Hello, friends and foes! Today we’re diving into the world of Young Adult fiction. We all cut our teeth on Young Adult after graduating from Middle Grade spooks (I’ll never forget you, Goosebumps). We’ll take a look at the differences between Young Adult and Adult fiction, the emerging genre of New Adult fiction, and check out a list of ten Young Adult horrors that I can’t wait to read (or have already read).
What is “Young Adult Fiction”, anyway? Technically, YA is a category of fiction for readers aged 12-18. However, it’s widely enjoyed by readers of all ages, including myself. I have another article about Middle Grade books for readers aged 8-12 (you can check out that article here: http://www.littlebookblogofhorrors.com/2021/08/10-spooky-middle-grade-books/ ). The age category of fiction above YA would be plain old “Adult”, for readers aged 18+.
What’s the difference between Young Adult and Adult? There are several key factors distinguishing the two, including character ages, general subject matter, and language used. A teen protagonist generally hints at a YA book. YA subject matter can certainly veer far into the dark side (think Ellen Hopkins and Gayle Forman), but for the most part avoids graphic descriptions of heinous crimes and horrors. Young Adult themes tend to center around growing up, friendships and relationships, and the general priorities and characteristics of teenagers (oh, the drama!). Further, Young Adult tends to rely on a fast-moving plot with limited flowery prose and, often times, limited use of profanities.
The line between Young Adult and Adult can get blurry, because sometimes teens face adult challenges, or fit into an Adult fiction storytelling style. Some authors refer to their work that falls between the two categories as “New Adult”. New Adult is for readers between YA and Adult, and includes some of the best of both worlds. Darker stories and themes with characters still figuring life out – but they’re in their early twenties, not their teens. While the NA category isn’t widely recognized – and outright denied existence by some publishers – some of the books on the following list may fall closer to NA than YA. For the record, I am a proponent for New Adult and I think we should expand the category, giving more stories to those who aren’t teens but aren’t really adults. Not yet.
Without further ado, let’s run down the list of some of the best YA horror books on the market.
The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey (2010)
The first installment of a four book series marketed as H.P. Lovecraft x Rick Riorden, this book follows orphaned Will (remember what I said about dead parents?) who works as an assistant to a monster-hunting doctor. A new monster is discovered – the Anthropophagus, a headless creature that feeds through the gaping mouth in its chest. Unfortunately for Will and the doctor, this discovery means there are more Anthropophagi loose in the world. A mad hunt ensues to stop the creatures from eating the whole world – and to figure out where they’re coming from in the first place.
Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare (2020)
This Bram Stoker Award winning slasher horror is Cesare’s YA debut, having found success in Adult fiction with Video Night (2013) and The Summer Job (2014). If the title alone doesn’t get you interested, the summary will – there’s a clown in the cornfield! Quinn is the new girl in the small factory town of Kettle Springs, a place divided into two halves; kids and adults, progress and stifled tradition. When a clown mascot goes homicidal and starts killing off the teens, a new tradition threatens to begin – unless the teens can stop him. It sounds very Children of the Corn x It, and I’m buying it on my next trip to my local bookstore (not sponsored, I just love clowns).
Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs (2011)
A New York Times bestseller that expanded into a 6 book series, this tale follows Jacob Portman on a quest to uncover a mystery that his late grandfather left behind. He discovers the time-bending world of Miss Peregrine and her home of misfits – peculiars – children with powers of all sorts. Some can wield fire, control plants, and levitate, while others have more outlandish abilities, like reanimating the dead or feeding through an extra mouth on the back of their head full of sharp, gnashing teeth. The peculiars are being hunted by invisible monsters called Hollowghasts, and Jacob is the key to defeating them… but no one knows why. There’s a full series review coming to the blog, soon!
The Mary Shelley Club by Goldy Moldovsky (2021)
Here’s a thriller about a horror fan club that might be too into horror… The new girl in town, Rachel Chavez, is an avid horror movie fan with a tumultuous past. When she is inducted into the Mary Shelley Club at her new school, she is subjected to Fear Tests – terrifying pranks inspired by urban legends and -you guessed it- horror movies. When teens start dying, the pranks aren’t so fun anymore, and Rachel realizes that it’s not just a movie trope – it’s real life. It reminds me of an older Are You Afraid of the Dark. Book review coming soon!
