It’s Hallowe’en! OK, it was Hallowe’en. I delayed this post slightly to make it a joint one for my friend D’s birthday, as she is a massive fan of Gothic. Happy Birthday D!
While the cooler kids are no doubt watching films by Dario Argento last Thursday, (who I’ve quoted above) there are some for whom nothing says horror like Hammer. Hammer Films are a British production company whose classic output you can see clips from here:
Some insight into my upbringing there: as a teenager my mother fell in love with Christopher Lee in those roles; it’s a wonder I’m so normal (I always brush my fangs every night before bed). Also, one of my long-standing girl crushes, Valerie Leon, makes an appearance in the Blood From the Mummy’s Tomb. She’s the one the narrator describes as “smoking hot”, and indeed she is. Oh Valerie, how I wish I looked like you, even a little bit would do… If you think To the Devil a Daughter looks amusing, well, you are probably right. I’ve never seen it, but a few years back I took my mother to a talk by Richard Widmark. Christopher Lee made an impromptu appearance in the audience (my mother is still recovering, as am I, to be honest) and the two of them reminiscing about that film was the funniest part of the night. Definitely worth a look, I’d say.
But this is supposed to be about books, right? Well, I’m getting there. Hammer have produced some pretty high-profile films in recent years, including The Woman in Black. As part of their raised profile, they’ve gone into partnership with Arrow books, and asked contemporary authors (Helen Dunmore, Julie Myerson, Sophie Hannah, Melvin Burgess) to write some creepy stories. I thought it was the perfect marriage for a Hallowe’en book blog post, so my first choice is The Daylight Gate by Jeanette Winterson (Arrow Books in association with Hammer, 2012). The novel tells the story of the Lancashire Witch trials of 1612. Winterson has taken this real-life story and woven it with her own fiction to brilliantly evoke a nation caught up in paranoia around the power of women, of ritual, and of a new Protestant faith trying hard to establish itself over the old Catholic one. Lancashire was a Catholic stronghold, and it’s where the conspirators of the 1605 Gunpowder Plot sought refuge:
“The north of England is untamed. It can be subdued but it cannot be tamed. Lancashire is the wild part of the untamed. The Forest of Pendle used to be a hunting ground, but some say that the hill is the hunter – alive in its black-and-green coat cropped like an animal pelt.”
Alice Nutter is a rich woman who lives alone, rides astride, engages in falconry, and rescues witches from a ducking. Given these unwomanly ways, she naturally raises suspicions. She studied under the occultist John Dee, and invented a deep magenta dye “like looking into a mirror made of mercury” which made her fortune. Alice struggles to remain apart from the society she is surrounded by, and eventually gets drawn into the town politics that have seen several women arrested on witchcraft. The Daylight Gate is a short novel and I don’t want to give too much away, but what I will say is that amongst the witchcraft (severed heads talking with other people’s blackened tongues, people transforming into hares, familiars, elixirs of youth and the like) what is truly shocking is the state-sanctioned capture and torture, based entirely in reality. Brace yourselves:
“In the cell was a rack, a winch, a furnace, a set of branding irons, a pot for melting wax, nails of different lengths. A thumbscrew, a pair of flesh tongs, heavy tweezers, a set of surgical instruments, a series of small metal trays, ropes, wire, preparations of quicklime, a hood and a blindfold […] They made a small neat cut in his side and drained a quart of blood to weaken him. Then they forced him to drink a pint of salt water. They did not break his fingers joint by joint or pull out his teeth one by one. They were relaxed. They drew pictures on his chest with delicate knives…they pinned back his eyelids with metal clips and dropped hot wax into his eyeballs. When he screamed they debated whether or not to take out his tongue. But they wanted his tongue for confession.”
Eek. I’m not a big fan of horror, but I imagine part of the appeal is that it’s a safe way to scare yourself, secure in the knowledge that Freddy Kruger et al are entirely removed from your life. In The Daylight Gate, Winterson shows us the horrors that really aren’t so far removed, and as such offers very little comfort. A truly chilling read for Hallowe’en.
Secondly, The Monk by Matthew Lewis (1796, my copy Oxford University Press 1995). The Monk was written by Lewis in 10 weeks, shortly before he turned 20. I decided to read it as at least 3 people, including my friend D, told me it was the most barking mad novel they’d ever come across. How could I resist? They were so right, I had no idea how right they were. The Monk is so insane, to try and review it is near impossible. Its plot is so convoluted, I can’t give you a summary in a single blog post. Instead, let’s make a list of typical Gothic tropes:
- Virginal, beautiful young maidens who struggle to remain so
- Old crones, often in caretaking capacity to the young maiden
- People with obscure origins inc. family members pretending to be other than they are, to get close to family who for some reason have spurned them
- Large buildings, many rooms/corridors/secret passageways
- Large building probably also crumbling
- Large building has garden where weather ably reflects psychological states of characters
- Curses – which are ignored at peril also, oaths of vengence
- Transgressions – religious/sexual (forbidden desires)/moral/societal (leading to or caused by isolation from society)
- Supernatural – ghosts/spontaneous bleeding inc. signs in blood/resurrections
- Magic – inc. witches/objects that provide user with all they desire/potions
- Death and feigned death, murders
- And, of course – Satan
Yep, The Monk has them all. I can’t believe Lewis forgot to include vampires. Maybe he thought that was going too far…
Here is a trailer for the most recent adaptation of the novel; the makers should be commended for even attempting it. No-one does insanity-induced strabismus like Vincent Cassell: