Monday, July 7, 2025

"The Well" by Julian Kilman: Explication du Texte

 


Gates and fences by Richard Dorrell
This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.


Note: This 3,183-word story, "The Well" by Julian Kilman , appeared in Weird Tales, Volume I, No. 4, June 1923, which is in the public domain and can be read, free, on the Wikisource website or can be downloaded, free, at the Internet Archives website. The paragraph numbers coincide with those in the copy on the Internet Archives. The approximate average reading time for a story of this length is 15 minutes. For this explication du texte, the average reading time is approximately 40 minutes.

 

The story’s title, “The Well,” directs readers’ attention to a particular object, the focal point of the story.

“The Well” is divided into three parts. Part 1, the beginning (1,067 words), extends from paragraph 1 through paragraph 42; Part 2, the middle, (1,015 words) from paragraph 43 through paragraph 87; and Part 3, the end (1,101 words) from paragraph 88 though paragraph 135.

In Part I, The main character, Jeremiah Hubbard, a farmer, and other characters are introduced, as is the rural setting, and the basic conflict: the competing property boundary claims of Hubbard and his neighbor, Mr. Harper. Their legal conflict becomes physical, Hubbard killing Harper.

Part II reveals Hubbard’s increasing anxiety that his act will become known and that he will be prosecuted, ending with the police’s suspicion of his involvement in Harper’s disappearance.

Part III shows Hubbard’s increasing moral and psychological disintegration under the pressures of guilt, fear, and isolation and ends with his death and his wife’s and daughter’s terror.


Part 1

 

Paragraph 1: The first sentence introduces a character: Jeremiah Hubbard, describes his present action (toiling “with a team of horses”) and whereabouts (“in a piece of ground down the road from his dwelling”). The second sentence identifies the time of day (near “five o’clock”), the season of the year (“autumn”), and three actions taken by Hubbard (unwinding the lines from his waist,” unhooking “the traces,” and starting “home with the horses”). Unstated, but implied are Hubbard’s vocation (he is a farmer who works until five o’clock in the evening) and his work (he has been plowing a field on a farm). The first sentence of the opening paragraph also establishes the story’s point of view, which, in “The Well,” is omniscient: the storyteller is not one of the characters; rather, the narrator is external, or outside, the story and knows all, sees all, hears all, and can report and comment on everything, including both objective and subjective incidents: actions, speech (dialogue), thoughts, feelings, and the narrator’s own interpretations, judgments, and characterizations.

By virtue of his being the first character introduced in the story, Hubbard stands out, for, as Aristotle points out, the first and the last are emphasized simply by virtue of their being the first and the last to come to readers’ attention.

Paragraph 2: The first sentence describes Hubbard appearance: his weight (“heavy”), age (“a bit under middle age”), facial shape (“a dish-shaped face” with “narrow-set eyes.” The second sentence describes his action: “He walked with vigor.” The third paragraph describes the action of one of the horses (it “lagged”) and Hubbard’s reaction (“he struck it savagely with a short whip”). the adjective “savagely” is not necessary, so its presence implies the narrator’s tone; it is the storyteller who views Hubbard’s striking of the horse as “savage.” The use of the word “savagely” suggests that Hubbard may be cruel, even sadistic, although it could be that he is simply in a hurry to get home. Readers are likely to keep both possibilities in mind and seek more information that will allow them to determine which possibility, cruelty or impatience, is most plausible. Why is the horse lagging? Possibly because it is tired from pulling the plow all day. (When a narrator doesn’t explicitly explain his or her choice of words [diction], readers tend to do so, based on the context of the story.)

When using indirect communication, writers and narrators imply, or suggest, an idea or a feeling without directly stating it. For example, by writing that a character rolled his or her eyes after something was said or done by another character, the first character implies disdain, or contempt, for the other character, for what the other character said, or for both the other character and what he or she said.

Readers infer, or draw “a conclusion,” based on what characters say (dialogue), think, or do, or [their own or other characters’] “prior conclusions. For example, reading that a character rolled his or her eyes after something was said or done by another character, a reader may conclude that the character who rolled his or her eyes felt disdain, or contempt, for the other character, for what the other character said, or for both the other character and what he or she said.

Paragraph 3: The first sentence is a transition of both place and time: Hubbard and the horses, having started home from the farm, now arrive at “the Eldridge dwelling,” which, the story’s original setting having changed slightly, is located at “the opposite side of the road.” This sentence also describes “the Eldridge dwelling” as “abandoned and tumbled down.” In the second sentence, the narrator also provides more information about the farm on which Hubbard works: the farm is “worked” by a sharecropper named Simpson, who lives “five miles away” and earns enough to have afforded to purchase a “tin Lizzie,” a nickname for the Ford Model T, which originated from the automobile’s winning of a 1922 race, a feat that “surprised everyone.” The term subsequently became a slang expression meaning “a small, cheap, . . . old car.” The story’s context suggests that the latter, rather than the former, meaning applies to the Model T that Simpson owns, which, in turn, implies that he does not make much money as a farmer, although, it seems, he earns more money than Hubbard. The third sentence mentions “an ancient oak tree” that, although its trunk, “tremendous [in] circumference,” is marred by signs of decay,” rears “splendid gnarled branches skyward.”

The fact that the narrator comments upon the oak at some length, thus singling it out, suggests that it is important to the story.

Paragraph 4: This paragraph introduces the focal point of the story, which is introduced in the tale’s title: “The Well.” Since the narrative appears in Weird Tales, readers understand that the well will have an unusual, probably strange, or weird, character, and they should pay close attention to its description. It is “shaded” by the branches of the oak that grows on the Eldridge farm, the “ancient” and “decayed” and “marred” tree. In horror fiction, a tree’s appearance can be due to the unholy ground that provides its nutrients. Readers also learn that the well, “having been dug in the early fifties by the pioneering Eldridge family,” is now “disused,” having become dry due to “improved drainage.” The pump-house is in ruins, only “the crumbling circle of stonework around the mouth” providing evidence of its existence. A source of water that had once fulfilled a vital need has been abandoned.

In expository writing, such as the paragraphs of an essay, every paragraph of a written work develops a central idea. In fiction, a paragraph may also develop a central idea; however, a paragraph can also evoke emotion; create, maintain, or heighten suspense; evoke an image; introduce a character of an action; change the scene; transition from one part of a story’s structure to the next; perform another function; or, sometimes, accomplish several such objectives. For this reason, readers should note, mentally, or, indeed, literally, what each particular paragraph accomplishes.

Paragraph 5: An eight-year-old child is introduced, running “from the rear of the premises.” Hubbard’s initial reactions to the child’s sudden appearance are noted: he “frowned and stopped his team.” Just as the child’s sudden appearance and the manner of the child’s appearance captures Hubbard’s attention (and that of readers), so does Hubbard’s reaction capture readers’ attention. Why does he “frown”? Why does he stop “his team”? For readers, the child’s sudden appearance creates a mystery, evoking such questions as who the child is, why this character is where she is, and why this is character running (rather than walking). Such questions and concerns also create suspense, which prompts readers to continue reading, as they seek answers to these questions and concerns.

By alternating longer with shorter paragraphs, writers not only prevent a narrative from becoming more a chore than a pleasure to read, but also change the pace of the action. In addition, using short paragraphs emphasizes what writers introduce in them––in this case, the girl’s entrance to the tale.

Paragraph 6: In this paragraph, the reason for Hubbard’s frown, an expression that, depending on the situation and context in which it occurs, can mean “high stress, unhappiness, anger, displeasure, grief, sadness and other negative thoughts such as disapproval.” The meaning of the frown can be directed at a person, the person’s behavior, or other matters. In “The Well,” Hubbard’s frown most likely expresses his disapproval of the child’s action, which raises another question for readers, thereby generating new suspense: Why does he disapprove of the child’s action? Readers do not have to wait long to find out: the next sentence identifies the cause of Hubbard’s disapproval; he is afraid that the child’s behavior in running onto the farm, might injure or even kill her, as, earlier, readers learned that the abandoned well is forty feet deep: “you’ll fall into the well.”

Suspense can be generated through a number of techniques. Already, Kilman has demonstrated three: characters’ actions, or behavior; other characters’ reactions to such actions; and questions for which, at the moment, there are no answers. Suspense can be short-lived or long-lived.

Writers can extend suspense by delaying the answers to the questions, or mystery, that actions, reactions, or unanswered questions generate or by providing explanations for some of these questions while delaying explanations for others or by explaining some and not explaining others at all. In longer stories, writers can remind readers about such matters through dialogue, a character’s memories, a dream, or other devices.

In “The Well,” Kilman immediately answers the question readers have concerning Hubbard’s disapproval of the child’s action (running onto the farm) by supplying his concern for the child’s safety through the use of dialogue, as Hubbard warns the child, “You better keep away from there, . . . or you’ll fall into the well.” However, the questions about the child’s identity, her action, and her motive remain unanswered and extend readers’ suspense as it relates to these matters.

It is clear that, whether suspense is brief or long-lasting, it is effective in maintaining readers’ interest in the story and in prompting them to read further.