How to Hang a Witch by Adriana Mather (2016)
This is the first book in a duology by an actual descendant of Cotton Mather (you know, the minister involved in those witch trials back in Salem?). The book follows Samantha Mather, also a descendant of Cotton, which makes her public enemy #1 on her first day at her new school in Salem, Massachusetts. The girls who rule the school are descendants of witches, and they make it their mission to bully Sam out of the school – and out of Salem. But there’s more at stake high school street-cred when a centuries-old curse unfolds, putting all descendants of the Salem Witch Trials in deadly jeopardy. Oh, yeah, and a love triangle between Sam, the boy next door, and a ghost.
The Bone Houses by Emily Lloyd-Jones (2019)
Marketed toward fans of Holly Black and V.E. Schwab, this historical horror follows the story of Ryn, the seventeen year old gravedigger. She works on her dead parents’ graveyard (there’s always at least one dead parent in Young Adult) but is struggling to keep her siblings happy and fed. Oh, yeah, and sometimes the dead (called “bone houses”) come back to life. Mysterious newcomer Ellis draws the bone houses to attack with a newfound hunger. Together, Ryn and Ellis must get to the bottom of the fae curse that makes the dead alive – and angry.
House of Furies by Madeleine Roux (2017)
The first installment of a trilogy (which I regrettably keep reading as “house of furries”) follows seventeen year old Louisa Ditton, a mad in a mysterious boarding house. Through her accidental investigation, Louisa discovers the house’s master is actually the head of a cruel organization that judges (and subsequently punishes) those who visit the boarding house whom he deems too far gone in their sinning to save. It’s a mysterious thriller about how easily men can become monsters when they think they are greater than other men. Roux also wrote the Asylum series, another YA series worth checking out if you’re into haunted asylums and murder mysteries.
The Girl from the Well by Rin Chupeco (2015)
The first book in a duology based on Japanese folklore that we talked about in my article here: http://www.littlebookblogofhorrors.com/2021/08/japans-vengeful-ghosts-nihon-sandai-kaidan/. Okiku, a young girl who was tragically murdered in a well, now haunts the world, taking the lives of evil killers. When she stumbles across the misunderstood (and demon-possessed) Tark, Okiku knows she must free the malevolent spirit that is using the boy’s body as a host – without killing the only friend Okiku has ever known. Chupeco is now most well known for her Bone Witch series.
Blood and Salt by Kim Liggett (2015)
Young Ash is following the mysterious disappearance of her mother. Her quest brings her to a small town in Kansas – and the strange commune from which her mother had previously escaped. At the center of the creepy little town is a string of deaths and bizarre traditions revolving around murder, immortality, and alchemy (oh, my!). The tale culminates with a ceremony 500 years in the making which could spell the end for Ash, her mother, and her new love interest (there’s always a new love interest).
Tenby Gretchen McNeil (2013)
A horrific twist on Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, a group of 10 teens are gathered for what was supposed to be a party weekend on Henry Island. A storm cuts off the power and cuts the teens off from the rest of the world. One by one, the teens are killed in increasingly violent ways, and it’s up to the protagonist Meg to find out who the killer is, even as her friends are dying – and turning on each other.
Well, there you have it. Some of the best YA horrors and thrillers. What’s your favorite YA horror – or favorite YA book in general? Do you think a New Adult Fiction category is a good idea?
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
Hello, friends and foes! Today I’m reviewing Jac Jemc’s 2017 horror novel, The Grip of It. The grip of what, exactly? Well, I read the book in a day (literally one day – I could not put it down) and I’m still not quite sure. This little book took me on an anxiety-ridden roller coaster ride that I’m still recovering from, days later. An unassuming young couple, the perfect house, a quiet town… until all Hell breaks loose. Let’s talk about it.
There’s not much to find online about Jac Jemc. She seems to be as mysterious as this little book. Her website is streamlined and offers some updates and bits of info (linked below). Her works follow everyday people experiencing everyday horrors, most with terrifying, breath-stealing twists. Her first novel, My Only Wife, was published in 2012 and won the Paula Anderson Book Award. She has also released two haunting story collections; A Different Bed Every Time in 2014 and False Bingo in 2019, both critically appraised. She’s also the author of an abundance of short stories published in various magazines. Currently, she teaches creative writing at UC San Diego.
Refreshingly, Jemc has a page on her website for her story rejections – short stories she’s submitted to publishers that were turned down for whatever reason. She has received four as of her latest post in July, 2021. As a querying author, I’m familiar with the sting of rejection and find it endlessly charming that Jemc is transparent with what it means to be an “author”. It’s not all easy once you have a successful book out (or, in her case, four – and one more slated for 2022).
In The Grip of It, we meet young couple Julie and James. They flee their old life in the city for a quiet home in a small, peaceful town. James’s gambling addiction and lack of impulse control seemed to spur the move, and Julie is trying her best to forgive him and rebuild the trust in their relationship. They find a house near the forest and a lake on a quaint street, with a mysterious and grouchy elderly man in the home next door. As their fractured relationship begins to heal, the very home they are living in insists on tearing it apart.
It starts off small; a leak here, a strange noise there, a black mark on the wall that definitely wasn’t there when they moved in. Then Julie starts getting strange bruises, mirroring the black, graffiti-like marks along the freshly painted walls. The house becomes unfamiliar, shifting and re-shaping itself, doors leading suddenly to nowhere and staircases missing from where they once stood. The noises turn from whispers to groans to shrieks. And then, in the most terrifying moments, there is nothing at all- leading Julie, James, and the reader to wonder if it ever happened in the first place. Julie and James experience different phenomenons within the house and sometimes struggle with understanding and believing each other. Often, this leads to lying. Gaslighting each other while the house is gaslighting them both.
When Julie and James turn to neighbors and townspeople, asking for information about who lived in the house before them, they get no straight answers – more often, no answers at all. Julie’s bruises draw attention and judgement from those outside the house, and there are only so many lies you can tell before people begin to suspect something awful is going on at home (and their minds don’t go straight to haunted house).
The lingering distrust from their fractured relationship, coupled with lying to each other about what they’ve seen or found or experienced in their ever-changing home, begins a slow and diabolical descent into madness for the once lovely young couple. Their once so beautiful relationship is crumbling due to factors they can’t control, and this is arguably one of the most terrifying aspects of the whole book.
On top of the horrors within their haunted house, Julie and James are sucked into a strange family mystery involving their perpetually grouchy neighbor and a disappearance that was never solved. They try to work together to solve the mystery while simultaneously lying to each other about everything… because they don’t even know what’s real.
I definitely shouldn’t have read this book while house hunting. The Grip of It had me on the edge of my seat, waiting impatiently until I could turn the page to find out what happened next. It left me wondering about the strength of a loving marriage and what lengths one is willing to go to to believe the other, or to be believed themselves. Overall, it was a tantalizing and terrifying read, though I wasn’t a big fan of the ending. Despite that one blip (that’s entirely subjective, anyway), I would absolutely recommend this book to anyone that loves haunted houses and gripping, psychological terror.
Was it scary? Yeah, I think we’ve been over that. It’s stomach-twisting, anxiety-inducing, waiting-on-the-edge-of-your-seat scary. You’re side by side with Julie and James, angry when they find no answers and disturbed and disgusted when they do. It’s a disorienting ride through a haunted house with no haunting – there’s no murderer, no vengeful ghost. Just pure evil. It’s chaotic and confusing (in a good way). A true whirlwind of haunts, gripping fear, and a strange, moldy mystery…
4/5 stars overall, 4/5 on the scare scale.
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
Hello, friends and foes! On this mythical Monday, we’re diving into the history of the tale of Baba Yaga. We’ve all heard the name somewhere before. Maybe you’ve heard of her as an evil forest witch living in a hut on giant chicken legs. Maybe you’ve heard of her as a maternal, guiding figure in Slavic children’s tales. That’s the thing with Baba Yaga – she’s a witch of many hats and the subject of thousands of stories across eastern Europe, predating the 18th century.
While Baba Yaga is not exclusive to Russia, she’s a tremendous part of the country’s mythos and folklore. Russia is the world’s largest country with the longest railway and second-largest art museum. It takes up one tenth of all the land on Earth, which is not relevant in the context of this article but a fun fact nonetheless.
Baba Yaga is hailed as one of the most memorable and distinctive figures in eastern European folklore, particularly Slavic. The term “Slavic” refers to a collection of thirteen countries including Russia, Poland, Ukraine, and Bulgaria. The name Baba Yaga has a variety of meanings. “Baba” is generally considered a nonsense word, but is also credited as the antecedent for the modern Russian word for grandmother, “babushka”. “Yaga” is equally as mysterious, though similar words in various Slavic languages mean “horror”, “witch”, “wicked wood nymph”, and “worry”.
