post are in bold font.)

In Halloween (1978), these scenic elements occur in this order:

  • Prologue (introduction)

  • Escape (flight from antagonist or captivity)

  • Stalking (hunting)

  • Investigation (search for information by either amateur or professional sleuth[s])

  • Murder(s) (unjustified killing[s])

  • Encounter of protagonist and antagonist (first meeting of hero or heroine and villain, usually without violence)

  • Initial attack on protagonist (first attack upon the hero or heroine)

  • Escape

  • Sustained attack on protagonist (sustained attack on hero or heroine, often by antagonist)

  • Rescue (deliverance from danger)

  • Epilogue (conclusion following main action of plot)

In Annabelle (2014), these scenic elements occur in this order:

  • Prologue

  • Murder(s)

  • Investigation

  • Attack

  • Rescue

  • Intelligence (provision or acquisition of information, often about the villain [e. g., origin, past, relationships], through secondary sources, such as television or radio news broadcasts, Internet browsing, books, police reports)

  • Paranormal or supernatural incidents: (events inexplicable by science or reason)

  • Relocation (displacement from one location to another)

  • Pursuit

  • Escape

  • Discovery (finding of intelligence through own or others' actions)

  • Attack

  • Discovery

  • Attack

  • Warning (advisory of imminent danger)

  • Attempted abduction (carrying away by force)

  • Epilogue

In The Exorcist, (1973), these scenic elements occur in this order:

Prologue

Paranormal or supernatural incidents

Investigation (medical)

Investigation (constabulary)

Encounter of protagonist and antagonist

Intelligence

Paranormal or supernatural incidents

Attack

Death (loss of life due to natural causes)

Attack

Death

Rescue

Epilogue

In Psycho (1960), these scenic elements occur in this order:

  • Tryst (private meeting between lovers)

  • Crime other than murder (theft)

  • Escape

  • Investigation

  • Relocation

  • Concealment of stolen property

  • Encounter of protagonist and antagonist

  • Argument (heated discussion between two or more characters)

  • Repeated encounter of protagonist and antagonist

  • Decision to make restitution (deciding to restore to the rightful owner something that has been taken away, lost, or surrendered)

  • Murder

  • Disposal of incriminating evidence

  • Intelligence

  • Investigation

  • Murder

  • Investigation

  • Discovery

  • Intelligence

  • Investigation

  • Distraction (deliberate diversion of someone's attention from one incident or action to another)

  • Attack

  • Concealment of oneself or another

  • Discovery

  • Attack

  • Rescue

  • Intelligence

As this partial analysis of the recurring types of scenic elements common to horror films shows, such movies frequently use the same ones, despite the dramatic details of their plots. A writer who is interested in writing a horror novel or screenplay can use these same scenic elements to construct a plot based on a structure that has stood the test of time.


Thursday, July 1, 2021

Ethical and Metaphysical Implications of Supernatural Villains

 Copyright 2021 by Gary L. Pullman

 
 Twisted Tales series. Source: Amazon

Like all other genres of fiction, the literature of horror, a type of fantasy, expresses philosophical implications about the way its characters view the world, even if their Weltanschauung is not altogether clear to them.


 Witches' Sabbath by Francisco Goya. Source: Wikipedia.

The existence of a supernatural antagonist, or villain, posits the existence of  supernatural, or spiritual, dimension of existence as well as a natural order of being, both a supernatural world and a natural world.

 God as Architect by anonymous. Source: Wikipedia

In a story in which such a dualistic metaphysics exists, a supernatural villain is, by origin or nature, as its powers or abilities confirm, linked to a realm that transcends the natural world. Such beings are beyond the universe, outside nature. Therefore, they are also beyond human ken, outside human knowledge and understanding. Supernatural entities are mysterious, which tends to heighten our fear of them; the unknown is always especially frightening when it appears to have a threatening aspect, as, of course, villains, human or otherwise, do.

 
 St. Francis Borgia Helping a Dying Impenitent by Francisco Goya. Source: Wikipedia

The question arises as to whether an audience whose members disbelieve in the existence of a supernatural order (and, therefore, of course, supernatural antagonists) can experience fear while watching a movie such as, say, The Exorcist, the villain of which is a demon (or, maybe, the devil himself), A Nightmare on Elm Street, which features a supernatural bogeyman, or Poltergeist, the antagonist of which is a not-so-friendly ghost. Of course, the same question also applies to any movie that posits the existence of a vampire, a werewolf, a witch, or any other supernatural villain.


 Source: Gallup.

As far as I know, no one has conducted a study, or even a poll, concerning this particular question, although, in 2005, Gallp conducted a few polls concerning whether or not Americans believe in various supernatural (and paranormal) beings, with the results well under half. (However, the poll seems flawed, since it includes "aliens," which, should they be discovered to exist, would be entirely natural beings, not supernatural entities, since "nature" constitutes the entire universe and everything in it, which is why we say that God, a supernatural being, for example, is transcendent to, or beyond, nature and, in fact, in many religious traditions, created the universe.)

Detail from The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch. Source: Wikipedia Commons 

However, based on a thoughtful thread of posts on Religious Forums, materialists (those who believe that the universe and all things in it are material and that spirits, souls, and the like do not exist except as imaginary or metaphorical constructs) are likely to experience a continuum of feelings, from a lack of fear altogether to terror, when they come across a villain the likes of the devil, Freddy Krueger, or a poltergeist, whether or they believe such villains exist--or can exist.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Source: ardhendude.blogspot.com

 For example, Mister Silver seems to employ the strategy of "a willing suspension of disbelief" suggested by the great English romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, accepting the existence of the supernatural in a horror story or movie simply for the sake of enjoying the fiction: "Through my materialism I can understand the difference between fantasy and reality enough for me to enjoy the fantasy for that which it is; merely fantasy created for the purpose of entertainment."

Zener cards. Source: Wikipedia

Jumi follows a tactic that is more prevalent among today's skeptical materialists: "You're in luck, materialism itself doesn't rule out strange phenomenon from existing. It just doesn't actively promote these ideas. The materialistic Soviet Union had multiple researchers study paranormal phenomena in hopes of finding something useful to further the materialist dialectic.

