Kwaidan

For this week’s reading I looked at a selection of stories from Kwaidan. I found the text to be really engaging for a number of reasons. As a general statement, I will say that the cultural differences between the Japanese ghost stories and traditional western horror was very apparent, and added greatly to my interest in each story.

The general feeling of the Kwaidan tales is eerie and much more subtly creepy than the direct approach that western storytelling often takes. We are faced not with crazy serial killers, straightforward ghosts, or shunned monsters, but complex characters that are, in the most simple of terms, unusual. For example, characters in each story may face someone with no face, spirits of the dead, or other part-creature-part-human-part-spirit entities that are mysterious in their actions and existence.

An interesting aspect of the characters in Japanese ghost stories is the ambiguity between good and evil. While Western culture most often explicitly defines the plot’s events and characters as “good” or “bad,” the distinction is much less clear in the Kwaidan. For example, in the story where a man encounters two characters with no faces, they don’t cause him harm, they aren’t acting out in any way, they are just unusual, and understandably startling. I think that this approach makes the stories much more interesting as opposed to having a clear good vs. bad set up.

Finally, I find the Japanese interaction with death fascinating. In Western culture there are disconnects from, or even denial of ghosts, spirits, the presence of dead ancestors, etc. However in the Kwaidan stories these kinds of beings are integrated closely with daily life. Because of this, many of the Japanese ghost stories seem to be more relatable. In other words, when spirits are encountered while doing everyday activities, it is much easier to make a creepy situation instead of presenting a more elaborate environment. It is the difference between “Saw” – where a crazy man decides to teach people lessons about life by means of torture – and encountering a spirit in the presence of your own home, on the street, etc. The acknowledgement of non-human beings in Japanese culture allows for greater depth and mystery in the interactions between the dead and the living, which lends to ideal conditions for effective horror story telling. 

Interview With the Vampire

What resonated most with me while reading Anne Rice’s Interview With the Vampire was the format in which the story was written. As the title suggests, the reader travels through the plot as a boy interviews a vampire. Essentially, the vampire reveals to the boy the intimate details of how he became a vampire.

The fact that the novel is in fact an interview relates to the oral tradition of storytelling, which is an effective method of delivering a story (especially horror stories). The reader reminisces of telling stories around a campfire, or imagines being in the room with the boy, echoing his nervous movements and interactions with the vampire.

The context of the story was not particularly gripping for me, however learning about the vampire in the format of an interview increased the interest and held my attention much more than a straightforward narrative would have.

Another interesting aspect of Interview With the Vampire was the sexual undertones of the vampire’s experiences. I thought it was interesting that although lustful feelings were evident in much of the transformation process, the vampire discussed them very matter-of-factly. The objectivity of his discussion perhaps reflects the hopelessness of changing any aspect of his circumstance. In other words, the vampire did not speak to the boy looking for pity, but instead presented his story as if to say “this is just how it is, I had no choice but to adapt.”

In the midst of the Twilight craze, I see the derivation of the sexuality that often accompanies vampire stories. It seems that this is one reason why vampire stories are appealing: their existence explores beyond a physical want and throws its characters into desperate need, which presents a unique set of problems. The physical traits of vampires reflect this idea as well. They are often beautiful, more or less, but hauntingly so. We witness a vampire’s existence as a limbo between satisfaction, disparity, vitality, beauty, and death. The contrasts that vampirical “living” presents provide context for a wide range of stories, and allows for the legend of vampires to be revisited time and time again.

I am Legend

Richard Matheson’s I am Legend brings horror into an isolated context, and plays off of the contrast between solitude and entrapment. The context of the story is immediately an engaging aspect of the story. Robert Neville is presumably the last surviving human among hoards of vampire-like creatures that have an obvious interest in hunting him. Robert must be resourceful in his survival: because he is the only one around he must be completely responsible for all aspects of his endurance.

Vampire creatures aside, the thought of being the last human is an engaging thought for readers. I think that because we are so interdependent as members of planet Earth, the sense of isolation alone that Robert experiences brings a tremendous feeling of horror to the plot. While reading, I had many thoughts along the lines of “I would die. I would be dead by now.” Most humans simply don’t’ have the knowledge to survive such an endeavor: generators, cars, defenses, gathering food, and all of the other chores that are crucial to the protagonist’s survival is overwhelming to say the least.

When zombie vampires make their appearance, the adrenaline factor increases, which creates additional challenges, which in turn further engages the reader. Matheson is clever in slowly revealing information about the monsters. Initially our knowledge is basic: they are hostile, they can talk, they have names, they attack at night. Not knowing all of the details about any character in any work allows for interpretation and imagination to (at least in the forefront of the novel) fill in the blanks much more colorfully than if it was spelled out in great detail. Our hunger for knowing more about Robert’s situation and his history with the zombies propels us farther into the novel until it reaches a more rounded finish.

Additionally, a particularly interesting characteristic of zombies both in I am Legend and otherwise is the fact that they used to be people, and thus have emotional connections for the characters who are still living. It is the classic conflict of interest between violently killing your brother/daughter/mother/etc zombie and submitting to the love that remains for the human version of that character.

In short, aspects of seemingly impossible difficulty, extreme isolation, and mystery allow for a successful delivery of Matheson’s story (on a personal note, much better than the movie I think).

Frankenstein

Reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in conjunction with my previous image of the same story was a rewarding experience. Since my mental file of Frankenstein included a green guy who was named Frankenstein with bolts through his neck and an abnormally square head, I was surprised at the intricacy of Shelley’s original story. An obvious difference is the fact that the monster’s name is not Frankenstein at all, and has an independently developed character in the context of the story.

I think that is what sets Frankenstein apart from other “classic” horror stories: a monster who is cognizant, and able to learn, think, and interact with its environment. In doing so we actually gain insight related to our own human tendencies, needs, and desires. The core conflict in the monster’s life is lack of acceptance, which I translate synonymously as the need of love and affection.

The monster quickly recognizes that he is not like the other creatures around him as he is quickly rejected because of his horrendous appearance. I was impressed by the monster’s prolonged response to this challenge. In an attempt to one day coexist with humans, he stealthily observes a family and eventually learns the language as well as accepted habits of living. The ability that the monster has to engage with is environment in an intelligent way makes the story much more dense, and certainly has more appeal than a stumbling, muttering, and ultimately helpless creature.

Of course, there are traits that remind us of the monster’s inherent existence as a vessel for horror. The murders he commits are malicious, perhaps even more so because he uses them as manipulation towards Frankenstein. The monster’s desperation for a partner is on one hand completely understandable, however we alienate him on the contrary because of the near childlike (but still surprisingly cunning) attempt to connect with Frankenstein.

Ultimately, the monster’s mysteriousness and ability to more or less do as he pleases undetected lends to the horror of Shelley’s work. He becomes relatable through his self-induced education, and reflecting on the fact that a creature so frightening is ultimately not so different from a human is what brings the most interest to the plot.