Oh, what to say about The Shining beyond this: I love this book. In my opinion it’s one of King’s top three best novels, the others being IT and Dolores Claiborne. When I saw this book listed on the readings list for this course, I was thrilled to have an opportunity to read this novel I like so much for so many reasons again for what has to have been at least the tenth or eleventh time.
Having said that, when I reached the end of The Shining, for the first time I felt somewhat disappointed in the work; it didn’t live up to my expectations. This puzzled me. What was it I found lacking about the book on this reading, I mused. Had I simply finally read it too many times? Or is that I’ve seen both versions of the film adaptations of the movie each almost as many times as I’ve read the text, and that any story about the Overlook that doesn’t include all the fantastic elements of each version is bound to fail to satisfy me? It’s hard to say, but I definitely came away from this reading with a feeling of “meh” about it.
Don’t get me wrong. I still love Jack Torrance. In fact, I think he may be both the greatest character King’s ever created and the most realistic. Everyone knows Jack Torrance, if they think about it. He’s the guy with the seedy, shameful past that usually includes some sort of substance abuse issues, the guy who just so happens to be down on his luck and needs a lucky break. Then he gets one, or so he believes. He goes from disgraced instructor to master of a vast domain and, naturally, it goes to his head and he goes out of his mind. He’s also an Everyman I think we can all identify with to some degree.
Danny I’m less enamored of, and Wendy I flat out dislike. There’s nothing very interesting about her apart from her less than harmonious relationship with her mother. I found her to be passive and meek and I do think she could’ve and should’ve done more to protect her son, even early on. (As an aside, I detested her character in the Kubrick movie; I wanted to axe her myself. What a clinging, whiny bitch she was depicted as being!)
Getting back to Danny, he does seem perhaps too mature for his age, but I don’t find this particularly troubling. The kid’s clearly got an astronomical I.Q., he’s got the second sight, and he’s lived through a lot in a short period of time. He’s seen both of his parents at their lowest and has good reason to be apprehensive of his father, even as he loves him unconditionally.
The true stars of The Shining, in my estimation, are the supporting characters – Dick Halloran, Stuart Ullman, Al Shockley – and of course the Overlook Hotel itself. This novel is a perfect illustration of how setting can become a character. In addition to being obviously haunted, he building has an opulent appearance and a rich, violent history. What more could you ask for in a compelling character?
In short, while I still love this book and think it’s one of King’s best, I’m starting to see places where the paint is peeling on the old hotel.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Dreams in the Witch House
I understand why Walter Gilman spent so much time in bed in H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Dreams in the Witch House”. The poor lad was bored to the point of distraction! Personally, I almost fell asleep halfway through my reading of this piece, and after I was done I needed a nap before I felt prepared to pen this entry about the work. (This after about a pot of coffee, no less.)
Fresh from my siesta, I perused this story a second time and found it no more appealing. Having said that, here’s what I think is going on in this story: You’ve got Gilman, a youth who likely was never tightly wrapped in the first place, living with a couple of similar nut jobs in some sort of macabre fraternity house with a horrific history. He’s attending college in Arkham, studying mathematics and otherwise trying to tinker with the “space time continuum”, and he’s getting a tad burned out. He feels ill and starts having hallucinations and dreams about shapes. (Geometry, anyone?) So he does what quite a lot of overtired, stressed out people do when they’re confronted with more than they’re physically or mentally capable of handling: he snaps. Yes, he snaps, but not before spending an extended period descending into madness, sleepwalking and having sensory delusions. What does he do both during and after this decline into lunacy? He kills people, most notably small children, in a state of seeming unconsciousness, and ultimately he kills himself.
Or, at least, I hope that’s what happening in this story, otherwise I’m going back to sleep. If there’s no deeper meaning to this than the flimsy story Lovecraft gives us? I find it without redeem. The characters were one dimensional. The setting was bland, which was a first for Mr. Lovecraft, at least in the stories of his we’ve read so far in this course. The action was nearly nonexistent.
I liked that the hauntings, so to speak, Gilman experienced involved a woman accused of being a witch. Had Lovecraft followed this angle more closely and given me more about the history of the witch house (and, subsequently, the witch), I think I would have liked this story more. As it was, it seemed like a topic introduced then skimmed over too quickly to be consequential.