The problem with this approach, in general, is that it is often based on a confusion of the supernatural with the paranormal. Materialism, by definition, does rule out the supernatural. The universe is nature; therefore, anything that is held to transcend nature, to be "outside" the universe (e. g., God, angels, demons) or wields supernatural power (e. g., performs miracles or magic or otherwise defies natural [or, as we call them today, scientific laws]) would be supernatural and, therefore, in materialists' view, impossible, because nonexistent. However, paranormal phenomena are possible, perhaps, if, by "paranormal," we mean simply natural beings, properties, or powers of natural origin that ares imply not known or understood through science or reason. For example, if extra-sensory perception does exist, but it is simply inexplicable in terms of present-day science or reason, then it is possible; it may even be actual. Until it can be explained, however, it remains merely a possibility, but a possibility, nonetheless. Jumi's statement, therefore, seems to be related more to the possibility of paranormal phenomena, rather than to the possibility of supernatural facts and events.

In either case, either Coleridge's "willing suspension of disbelief" strategy or the more fashionable recognition of the possible existence of paranormal, but not supernatural, phenomena can allow materialists to enjoy, and even, perhaps, be scared by, the literature and drama of horror.


 

Saturday, August 17, 2019

Scientist Turned Ghostbuster (and Vampirebuster)

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman



Are you afraid of vampires?

Do you sleep with a cross or a crucifix around your neck?

Does your house (and your breath) smell like garlic?

Do you keep a bottle of holy water on hand?

Are you careful to be home by dark every day?

Could an unsuspecting guest stumble upon a few wooden stakes and a mallet stashed in your dresser?

If so, you need not fear bloodsucking dead people any longer!

A scientist has come to the rescue with a mathematical proof against the possibility of the existence of vampires!


University of Central Florida physics professor Costas Efthimiou starts with the human population on January 1, 1600, which was 536,870,911. On this day, the first vampire appears and bites one person each month. On the first day of February, there are two bloodsucking freaks. On March 1, 1600, there are four vampires. In 2.5 years, there are no more humans to feed on, because everyone on the planet has been turned into a vampire! There's no food left for the bloodsuckers, so they die of starvation. (On the downside, there are no more people, either.)

Not even doubling the human birthrate (if such a gambit were possible) could save the human species, Dr. Efthimiou says: “In the long run, humans cannot survive under these conditions, even if our population were doubling each month. And doubling is clearly way beyond the human capacity of reproduction.”

So, there you have it, thanks to Professor Efthimiou: there's no need to fear the existence of vampires. If there were, both vampires and humans would have disappeared in mid-1603. Since we humans, at least, are still here, there obviously are no such things as vampires.




For some folks, ghosts are scary phenomena, too, but there's no need to worry about these spectral beings, either, another scientist says.


Dr. Brian Cox, a physicist, has proved there aren't any ghosts, either. If they did exist, they'd be entities of pure energy, since, by definition, they're incorporeal. According to the second law of thermodynamics, energy is always “lost to heat”; therefore, ghosts, as beings of pure energy, would soon drift apart and cease to exist. 
 

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Plotting Board

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

In this post, I offer a few tips on plotting, many of which are implied, if not directly stated in Monsters of the Week: The Complete Critical Companion to the X-Files by Zach Handlen and Todd VanDerWerff. 


The Truth Is in Here

Characters' motives and goals make a simple story meaningful and significant. Make conduct personal to make it momentous.

Sitdrams Work, Too


Some of the subtitles the authors give to the reviews of X-Files episodes they discuss identify each of the episodes' respective situations; rather than being a situation comedy, or sitcom, The X-Files, it seems, is often something of a situational drama, or sitdram, as it were: “Pilot,” “In which Mulder meets Scully”; “Deep Throat:” “In which a massive conspiracy takes shape”; “Fire”: “In which Mulder faces an old flame”; “Young at Heart”: “In which Mulder has to track down an old foe”; “The Calusari”: “In which there are even more evil twins”; “Piper Maru”: “In which we meet some very strange oil”; and plenty of others.


The Connect-the-Dot Plot

Some X-Files episodes offer a series of images connected by their plots: “Pilot” shows disappearances, Handlen observes, “strange happenings in the woods, . . . little bumps on people's skin [and] . . . a weird, inhuman corpse in a coffin” (4). This connect-the-dots approach to plotting maintains mystery and suspense while providing unity and coherence by delaying the revelation or explanation of the cause of the strange events.

Balancing the Marvelous and the Uncanny

As Tzvetan Todorov points out, the fantastic exists only as long as it is not resolved as either natural (scientifically or rationally explainable) or as supernatural (scientifically or rationally inexplicable). In the former case, the apparently fantastic is uncanny; in the latter, it's marvelous.


Like most other fantastic fiction, The X-Files balances the marvelous and the uncanny, allowing a series of events to be explicable or not, depending upon one's perspective: For Mulder, science or reason can explain little, if any, of the bizarre incidents he observes, while, for Scully, almost everything she witnesses (including most of what Mulder sees) can be explained by science or reason.

For example, as Todd VanDerWerff explains, there is, in episode two of season one, “a spirited argument about whether the phenomenon the two [Mulder and Scully] observed has a paranormal or a scientific explanation” (11). The same is true, pretty much, throughout the series.

Plot Generators

The X-Files uses two plot generators to keep the action coming, episode after episode, week in and week out: “mythology” and the Monster of the Week (MOTW): “The first two episodes of the first season introduced some of the ideas that would power the mythology,” such as “alien abductions, UFO sightings, government conspiracies, and secrets,” while the MOTW provided variety, preventing the series from rehashing these elements and becoming boring an “repetitive” as a result.


As Handlen explains, “The genius of The X-Files as a premise lies in its infinite potential. Centering the show around a department of the FBI devoted exclusively to investigating strange or inexplicable cases means The X-Files can encompass any number of urban legends [and] can cross between science fiction, fantasy, and horror with ease” (11-12). (Later, to this list, the authors add “weird science” and “dramatic stories” of “the personal lives of Mulder and Scully” (14), the latter of which approach sometimes gives the series a soap opera-like character.

MORE next post!



Saturday, June 30, 2018

Plot Generators: The Key to Writing a Series of Novels

Copyright 2018 by Gary L. Pullman

As its name suggests, a plot generator generates plots for a series of stories, such as those which are shown on a television show. Occasionally, the title of the series references its plot generator. The plot generators are sources of both the conflict (and often the villains) and the explanation of the series' bizarre events. In addition, plot generators determine the type of the threats (e. g., science fiction, fantasy, horror).