Paragraph 7: Until now, although Kilman has referred to “the child” several times, readers have not learned the youth’s sex; now, they are informed that the child is a girl. Furthermore, she is characterized by her demeanor (“impish”) and her behavior: she glances at Hubbard “impishly,” or mischievously. Withholding the child’s sex created a mystery; perhaps readers may have supposed her to be a boy, in which case, her identification as a girl would be a surprise. Even if such were not the case, not knowing whether the child was a girl or a boy would have created a modicum of suspense. Mystery, or the unknown, causes suspense. The characterization of the girl as “impish” also sets up her action in the next paragraph; at the same time, such characterization creates a sense of expectation: readers expect that she may do something “impish,” also creating some measure of suspense.

Handled well, even details, such as whether a child is a girl or a boy and what he or she may do, based on his or her having a particular character trait, can generate suspense, prompting further reading.

Paragraph 8: “You and Missus Hubbard don’t speak to each other, do you?” the “impish” girl asks, an impudent question for a child to ask an adult. This question supports the narrator’s characterization of the girl as “impish.” At the same time, it raises suspense as readers wonder how Hubbard will respond: will he be amused? Annoyed? Angry? His initial reaction to seeing the girl run into the farm, although tinged with apparent annoyance and concern, suggests that Hubbard’s response to the girls’ impertinent question may be similar. To find out, readers must read on.

How would an eight-year-old girl know whether Hubbard and his wife “speak to each other?” Her statement implies that the couple are targets of local gossip. Perhaps her parents have discussed Hubbard and his wife or the girl has heard other adults do so.

Paragraph 9: Hubbard’s response involves extreme anger. He lashes the girl’s legs with his whip, causing her to yelp and run. His drastic response to the girl’s presumptuous query is likely illegal as well. His action shows him to be prone to explosive and excessive anger and violence.

An abrupt, violent, and extreme, indeed, criminal, action, especially in response to a rude, although rather trivial, question, reveals Hubbard as having a severe anger-management problem. He is not a man who is prone merely to annoyance and anger, but also to violence toward a child. His action makes him an unsympathetic character to readers, but they may still wonder why he behaves in such an extreme manner, a question that creates suspense.

Paragraph 10:

Hubbard’s workday is not finished. After having worked all day tilling a field, he finally arrives home, but, before he can eat or rest, he must drive his team to the barn and feed his stock; by the time that he finishes performing these chores, “it was after six when he entered the house,” a comparatively tiny abode as compared to “the gigantic barn in the rear.”

Hubbard’s house is a symbol. A symbol is an object that stands for, or “represents, something else, “ represents something else by association, resemblance, or convention, especially a material object used to represent something invisible,” such as a quality, a trait, or a concept.

Regarding Hubbard’s house as a symbol, a house, we often hear, is not a home. The former is the physical structure in which one lives; the latter, the emotional significance of such a place. One’s home is the place in which a person feels emotionally comfortable, where a man, woman, or child feels that he or she belongs, a place of security where one can relax and be oneself.

A house’s facade, or exterior, can represent achievement and success, based on its location, appearance, size, and expense. In a way, for many, a house represents what his or her life has amounted to, a physical symbol of accomplishment or of lack of success.

The narrator gives readers a glimpse into what Hubbard’s house suggests: “This was a structure that, by comparison with the gigantic barn in the rear, seemed pygmy-like.” Hubbard’s house, like his life, is dwarfed by the barn, which, even though it occupies a place secondary to that of his house, overshadows his dwelling.

His vocation, as a farmer, depends on nature; his existence is of relative insignificance compared to the material world on which he and his wife depend for their sustenance. His life is rooted, so to speak, in the soil, which determines much of who he is and what he can do. Perhaps this sense of his own insignificance is the source, or one of the sources, of his anger and violence, just as his team and livestock, like his farming, further indicate his dependence on nature.

Paragraph 11: This paragraph introduces Hubbard’s wife. The narrator’s description of Mrs. Hubbard is factual, as is the descriptions of her and Hubbard’s behavior, but the facts imply the conditions in which the couple live and suggest the symbolic significance of these facts of their existence.

Mrs. Hubbard is “a sallow, flat-chested woman, with a wisp of hair twisted into a knot.” She has an unhealthy appearance; her skin is “sallow,” or yellow. She lacks the feminine secondary sexual characteristic of breasts, an absence symbolic of her inability to nurture, and she does little or nothing to enhance her appearance, wearing her hair in a “twisted . . . knot,” rather than styling it. Although Hubbard and his wife appear to have little money, his wife could do more to look appealing, but she makes no effort to do so.

She assists him, taking “the two pails of milk he carried” from him and setting “them in the kitchen,” but, as the eight-year-old girl whom Hubbard earlier encountered correctly stated, neither he nor “Missus Hubbard . . . speak to each other,” and, in fact, as readers will learn, they communicate with one another through their twelve-year-old daughter. Readers, of course, will wonder why the couple behave in such a fashion, the question generating suspense.

Paragraph 12: After Hubbard performs “his ablutions,” rumpling “his hair and beard, using much soap and water and blowing stertorously,” he enters the dining room, in which his twelve-year-old daughter glances “at him timorously.”

This paragraph illustrates the effectiveness of carefully used diction, or word choice. As Mark Twain states, writers should “Use the right word, not its second cousin.” Kilman’s use of the word “ablutions” suggests a ritualistic cleansing, contrasting sharply with the minimal and perfunctory procedure that he actually applies in bathing, which, in turn, tends to ridicule him while characterizing him as rustic, if not crude.

The “use [of] the right word” in these paragraphs, as elsewhere, assists Kilman in characterizing both Hubbard and his daughter in an economical and memorable fashion.

Kilman also has his narrator characterize Hubbard’s daughter as “timorous” in her father’s presence, which recalls to readers’ minds the violent lash of the whip with which he responded to the eight-year-old girl’s impudence. Does Hubbard apply the same manner of “discipline” to his daughter as he displayed toward the younger girl?

Paragraph 13: Hubbard ignores his daughter as he had his wife. He slumps “down into a chair standing before a desk . . . littered with papers.” The narrator describes the documents as “typewritten sheets of the sort referred to as ‘pleadings’ [and] ; . . . a title-search much bethumbed and black along the edges, where the ‘set-outs’ had been scanned with obvious care.”

“Slumped” suggests that Hubbard resigns himself to the task at hand, taking no pleasure in the routine that he must perform, another example of how even a single word’s choice can provide dividends of narrative technique.

The nature of the documents, “pleadings” (i. e., “ formal, written document[s] asking the court to grant relief, or to decide . . . dispute[s]”) and a “title-search” [“the examination of public records to determine and confirm a property's legal ownership”] suggest Hubbard’s concerns, and the “bethumbed and black . . . edges” and the litter of papers on the desk implies the time, frequency, and devotion with which, however reluctantly and woefully, he has executed his study of them.

The term “set-outs” refers to annotations and explanations concerning various jargon, which suggests that Hubbard has made thorough examinations of the documents before him.

Once again, the description that Kilman provides through his narrator, like the other techniques that he uses, pays dividends. In repeatedly studying these documents, what is it that he seeks? This is yet another question that generates suspense.

Paragraph 14: This paragraph acquaints readers with the facts that Hubbard wears a pair of eyeglasses so “antiquated” that they lack frames. Eyeglasses were especially expensive in Hubbard’s day. The fact that Hubbard uses an old pair of spectacles implies that he either cannot afford a new pair or that he is unwilling to part with the money to buy them. He makes do with what he has, even when, in doings so, he presents a ridiculous appearance and probably experiences only limited vision improvement or much less improvement than that which he would receive were he to purchase new glasses.

This paragraph, like many others, shows how behavior, described in declarative sentences, can characterize individuals in a story. Readers learn more than the fact that Hubbard needs glasses, although Kilman never explicitly indicates this through a direct comment by his omniscient narrator.

Readers enjoy playing detective, even on as rudimentary level as that of discerning the implicit meaning of indirect communication such as connotative words and specific, goal-directed description can effect.

Paragraph 15: A short, single sentence introduces an action: “Presently he [Hubbard] spoke to the girl [his daughter].”

Usually, authors identify the character who speaks or thinks with a simple dialogue tag, such as “Hubbard said” or “he said.” When writers use other means to identify a character as the speaker, it is usually for the sake either of variety or emphasis.

Paragraph 16: Oddly, Hubbard directs his daughter to pass a mundane message to his wife through the agency of his daughter, using the latter as an intermediary.

This action reminds readers of the fact that he and his wife do not speak to each other (perhaps the eight-year-old girl learned this from Hubbard’s daughter at school or elsewhere), a situation that suggests alienation between them.

What has caused such a breach in their relationship, readers may wonder, a question that creates more suspense. Even a seemingly mundane incident can have narrative significance when it is related to conflict.

Paragraph 17: The manner in which the girl responds to her father’s request suggests that it is a command, and one that she dare not disobey. The rapidity of his wife’s response to his directive also implies that Mrs. Hubbard is equally reluctant to disobey. Silence continues throughout the meal, Hubbard consuming his portion as quickly as his wife and daughter followed his commands. For a second time, Hubbard communicates with his wife through his daughter: “Tell your mother . . . that I’ll want breakfast at five o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Through their respective dialogue and actions, Hubbard is characterized as tyrannical, his wife and daughter as cowed and subservient. Hubbard’s notification of his intention to have an early breakfast suggests that he has something unusual planned, a sort of foreshadowing.

Paragraph 18: The daughter asks her father where he intends to go in the morning.