I did notice in this work - more than in others of his - Lovecraft’s seeming racism and misogyny. It’s pretty telling that the only female in this work is the wizened Keziah and the only person of color is the uber threatening evil black man. Of course, it’s likely indicative of the time in which he was writing and not terribly misplaced for that era.
I said at the beginning of this course when we read “Pickman’s Model” that I’d reserve judgment on whether or not I liked H.P. Lovecraft’s work until we’d read more of it. After this the fifth story we’ve read, I have to say I don’t see myself actively seeking out other works of his after this course.
Fresh from my siesta, I perused this story a second time and found it no more appealing. Having said that, here’s what I think is going on in this story: You’ve got Gilman, a youth who likely was never tightly wrapped in the first place, living with a couple of similar nut jobs in some sort of macabre fraternity house with a horrific history. He’s attending college in Arkham, studying mathematics and otherwise trying to tinker with the “space time continuum”, and he’s getting a tad burned out. He feels ill and starts having hallucinations and dreams about shapes. (Geometry, anyone?) So he does what quite a lot of overtired, stressed out people do when they’re confronted with more than they’re physically or mentally capable of handling: he snaps. Yes, he snaps, but not before spending an extended period descending into madness, sleepwalking and having sensory delusions. What does he do both during and after this decline into lunacy? He kills people, most notably small children, in a state of seeming unconsciousness, and ultimately he kills himself.
Or, at least, I hope that’s what happening in this story, otherwise I’m going back to sleep. If there’s no deeper meaning to this than the flimsy story Lovecraft gives us? I find it without redeem. The characters were one dimensional. The setting was bland, which was a first for Mr. Lovecraft, at least in the stories of his we’ve read so far in this course. The action was nearly nonexistent.
I liked that the hauntings, so to speak, Gilman experienced involved a woman accused of being a witch. Had Lovecraft followed this angle more closely and given me more about the history of the witch house (and, subsequently, the witch), I think I would have liked this story more. As it was, it seemed like a topic introduced then skimmed over too quickly to be consequential.
I did notice in this work - more than in others of his - Lovecraft’s seeming racism and misogyny. It’s pretty telling that the only female in this work is the wizened Keziah and the only person of color is the uber threatening evil black man. Of course, it’s likely indicative of the time in which he was writing and not terribly misplaced for that era.
I said at the beginning of this course when we read “Pickman’s Model” that I’d reserve judgment on whether or not I liked H.P. Lovecraft’s work until we’d read more of it. After this the fifth story we’ve read, I have to say I don’t see myself actively seeking out other works of his after this course.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Rosemary's Baby
Of all the books we’ve read so far this term for this course, Rosemary’s Baby was the quickest read. I believe I read it – all told – in about two hours, thus making it what I’d like to call a great book for an afternoon at the beach. This was also the first book we’ve read that I’d seen the movie before I read it. I think to some degree this affected my reading of this work. I knew what was going to happen – or at the very least some version of what was going to happen – before I ever cracked the spine of this novel, and I believe that helped keep me engaged in the work.
I felt this was a very compelling premise for a novel, and doubly so because of the era in which it was written. When Rosemary’s Baby was initially published in 1967, the subjects tackled in this work – Satanism, group sex, human sacrifice – would have been revolutionary, and I was impressed by the Levin’s treatment of them. The best way I can describe his approach is as being much the same as what people often say of old movies: the camera fades or the scene changes before you see the murder/sex/body/etc. This is effective because we as the readers are given enough credit to follow along with the story without Levin necessarily having to pile on the gore or the risqué.
The characters I found for the most part to be engaging if not always particularly memorable or well developed. I loved Hutch, period, and was genuinely sad when he died. I hated Guy outright. He seemed, simply put, too easily seduced by the “dark side”, too readily inducted into the cult. Rosemary I, as a mother, could sympathize with and on the whole I liked her as a person, but I did find her to be somewhat naïve. To an extent, I suppose it could be argued she needed to be for the story to work. Levin’s depiction of the Castevets I felt was competent but not stirring. I never really felt one way or the other about either of them. Other characters I wanted to know about. For example, I wish Levin had taken the time to develop the character of Terry Gionoffrio. I would have liked to have known about her past. The other cult members also seemed vague and not as well defined as I’d have liked.