Well-known examples of plot devices include:

The Time Tunnel (1966-1967) Time machine (i. e., the Time Tunnel)
Star Trek (1966-1969) Mission (to explore new worlds)
The Prisoner (1967-1968) Village (island prison)
Land of the Giants (1968-1970) Planet other than Earth
The X-Files (1993-2002) X-Files (unsolved cases involving bizarre paranormal or supernatural events or agents)
Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003) Hellmouth (mystical gateway between Earth and hell)
Haven (2005 - ) and Arrow (2012- ) (first season) Troubles (a mysterious affliction suffered by the “Troubled”)
Supernaturals (season one) (2005) John Winchester's notebook
Flash (2014- ) Particle accelerator explosion
Supergirl (2015 - ) Prison

Since Chillers and Thrillers is concerned with horror fiction more than with science fiction or fantasy per se, we'll limit our discussion of plot generators to those used in the horror genre: The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Haven, and Supernaturals.




For The X-Files, the plot generator is the X-Files (unsolved cases involving bizarre paranormal or supernatural events or agents). These mysterious files involve FBI agents Fox (“I want to believe”) Mulder and skeptical Dana Scully in investigations of alleged alien abductions, supposed government conspiracies, mysterious murders, ghosts, murderous computers equipped with artificial intelligence, UFO crashes, a eugenics program, pyrokinesis, psychics, astral projection, age reversal, miracle healings, werewolves, unseen forces, human hibernation, and reincarnation—and these investigations all occur in the first of the series' eleven seasons.



The Hellmouth, an inter-dimensional portal between Earth and hell, is the plot generator in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The current slayer, Buffy Summers, is the one and only slayer in 1997, when she dies at the hands of The Master, a centuries-old vampire trapped inside The Hellmouth. Although she is resuscitated shortly after her death, her demise triggers the activation of her replacement, Kendra Young, who has come to the United States from Jamaica to assume her duties as the “new” slayer under the tutelage of Buffy's Watcher (mentor), Rupert Giles, the librarian of Sunnydale High School in Sunnydale, California. Kendra is replaced, in turn, by Faith Lehane, the slayer who assumes Kendra's role as slayer upon Kendra's death. First with Kendra, and then with Faith, Buffy became the first slayer in history to share her title and responsibilities with another slayer equipped with her own supernatural powers.

The Hellmouth is located beneath Sunnydale, California. In addition to its being an inter-dimensional gateway to hell, the Hellmouth also enhances supernatural energy, causing bizarre, dangerous incidents to occur with regularity. Due to the intensified supernatural energy caused by The Hellmouth, the portal also attracts demons. Numerous attempts are made to open The Hellmouth, but none succeed until the end of the series, when Buffy, Faith, and Potential Slayers (girls who have the powers of the slayer but who have not been activated as such) open The Hellmouth's Seal. After the Sunnydale Hellmouth is destroyed, Giles tells Buffy and her friends that another Hellmouth exists in Cincinnati.



In Haven, Maine, when the characters of Haven known as The Troubled undergo emotional crises, they experience The Troubles, which are characterized by supernatural incidents, including weather phenomena, the perception of one's worst fears, and the realization of personal fantasies. The Troubles began 350 years ago, when Haven was founded, and have been occurring ever since. In some cases, The Troubled can be treated or controlled, if not cured, through medication, temporary confinement, a job change, or other means.



Supernatural's John Winchester, monster hunter, records information about his prey in a journal that had previously belonged to his father, Henry. After John's death, his sons, Dean and Sam, whom he trained to follow his own unusual occupation, use the journal as a guide. Not only does the journal contain myriad entries concerning particular demons, monsters, ghosts, and other supernatural entities, but it also provides information concerning Azazel, a powerful demon to whose defeat John had dedicated his life. After season nine, the journal is used only infrequently, although it remains a resource throughout the series and is employed once more in season thirteen, as Dean and Sam seek information about the Hell Gate and the Princes of Hell. 

Each of these plot generators has several elements in common with the others, suggesting those that any such device should be or include:
  • the facilitation of encounters with a variety of paranormal and/or supernatural entities or forces
  • a source of conflict between the protagonists and antagonists
  • information concerning the paranormal and/or supernatural threats the protagonists encountering, including, in some cases, the means for overcoming them
  • a history that predates the plot generator itself and often includes previous protagonists who used or were affected by the device
  • the opportunity for the plot generator itself to become the subject of a book published by the permission of the show's creator, producer, production company, owner, or other authorized authority, as in the case of Supernatural: John Winchester's Journal.
For novelists or short story writers who are interested in developing a series of related sequels, the creation and use of a plot generator is an effective, imaginative way to accomplish this goal.


 

Friday, November 11, 2011

The Machinery of Horror

Copyright 2011 by Gary L. Pullman

Every horror story needs something to generate its action. Sometimes, this element is mentioned in the story’s title (especially, it seems, in horror movies, as opposed to novels). Some of the tried-and-true (and trite) include the activities of particular types of characters, the application of supernatural or paranormal powers, the methods of madness, twisted retellings of traditional tales, and the murder and mayhem of traditional monsters:

 

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Blurb Plotting, Part 2

Copyright 2011 by Gary L. Pullman
In my previous blog, using Dean Koontz’s What the Night Knows, I demonstrated how an analysis of publisher’s blurb can--on occasion, at least--result in the identification of a formula by which a writer may plot a novel of his or her own, using this same formula.