The fact that the daughter is never named during the story and is identified only impersonally, as “the girl,” indicates a lack of familial love on Hubbard’s part and his dehumanization of both his wife and his daughter.

Paragraph 19: Hubbard’s response to his daughter indicates, as does his earlier study of the legal papers on his desk, that he is absorbed by a legal matter that, judging by paragraph 13, concerns a dispute over property ownership.

By presenting expository material in the form of dialogue, writers keep the story moving while providing information important to the reader and to the narrative itself.

Paragraph 20: Hubbard tracks his daughter as the girl helps her mother clear the table.

The fact that Hubbard does not pose the question he has in mind until his daughter has finished helping to clear the table may suggest that he views his next communication with his daughter to be important; he wants to speak to her without interruption, so that he has her full attention, an indication that creates suspense.

His behavior may also imply that, for him, work (at least, the work of others) takes precedent over other interactions, further characterizing him.

Paragraphs 21-22: Hubbard’s daughter denies having spoken to “that Harper child.”

It’s possible that, just as readers may have suspected, that Harper’s daughter learned from the Hubbard’s daughter that the Hubbard couple do not speak to each other. Hubbard himself suspects as much, which is why he asks his daughter whether she had spoken to “that Harper girl.”

Diction comes into play again, in Hubbard’s use of the phrases “look-a here” and a-talking,” these nonstandard expressions characterizing Hubbard as a rustic.

Paragraphs 23-26: Hubbard’s interrogation of his daughter continues; the fact that she didn’t ask Harper what he is doing “over by the fence” and left, fearing that Harper might “catch [her] watchin’ him” annoys Hubbard, who glowers, reaches for his hat, and declares his intention to “find out.”

Hubbard’s concern that his daughter might have been talking to “that Harper child,” his desire to know what Harper is doing at the fence, his annoyance at Harper’s presence near the fence, and his “snarl” that he would “find out” suggest that the men do not get along.

Perhaps, readers may wonder, the point of their animosity is associated with the title-search and pleadings that Hubbard has been studying, matters that could be connected to a dispute concerning the properties that the two men, apparently neighbors, own––or presume that they own. If so, these incidents could explain the conflict between them and foreshadow upcoming, related incidents.

Paragraphs 27-29: Hubbard’s haste to reach the fence indicates the degree of his interest in discovering what Harper is doing.

Hubbard’s strong concern about Harper’s behavior sharpens readers’ interest in the story’s unfolding events, anticipation heightening suspense. Hubbard’s concern, evident in his impatience to confront Harper, also intensifies the apparent conflict between them.

Paragraph 30: The narrator confirms readers’ suspicion as to the nature of the conflict between Hubbard and Harper: it is based on “litigation over the boundary claim that had gone on between them for four years.”

The “litter” of papers on Hubbard’s desk, his repeated study of them, and his early morning appointment with an attorney underscore the length and intensity of his property dispute with Harper and the seriousness of their conflict to both men.

By preparing for this encounter, which introduces the turning point of the story, by including such materials, Kilman has made the men’s confrontation both believable and significant. Likewise, Kilman’s emphasis of the importance of nature, as represented, in part, by his farm and those of others, to his and his family’s lives and livelihood, underscores the stakes. These details follow Edgar Allan Poe’s requirement, as set forth in both “The Importance of the Single Effect in a Prose Tale” and “The Philosophy of Composition,” that every particular of a tale should lead toward its ending’s unity of effect.

Paragraph 31: The “twin fences” have become “one of the show places in the country,” the narrator informs readers.

The narrator’s statement seems ironic, or tongue in cheek. Diction (“odd spectacle,” “twin fences,” “show places”) imply that the scene they thus create is one that amuses the public and, more to the point, writers, photographers, and editors of “agricultural journals” who share their opinion that the “spectacle” is absurd and laughable. In effect, Hubbard and Harper have become laughingstocks, which also might anger Hubbard.

Paragraphs 32-34: Hubbard, admitting his fear that Harper, having colluded with Judge Bissell, intends to deprive him of part of his land, is laughed at by Harper, who replies that he will win, but not “because Judge Bissell is unfair,” implying that justice is on his side, not Hubbard’s, and that, as a result, Hubbard will be the loser.

Action and dialogue, which reveal the characters’ respective beliefs, both characterizes the disputants and the heightens the conflict between them.

Paragraphs 35-37: Hubbard, enraged, climbs over both fences, intent upon assaulting Harper. “Startled by [Hubbard’s] outburst of temper, retreats. When Hubbard continues toward him, Harper strikes Hubbard with the shovel that he (Harper) holds. (Harper had been working on his fence when Hubbard confronted him.)

Kilman has well prepared for this moment of the story by earlier showing Hubbard’s quick temper in his lashing the eight-year-old’s legs in response to the girl’s “impish” comment that she has heard that his wife does not speak to him, which is certainly an extreme, criminal act, and by showing the fear that both Hubbard’s wife and daughter seem to experience in his presence

By foreshadowing Hubbard’s explosive temper and rash predisposition to violence, Kilman has made this incident between Hubbard and Harper believable and has indicated the danger that Hubbard’s enraged behavior represents. It is believable, thanks to this foreshadowing, to believe that Hubbard might, indeed, kill Harper. Therefore, Harper’s self-defense is justified.

Ending paragraph 35 with Harper’s striking Hubbard with the shovel creates suspense concerning the effect of Harper’s action: did he miss Hubbard, further enraging him? Injure Hubbard? Kill him?

Paragraph 38: This paragraph, one of the story’s longer ones, advises readers that Harper, who is “slightly-built,” did not miss Hubbard, but neither did he injure or kill him, and, now, Hubbard, blind with intensified rage, seemingly seeks to kill Harper.

Intensifying the conflict between the men, Kilman again ends the paragraph without its denouement: “With his huge fists [Hubbard] began to hammer [Harper’s] body. . . until it was limp. This ending heightens already heightened suspense, since Harper’s body, lying “limp” at the paragraph’s conclusion, suggests that he could be dead, Hubbard’s rage having ended in murder, whereas the previous paragraph (paragraph 35) suggested three possible outcomes of the fight to that point: a miss with the shovel, an injury, or a killing.

Paragraph 39: The storm of Hubbard’s rage subsides as quickly as it began, as he stares at Hubbard’s limp body lying on the ground before him.

Hubbard’s action, coupled with the narrator’s observation, maintain the suspense: readers still don’t know whether Harper is alive or dead, although it seems certain that he must be severely injured.

The abrupt exhaustion of Hubbard’s rage, like its sudden eruption, indicate that his anger, and thus his actions, is both uncontrollable and unpredictable, which, in turn, emphasizes the danger that he represents.

Paragraph 40: Hubbard’s single word expression reveals his shock at what he sees, if not at what he has done.

Hubbard seems to be emerging from an altered state of consciousness, as if, in his rage, he was not conscious of his actions, his single word “So!,” followed by a gasp, indicating his return to self-consciousness and horror. It is unclear whether, at this point, he associates himself with Harper’s condition.

Paragraph 41: A strange note in the action of the story occurs: “the sound of someone singing.”

After the intense fight, what can an author introduce that will continue to hold readers’ attention? Kilman’s solution is “the sound of someone singing,” which, after the spectacle of the fight (which only readers have “witnessed”) an incident that is itself startling in its apparent incongruity.

The very oddness of “the sound of someone singing” after a battle, perhaps one in which someone was killed––readers still don’t for certain whether Harper was killed––strikes an eerie narrative chord, which reignites readers’ interest with the implicit questions, Who is singing? What is being sung? And why?

The answer to at least one of these questions is answered: The omniscient narrator reports that the singer is “an itinerant Free Methodist preacher, whose church in Ovid he [Hubbard] and his family occasionally attended.”

It seems odd, given Hubbard’s personality, explosive temper, and abusive behavior, that he would be interested in attending church services or in taking his wife and daughter to them. In any case, the other two questions remain, so suspense continues.

Paragraph 42: This paragraph delivers an answer to the second question: “The song rolling forth, as the Man of God drove along the highway in his rig, was Jesus, Lover of My Soul.

As questions are answered, suspense declines, but reader satisfaction increases. A series of implied questions related to an action or an incident allows writers to serve both their own narrative purposes while repeatedly satisfying readers’ interest in obtaining answers to such questions.

Why the preacher sings this particular song in the context of what has just occurred is unclear, although it may be simply to contrast the love of God with Hubbard’s hatred, rage, and violence, the former being a foil of sorts to the latter, giving emphasis to Hubbard’s personality and actions.


Part 2


Paragraph 43: Hubbard’s action, shielding “his face with an arm as if to ward off an invisible thing,” is also difficult to interpret.

What is the “invisible thing” that Hubbard seeks to fend off? Knowledge? Horror? Truth? Guilt? Perhaps it is nothing more than the fact that he believes that he may have done what he suspects he has done, a gesture similar to one’s wishing that what has happened hadn’t occurred. If so, the addition of his gesture, seeking to shield “his face with an arm as if to ward off an invisible thing,” adds a concrete element to the emotion implicit in the moment.

At this point, suspense continues, since readers still do not know, for certain, Harper’s fate. If nothing more, the singing, the passage of the minister driving “along the highway in his rig” (paragraph 41), and Hubbard’s action in seeming to shield “his face with an arm” serve to delay the answer to the question of whether Hubbard has, in fact, murdered Harper and, therefore, extends the suspense associated with this question.