The plot was very active and, as I stated above, I found this novel to be very fast paced hence my ability to digest it so quickly. (The fact that it’s only 218 pages probably didn’t hurt, either.)
There are of course obvious parallels between this novel and the Christ story, beginning with the female lead herself, Rosemary. She’s clearly portrayed as a Madonna figure. The conception itself, taking place during a dream state, is reminiscent of the “virgin birth” of Jesus Christ to Mary. Guy very much resembles Mary’s husband Joseph. The idea that Adrian’s birth will lead to a new age is very much one that’s addressed in both the Old and New Testaments. I found all the various ways Levin’s story mirrored the Biblical one to be a very effective frame for the novel.
In short, it’s a good book, a quick read, and I had fun reading it which is, as we all know, what matters.
I felt this was a very compelling premise for a novel, and doubly so because of the era in which it was written. When Rosemary’s Baby was initially published in 1967, the subjects tackled in this work – Satanism, group sex, human sacrifice – would have been revolutionary, and I was impressed by the Levin’s treatment of them. The best way I can describe his approach is as being much the same as what people often say of old movies: the camera fades or the scene changes before you see the murder/sex/body/etc. This is effective because we as the readers are given enough credit to follow along with the story without Levin necessarily having to pile on the gore or the risqué.
The characters I found for the most part to be engaging if not always particularly memorable or well developed. I loved Hutch, period, and was genuinely sad when he died. I hated Guy outright. He seemed, simply put, too easily seduced by the “dark side”, too readily inducted into the cult. Rosemary I, as a mother, could sympathize with and on the whole I liked her as a person, but I did find her to be somewhat naïve. To an extent, I suppose it could be argued she needed to be for the story to work. Levin’s depiction of the Castevets I felt was competent but not stirring. I never really felt one way or the other about either of them. Other characters I wanted to know about. For example, I wish Levin had taken the time to develop the character of Terry Gionoffrio. I would have liked to have known about her past. The other cult members also seemed vague and not as well defined as I’d have liked.
The plot was very active and, as I stated above, I found this novel to be very fast paced hence my ability to digest it so quickly. (The fact that it’s only 218 pages probably didn’t hurt, either.)
There are of course obvious parallels between this novel and the Christ story, beginning with the female lead herself, Rosemary. She’s clearly portrayed as a Madonna figure. The conception itself, taking place during a dream state, is reminiscent of the “virgin birth” of Jesus Christ to Mary. Guy very much resembles Mary’s husband Joseph. The idea that Adrian’s birth will lead to a new age is very much one that’s addressed in both the Old and New Testaments. I found all the various ways Levin’s story mirrored the Biblical one to be a very effective frame for the novel.
In short, it’s a good book, a quick read, and I had fun reading it which is, as we all know, what matters.
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Shadow Over Innsmouth
I liked this story. I really did. It was active, the characters were engaging, and the plot stimulated and held my interest. I’m a history buff so I found the back story – of how Innsmouth came to be what the narrators learns from Zadok Allen it is – very compelling. The setting was richly detailed as well.
However, if I had to sum it up this piece in one word, it would be this: Overkill.
Yes, I said overkill, an overabundance of unnecessary description of setting and characters. I get that the seeming frog people are “repellent”; Mr. Lovecraft tells me so on practically every page. Naturally, I expect a city of amphibians to smell a little fishy; there’s no need to reacquaint my nostrils with the stench in every other paragraph. When our narrator’s in jeopardy in his room at the Gilman house, Lovecraft goes into such excruciating detail about the potential escape routes that I lost track of how he finally did manage to escape. I could make similar remarks about all the descriptions of the town we get as Lovecraft moves the narrator about it. Though I knew the narrator had a map, I felt lost through much of his travels.