In this post, using Bentley Little’s The Store, I demonstrate again how this method can generate a plotline for one’s own novel.
Fiona Webster summarizes the plot of Little’s novel; I add, in bold font, the steps that she creates in doing so that you or I (or anyone else, Bentley Little included) could extract from Webster’s synopsis, using these steps to develop the plot for his or her own novel:
Appeal to readers’ personal interest: . . . "In The Store Little examines the steadily expanding influence, over all of us, of chain stores. . . . "
Focus upon the ordinary while suggesting that, underlying the everydayness of the initial situation, something bizarre might be happening: "The Store builds paranoia by starting with simple descriptions of the picturesque landscape and the deceptively banal Western town that is Juniper, Arizona. Then The Store arrives. The Store razes a lovely hill to build its huge parking lot. The Store offers well-paying jobs and an astonishing variety of consumer goods. The pattern of delight and worry in the citizens, as The Store spreads its tentacles into local concerns, is believable--disturbingly so. The Store seems like any other of the familiar chains that reproduce like rabbits, invade communities, wipe out small businesses, and turn unique localities into a generic America that looks just the same from Alaska to Florida." 
Involve the main character and others in the situation: "But what exactly goes on, when Samantha and Shannon meet with their boss in the basement of The Store? And who are the Night Managers?"
Refer the situation to an established type of fiction (in this case, the dystopia): "This is dystopia in microcosm. This is horror fiction at its subversive best." --Fiona Webster 
Once again, the blurb has provided a sequence of steps by which to plot one’s own novel:
  1. Appeal to readers’ personal interest.
  2. Focus upon the ordinary while suggesting that, underlying the everydayness of the initial situation, something bizarre might be happening.
  3. Involve the main character and others in the situation.
  4. Refer the situation to an established type of fiction (in this case, the dystopia).

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Blurb Plotting

Copyright 2011 by Gary L. Pullman

According to The Free Dictionary, a blurb is “a brief publicity notice, as on a book jacket.” However, a blurb can also be the basis for developing a plot, even the plot of a novel.


Let’s consider the publisher’s blurb for Dean Koontz’s novel What the Night Knows. In doing so, I’ll break the blurb into four parts, one for each of its paragraphs, at the same time identifying with a lead-in phrase (in bold font), the purpose of each part.
Use a past event as a prelude to the story proper (that is, the story that is presently being told): “In the late summer of a long ago year, a killer arrived in a small city. His name was Alton Turner Blackwood, and in the space of a few months he brutally murdered four families. His savage spree ended only when he himself was killed by the last survivor of the last family, a fourteen-year-old boy.”

Link the past event to the present situation: “Half a continent away and two decades later, someone is murdering families again, recreating in detail Blackwood’s crimes. Homicide detective John Calvino is certain that his own family—his wife and three children—will be targets in the fourth crime, just as his parents and sisters were victims on that distant night when he was fourteen and killed their slayer.”

Add a paranormal or a supernatural twist: “As a detective, John is a man of reason who deals in cold facts. But an extraordinary experience convinces him that sometimes death is not a one-way journey, that sometimes the dead return.”

Appeal to readers’ personal interest:: “. . . . In the Calvinos, Dean Koontz brings to life a family that might be your own, in a war for their survival against an adversary more malevolent than any he has yet created, with their own home the battleground. . . . ”

My analysis of this blurb has given me a specific, four-step formula according to which I could write a novel of my own:
  1. Use a past event as a prelude to the story proper.
  2. Link the past event to the present situation.
  3. Add a paranormal or a supernatural twist.
  4. Appeal to the readers’ personal interest.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Implications of the Fantastic

Copyright 2010 by Gary L. Pullman

The fantastic. . . lasts only as long as a certain hesitation. . . [in deciding] whether or not what they [the reader and the protagonist] perceive derives from “reality” as it exists in the common opinion. . . If he [the reader] decides that the laws of reality remain intact and permit an explanation of the phenomena described, we say that the works belong to another genre; the uncanny. If, on the contrary, he decides that new laws of nature must be entertained to account for the phenomena, we enter the genre of the marvelous (41).

Indeed we distinguish, within the literary Gothic, two tendencies: that of the supernatural explained (the “uncanny”). . . and that of the supernatural accepted (the “marvelous”) (41-42).

-- Tzvetan Todorov, The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre
Whatever one may think about Todorov’s theory of the fantastic, he or she would likely admit that the philosopher does a good job, for the most part, in defining his terms. The fantastic is either the supernatural or the apparently supernatural, depending upon whether it is resolved as explicable in terms of “‘reality’ as it exists in the common opinion” (that is, as the “uncanny,” or “supernatural explained”) or it remains inexplicable (that is, “marvelous”).

One of the terms that is not as explicitly defined is “‘reality’ as it exists in the common opinion.” This term is more vague, although, within the context of the other terms’ definitions, its meaning is fairly clear, referring, it seems, to the scientific world view in which the universe is synonymous with nature, cause-and-effect relationships govern all events, knowledge is obtained through the application of the scientific method, and the results of this method of inquiry are codified in theoretical principles often called “laws of nature,” “laws of thermodynamics,” “laws of physics,” and so forth. It is “reality” in this sense upon which the fantastic itself is predicated, Todorov says, and which the fantastic actually supports:

The reader and the hero, as we have seen, must decide if a certain event or phenomenon belongs to reality or the imagination, that is, must determine whether or not it is real. It is therefore the category of the real which has furnished a basis for our definition of the fantastic.
. . . Far from being a praise of the imaginary. . . the literature of the fantastic posits the majority of a text as belonging to reality--or, more specifically, as provoked by reality (167-168).
It is also for this reason that the literature of the fantastic ultimately reaches its end, or, as Todorov declares:
Today, we can no longer believe in an immutable, external reality, nor in a literature which is merely the transcription of such a reality. . . . Fantastic literature itself--which on every page subverts linguistic categorizations--has received a fatal blow from these very categorizations (168).
In short, as I myself suggest in “Paranormal vs. Supernatural: What’s the Diff?”:
The prejudice against even the possibility of the supernatural’s existence which is implicit in the designation of natural versus paranormal phenomena, which excludes any consideration of the supernatural, suggests that there are no marvelous phenomena; instead, there can be only the uncanny. Consequently, for those who subscribe to this view, the fantastic itself no longer exists in this scheme, for the fantastic depends, as Todorov points out, upon the tension of indecision concerning to which category an incident belongs, the natural or the supernatural. The paranormal is understood, by those who posit it, in lieu of the supernatural, as the natural as yet unexplained.
 However, in general, individuals follow, rather than lead, developments in cultural and theoretical paradigm shifts. The cultural Weltanschauung changes, usually centuries before, the individual’s world view, and what is accepted among the elite of specialized communities such as those of academics, scientists, and philosophers usually becomes accepted much more slowly, often centuries later, in fact, if ever, by the general public. For this reason, outmoded views of the “reality” of which Todorov speaks continue to inform and to direct, if not determine, their thoughts, behavior, and, to a lesser degree, perhaps, their feelings. For them, such divisions as those listed below will continue, more or less, to hold sway:

The Fantastic (or what might be called the “supernatural undecided”): The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, The Shining (film version; directed by Stanley Kubrick), The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon (Stephen King), The Haunting of Hill House (Shirley Jackson). 