Paragraphs 44-45: Hubbard confirms that he has murdered Harper.

Hubbard’s confirmation that he has murdered Harper eliminates the suspense generated by his assault on his neighbor, but new suspense is generated by his discovery of Harper’s destination: he was taking the train to Ovid to attend a trial, which means “that he would not be missed by his wife for at least twenty-four hours,” which should give Hubbard enough time to dispose of his victim’s body.

Will Hubbard succeed in doing so? This question launches new suspense, prompting readers to read further, as does the question as to what he will do to accomplish this goal. Although this question and others are answered fairly soon after the narrative’s action implicitly evokes them, related questions continue to surface, keeping the suspense going.

Paragraphs 46-47: As Hubbard considers his next action, “where to secrete the body,” he considers several possibilities.

Each possibility poses problems, causing Hubbard to reject them: a woods is “constantly combed by squirrel hunters”; although he might make it look as thought Harper were killed in a railroad accident “by the very train he was bound for,” he realizes that the distance to which he would have to haul Harper’s body is too far in the time he has at his disposal. By raising and rejecting these possibilities, Kilman keeps readers guessing, as it were, as to what means, if any, Hubbard will accomplish his task. Thus, he maintains suspense.

Paragraph 48: At last, Hubbard decides on a place at which to secrete Harper’s body: the abandoned well on the Eldridge premises.

This solution to the problem of where to hide Harper’s body bring this chain of suspense to an end. Readers will wonder, now, what will happen next. This question itself creates new suspense.

Paragraphs 49-50: Returning home, Hubbard finds the itinerant preacher praying with his wife and daughter and urges him to stop.

This incident creates new suspense, as readers wonder how the preacher or Hubbard’s family will react to his directive and whether any of them will consider Hubbard’s action suspicious.

Paragraphs 51-53: Although the preacher seems, initially, to object to Hubbard’s telling him not to pray any longer, Hubbard insists, saying he needs to speak in private to his family, and, when Hubbard gives him a silver coin, the preacher leaves.

Again, the suspense raised by paragraphs 48-49 is brief, but the question as to what Hubbard will say to his wife and daughter raises new suspense.

Paragraphs 54-57: Hubbard establishes an alibi, telling his daughter that Harper had left the fence by the time he’d arrived and that he was delayed in returning home because he had to check on raccoons that could devastate their corn crop.

Paragraphs 58-61: Neither Hubbard’s wife nor his daughter appear to believe his story; angered, he sends them off to bed.

Perhaps Hubbard’s approach, uncharacteristically patient and even generous (by his terms)––he offers to share the bounty on their pelts if they can “catch ‘em”––makes Mrs. Hubbard and their daughter wary; for whatever reason, he sends them to bed. This change in his typical tyrannical and abusive manner may indicate the beginning of a transformation or, more likely, it is nothing more than a result of his manipulation and duplicity.

The attempt would be mildly suspenseful if it were more believable that Hubbard would be capable of genuine generosity and change; instead, readers are more likely to consider it to be a means of further characterization regarding Hubbard. In determining the nature of such elements, context is the key.

Neither the wife nor the daughter is convinced by his ruse, Hubbard sees, and the fact that the daughter whimpers indicates her fear: she sees through her father’s act and is unconvinced and fearful.

Paragraphs 62 and 63: These paragraphs recount two instances that tighten the emotional noose around Hubbard’s neck: his court case is adjourned because of Harper’s failure to appear and, the next day, as he is working in the field, passersby call him “to the roadside” to “discuss the disappearance of Harper.”

Readers can imagine how stress, if not guilt, builds within Hubbard. These paragraphs also increase the tension of stress in readers as suspense continues to mount: will Hubbard get away with his crime or will justice be served?

Paragraph 64: Hubbard is “haunted” again, as it were, when he sees Harper’s daughter sitting at the edge of the well.

Readers learn what they may already have suspected: the eight-year-old girl whom Hubbard earlier chastised and struck with a whip is Harper’s daughter. Her presence at the site at which he has hidden Harper’s body must have frightened Hubbard badly, and, in the next four paragraphs, he acts angrily and violently, as is his custom.

Paragraphs 65-69: Hastening toward the girl, he reminds her of his warning “to stay away from” the well, except, this time, he replaces the word “well” with “there,” almost as though he is afraid to speak of the place as if, in doing so, he might jinx himself. The narrator characterizes his manner of speech as explosive, indicating his extreme anger. He has enough presence of mind, however, to glance at the road to make sure that no one is walking or driving by before seizing the girl by her arm, spinning “her roughly,” and demanding that she return home.

Like the two previous paragraphs, this one shows Hubbard’s growing anxiety and fear, to which he reacts as he does everything else that annoys, frustrates, frightens, or inconveniences him: with anger and violence.

The fact that this scene occurs a week after Harper’s disappearance had become known to the public suggests that Hubbard’s fear of being discovered as his murderer has grown worse, and his behavior worsens accordingly. Will he be caught? This question continues the situation’s suspense.

Paragraphs 70-71: Hubbard “works his horses hard,” awaiting the opportunity to return to the well to ensure that the Harper girl has not returned. When she is not present, he seems relieved, attributing her absence to her having lunch. However, when he returns again, at four o’clock, she is back, sitting beside the well, into which she peers, “acting queerly.”

Hubbard’s anxiety is relieved when he finds that the Harper girl has not returned to the well, as he’d feared she might, but his relief is temporary, for, when he returns four hours later, the girl is back at the well. Kilman does a good job of alternately escalating and relieving Hubbard’s anxiety and, thus, the story’s suspense and readers’ tension.

Paragraphs 72-77: Upon seeing the Harper girl at the well, Hubbard dismounts from his wagon, takes her hand, and leads her to her house “a short distance away,” where he encounters Mrs. Harper, distraught and weeping. He delivers her daughter, admonishing her to keep “her at home,” lest she “fall into the well.”

Hubbard’s anxiety continues to mount, as does his superstitious behavior. Whereas previously, he substituted “there” for “well,” as if, by saying “well,” he would bring down bad luck upon himself (paragraph 65), he now makes a point not to look into the well, probably because he fears that he may find it empty (paragraph 71), meaning that his victim’s body has been discovered and removed and that, of course, his murder will almost certainly be suspected.

Readers may wonder whether his recommendation that Mrs. Harper keep her daughter at home so that the girl doesn’t “fall into the well” could foreshadow Hubbard’s future means of dispatching the girl, whose visits to the well could attract the attention of the police and result in the discovery of Harper’s body. If this idea does occur to readers, it is apt to evoke a new line of suspense.

Mrs. Hubbard’s grief is so strong that she is able to respond to her daughter’s return only by holding her hands out to receive the child, an indication of the suffering that Hubbard’s murder of Harper has caused for both his wife and daughter.

Paragraphs 78-79: Although Hubbard attempts to engage Mrs. Harper in conversation concerning he husband’s disappearance, she makes it clear that she doesn’t “want to talk to” him.

Although Hubbard has just returned Mrs. Harper’s daughter after rescuing her from a potentially dangerous situation, she does not thank him, nor is she willing to talk to him.

Aware of both the longstanding legal issue between the men and its cause as well as, most probably, her husband’s having gone to work on the fence on the day of his death, does she suspect that Hubbard may have killed her husband, refusing to speak to him because of her anger toward and fear of him, or is she simply unwilling to converse with him because of her oppressive grief?

By implicitly multiplying her motives, Kilman both complexifies and enriches the possible directions of the tale.

Paragraphs 80-83: As he leaves the Harper’s abode, Hubbard finds the deputy sheriff waiting for him. The lawman suggests that Hubbard might be a suspect in Harper’s disappearance, based on the fact that the two men had long been at odds over the boundary between their respective properties.

The deputy’s announcement must have made Hubbard’s blood pressure rise considerably, but he plays it cool, even managing to laugh. By having Hubbard control his emotions for once, Kilman extends the suspense concerning whether he will be charged with Harper’s murder.

At the same time, Kilman further characterizes Hubbard by showing that, should circumstances promote self-control, Hubbard is able to exercise it. This fact makes his murder of Harper even more reprehensible.

Paragraph 84: Not only is Hubbard able to remain calm, outwardly, at least, but he is also able to counter the deputy’s argument with one of his own (Harper’s desertion of his wife and child).

A rational counter to the deputy’s argument that the boundary feud between Hubbard and Harper could constitute a motive for Hubbard’s having murdered Harper shows, even more, that Hubbard can both control his temper and think clearly under stress. His reply to the deputy twice indicates his ability to retain self-control: he did not “explode” when the deputy directed suspicion at him, and he provided a possible reason for Harper’s disappearance unrelated to murder.

Moreover, rather than Hubbard’s devising this alternative explanation of Harper’s disappearance on the spot, under pressure, seems unlikely. Instead, it seems more probable that that he conceived it prior to his encounter with the lawman, having previously given some thought to his crime, its effects, and ways to divert suspicion from himself.

Paragraphs 85-87: For several nights after his encounter with the deputy sheriff, the narrator tells readers, Hubbard experienced sleepless nights, perhaps, readers may assume, due to his continued anxiety about being charged with Harper’s murder. During “an electric storm,” he walks, through the downpour, to the well, where he observes that lightning has split the oak, part of which has fallen over the “mouth” of the well.