The amount of “telling” in this piece is another aspect I found somewhat off-putting. Though I realize Lovecraft’s style is/was illustrative of the time in which he lived and wrote, it was difficult to overcome my contemporary biases as well as everything I’ve been told about showing as opposed to telling. I wonder how much of this story might have been edited out of this work had it been published more recently. Having said all that, there was to some degree a nice balance of showing versus telling. There was just so much of both that I found the telling at least to be overwhelming
In conclusion, after having spent so much time pointing out what I didn’t care for, here’s more of what I liked about this work. I enjoyed the premise very much. I loved the historical feel. By that I don’t mean the actual period during which the action took place, rather I mean the amount of history the narrator learns about Innsmouth first from the station ticket agent, later from Miss Anna Tilton and the young grocery store clerk, and finally from old Zadok Allen. I thought the ending of the story was brilliant, when the narrator realizes why it was said he had “Marsh eyes” and decides to accept and even embrace his fate. It was a great plot twist mostly in that I didn’t see it coming.
Of all the Lovecraft we’ve read so far in the course, I’d say this was my second favorite. I liked “The Thing on the Doorstep” slightly more.
However, if I had to sum it up this piece in one word, it would be this: Overkill.
Yes, I said overkill, an overabundance of unnecessary description of setting and characters. I get that the seeming frog people are “repellent”; Mr. Lovecraft tells me so on practically every page. Naturally, I expect a city of amphibians to smell a little fishy; there’s no need to reacquaint my nostrils with the stench in every other paragraph. When our narrator’s in jeopardy in his room at the Gilman house, Lovecraft goes into such excruciating detail about the potential escape routes that I lost track of how he finally did manage to escape. I could make similar remarks about all the descriptions of the town we get as Lovecraft moves the narrator about it. Though I knew the narrator had a map, I felt lost through much of his travels.
The amount of “telling” in this piece is another aspect I found somewhat off-putting. Though I realize Lovecraft’s style is/was illustrative of the time in which he lived and wrote, it was difficult to overcome my contemporary biases as well as everything I’ve been told about showing as opposed to telling. I wonder how much of this story might have been edited out of this work had it been published more recently. Having said all that, there was to some degree a nice balance of showing versus telling. There was just so much of both that I found the telling at least to be overwhelming
In conclusion, after having spent so much time pointing out what I didn’t care for, here’s more of what I liked about this work. I enjoyed the premise very much. I loved the historical feel. By that I don’t mean the actual period during which the action took place, rather I mean the amount of history the narrator learns about Innsmouth first from the station ticket agent, later from Miss Anna Tilton and the young grocery store clerk, and finally from old Zadok Allen. I thought the ending of the story was brilliant, when the narrator realizes why it was said he had “Marsh eyes” and decides to accept and even embrace his fate. It was a great plot twist mostly in that I didn’t see it coming.
Of all the Lovecraft we’ve read so far in the course, I’d say this was my second favorite. I liked “The Thing on the Doorstep” slightly more.
Friday, February 26, 2010
The Thing on the Doorstep
In my view, “The Thing on the Doorstep” should have been subtitled “The Lovecraft piece that restored my faith in the good taste(s) of many of my friends and colleagues.” Admittedly, I’m a relative newcomer to the works of H.P. Lovecraft, but likeminded friends – writers and non-writers alike – had always raved about his work to me. After reading the first two stories assigned, however, I failed to understand the attraction.
“The Thing on the Doorstep”, however, redeemed Lovecraft for me. It had all the characteristics of a good short story: fast paced plot, effective use of dialogue, engaging characters, as well as twists and turns to help maintain reader interest. Furthermore, it did the job of a good horror story: it sped up my heartbeat.
Despite the fact that the early pages of this story are composed entirely of exposition, I had no difficulty maintaining interest in the tale. The first real chunk of dialogue we get is after Edward is found incoherent and hysterical in the woods. This first statement he gives has a serious impact because we have waited this long to hear him speak. His near unintelligible rambling about, among other things, the “abomination of abominations” definitely ramped up the tension in the piece and made me as the reader want to stay aboard for the rest of this voyage.
Plot-wise, another aspect of this story that I really liked was how active it was. Once we got beyond the initial expository passages, things happened fast and with increasing frequency.
Beginning with the narrator, Dan, Lovecraft gives us a character with whom we can sympathize. In spite of the fact that Dan fully admits to having shot his best friend, we find him – even in the early pages – likable and want to gain a greater understanding of what’s prompted him to take this drastic action. Clearly, he had a great affinity for his friend, Edward Derby, as he demonstrates time and time again when he seeks to come to his aid in various ways.
Edward Pickman Derby is depicted as being an empty vessel almost from the start. This is appropriate given his fate. At first, he is entirely the puppet of his parents and goes directly from dutiful son to obedient husband. His wife, Asenath, is able to easily sway and control him. The fact that Asenath is eventually proven to have been only an empty vessel for her father makes her rule over Edward no less impressive. Additionally, the fact that she is ultimately vanquished makes her no less a strong female character.
Unlike some of my fellow students in the course, I didn’t find Lovecraft’s depiction of Asenath to be particularly misogynistic. I didn’t even consider this until I was skimming the blog list prior to penning this, and upon further reflection don’t personally believe there’s significant basis for this point of view in this work.
In conclusion, I very much enjoyed this story and am now a little closer to becoming a Lovecraft fan.
“The Thing on the Doorstep”, however, redeemed Lovecraft for me. It had all the characteristics of a good short story: fast paced plot, effective use of dialogue, engaging characters, as well as twists and turns to help maintain reader interest. Furthermore, it did the job of a good horror story: it sped up my heartbeat.
Despite the fact that the early pages of this story are composed entirely of exposition, I had no difficulty maintaining interest in the tale. The first real chunk of dialogue we get is after Edward is found incoherent and hysterical in the woods. This first statement he gives has a serious impact because we have waited this long to hear him speak. His near unintelligible rambling about, among other things, the “abomination of abominations” definitely ramped up the tension in the piece and made me as the reader want to stay aboard for the rest of this voyage.
Plot-wise, another aspect of this story that I really liked was how active it was. Once we got beyond the initial expository passages, things happened fast and with increasing frequency.
Beginning with the narrator, Dan, Lovecraft gives us a character with whom we can sympathize. In spite of the fact that Dan fully admits to having shot his best friend, we find him – even in the early pages – likable and want to gain a greater understanding of what’s prompted him to take this drastic action. Clearly, he had a great affinity for his friend, Edward Derby, as he demonstrates time and time again when he seeks to come to his aid in various ways.
Edward Pickman Derby is depicted as being an empty vessel almost from the start. This is appropriate given his fate. At first, he is entirely the puppet of his parents and goes directly from dutiful son to obedient husband. His wife, Asenath, is able to easily sway and control him. The fact that Asenath is eventually proven to have been only an empty vessel for her father makes her rule over Edward no less impressive. Additionally, the fact that she is ultimately vanquished makes her no less a strong female character.
Unlike some of my fellow students in the course, I didn’t find Lovecraft’s depiction of Asenath to be particularly misogynistic. I didn’t even consider this until I was skimming the blog list prior to penning this, and upon further reflection don’t personally believe there’s significant basis for this point of view in this work.
In conclusion, I very much enjoyed this story and am now a little closer to becoming a Lovecraft fan.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Hell House: "Saved by the Sex and the Gore"
Last week, I opined that “The Music of Erich Zann” was setting porn. Obviously, “Hell House” comes a lot closer to being actual porn. Lest you think my delicate sensibilities were offended by this, let me assure you that wasn’t the case at all. No, I think it’s safe to say “Hell House” was saved by the sex and the gore.
In all other aspects, however, I found this work lacking. Simply put, it lacked a clear plot peopled by likeable, realistic characters.
Okay, so we’ve got this wealthy, old guy – Rolf Deutsch – who wants proof that paranormal phenomenon either do or do not exist, so he buys a huge, creepy house with a sordid history and sends our heroes to investigate whether it’s haunted. Of course, he’s got no connection to the Belasco family, and we never learn what prompts his interest in the supernatural, but I guess we needed somebody to fund this venture? Other than that, there’s no real justification for his character to exist.
Next, there’s our seeming protagonist, Lionel Barrett. He doesn’t believe in ghosts and ghouls but – just in case – he’s spent much of his adult life building what amounts to a ghost-busting machine. His wife, Edith, doesn’t seem to really comprehend what her husband does but must admire him for it. Otherwise, there doesn’t seem to be much rationale behind her having married him: he’s much older than her and he’s impotent, therefore he must be either rich or a genius. I have to guess this, however, because Matheson certainly doesn’t tell us.