The Uncanny (“supernatural explained”): “The Red Room” (H. G. Wells), The Island of Dr. Moreau (H. G. Wells), The Food of the Gods (H. G. Wells), The Invisible Man (H. G. Wells), Hide and Seek (film, directed by Ari Schlossberg), 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (Jules Verne), Frankenstein (Mary Shelley), King Kong (film, directed by Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack), Subterranean (James Rollins), Relic (Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child), Watchers (Dean Koontz), The Tommyknockers (Stephen King), Swan Song (Robert McCammon), The Funhouse (film, directed by Tobe Hooper). 

The Marvelous ("supernatural accepted" as such): “1408” (Stephen King), “Dracula’s Guest” (Bram Stoker), “A Christmas Carol” (Charles Dickens), It (Stephen King), ‘Salem’s Lot (Stephen King), Carrie (Stephen King), Desperation (Stephen King), The Taking (Dean Koontz), Summer of Night (Dan Simmons), Fires of Eden (Dan Simmons), The Green Mile (Stephen King), Silver Bullet (Stephen King), The Exorcist (William Peter Blatty), Dracula (Bram Stoker), The University (Bentley Little).

Such a division also has the benefit of allowing authors, critics, and readers the ability to discern, in short order, whether a writer’s oeuvre tends more toward the fantastic, the uncanny, or the marvelous.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Charles Fort

Copyright 2010 by Gary L. Pullman


At the age of 42, Charles Fort inherited a small fortune from an uncle, which allowed him to quit work and pursue his hobby full time. A year later, his brother Clarence died, and Clarence’s portion of the inheritance was divided equally between Charles and his other brother, Raymond. Charles’ hobby was unusual, especially in 1916, the year that he first inherited his money. Although he wrote ten novels, only one was modestly successful.

Perhaps this lack of success in writing fiction is what caused him to turn his hand to nonfiction. He wrote a series of books in which he recorded bizarre incidents which, today, would be characterized as either paranormal or supernatural in nature. Among such incidents were reports he read in various world-class libraries of rains of frogs, snakes, and other animals; strange disappearances of people; visitations of ghosts and apparitions; unidentified flying objects; mysterious lights in the sky; the occurrence of spontaneous human combustion; and appearances of unlikely breasts.

Recounting reports of such phenomena in The Book of the Damned, New Lands, Lo!, and Wild Talents, Fort also formulated absurd theories to account for these objects, events, and experiences. His theories were not intended to be taken seriously--or, at least, not any more so than he believed anyone should take scientific theories. The fact that science was unable to explain such phenomena as those he recounted and, indeed, rejected them, suggested to Fort that science was limited in its ability to interpret reality and, consequently, did not deserve the nearly unlimited credit and honor that it arrogantly claimed for itself and its practitioners.

For example, Fort attributed many mysterious incidents to a visitation of extraterrestrial space travelers to the Earth or to their being stranded in a gigantic Sargasso Sea that orbited the planet, occasionally spilling one or another strange artifact upon the Earth. He likewise suggested that Martians were controlling events on Earth. These theories, he claimed, tongue in cheek, had as much explanatory value as (and possibly more than) scientific theories that rejected inconvenient facts as “damned.” He compiled such data, rather than reject it out of hand, in The Book of the Damned and subsequent volumes of different titles. Today, The Fortean Society, named in his honor, continues his work, publishing its results in the Fortean Times.

Admittedly, Fort was something of a crackpot who didn’t fit well into the society--or the science--of his day and is, as such, an interesting person in his own right, but why is he interesting to readers of Chillers and Thrillers, who are concerned with the theory and practice of writing horror stories?

I think he is of interest to such readers for at least two reasons. First, many of the phenomena that he identifies could serve as the inciting moment, or launch pad, for a horror story or novel. Assume that human flesh rains down upon the earth from a dark, overcast sky, as, according to Fort, it did on more than one occasion. Why? What caused such an unlikely event? Or why did fish or snakes suddenly fall from the heavens? The answers to such unusual questions should suggest some unusual possibilities, some of which might be horrific, indeed! (As I have already suggested, many of these same incidents could easily be the catalyst for a story as well.)

Second, Fort’s invention of theories suggests that a writer whose work includes bizarre incidents must have a theory that finally explains the origin, the cause, and the nature of these incidents, bizarre though they may be. Stephen King claims that he didn’t think he had to include an explanation of the remarkable events that unfold in his work, but, he says, his readers let him know, in no uncertain terms, that, yes, by God, he did have to explain himself. In Under the Dome, King offers multiple possibilities for the origin and the nature of the transparent barrier that descends over Chester’s Mill, Maine: aliens, rogue scientists, foreign terrorists are among these possibilities. The strangest (and, for me, the most intriguing) is that the dome might itself be a living organism of some sort. Outlandish? Perhaps, as Fort’s theories certainly were, probably by design. However, the very absurdity of Fort’s theories remind the writer of horror stories to offer a cause or a reason by which the bizarre incidents of his or her novel may be understood.

It is advisable for writers to acquaint themselves with criticism of Fort, too, of course, so as to have a balanced perspective regarding him and his work, and The Skeptic’s Dictionary helps in this regard, concluding, regarding Fort:

Fort was skeptical about scientific explanations because scientists sometimes argue "according to their own beliefs rather than the rules of evidence" and they suppress or ignore inconvenient data. He seems to have understood that scientific theories are models, not pictures, of reality, but he considered them to be little more than superstitions and myths. He seems to have had a profound misunderstanding of the nature of scientific theories. For, he criticized them for not being able to accommodate anomalies and for requiring data to fit. He took particular delight when scientists made incorrect predictions and he attacked what he called the "priestcraft" of science. Fort seems to have been opposed to science as it really is: fallible, human and tentative, after probabilities rather than absolute certainties. He seems to have thought that since science is not infallible, any theory is as good as any other.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Horror vs. Humor: A Case in Point

Copyright 2010 by Gary L. Pullma


“The Haunted House” episode of The Andy Griffith Show could easily have been a horror story rather than an installment of the famous television sitcom. It has all the elements of a classic horror story: a decrepit, abandoned house that is allegedly haunted, a visit to this house by law enforcement personnel, frightening and bizarre incidents of an apparently supernatural character, and a rational explanation for these incidents. However, the story is comical, not horrific. Why?