This change in the situation shows how well Kilman plotted his story. At the outset of the tale, he called readers’ attention to the oak that stands beside the well, describing the tree in some detail so that it would stand out and be memorable.

The attention given to the tree indicated that it was likely to be important to the story; now, as the narrator reintroduces the oak, readers are likely to take note and pay close attention to its description.

Although readers are not provided an account of Hubbard’s reaction to the sight of the split tree, part of which now lies across the opening to the well, they may well imagine that Hubbard is elated, since the fallen part of the oak now closes off the well, all but preventing the discovery and identification of the murder victim’s body.

It might seem safe to assume that Hubbard believes, or hopes, that he has committed murder with impunity, although, of course, more remains of the story. Readers’ hope that the villain will be brought to justice, even now, creates the suspense that inspires them to continue reading. What further “surprises” might Kilman have in store?


Part 3 (starts with paragraph 88)


Paragraphs 88-98: The end of the story begins with a visit to Hubbard by Simpson, “the man with the tin Lizzie,” the narrator informs readers, thus sparking their memory of the character who was introduced toward the beginning of the story but has not been mentioned since, until now. Simpson brings word of the discovery of a “skeleton in the center of that tree” that was recently split by lightning. According to the sheriff, the skeleton might be that of a man who was killed in Ovid seventy-five years ago, whose remains were never found. Clearing his throat, Hubbard asks what Simpson did with the skeleton. In seeking to recover the bones, replies Simpson, “the skull and one of the leg bones fell down into the well,” and he wants to borrow a rope so he can climb down inside the well and retrieve the skull, which he intends to display. Hubbard recommends that Simpson fill in the well instead, since it is “dangerous,” but, when Simpson won’t be deterred, Hubbard says that he will get the rope and assist Simpson.

Hubbard must find Simpson’s news terrifying, and he attempts to dissuade him from his endeavor to retrieve the skeleton’s skull. Unsuccessful, he offers to help Simpson accomplish his task. Again, under pressure, Hubbard remains relatively calm and introduces measures intended first to dissuade Simpson and then to accompany him.

Will Hubbard murder another man to prevent the discovery of the first one he killed? Suspense continues along this new line of action.

By referencing Hubbard’s sharp clearing of his throat, Kilman indicates his shock upon hearing of the news of the skeleton’s discovery (paragraph 91), and by stating that Hubbard was silent was “for a bare second” (paragraph 93), Kilman suggests that Hubbard was thinking of a way to dissuade Simpson from retrieving the skeleton’s skull, which results in his statement that “What you ought to do . . . is to fill up that hole [i. e., well]” because “it’s dangerous.”

When Simpson agrees, but states that he will refrain from doing so until he has retrieved the skull, Hubbard offers to assist him, showing, again, that, under pressure, he can be cool and think clearly, again making his murder of Harper during a moment of rage despicable.

Kilman is adept at using description and dialogue to advance his plot while also characterizing his protagonist in the process.

Paragraphs 99-107: These paragraphs continue to advance and develop the story as, surprisingly, Hubbard volunteers to descend into the well to retrieve the bones and then fill in the well. Simpson wires “the bleached bones together and [suspends] them from one of the branches of the fallen tree,” creating an exhibit that draws crowds.

These paragraphs suggest that, although they might not themselves commit murder, people are, in general, intrigued by the effects of the crime, an indirect and cynical assessment of human nature in general that is appropriate to the horror genre.

Paragraph 108: The narrator informs readers that the display of the skeleton and the delay in filling in the well prey upon Hubbard, who thought that by filling in the well he would, in effect, have sealed off his conscience and that his “mind” would then “be at rest.”

The skeleton is a reminder of Hubbard’s crime; the crowds it draws, a reminder of the public’s interest in Harper’s disappearance; the well, a symbol of the secret crime that Hubbard has committed and his unending guilt and fear of discovery, just as the presence of the Harper child at the time that Hubbard and Simpson arrived at the well to collect the bones therein is likely a reminder to Hubbard of the murder of the girl’s father.

By reminding readers of these events, the author keeps them before their minds, as they are kept before Hubbard’s mind. The question as to whether Hubbard will be found out and prosecuted continues the story’s suspense.

Paragraph 109: Hubbard’s fear and guilt cause him sleepless nights, during which, after his wife and daughter are asleep, he slips out of the house.

The effects of fear and guilt are shown not only to persist, but also to intensify, prompting action even when action has before proved ineffective. Readers are apt to wonder what Hubbard does after he slips out of the house at night, another source of suspense.

Paragraphs 110-113: Hubbard walks, then, later, runs at night, attracting attention and inspiring the story that the skeleton’s ghost haunts “the locality of the well.” Could this be foreshadowing? Even if it turns out not to be, the suggestion creates suspense. Some night, he runs for miles, but he always ends his “nightly prowls” at the well, where, exhausted, he sits, until nearly dawn, “staring at the swinging skeleton, mouthing incoherencies, praying, singing hymns beneath his breath, laughing.”

The effects of his long-term guilt and fear have driven Hubbard, instinctively, to seek to escape, but his nightly walks-become-runs are of no avail. Eventually, he turns to ritualized attempts to exorcise his inner demons, babbling, “praying, singing hymns below his breath, laughing,” all, again, to no avail. No matter what he tries, he cannot escape the guilt and fear caused by his murder of Harper.

The fact that he mouths “incoherencies” suggests than he may be approaching madness. The question of whether he will become mad is another source of suspense.

Paragraphs 114-115: After the public’s interest in the skeleton’s display wanes, Hubbard returns to the well to fill it in, bringing, over a period of two days, “stones and small boulders” to the site, and dumping the loads into the well. On the second day, he begins “to experience surcease”––until, that is, Simpson joins him in the afternoon.

At last, it seems that Hubbard may find peace. By filling in the well, he may, in effect, cap off his conscience, as he hopes. Simpson’s arrival, introduced by the preposition “but,” indicating “if it were not for the fact that,” suggests that such will not be the case:

Paragraphs 116-122: Simpson introduces two plot complication: the Harper girl has “dropped a pair of andirons down the well” while playing at the site, and Hubbard must retrieve them because they are “relics.” In addition, Hubbard cannot fill in the well, since Simpson does not have the authority to authorize such an action; as he explains, “I was kiddin’ you. . . . I’m only rentin’ the farm. I ain’t got nothin’ to do with the house and yard.”

Many plot complications are introduced by character’s actions, although situational developments, new conflicts between or among characters, and new incidents can also accomplish this objective.

Paragraphs 123-126: Returning home for his rope and returning with it and a laborer to assist him, Hubbard methodically removes the stones he has already dumped into the well, but he is unable to find the andirons. Exhausted by his work, he returns home.

Hubbard’s hopes of continuing to conceal his crime are frustrated or defeated time after time. Will he ever succeed? The question promotes suspense.

Paragraph 127-129: Unable to sleep despite resorting to sleeping powders, Hubbard gets up “sometime after midnight” and sees a light in his wife’s room. Hearing his wife and daughter conversing “in low voices,” he imagines that they are talking about “Harper’s disappearance,” and he leaves, “mumbling to himself,” and runs past the Eldridge house, but returns on his path after thinking that he has spotted someone approaching.

Harper’s inability to sleep, even after taking “sleeping powders,” suggests the depths of his guilt and fear. Although his wife and daughter may be speaking low only to avoid awakening him, he imagines, from his perspective, a sinister motive: they may be discussing “Harper’s disappearance.”

His action in fleeing into the night, with no apparent purpose or direction, as he mumbles “to himself,” indicates his panic.

It may be, also, that he mumbles to himself because he has no one to whom to talk, because he has no one in whom he trusts, an ironic reversal on the Harper girl’s earlier remark that Mrs. Hubbard wont speak to him.

His only thought, as he runs, is to bypass the “Eldridge place.” Nevertheless, he turns back upon seeing, or thinking that he sees, someone approaching him. For some reason, or, perhaps for no reason, the apparently approaching figure seems to frighten him more than the Eldridge place, which creates an element of suspense.

Paragraphs 130-131: The narrator identifies “an irresistible force” that draws Hubbard forward, down the Eldridge pathway to the well, “which [seems to gape] at him.” After staring into “the black depths,” he screams and plunges “in headfirst.”

What is the “irresistible force,” readers are likely to wonder. How did it draw Hubbard to the “Eldridge pathway” and, down it, to the well? Why did he stare “into the black depths” of the well before, “screaming, he plunged in headfirst”? Who hears his cry “quivering on the night air”? Each of these questions generates suspense anew.

Paragraph 132-135: This paragraph answers the question of who heard Hubbard’s scream: his frightened wife and daughter, “in the Hubbard home, a quarter or a mile away.”

Although his wife has known Hubbard for at least more than a decade (the couple have a twelve-year-old daughter), and probably longer, she does not recognize the sound of her husband’s scream. Indeed, to her ears, the sound appears to be inhuman; she asks not “Who’s that?” but “What’s that?

Her shock, fear, and uncertainty encourage readers to suppose that the screams that she hears, ostensibly of her husband, may be something ethereal and uncanny. The ghost of the murdered man, perhaps?