Then we’ve got Florence Tanner, the “super-emotive Spiritualist medium." If you ask me, this woman’s got an obvious hard on for Jesus, which in my view contradicts everything else about her character. Still, she’s not too busy with Jesus to somehow seem to will herself to become possessed by demons. Did I mention she was hot and has lesbian tendencies? Thank goodness, otherwise I’d have found her entirely unlikable. Her close encounter with Edith when she’s being frisked prior to her “sitting” was about the most titillating part of that scene.
Finally, there’s Benjamin Franklin Fischer who, much like his namesake, used to conduct electricity in his capacity as a medium. Clever pun at least, Mr. Matheson. He’s along for the ride because he’s the lone survivor of an earlier incident at the Belasco house AKA Hell House, and – if you ask me – because we needed a virile man for Edith to attempt to seduce when the house turned her into a rabid slut. Oh, and he appears to be interested in Florence. Too bad she gets possessed by demons and dies; he might have asked her out if she’d survived. Anyway, his character later saves the day in a confusing showdown with Belasco.
Meanwhile, Belasco, our villain, wrecks all this havoc all because he was short and a bastard? I’m sorry, but it just didn’t add up for me. I wanted something horrifying to have happened to him to justify his turning into a sex crazed cannibal.
In conclusion, had this novel NOT contained scenes of extreme violence and hyper-sexuality, and had I not been required to read it for this course? I’d have thrown it down midway in disgust.
In all other aspects, however, I found this work lacking. Simply put, it lacked a clear plot peopled by likeable, realistic characters.
Okay, so we’ve got this wealthy, old guy – Rolf Deutsch – who wants proof that paranormal phenomenon either do or do not exist, so he buys a huge, creepy house with a sordid history and sends our heroes to investigate whether it’s haunted. Of course, he’s got no connection to the Belasco family, and we never learn what prompts his interest in the supernatural, but I guess we needed somebody to fund this venture? Other than that, there’s no real justification for his character to exist.
Next, there’s our seeming protagonist, Lionel Barrett. He doesn’t believe in ghosts and ghouls but – just in case – he’s spent much of his adult life building what amounts to a ghost-busting machine. His wife, Edith, doesn’t seem to really comprehend what her husband does but must admire him for it. Otherwise, there doesn’t seem to be much rationale behind her having married him: he’s much older than her and he’s impotent, therefore he must be either rich or a genius. I have to guess this, however, because Matheson certainly doesn’t tell us.
Then we’ve got Florence Tanner, the “super-emotive Spiritualist medium." If you ask me, this woman’s got an obvious hard on for Jesus, which in my view contradicts everything else about her character. Still, she’s not too busy with Jesus to somehow seem to will herself to become possessed by demons. Did I mention she was hot and has lesbian tendencies? Thank goodness, otherwise I’d have found her entirely unlikable. Her close encounter with Edith when she’s being frisked prior to her “sitting” was about the most titillating part of that scene.
Finally, there’s Benjamin Franklin Fischer who, much like his namesake, used to conduct electricity in his capacity as a medium. Clever pun at least, Mr. Matheson. He’s along for the ride because he’s the lone survivor of an earlier incident at the Belasco house AKA Hell House, and – if you ask me – because we needed a virile man for Edith to attempt to seduce when the house turned her into a rabid slut. Oh, and he appears to be interested in Florence. Too bad she gets possessed by demons and dies; he might have asked her out if she’d survived. Anyway, his character later saves the day in a confusing showdown with Belasco.
Meanwhile, Belasco, our villain, wrecks all this havoc all because he was short and a bastard? I’m sorry, but it just didn’t add up for me. I wanted something horrifying to have happened to him to justify his turning into a sex crazed cannibal.
In conclusion, had this novel NOT contained scenes of extreme violence and hyper-sexuality, and had I not been required to read it for this course? I’d have thrown it down midway in disgust.
Friday, February 12, 2010
The Music of Erich Zann
Our instructor posted prompt this week asked us to describe what we feared, a topic I had no difficulty addressing. Similarly, I can state with utter certainty what I do not, so far, fear: the work of H.P. Lovecraft, and in this specific instance his short story “The Music of Erich Zann”.