The answer to this question takes us a long way toward understanding not only the affinities between humor and horror but the nature of horror fiction itself.

Let’s start with a summary of the story’s plot, courtesy of Dale Robinson and David Fernandes’ The Definitive Andy Griffith Show Reference: Episode-by-Episode, with Cast and Production Biographies and a Guide to Collectibles (McFarland and Company, Inc., Publishers, Jefferson, NC, and London, 1996):


Opie hits a baseball thrown by a friend and breaks a window at the abandoned Rimshaw house. Both boys are nervous about retrieving the ball because the house is rumored to be haunted. As they approach the door, they hear a spooky noise that scares them away. They go to the courthouse and tell their story to Andy and Barney. The men tell them it was probably just the whistling wind. Andy wants them to stay out of the house because it is likely that the floorboards are loose. Then, sensing that Barney was putting up a false front when he said there was nothing to be afraid of, Andy asks his deputy to go get the ball for the boys. While it is clear that Barney doesn’t want to do it, he can’t back out now. When Gomer suddenly comes by, Barney quickly enlists him to come along.

The nervous deputy enters the house first--”Age before beauty,” says Gomer. Unfortunately, they don’t get much farther than the boys did. Ghostly moans send them scrambling for the door.

Back at the courthouse, Andy chides Barney for failing to get the ball and for believing the house is haunted. Barney says that he recalls that when old man Rimshaw died, his last wish was for his home to remain undisturbed. Otis Campbell chimes in with rumors he has heard: the walls move, the eyes on the portrait of Mr. Rimshaw seem to follow a person around the room, and axes float through the air.

Andy dismisses all this as nonsense, and he goes to the Rimshaw house with Barney and Gomer in tow. They quickly locate the baseball, and despite objections from his
cohorts, Andy insists they look around the place. While he wanders off into another room, Barney and Gomer slowly move around the room, looking scared to death. Suddenly, Gomer disappears! Barney panics, and Andy returns. Gomer suddenly reappears. He had inadvertently stepped into a closet or something. The eerie thing is, Gomer says that someone or something pushed him out. Next, Andy notices that the wallpaper above the fireplace is peeling and the wall is warm. Barney suggests that maybe an old tramp has been using the fireplace.

Andy ventures upstairs and asks Barney and Gomer to check out the cellar. Gomer correctly surmises that the cellar is downstairs. When Barney opens the cellar door, he sees an ax. Too scared to go down the stairs, he softly inquires, “Any old tramps down there?” then quickly shuts the door. Gomer tells Barney that legend has it that Rimshaw put chains on his hired hand and then killed him with an ax.

Barney notices the eyes on the Rimshaw portrait following him. When he tells Andy, Andy responds that it’s probably a trick of the light.

Barney knocks on the wall--and his knock is answered. Andy gets the same result when he knocks. Suddenly, Andy appears frightened. He orders loudly, “Let’s get out of here!” Barney and Gomer quickly bolt out of the house, but Andy remains. He has a plan in mind.Suddenly, we see Otis and the notorious moonshiner Big Jack Anderson in the house. They are laughing, and Big Jack is quite proud of the fact that his scare tactics have worked. He has found the perfect spot for his still, and claims he could probably stay there for twenty years.

As they come out of their hiding place, believing the house is empty, they get the shock of their lives. They witness an ax hanging in the air, a baseball rolling down the stairs, and the eyes moving on the portrait. They make tracks leaving the house. Meanwhile, Barney has bravely determined he must go rescue Andy, so he comes in the rear entrance. He sees the suspended ax and hears moaning. He nearly passes out from fright before Andy can explain things.

The lawmen later use the infamous ax to smash Big Jack’s still. Andy captures Anderson and surrenders him to Federal Agent Bowden of the Alcohol Control Division. Mr. Bowden has been after the tough and tricky outlaw for years. As usual, Andy generously shares the capture credit, in this case with both Barney and Gomer.

Since much of the plot, just as it stands, could be used for a horror story, the key difference that differentiates it from that of a horror story is not the action--the series of incidents, including characters’ behavior--but the characters’ comical reactions to these incidents. In a horror story, the elements of humor--exaggerated facial expressions and physical gestures, poses and postures, attitudes and responses, slapstick, clowning, and farce, irony and satire--would be minimal, if they were included at all, and the story would focus upon the evocation, through the characters’ responses to the situation, of revulsion and fear. It’s possible--probable, even--that the rational explanation of the incidents--a tramp has been residing in the house--would be shown to be false and that the incidents would, in fact, have a paranormal or a supernatural cause.

Largely, then, horror stories stress elements of the uncanny and the inexplicable and concentrate upon feelings of revulsion and fear, rather than offering rational or natural explanations for suspected supernatural phenomena and poking fun at characters’ foibles. To better see how a master of the horror story might handle a similar storyline to that of The Andy Griffith Show’s “The Haunted House,” read H. G. Wells’ short story, “The Red Room.” Both stories are concerned with an allegedly haunted domicile, and both focus on their characters’ reactions to uncanny incidents which may or may not have a natural or a rational as well as a paranormal or supernatural explanation.


Note: For a discussion of this same television episode from a humorous perspective, visit my other blog, “Writing Hilarious Humor

Saturday, April 19, 2008

How to Haunt a House: Part V

copyright 2008 by Gary L. Pullman

In the four previous posts in this series, we deduced a number of principles, or rules, that apply, in general, to fiction that involves a haunted house. These rules can be used to create a haunted house in both printed and cinematic horror stories.

This post brings these rules together in a simple list that is likely to be handier and dandier than the separate lists in the previous posts. In writing about fiction, especially fiction that is often about supernatural or paranormal events, it’s a good thing to have one’s guidelines readily available.

