Showing posts with label analysis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label analysis. Show all posts

Monday, January 10, 2022

The Writer's Toolbox, Part I

 Copyright 2022 by Gary L. Pullman

 A writer's toolbox contains instruments that are used to perform specific tasks related to a particular process. These same tools serve both the writer of fiction and nonfiction:


  • Analysis: the separation of an idea or an argument into its constituent parts for the understanding the function of each part individually and their interrelationships with one another; see process analysis

  • Argumentation: the use of inductive and deductive reasoning to advance and support a premise with convincing argument or to refute the premise of an opposing point of view

  • Classification: the grouping of persons, places, things, or ideas or evidence into categories according to common characteristics

  • Comparison: the process of identifying similarities between two or more persons, places, things, or ideas that are alike in a significant way

  • Contrast: the process of identifying differences between two or more persons, places, things, or ideas that are unalike in a significant way

  • Definition: identifying the meaning of a word based on its genus (classification among similar terms) and its differentiae (differences from those with which it is classified)

  • Description: the presentation of the characteristics of persons, places, things, or ideas

  • Division: the separation of persons, places, things, or ideas on the bases of differences between or among them

  • Exemplification: the process of providing examples to illustrate a thesis or topic sentence.

  • Process analysis: the process of identifying and explaining the steps, in sequence, result in a particular outcome


Some of these tools, such as classification and division and comparison and contrast, are opposites but are often used together.

These tools, or patterns of development, may be used on the page (onstage, as it were), while writing a story or a script, or off the page (offstage), during the planning of a story or a script, for example.

In our next post, we will consider how several notable authors of horror fiction use these instruments in the writing of their fiction.



Saturday, September 29, 2018

The Effects of Loss as a Paradigm of Literary Criticism for Horror Fiction

Copyright 2018 by Gary L. Pullman

Horror fiction is a literature of loss. The losses, of course, are significant: no one has ever written a novel or produced a film about a character stubbing his toe.

Often, the losses are physical (a loss of ability or a loss of limb) or personal (a loss of freedom or a loss of dignity).



However, losses may also be psychological, or emotional (a loss of identity or a loss of sanity). 

Likewise, losses may be social (a loss of kinship or a loss of family members or friends).

Other losses may be spiritual (a loss of faith or a loss of salvation). The losses depicted in horror fiction result from a variety of causes, but they are established, most often, through particular situations or specific settings.



A loss introduces a type of change, physical, personal, psychological, social, religious, or otherwise. Often, a preliminary loss, significant in itself, is a prelude to another, greater, perhaps vital, loss—for example, death. A loss may also be a test of love, of faith, or of a relationship.

Literary criticism based upon the loss suffered by the main character (and, to a lesser degree, other characters) must begin by identifying the particular loss that the protagonist has suffered. What type of loss occurred? When and where did the loss occur? Why did the loss occur? How does the loss change the character? (Most horror stories largely ignore the last question, although the question of what caused the loss to occur may, on occasion, be more important than any of the other questions.)

In other words, in a critical analysis of a horror story, whether it takes place upon the page or the soundstage, should be applied to all the elements of fiction. (The answer to the question “HOW?” typically represents the story's turning point, or climax. Often, it helps to start the “WHY?” answer with the infinitive “to.” if an element is unimportant in summarizing the story, it can be omitted.) 

Here are a few examples.



Question
Answer
WHO lost? Carietta (“Carrie”) White
WHAT was lost? dignity
WHEN did the loss occur?

WHERE did the loss occur? her high school prom
HOW did the loss occur? pigs' blood is dumped on her
WHY did the loss occur? to humiliate her

Carrie (novel) by Stephen King

After identifying each element in relation to the question regarding the loss suffered by the protagonist, write a single sentence that summarizes the plot. In doing so, the order of the answers may be rearranged:

Carrie White loses her dignity when bullies dump pigs' blood on her to humiliate her at her high school prom.


Then, in another single sentence, explain how the protagonist's loss changed him or her:

Carrie dies after she avenges herself against her tormentors.

Question
Answer
WHO lost? Carietta (“Carrie”) White
WHAT was lost? dignity
WHEN did the loss occur?
WHERE did the loss occur? her high school prom
HOW did the loss occur? pigs' blood is dumped on her
WHY did the loss occur? to humiliate her

The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe

A narrator is arrested when he hallucinates after murdering an old man in his home to rid himself of his victim's “evil eye.”

Unable to escape his guilty conscience, the narrator suffers psychological torment.

(Note: Although it seems that the narrator loses his sanity in the story, he does not; he has lost his sanity before the story begins; it is his freedom that he loses when the police arrest him.)

Question
Answer
WHO lost?
Nancy Thompson
WHAT was lost?
friends
WHEN did the loss occur?

WHERE did the loss occur?
hometown
HOW did the loss occur?
attacks by Freddy Krueger, a supernatural killer
WHY did the loss occur?
to avenge his death at the hands of his victim's parents

A Nightmare on Elm Street

Nancy Thompson loses her friends to attacks by Freddy Krueger, a supernatural killer, who murders his victims to avenge his own death at their parents' hands.

Nancy survives Krueger's attacks, but she is traumatized by her experience, even as she lives with guilt for her involvement in the attempted murder of her stalker.

Question
Answer
WHO lost?
Norman Bates
WHAT was lost?
identity
WHEN did the loss occur?

WHERE did the loss occur?
Bates Motel and house
HOW did the loss occur?
arrest for murdering Marion Crane and private detective Milton Arbogast
WHY did the loss occur?
to avenge his death at the hands of his victim's parents

Psycho (movie)

Norman Bates loses his identity, becoming his “mother,” after he murders Marion Crane after she checks into the Bates Motel so he cannot have a relationship with her and murders private detective Milton Arbogast to prevent him from discovering the truth about Marion's disappearance.
 


Norman ceases to exist as himself, becoming completely absorbed by his alternate personality.

Question
Answer
WHO lost?
Julie James
WHAT was lost?
friends; security
WHEN did the loss occur?

WHERE did the loss occur?
hometown
HOW did the loss occur?
murders by intended murder victim
WHY did the loss occur?
to avenge himself against the victim's attempt to murder him

I Know What You Did Last Summer (movie)

Julie James loses her friends and her security after their intended murder victim kills them and threatens her to avenge himself.



Julie lives in constant fear of being killed at any moment.

As these examples suggest, the theme of horror fiction is the effects of loss.
A few of the other many types of loss that may occur in horror fiction, their effects, and their contexts include:

Type of Loss
Possible Effects
Context
Perception (i. e., blindness, deafness, tactile insensitivity, inability to smell, inability to taste)
helplessness; loss of self-confidence; timidity
situation or setting
Ability (e. g., mobility) (i. e., being bound, incarcerated, or trapped)
helplessness; loss of self-confidence; timidity
situation or setting
Assistance (i. e. emergency services), as a result of being isolated
helplessness; loss of self-confidence; timidity
situation or setting
Effectiveness (e. g., an amputation or a broken limb)
vulnerability; loss of self-confidence; timidity
situation
Sanity
vulnerability; confusion; poor judgment
situation
Control (e. g., as a result of demonic possession or being a patient)
autonomy; independence; confidence
situation
Family or friends
emotional and social support
situation


Paranormal vs. Supernatural: What’s the Diff?

Copyright 2009 by Gary L. Pullman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

According to Todorov:

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

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

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

My Cup of Blood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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