On the other hand, on a figurative level, such a spirit could symbolize the guilt and fear that Hubbard has experienced since murdering Harper, which, in the psychological sense of obsession, clearly “haunts” him. He certainly seems to have gone mad, by degrees, and the well appears to be associated, symbolically, with his mind, which conceals not only his deed but also its psychological consequences, guilt and fear of exposure and, probably, of punishment.

Perhaps the “irresistible force” was nothing more than his obsession, his guilt, and his fear and his seemingly inhuman scream the sound of a madman’s obsessions with his crime and its effects upon him as well as a reflection of his wife’s terror.

The story does not present any obviously supernatural effects or entities. Instead, it presents an uneducated rustic given to tyranny and abuse who is apparently driven mad by the guilt and fear that he experiences after he murders a neighbor in a fit of rage. Hubbard has a vivid imagination and few effective coping mechanisms.

What suggestions of supernatural forces there are in the story are based on Hubbard’s own distorted reasoning, emotions, perceptions, and obsession. For these reasons, “The Well” is a psychological story concerning the inescapable consequences of murder, guilt, and fear, namely, madness, rather than a supernatural tale of ghostly vengeance.

Note: This analysis is an example of an explication du texte, “a French formalist method . . . similar to close reading in the English-speaking literary tradition. . . . [that involves] a detailed, relatively objective examination of structure, style, imagery, and other aspects of a work” (“Explication de Texte), but it is one that is informed, also, by the approaches to literary criticism set forth by Aristotle in his Poetics, by Gustav Freytag in his Die Technik des Dramas, and Edgar Allan Poe in his The Importance of the Single Effect in a Prose Tale” and “The Philosophy of Composition.”


Bibliography

 

Aristotle. “The Internet Classics Archive | Poetics by Aristotle.” Classics.mit.edu, 350AD, classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/poetics.1.1.html.

“Freytag’s Technique of the Drama : An Exposition of Dramatic Composition and Art. An Authorized Translation from the 6th German Ed. By Elias J. MacEwan : Freytag, Gustav, 1816-1895 : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive.” Internet Archive, 2025, archive.org/details/freytagstechniqu00freyuoft/mode/2up?view=theater. Accessed 7 July 2025.

Poe, Edgar Allan. The Importance of the Single Effect in a Prose Tale. May 1842.

 –. “The Philosophy of Composition.” Poetry Foundation, 1846, www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/69390/the-philosophy-of-composition.

Rosenberg, Jennifer. “Why the Model T Is Called the Tin Lizzie.” ThoughtCo, 3 Jan. 2019, www.thoughtco.com/nickname-tin-lizzie-3976121.

Starbird, Eleanor. “What Is the Difference between the United Methodist Church and the Free Methodist Church?” Sayvilleumc.org, 2024, www.sayvilleumc.org/what-is-the-difference-between-the-united-methodist-church-and-the-free-methodist-church. Accessed 7 July 2025.

“Symbol — Definition, Examples, Related Words and More at Wordnik.” Wordnik.com, 2025, www.wordnik.com/words/symbol. Accessed 7 July 2025.

“Thesaurus Results for BUT.” Merriam-Webster.com, 2019, www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/but. Accessed 16 Oct. 2019.

Twain, Mark. “Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offenses.” Twain.lib.virginia.edu, July 1985, twain.lib.virginia.edu/projects/rissetto/offense.html.

“Weird Tales V01n04 1923-06 : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive.” Internet Archive, June 1923, archive.org/details/Weird_Tales_v01n04_1923-06/mode/2up. Accessed 7 July 2025.

“Weird Tales/Volume 1/Issue 4/the Well - Wikisource, the Free Online Library.” Wikisource.org, 2022, en.wikisource.org/wiki/Weird_Tales/Volume_1/Issue_4/The_Well. Accessed 7 July 2025.

Wesley, Charles. “Jesus, Lover of My Soul.” Hymnary.org, 1740, hymnary.org/text/jesus_lover_of_my_soul_let_me_to_thy_bos.

“What Does Infer Mean?” Definitions.net, 2015, www.definitions.net/definition/infer. Accessed 7 July 2025.

Wikipedia Contributors. “Explication de Texte.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 28 May 2025, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Explication_de_Te

Thursday, February 1, 2024

Rhetorical Principles and Methods

 Copyright by Gary L. Pullman

Image by Nile from Pixabay

Image by Nile from Pixabay


Over the centuries, philosophers, especially rhetoricians, including Aristotle, Kenneth Burke, Marshall McLuhan, and Bertrand Russell, among others, have isolated the subjects of human discourse and the principles and techniques of rhetoric, or the art of effective speaking and writing.

In effect, these subjects, principles, and techniques form a model of the way that we, as human beings, see, or interpret, and understand the world and enable us to create a corresponding model of reality while permitting us to modify this model as we learn and understand more and to communicate this continually updated paradigm of reality, just as it lets us comment upon it and our place within the bigger scheme of things, through the arts and sciences as well as ordinary, daily discussions and arguments.

According to Aristotle, everything that can be written or spoken about deals with one of these questions:


  • Who?
  • What?
  • When?
  • Where?
  • How?
  • Why?

To which I add one other:


  • How many? or How much?

These questions are related to


  • Who?: agent or agency (doer)
  • What?: circumstance, event, idea, incident, feeling, object, situation
  • When?: moment, era, age
  • Where: place
  • How?: means, method, process, technique
  • Why?: cause, motive, reason, purpose
  • How many? (quantity in number) or How much? (quantity in volume)


In drama and narrative diction, these questions relate to


  • Who?: character
  • What: situation
  • When?: setting
  • Where?: setting
  • How?: various (e. g., genre, dramatic or technique)
  • Why?: motive
  • How many? or How much?: various (e. g., word count, number of acts or chapters, number of characters, number of subplots)


What can be said or written almost always addresses one of these rhetorical areas:


  • Analysis: breaking a whole [e. g., a subject] into its pieces to understand how each piece is related to other pieces and to the whole)
  • Argumentation: providing current, reliable, relevant, authoritative, accurate, and purposeful evidence to support a specific claim; in addition, Aristotle states that persuasive argumentation involves three types of appeal: rational (logos), emotional (pathos), and ethical (ethos)
  • Causal Analysis: analyzing and presenting the cause or causes that produce an effect or effects; sometimes, the reverse occurs, with the identification of one or more effects followed by the identification and explanation of its or their cause or causes
  • Classification: grouping items according to criteria such as common and distinguishing attributes or characteristics; classification is almost always used with division
  • Comparison: grouping and considering the similarities between two items; comparison is almost always used with contrast
  • Contrast: grouping and considering the differences between two items; contrast is almost always used with comparison
  • Definition: distinguishing a member of a group of similar members from the others on the group by identifying the differences between the one and the others: A planet is a heavenly body (class) that orbits a star and is big enough to have enough gravity to force a spherical shape and clear away objects of a similar size near its orbit (differences).
  • Description: explaining the appearance of an item
  • Division: separating a whole into parts or groups (e. g,, a thesis into points, an essay into paragraphs, an argument into claim and evidence)
  • Exemplification: using examples (specific instances or cases) to represent a whole or to indicate a pattern: “toss” is an example of an action verb; the My Lai massacre is an example of a war crime
  • Narration: relating, recalling, or reciting, usually chronologically, the incidents or events that, together, convey a story
  • Process analysis: identifying and explaining the specific steps to be performed in a prescribed manner in order to accomplish a particular result; sometimes, the analysis includes cautionary statements or warnings, as necessary


The type of essay (e. g., analysis, comparison-contrast, exemplification, process analysis, etc.) often determines both the essay's structure and the types of evidence.

As taught in colleges and universities, argumentative writing is divided into


  • an introductory paragraph
  • that ends with a thesis sentence, or controversial (arguable) claim, divided into a number of points,
  • a number of body paragraphs—one or more for each point in the thesis—each of which is introduced by a topic sentence that identifies the point in the thesis about which the paragraph or section or related paragraphs provides supporting evidence or refutes an opposing argument;
  • a concluding paragraph


In constructing, revising, analyzing, or refuting an argument, various types of evidence must be provided. Some types are “stronger,” or more convincing, than other types. On general, these are regarded as strongest to weakest (most convincing to least convincing):


  1. Verified or established causal (cause-and-effect) evidence (STRONGEST)
  2. Consensus of expert opinion
  3. Expert opinion
  4. Facts (these include, but are not limited to, physical evidence, such as hair or fibers found at crime scenes, or biological evidence, such as fingerprints or DNA)
  5. Reasons
  6. Anecdotal evidence (eye-witness evidence, testimonial evidence, or evidence based on personal experience) (WEAKEST)


These questions can also help evaluate arguments:


  • Who is making the claim? (A scientist, an engineer, another expert, a man with a topknot who is wearing a white tank top?)
  • What is the claim (and its related points, or parts)?
  • When was the claim made? (Is it new, old, or between? How long has it been investigated?)
  • Where was the claim made? (At a university? In a scientific laboratory? In a national newspaper? Somewhere abroad? In the basement of the claimant's parents' home?)
  • How was the claim developed? (Part by part, over a period of time, by various people with little or no expertise, experience, or credibility? As a result of the scientific method? By credible people who have investigated the claim and its parts, or points? By innuendo or by verifiable facts?)
  • Why is the claim being made? (What, if anything, does the claimant have to gain by making the claim? Money? Followers? Political advantage? Attention?)
  • How many people believe the claim? How many have a solid basis for believing it?