These nine rules apply to the interior of the haunted residence:

  1. It should be spacious--the bigger, the better.
  2. It should house many rooms.
  3. A haunted house often symbolizes its resident’s state of mind.
  4. A haunted house is often associated with the resident’s past.
  5. A haunted house may be the portal to another dimension or to hell itself.
  6. To be, horrors must be perceived (even mysterious phenomena, whether paranormal or supernatural, must be seen, heard, smelled, tasted, and/or touched).
  7. A haunted house will probably have an emotional effect upon its resident.
  8. The phenomena associated with a haunting should also be associated with the resident and with his or her mental states, moral failings, or personal experiences.
  9. A haunting may result from a condition or set of circumstances other than ghostly habitation (mental illness, practical joke, hoax).
These four rules apply to the grounds upon which the domicile stands:

  1. Relate the place with death and decay.
  2. Ensure that the estate is at least ten acres in size, remembering that the bigger the grounds, the better.
  3. Make the estate isolated, and surround it with a high wall or a forest.
  4. Associate the house with its resident (the story’s protagonist).
By the way, you might also check out the entries that are relevant to ghosts, poltergeists, and haunted houses in both The Skeptic’s Dictionary and James Randi Educational Foundation’s An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernatural for information and tips as to how to introduce, maintain, and develop a skeptical parallel to the supernatural or paranormal explanations of the haunting. You may also want to read the Chillers and Thrillers posts “Alternative Explanations,” Parts I through IV. Horror fiction works best, perhaps, when the author gives the reader both a natural and a supernatural or paranormal explanation of the bizarre incidents in a horror story, as we show in “Horror By the Slice: The Lurking Fear” and “Creating Mood in Horror Fiction.”

Have fun in creating your house of horrors!

Paranormal vs. Supernatural: What’s the Diff?

Copyright 2009 by Gary L. Pullman

Sometimes, in demonstrating how to brainstorm about an essay topic, selecting horror movies, I ask students to name the titles of as many such movies as spring to mind (seldom a difficult feat for them, as the genre remains quite popular among young adults). Then, I ask them to identify the monster, or threat--the antagonist, to use the proper terminology--that appears in each of the films they have named. Again, this is usually a quick and easy task. Finally, I ask them to group the films’ adversaries into one of three possible categories: natural, paranormal, or supernatural. This is where the fun begins.

It’s a simple enough matter, usually, to identify the threats which fall under the “natural” label, especially after I supply my students with the scientific definition of “nature”: everything that exists as either matter or energy (which are, of course, the same thing, in different forms--in other words, the universe itself. The supernatural is anything which falls outside, or is beyond, the universe: God, angels, demons, and the like, if they exist. Mad scientists, mutant cannibals (and just plain cannibals), serial killers, and such are examples of natural threats. So far, so simple.

What about borderline creatures, though? Are vampires, werewolves, and zombies, for example, natural or supernatural? And what about Freddy Krueger? In fact, what does the word “paranormal” mean, anyway? If the universe is nature and anything outside or beyond the universe is supernatural, where does the paranormal fit into the scheme of things?

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word “paranormal,” formed of the prefix “para,” meaning alongside, and “normal,” meaning “conforming to common standards, usual,” was coined in 1920. The American Heritage Dictionary defines “paranormal” to mean “beyond the range of normal experience or scientific explanation.” In other words, the paranormal is not supernatural--it is not outside or beyond the universe; it is natural, but, at the present, at least, inexplicable, which is to say that science cannot yet explain its nature. The same dictionary offers, as examples of paranormal phenomena, telepathy and “a medium’s paranormal powers.”

Wikipedia offers a few other examples of such phenomena or of paranormal sciences, including the percentages of the American population which, according to a Gallup poll, believes in each phenomenon, shown here in parentheses: psychic or spiritual healing (54), extrasensory perception (ESP) (50), ghosts (42), demons (41), extraterrestrials (33), clairvoyance and prophecy (32), communication with the dead (28), astrology (28), witchcraft (26), reincarnation (25), and channeling (15); 36 percent believe in telepathy.

As can be seen from this list, which includes demons, ghosts, and witches along with psychics and extraterrestrials, there is a confusion as to which phenomena and which individuals belong to the paranormal and which belong to the supernatural categories. This confusion, I believe, results from the scientism of our age, which makes it fashionable for people who fancy themselves intelligent and educated to dismiss whatever cannot be explained scientifically or, if such phenomena cannot be entirely rejected, to classify them as as-yet inexplicable natural phenomena. That way, the existence of a supernatural realm need not be admitted or even entertained. Scientists tend to be materialists, believing that the real consists only of the twofold unity of matter and energy, not dualists who believe that there is both the material (matter and energy) and the spiritual, or supernatural. If so, everything that was once regarded as having been supernatural will be regarded (if it cannot be dismissed) as paranormal and, maybe, if and when it is explained by science, as natural. Indeed, Sigmund Freud sought to explain even God as but a natural--and in Freud’s opinion, an obsolete--phenomenon.

Meanwhile, among skeptics, there is an ongoing campaign to eliminate the paranormal by explaining them as products of ignorance, misunderstanding, or deceit. Ridicule is also a tactic that skeptics sometimes employ in this campaign. For example, The Skeptics’ Dictionary contends that the perception of some “events” as being of a paranormal nature may be attributed to “ignorance or magical thinking.” The dictionary is equally suspicious of each individual phenomenon or “paranormal science” as well. Concerning psychics’ alleged ability to discern future events, for example, The Skeptic’s Dictionary quotes Jay Leno (“How come you never see a headline like 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?”), following with a number of similar observations:

Psychics don't rely on psychics to warn them of impending disasters. Psychics don't predict their own deaths or diseases. They go to the dentist like the rest of us. They're as surprised and disturbed as the rest of us when they have to call a plumber or an electrician to fix some defect at home. Their planes are delayed without their being able to anticipate the delays. If they want to know something about Abraham Lincoln, they go to the library; they don't try to talk to Abe's spirit. In short, psychics live by the known laws of nature except when they are playing the psychic game with people.
In An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernatural, James Randi, a magician who exercises a skeptical attitude toward all things alleged to be paranormal or supernatural, takes issue with the notion of such phenomena as well, often employing the same arguments and rhetorical strategies as The Skeptic’s Dictionary.