Simply put, this story failed to terrify me or even to move me much at all. For a “horror” tale, there just wasn’t anything horrifying about this piece. I came away from reading it with one overwhelming emotion: disappointment that this story didn’t scare me at all.
Much like he did in “Pickman’s Model”, Lovecraft gives us an artist – in this case, a musician – and his devotee, neither of which I found particularly intriguing. Their respective fates, consequently, I was never fully invested in. I did feel he did a more than competent job of describing at least the character of Erich Zann, and as I didn’t need to know what the narrator necessarily looked like, that was sufficient. In fact, I thought Lovecraft went a little overboard with his modification when describing Erich Zann. As a reader it was a challenge to assemble so many concrete details in my head.
Again as in “Pickman’s Model”, it seems the dread Lovecraft is trying to evoke in his reader is their fear of the unknown. We are asked to be fearful of what lies outside of Erich Zann’s window and to find the unknown origin of his “weird notes” unsettling. I am not one of those readers that finds the unseen to be frightening. It’s almost, in my view, as if I needed to invent my own back story in order to be remotely interested in the story Lovecraft actually told. In a nutshell, that’s where this story fell flat for me: I simply didn’t know enough about these characters to care what happened to them or even what had already happened to them.
I have to give Lovecraft credit where it’s due, however, and comment on what I did find appealing about this work. The real star of this show was the setting. Beginning in the third paragraph, passages like “shut out the sun perpetually” and “odorous with evil stenches which I have never smelled elsewhere” I found evocative and arresting. I certainly got a clear mental picture of the characters’ surroundings throughout the piece. Erich Zann’s “lofty and isolated garret room” was very masterfully depicted.
Unfortunately the setting porn just wasn’t enough to actively engage and maintain my interest in this work, and my overall impressions of it are that it was a mediocre effort. I don’t even think Hollywood could salvage this one. All the CGI animation, creepy music and special make up effects wouldn’t be enough to make this frightening.
As I stated in my earlier entry about “Pickman’s Model”, I can only hope that before this course is over, I read something by Lovecraft that moves or frightens me. Thus far, however, I am not a huge fan.
Simply put, this story failed to terrify me or even to move me much at all. For a “horror” tale, there just wasn’t anything horrifying about this piece. I came away from reading it with one overwhelming emotion: disappointment that this story didn’t scare me at all.
Much like he did in “Pickman’s Model”, Lovecraft gives us an artist – in this case, a musician – and his devotee, neither of which I found particularly intriguing. Their respective fates, consequently, I was never fully invested in. I did feel he did a more than competent job of describing at least the character of Erich Zann, and as I didn’t need to know what the narrator necessarily looked like, that was sufficient. In fact, I thought Lovecraft went a little overboard with his modification when describing Erich Zann. As a reader it was a challenge to assemble so many concrete details in my head.
Again as in “Pickman’s Model”, it seems the dread Lovecraft is trying to evoke in his reader is their fear of the unknown. We are asked to be fearful of what lies outside of Erich Zann’s window and to find the unknown origin of his “weird notes” unsettling. I am not one of those readers that finds the unseen to be frightening. It’s almost, in my view, as if I needed to invent my own back story in order to be remotely interested in the story Lovecraft actually told. In a nutshell, that’s where this story fell flat for me: I simply didn’t know enough about these characters to care what happened to them or even what had already happened to them.
I have to give Lovecraft credit where it’s due, however, and comment on what I did find appealing about this work. The real star of this show was the setting. Beginning in the third paragraph, passages like “shut out the sun perpetually” and “odorous with evil stenches which I have never smelled elsewhere” I found evocative and arresting. I certainly got a clear mental picture of the characters’ surroundings throughout the piece. Erich Zann’s “lofty and isolated garret room” was very masterfully depicted.
Unfortunately the setting porn just wasn’t enough to actively engage and maintain my interest in this work, and my overall impressions of it are that it was a mediocre effort. I don’t even think Hollywood could salvage this one. All the CGI animation, creepy music and special make up effects wouldn’t be enough to make this frightening.
As I stated in my earlier entry about “Pickman’s Model”, I can only hope that before this course is over, I read something by Lovecraft that moves or frightens me. Thus far, however, I am not a huge fan.
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