By learning how to construct arguments, people also learn how to refute arguments:


  1. Identify the thesis, or claim. (The thesis may be implicit, rather than explicitly stated, although, in formal arguments, it is almost always explicitly stated).
  2. Identify the points, or parts, of the thesis. (A thesis, especially for a complex argument, is likely to consist of or involve several related points.)
  3. Examine each type of evidence: is it based on a verified or established cause? A consensus of expert opinion? An expert's opinion? Facts? Reasons? Eye-witness evidence, testimonial evidence, or evidence based on personal experience? Consider the evidence as strong or weak, accordingly.
  4. Research the subject matter if it is unfamiliar to you so that you can gain enough knowledge to determine the validity of claims about the topic. What are recognized, undisputed facts?
  5. Ask questions: What background (experience) does the person making the claims have? Does he or she have any relevant knowledge and expertise? If so, how much? What do the majority of experts say about the topic and the claims that are being made about it?
  6. What is the person's purpose? To inform? To entertain? To persuade? To sell something? To gain some sort of personal benefit?
  7. What sources does the person use? Scientific? Academic? Government? Legal? Are the sources authoritative? Is the person a recognized authority? (Ray Bradbury did not have a degree in science, nor was he an amateur scientist, but he was a recognized science fiction writer and could have taught a college course in writing science fiction [or science fantasy]. However, he was by no means an expert in any of the sciences.)
  8. Do the sources pass the “CRAPP” test? Are they Current? Relevant? Authoritative? Accurate? What is their Purpose?
  9. How likely is the possibility (if there is a possibility) of the claim or its associated applications or evidence? Here is an example: Bigfoot exists (claim). He's been seen—several times. He's been photographed! His footprints have been seen—and collected. His fur has been seen—and collected. Eyewitnesses have reported encounters with him—and lived to tell the tale! Footprints and photographs are easily faked. The FBI lab identified alleged Bigfoot fur and skin as those of a deer. Eyewitness testimony (a type of anecdotal evidence) is subject to misinterpretation, faulty memory, distortion, exaggeration, confusion, bias, faulty perception, delusion, and, of course, outright lying. In addition, as geologist and natural science professor Mark Wilson observes, no “biological evidence” has ever been found or authenticated, “no bodies, bones, skin, hairs or DNA.”


Here are a few YouTube videos that refute or debunk some current conspiracy theories:


Moon landing conspiracy
Collapse of World Trade Center Towers
Math: Conspiracy Theories Are Likely to Fail
Subway Tuna Conspiracy
COVID-19 Conspiracy Theories




Friday, August 12, 2022

Generating Plot Twists

 Copyright 2022 by Gary L. Pullman




Plot twists, whether they occur at the beginning, the middle, or the end of a story and whether the narrative is a short story or a novel, are popular with readers. The reasons are not difficult to discern. For one thing, as research shows, everyone likes a surprise. (Check out my article on these and other findings, “10 Unusual, Little-known Facts About the Human Brain.”) For another, such twists in the storyline enrich the tale, spinning it off into new directions and, therefore, creating new possibilities.

The problem that newbie writers often face when they want to incorporate plot twists into their works in progress, is how to create them. Doing so may seem nearly impossible.

Hopefully, the pointers I introduce here will help.

 


 

To ensure that they write a full story, reporters are taught to answer six questions: Who? What? When? Where? How? And Why? In terms of fiction, these questions relate to character (who?), events or circumstances (what?), setting (when” and where?), action (how?) and cause or motive (why?) In addition to ensuring that all the elements of a plot are included in a narrative, these questions can also generate plot twists. Here are a few examples.

WHO?

Appearance: Jenny is Louis's daughter.

Twist: Jenny is Louis's wife.


Appearance: Jay is trying to kill Dawn.

Twist: Jay is protecting Dawn from a stalker who seeks to kill her.


Appearance: Jake is hired as Jasmine's bodyguard.

Twist: Jake is posing as Jasmine's bodyguard to hide the fact that he and she are having an affair.


WHAT?


Appearance: Beth's familiarization with her new house suggests that she has been there before, although she has no memory of the place.

Twist: Beth has been hypnotized so that certain sensory perceptions trigger false impressions that make the house seem familiar to her.


Appearance: John tells police that Tim pushed him down a well; a lie-detector test affirms that he is telling the truth.

Twist: John fell down the well, despite Tim's effort to prevent his fall but honestly remembers the incident incorrectly.


Appearance: Joe expects Tina to accept his marriage proposal.

Twist: Tina makes her acceptance provided that Joe will agree to an open marriage.


WHEN? and WHERE?


Appearance: Shirl is excited to be flying to an island resort with Matt.

Twist: The “resort” is actually a prison that Matt constructed for Shirl on an island he bought a year ago.


Appearance: Lynda, a world traveler, enjoys a trip to Las Vegas.

Twist: Lynda is hospitalized in a coma; her imagination is programmed with images loaded into her brain through a computer link.


Appearance: Drake leaves his house to go to work.

Twist: Outside, the Martian landscape is a bitter reminder to him that he is not on Earth, despite the suburban house in which he lives.


HOW?


Appearance: Stella, a corrupt lobbyist, bribes Senator White to vote her way on an upcoming bill.

Twist: Senator White votes the way that Stanley, a rival lobbyist, wants him to vote because Stanley paid the senator more money than Stella did.


Appearance: According to news media, government scientists have discovered a new species of lizard.

Twist: The new species is actually not a lizard but an intelligent, lizard-like creature of extraterrestrial origin that has been purposely misidentified by the government.


Appearance: Instead of taking Donna, his fare, to her destination, Luke, a “mobility service” driver, transports her to a local police precinct, where she is met by police officers.

Twist: Face-recognition software aboard the mobility service vehicle identified Donna as an escaped prisoner and discretely signaled to Luke to drive her to the precinct.


WHY?


Appearance: Wanting to have more children, Karen undergoes fertility treatments.

Twist: When she has four quintuplets, Karen is delighted; now, she will have five children, rather than one, to sell.


Appearance: JoJo, a sidewalk magician, entertains pedestrians and passersby, free of charge.

Twist: As JoJo performs tricks, his accomplice Nancy picks pockets the several of the spectators.


Appearance: Martha photographs headstones in a cemetery to post to an Internet website that maintains a database of cemetery records provided by volunteers.

Twist: Martha delivers her photographs to Thad, the warden of a voting precinct, who expresses his confidence that his candidate will win the election now underway.





Another way to generate plot twists is to provide a twist on actual news items. A good source for this approach is the News tab associated with your favorite Internet browser. (I use Firefox.) In the browser's home page's search field, type “news.” Then, click the “News” tab at the top of the page, or screen, that next appears. A list of stories' titles, each with a brief synopsis, will appear. Identify the item of interest to you and copy the synopsis shown under the item's title. Paste it into your word processing document. This is the apparent development that the reader expects as a result of having read your story (once you've written and published, released, or posted it).


Appearance: “A 49-year-old man is dead following a fight at General Motors' Orion Assembly a plant, the Oakland County Sheriff's Office confirmed.” (Source: USA Today by way of yahoo.com). (There's no need to include the source in your own plotting; I am citing it because I am writing an article, but if you do include the source of the information that you are using as a basis for developing a twist, doing so could help you to access the original story again, should you wish to do so.) I have stripped the synopsis of specifics, represented by the crossed-out words and phrases, since I need only the general situation for my own development of a story and it is best not to use specifics that you do not invent yourself, since many individuals and organizations may object to such treatment, even in fiction.

Twist: The company's annual championship martial arts event is expected to continue, as the company considers the event a good way to promote morale, when matches are “properly conducted” (i. e., the fights are “fixed”), while simultaneously eliminating “unmotivated and unsuccessful” workers among its workforce.


Appearance: “Ricky Shiffer, the [An] armed suspect in the Cincinnati [a local] FBI field office attempted break-in, was described as a "suspected domestic violent extremist," officials said. ” (Source: ABC News)

Twist: The FBI director compliments his Obfuscation Linguistics Team (OLT) for the clever invention of the new designation, "suspected domestic violent extremist," that was applied to this suspect, praising the designation as “especially effective in generating outrage and fear among the general population, even as it prejudices the suspect's alleged actions, labeling him as a dangerous threat to society before the formality of a 'fair trial.'”




A third way of generating plot twists is to identify those which have already been used by other writers and adapting them to the demands of your own story's development and needs. It is best, again to reduce specifics to generalizations; what you're after is not exactly how another writer developed a twist, but how it can be used as a general technique for generating a number of specific, but different, twists and twists for a variety of your own story, whatever your narrative's genre. Let's try a few using the Buff the Vampire Slayer television starring Sarah Michelle Gellar, which I am binge-watching now for the umpteenth time. (It's a great series for learning the writing craft.) (Maybe I will write another article, later, on “What I've Learned from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”)


Here's a list of some of the series' Appearances and their Twists.


Appearance: Amy Madison, a witch, uses dark magic to secure a place on Sunnydale High School's cheerleading squad.

Twist: Amy is actually her mother Catherine, who has used witchcraft to swap bodies with her daughter in order to relive the glory days of her own teenage years as a Sunnydale High School cheerleader.