In short, the difference between the paranormal and the supernatural lies in whether one is a materialist, believing in only the existence of matter and energy, or a dualist, believing in the existence of both matter and energy and spirit. If one maintains a belief in the reality of the spiritual, he or she will classify such entities as angels, demons, ghosts, gods, vampires, and other threats of a spiritual nature as supernatural, rather than paranormal, phenomena. He or she may also include witches (because, although they are human, they are empowered by the devil, who is himself a supernatural entity) and other natural threats that are energized, so to speak, by a power that transcends nature and is, as such, outside or beyond the universe. Otherwise, one is likely to reject the supernatural as a category altogether, identifying every inexplicable phenomenon as paranormal, whether it is dark matter or a teenage werewolf. Indeed, some scientists dedicate at least part of their time to debunking allegedly paranormal phenomena, explaining what natural conditions or processes may explain them, as the author of The Serpent and the Rainbow explains the creation of zombies by voodoo priests.

Based upon my recent reading of Tzvetan Todorov's The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to the Fantastic, I add the following addendum to this essay.

According to Todorov:

The fantastic. . . lasts only as long as a certain hesitation [in deciding] whether or not what they [the reader and the protagonist] perceive derives from "reality" as it exists in the common opinion. . . . If he [the reader] decides that the laws of reality remain intact and permit an explanation of the phenomena described, we can say that the work belongs to the another genre [than the fantastic]: the uncanny. If, on the contrary, he decides that new laws of nature must be entertained to account for the phenomena, we enter the genre of the marvelous (The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre, 41).
Todorov further differentiates these two categories by characterizing the uncanny as “the supernatural explained” and the marvelous as “the supernatural accepted” (41-42).

Interestingly, the prejudice against even the possibility of the supernatural’s existence which is implicit in the designation of natural versus paranormal phenomena, which excludes any consideration of the supernatural, suggests that there are no marvelous phenomena; instead, there can be only the uncanny. Consequently, for those who subscribe to this view, the fantastic itself no longer exists in this scheme, for the fantastic depends, as Todorov points out, upon the tension of indecision concerning to which category an incident belongs, the natural or the supernatural. The paranormal is understood, by those who posit it, in lieu of the supernatural, as the natural as yet unexplained.

And now, back to a fate worse than death: grading students’ papers.

My Cup of Blood

Anyone who becomes an aficionado of anything tends, eventually, to develop criteria for elements or features of the person, place, or thing of whom or which he or she has become enamored. Horror fiction--admittedly not everyone’s cuppa blood--is no different (okay, maybe it’s a little different): it, too, appeals to different fans, each for reasons of his or her own. Of course, in general, book reviews, the flyleaves of novels, and movie trailers suggest what many, maybe even most, readers of a particular type of fiction enjoy, but, right here, right now, I’m talking more specifically--one might say, even more eccentrically. In other words, I’m talking what I happen to like, without assuming (assuming makes an “ass” of “u” and “me”) that you also like the same. It’s entirely possible that you will; on the other hand, it’s entirely likely that you won’t.

Anyway, this is what I happen to like in horror fiction:

Small-town settings in which I get to know the townspeople, both the good, the bad, and the ugly. For this reason alone, I’m a sucker for most of Stephen King’s novels. Most of them, from 'Salem's Lot to Under the Dome, are set in small towns that are peopled by the good, the bad, and the ugly. Part of the appeal here, granted, is the sense of community that such settings entail.

Isolated settings, such as caves, desert wastelands, islands, mountaintops, space, swamps, where characters are cut off from civilization and culture and must survive and thrive or die on their own, without assistance, by their wits and other personal resources. Many are the examples of such novels and screenplays, but Alien, The Shining, The Descent, Desperation, and The Island of Dr. Moreau, are some of the ones that come readily to mind.

Total institutions as settings. Camps, hospitals, military installations, nursing homes, prisons, resorts, spaceships, and other worlds unto themselves are examples of such settings, and Sleepaway Camp, Coma, The Green Mile, and Aliens are some of the novels or films that take place in such settings.

Anecdotal scenes--in other words, short scenes that showcase a character--usually, an unusual, even eccentric, character. Both Dean Koontz and the dynamic duo, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, excel at this, so I keep reading their series (although Koontz’s canine companions frequently--indeed, almost always--annoy, as does his relentless optimism).

Atmosphere, mood, and tone. Here, King is king, but so is Bentley Little. In the use of description to terrorize and horrify, both are masters of the craft.

A bit of erotica (okay, okay, sex--are you satisfied?), often of the unusual variety. Sex sells, and, yes, sex whets my reader’s appetite. Bentley Little is the go-to guy for this spicy ingredient, although Koontz has done a bit of seasoning with this spice, too, in such novels as Lightning and Demon Seed (and, some say, Hung).

Believable characters. Stephen King, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, and Dan Simmons are great at creating characters that stick to readers’ ribs.

Innovation. Bram Stoker demonstrates it, especially in his short story “Dracula’s Guest,” as does H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Shirley Jackson, and a host of other, mostly classical, horror novelists and short story writers. For an example, check out my post on Stoker’s story, which is a real stoker, to be sure. Stephen King shows innovation, too, in ‘Salem’s Lot, The Shining, It, and other novels. One might even argue that Dean Koontz’s something-for-everyone, cross-genre writing is innovative; he seems to have been one of the first, if not the first, to pen such tales.

Technique. Check out Frank Peretti’s use of maps and his allusions to the senses in Monster; my post on this very topic is worth a look, if I do say so myself, which, of course, I do. Opening chapters that accomplish a multitude of narrative purposes (not usually all at once, but successively) are attractive, too, and Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child are as good as anyone, and better than many, at this art.

A connective universe--a mythos, if you will, such as both H. P. Lovecraft and Stephen King, and, to a lesser extent, Dean Koontz, Bentley Little, and even Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child have created through the use of recurring settings, characters, themes, and other elements of fiction.

A lack of pretentiousness. Dean Koontz has it, as do Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, Bentley Little, and (to some extent, although he has become condescending and self-indulgent of late, Stephen King); unfortunately, both Dan Simmons and Robert McCammon have become too self-important in their later works, Simmons almost to the point of becoming unreadable. Come on, people, you’re writing about monsters--you should be humble.

Longevity. Writers who have been around for a while usually get better, Stephen King, Dan Simmons, and Robert McCammon excepted.

Pacing. Neither too fast nor too slow. Dean Koontz is good, maybe the best, here, of contemporary horror writers.


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