Showing posts with label movie adaptation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movie adaptation. Show all posts

Saturday, July 31, 2021

Recommended Reading

Copyright 2021 by Gary L. Pullman

 

 

Ambrose Bierce: “The Damned Thing,” “A Tough Tussle

Bierce's ideas are original and intriguing. He also reveals aspects of horror that aren't always apparent in seemingly ordinary, if sometimes also terrible, incidents and situations.

William Peter Blatty: The Exorcist

I read this novel when I was twenty; then, I saw the movie. Both are first-rate excursions into terror. Blatty's literary art is discernible even in his metaphors.

Ray Bradbury: “Heavy-Set,” “The Veldt,” “The Foghorn”

A poetic writer who is especially adept at imagery and symbolism, Bradbury writes tales are sometimes that are much “deeper” than they might sometimes first appear.

Kate Chopin: “The Story of an Hour”

In the hands of a skilled writer, an imagined anecdote can be a powerful transmitter of both feminist angst and horror.

Sir Winston Churchill: “Man Overboard

Churchill echoes the existential despair of Stephen Crane's The Open Boat” in this much more economical, if not as layered, tale of the sea.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, “Kubla Khan”

In teaching a lesson about respecting life, Coleridge also teaches readers about crafting a well-told horrific tale and shows, in the process, his own poetic genius.

Stephen Crane: “The Open Boat”

Crane's story reflects not only the traditional categories of narrative conflict, but also a fourth, man vs. God, which is echoed in Sir Winston Churchill's short story Man Overboard.

Charles Dickens: “The Signal-Man”

For the background to this horrific short story, see my Listverse listicle, 10 Classic Stories Inspired by True Events.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman: “The Yellow Wallpaper”

For the background to this horrific short story, see my Listverse listicle, 10 Classic Stories Inspired by True Events.

 Nathaniel Hawthorne: “The Birthmark,” “Rappacinni's Daughter”

For the background to “The Birthmark,” see my Listverse listicle, 10 Classic Stories Inspired by True Events.

 O. Henry: “The Ransom of Red Chief,” “The Gift of the Magi”

Many horror stories end with a twist. Although his tales are not horror stories, O. Henry is a master at creating such ironic endings.

Shirley Jackson: “The Lottery,” “An Ordinary Day, with Peanuts,” “Trial by Combat

Slice-of-life fiction becomes horrific in
“An Ordinary Day, with Peanuts.”

W. W. Jacobs: “The Monkey's Paw”

A true classic of horror!

Stephen King: 'Salem's Lot, Desperation

As in Frank Peretti's Monster and Dean Koontz's The Taking, God makes a cameo appearance in King's Desperation. (Other Christian authors on this list include Flannery O'Connor and William Peter Blatty.)

Dean Koontz: Phantoms, The Taking

Is the horror of The Taking an account of an alien invasion or something even more sinister?

D. H. Lawrence: “The Snake” and “The Odour of Chrysanthemums

In “The Snake,” we meet a god of the underworld; in reading “The Odour of Chrysanthemums,” I understood why the scent of roses reminds me of death.

Bentley Little: The Revelation, Dominion

Although,  like Stephen King's later fiction, Little's novels often fall apart at the end, the beginning and the middle are captivating and frequently alternate between frightening and being exceedingly eerie.

H. P. Lovecraft: “The Lurking Fear

Lovecraft does not disappoint in this story or in most of his other work. He brought a new perspective to horror fiction, which is not an easy accomplishment.

Daphne du Maurier: “The Birds”

Any writer whose story Alfred Hitchcock picked as the basis of one of his movies has to be a master of suspense.

Robert McCammon: Swan Song, Stinger

Although I later lost my taste for McCammon, his early novels are entertaining.

Saki (H. H. Munro): “The Open Window”

Like O. Henry, Saki sure knows how to twist a plot. In the process, he also reveals character concisely and very well.

Joyce Carol Oates: “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?”

Reading this story is a bit like watching a music video featuring a psychopathic musician and his groupie victim.

Flannery O'Connor: “The Life You Save May Be Your Own,” “A Good Man Is Hard to Find”

Although she is not a horror writer per se,  O'Connor, something of a Christian, female Edgar Allan Poe, shouts and draws big pictures for a reason.

Frank Peretti: Monster

Peretti's skill as a writer shows in many ways, not the least of which, in this novel, is his mapping of the monstrous. 

Edgar Allan Poe: “The Cask of the Amontillado,” “Hop-Frog,” “Berenice,” “The Masque of the Red Death,” “The Premature Burial

I might have included all  of Poe's works.

Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child: Relic, Crimson Shore

Relic is nothing less than a terrific, terrifying tour de force. Crimson Shore, intriguing for its setting, characters, and situation, is often more suspenseful than frightening, but it is also a fast read.

William Shakespeare: Titus Andronicus, Hamlet, King Lear

Critics are right: Titus Andronicus is certainly Shakespeare's worst play, but, hey, it's still Shakespeare (and it's truly horrific as well). Hamlet is unforgettable, and King Lear is part horrifying, part terrifying, and entirely tragic.

Dan Simmons: Subterranean

This novel is simply harrowing.

Craig Spector and John Skipp: The Light at the End

A Barlow-type creature of the night seems to have somehow slipped his way between the covers of John Godey's (Morton Freedgood's) 1973 thriller The Taking of Pelham 123. It's good fun, amid the splatter of blood and gore.

Bram Stoker: “The Judge's House,” “The Burial of the Rats,” “Dracula's Guest”

All of these short stories show, in miniature, the mastery of both writing and horror that are later exhibited more fully in Dracula.

Rabindranath Tagore: “The Hungry Stones”

At first, puzzling, Tagore's exotic tale is finally downright spooky.

Mark Twain: “Mrs. McWilliams and the Lightning,” “Mrs. McWilliams and the Burglar Alarm,” “The Invalid's Story”

No, Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) is not a horror writer, but he could have been!

H. G. Wells: “The Cone,” “The Red Room”

If you never fully appreciated Wells's artistry, both of these stories will show you that the man was the equivalent of an impressionistic painter who used words, instead of brushes, on pages, rather than on canvases. Wells is a true master!

Oscar Wilde: The Picture of Dorian Gray

Wilde's novel, like so many others, is far better than the movie adaptations of it. Everything complements everything else: plot, characters, setting, theme, and tone.

William Butler Yeats: “Leda and the Swan,” “The Second Coming

More suggestive than definitive, Yeats's poems are often intimations of terror that escapes even his mastery of the language; his poems haunt their readers--haunt them and, maybe, change them. (You have been warned!)

Note: For additional writers of horror, you may wish to consult https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_horror_fiction_writers


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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