Appearance: After Sunnydale High School biology teacher Dr. Gregory is murdered, he is replaced by Ms. French, a substitute teacher.

Twist: Ms. French is not a woman, but a giant praying mantis, able to take a woman's form. She killed Dr. Gregory so that she could mate with one of his biology students.


Appearance: The Order of Taraka, a group of hired assassins that includes a young woman named Kendra, seek to kill Buffy.

Twist: Kendra has seen Buffy kiss Angel, a vampire, so she mistakes Buffy for a vampire; Buffy believes that Kendra, who attacks her, is one of the assassins, when, in fact, it turns out that Kendra is also a vampire slayer.


Appearance: Buffy's mom, Joyce, dates Ted, a computer software salesman she met through an online dating website.

Twist: Ted is not a man; he's a robot that a dying man, also named Ted, had built to care for his soon-to-be widow.


Again, simply generalize these twists so that they can serve your own story, whatever its genre. For example, the first, involving the cheerleader-witch scenario, could be restated:


Appearance: To win a position against a rival, an individual cheats on a qualification test.

Twist: The cheater is actually cheating on behalf of another person who wants to acquire the position.


A second example:


Appearance: After the death of an expert, a substitute replaces him or her.

Twist: The replacement has an ulterior motive for accepting the substitute position.





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Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Hop-Frog: A Story of Reversals

copyright 2008 by Gary L. Pullman
 

As a rule of thumb, a writer introduces his or her story’s protagonist before the antagonist makes an appearance. One reason for doing so is that people respond most strongly to the person they meet first, especially if the individual seems to be a decent sort of a soul, as protagonists, even self-conflicted ones, usually are, just as readers tend to most remember whatever they read first. After all, since the narrative is the story of the main character, it makes sense to introduce the protagonist first, before any other character takes the stage (or the page). Another reason for introducing the main character first is to establish clarity. Introducing the protagonist first makes it clear to the reader, from the outset, whose story is being read or told. 

Occasionally, however, this rule is violated, as is the case in “Hop-Frog,” Edgar Allan Poe’s short story of humiliation and revenge. Poe starts his tale by introducing its antagonist, or villain, a nameless, sadistic king who delights in abusing his fool, Hop-Frog.

An example of the monarch’s cruelty is the jester’s nickname. In an apparent attempt to curry favor with their liege, the king's “seven ministers,” aware of the ruler's delight in unkindness, named the jester “Hop-Frog” to make fun of his peculiar style of locomotion: “In fact, Hop-Frog could only get along by a sort of interjectional gait--something between a leap and a wriggle--a movement that afforded illimitable amusement, and of course consolation, to the king.”

Such a problem would elicit pity and sympathy from a nobler person, but the king is obviously well pleased with the wittiness of his ministers’ naming the fool’s for the effect of his unfortunate disability. The king also enjoys tormenting Hop-Frog directly. The dwarf and a fellow citizen, Tripetta, also a dwarf, were abducted from their homeland and given, as if they were but things, rather than people, “as presents to the king, by one of his ever-victorious generals.”

Aware that Hop-Frog misses the friends whom he was forced to leave behind and aware, furthermore, that the fool is unable to drink wine without suffering from near madness as a result, the king directs his jester to drink to in the honor of his “absent friends.”

When the wine and the thought of his “absent friends” has the effect upon Hop-Frog that the king has anticipated, the king thinks the jester’s grief and miserable state of intoxication amusing: “It happened to be the poor dwarf's birthday, and the command to drink to his 'absent friends' forced the tears to his eyes. Many large, bitter drops fell into the goblet as he took it, humbly, from the hand of the tyrant.”

The king responds with cruel laughter: "'Ah! ha! ha! ha!' roared the latter, as the dwarf reluctantly drained the beaker. 'See what a glass of good wine can do! Why, your eyes are shining already!'"

The king’s malice is also seen in his abusive treatment of Tripetta. When she intercedes with the king on the behalf of Hop-Frog, upon whom the monarch seeks to force still more wine, the king “pushed her violently from him, and threw the contents of the brimming goblet in her face.”

The vulgarity of the king and his sycophantic courtiers, vis-à-vis the grace Hop-Frog and Tripetta, is a second reversal in the story. Not only has Poe introduced the villainous king before he’s introduced the heroic fool, but he has also traded the stereotypical natures of these two characters, making the noble king vulgar and the low fool courteous.

These reversals effect much of the story’s irony. Customarily, a reader would suppose the king, rather than a jester, to be the refined and cultured sophisticate. In fact, the comedy of the fool is often ribald and crude, involving the same sort of humiliating practical jokes, at times, as those that the king performs.

The king’s humiliation of Tripetta is the story’s inciting moment, for it is this act of outrage upon her that inspires Hop-Frog’s plan for revenge, as, ironically, he tells the intended victim: “just after your majesty had struck the girl and thrown the wine in her face--just after your majesty had done this...there came into my mind a capital diversion .” Thus, the king, in a sense, is undone by his own sadistic nature, for it is one of his acts of mindless cruelty that inspires Hop-Frog’s scheme to kill him in a fashion that is at once both spectacular and horrible.

Traditionally, regardless of the king’s character or the morality of his deeds, if he orders the execution of one of his subjects, for any (or no) reason, the subject would be killed, no questions asked. In “Hop-Frog,” however, it is the fool who, in another reversal, becomes the executioner of both the king himself and his toadying courtiers. What’s more, Hop-Frog accomplishes his vengeance of Tripetta’s honor with impunity, thereby further humiliating the monarch and his noble friends, since he escapes punishment for having, in essence, assassinated his own and Tripetta’s tormentors. Each of these reversals heightens the story’s irony.

Hop-Frog’s revenge is extremely violent and horrible. Had Poe not prepared the reader to accept this act as just, albeit appalling, the reader’s sympathy for the crippled dwarf and his beloved Tripetta would likely not withstand the gruesome deaths that he causes the king and his courtiers to suffer. Instead, the immolation of the nobles would have been regarded, in all likelihood, as being too extreme and it would suggest that it is Hop-Frog who is the true monster, rather than his adversary, the king’s own cruelty notwithstanding.

The reader accepts the justice of Hop-Frog’s execution of his tormentors for several reasons. First, the odds are against Hop-Frog. He is a mere court jester. His adversary is a monarch who enjoys absolute power. Readers support an underdog. 

Second, the king is cruel. He is, in other words, a sadist. Many times, he has abused Hop-Frog simply for his own amusement and, perhaps, to show off in front of his courtiers. He is not above insulting even someone as beautiful, kind, and harmless as Tripetta, although he must know that doing so will both hurt her and offend Hop-Frog. He has no regard for their feelings.

Third, Hop-Frog outsmarts the powerful king, and readers favor one who, through the use of nothing more than his or her wits, can outsmart another, especially if the other occupies a position of far greater social status, authority, and power. If one such ordinary person can accomplish such a feat, perhaps others--the reader included--can do likewise. Certainly, many will have harbored fantasies of doing just such a thing.

Fourth, Hop-Frog, like Tripetta, is a dwarf. He is literally smaller than the king, and, figuratively, he is a common person, one of the little guys, so to speak. Hop-Frog is physically weaker, too, than his larger tormentors. Nevertheless, he uses his brain to overcome their brawn, a feat that always gains admiration and respect among those in similar circumstances.

Fifth, Hop-Frog is crippled. His severe handicap, the object of the king’s scorn and ridicule, make him ill-matched to take on the king. Nevertheless, the intrepid dwarf does so--and wins.

Sixth, Hop-Frog is shown to be a sensitive and caring person. He loves Tripetta, and, when she is insulted, he is also hurt, and he vows revenge, even at the risk of his life.

Perhaps the reader would not overlook Hop-Frog’s murder of the king and his courtiers in a such a horrible manner if only one of these conditions or characteristics mitigated against the horror of the deed, but there are at least six extenuating facts, as enumerated herein. Together, they seem to be warrant enough for the reader to ignore the stupendous horror of the dwarf’s immolation of his live victims.

Other horror stories often include a reversal, usually in the form of the surprise, O. Henry-type ending. A good example is “The Monkey’s Paw” by W. W. Jacobs and “The Red Room” by H. G. Wells, both of which have been posted in Chillers and Thrillers. In these stories, the plot suggests a certain type of ending as likely, or even as seemingly inevitable, but then surprises the reader with the substitution of a different ending but one that is, nevertheless, logical and satisfying.

For example, in Wells’ story (which, incidentally, is a clear precursor to Stephen King’s story, “1048”), a skeptic stays overnight in an allegedly haunted room. Despite his doubt as to the reality of the supernatural, he experiences increasingly frightening incidents until, bursting from the room, he strikes the door frame. He turns, confused, and reels into various furniture until he knocks himself unconscious.

The reader is led to assume that the room truly is haunted and, then, Wells offers what, in effect, is a punchline of sorts: the room is haunted by the fear of those who, believing the chamber to be haunted, occupy the place: “Fear that will not have light nor sound, that will not bear with reason, that deafens and darkens and overwhelms.”

The Others, a horror film, also has such a twist: the residents of a haunted house turn out to be the ghosts, just as the apparent ghosts turn out to be the house’s human inhabitants. Such reversals are still marginally effective, if rather overdone, but stories such as “Hop-Frog” are rare in their sophisticated employment of plot reversals, and such stories are correspondingly enriched.

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.

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.