In some tales, she is a mighty ogress who steals, cooks, and eats children. In other versions, she is a maternal figure, or in other ways helpful to those who seek her guidance. She and her sisters (all called Baba Yaga) are guardians of the fountains of the waters of life. They live in a forest hut that walks on giant chicken legs. Oftentimes, Baba Yaga can fly through the air in an iron kettle or mortar and pestle. She sometimes accompanies Death on his travels, to consume newly released souls (I want this as a movie, like, yesterday).
Because Baba Yaga is the subject of thousands of Slavic myths, it was hard to choose one most fitting of her character. I settled on Vasilissa the Beautiful because it’s evidently well-known to Russian and Slavic folklore scholars. It is an old oral tale first transcribed by Nikolayevich Afanasyev between 1855 and 1867. I will note that it’s a tale depicting Baba Yaga as a villain, and there are other tales out there that paint her in a much more appealing light.
Vasilissa is a beautiful young maiden who is mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters after her mother’s death (sound familiar?). On her death bed, Vasilissa’s mother gifts her a doll and says in times of great trouble, she should give the doll something to eat and ask it for advice (if this is anything like Gremlins, it won’t end well).
One night, the last lamp goes out in the house, and Vasilissa’s stepsisters demand she go to the Baba Yaga’s nearby home to ask for a light. Vasilissa ventures through the forest in the dark, holding her doll. She arrives at Baba Yaga’s home and stares up at house on the giant chicken legs, surrounded by a fence of human skulls and bones, and her doll tells her not to be afraid.
Baba Yaga invites Vasilissa inside, but tells her she must work to earn a light. She gives Vasilissa impossible tasks to complete, like harvesting wheat from the garden and separating the black grains from the white grains. If Vasilissa does not complete the work, Baba Yaga will eat her. Vasilissa secretly feeds her doll a piece of bread and asks for help. While Baba Yaga is asleep, the doll calls upon the birds of the forest to help complete the work.
When Baba Yaga wakes up and finds the work is done, she gives Vasilissa more work to do. She must clean the entire house and yard until it is spotless. This time, Vasilissa’s doll enlists the help of forest mice to complete the work on time.
Baba Yaga is furious that Vasilissa is completing the impossible tasks, and decides to roast and eat the maiden anyway. She asks Vasilissa how she has managed to finish the work, and Vasilissa responds, “the blessing of my dead mother helps me”. Baba Yaga flies into a rage, realizing she cannot have a blessed person in her home. Vasilissa flees as fast as she can and Baba Yaga throws a skull with flaming eyes after her.
Vasilissa brings the skull back with her to light her stepmother’s home. Once inside the humble cottage, the burning eyes grow larger and hotter until the stepmother and stepsisters catch fire and are burned alive. And, through some more doll-magic after the cool flaming skull part, Vasilissa ends up marrying the Tsar. And she carried the little doll with her for the rest of her life.
If you like the character of Baba Yaga and want to read more tales of her wickedness (or, in some cases, heroism), I suggest taking a look at some of the translated old Russian tales available for free online. If you want some modern takes on the Baba Yaga character and story, here are three books to serve as introductions to Baba Yaga’s many hats.
Vassa in the Night by Sarah Porter (2016)
A retelling of Vasilissa’s classic tale (right down to the evil stepmother and stepsisters), Vassa visits Babs Yagg’s store for light bulbs in the middle of the night, knowing she could be beheaded at any moment. With the help of her magical doll, Vassa might break the witch’s curse and free her enchanted Brooklyn neighborhood. Key word: might. This one is a YA tale, modernizing Baba Yaga into present day (but magical) New York City.
Baba Yaga by Katya Arnold (1996)
A simplified Baba Yaga tale for children that uses traditional Russian ‘lubok’ art with brilliant, jewel-toned illustrations of the country’s most well-known witch. While this is widely accepted as a children’s book, it has been reviewed as being somewhat frightening, as Baba Yaga is described as having iron teeth and a metal tongue and an insatiable hunger for small children. It includes folk rhymes and several other memorable Slavic folklore characters.
The House with Chicken Legs by Sophie Anderson (2018)
Marinka’s grandmother is a Yaga, a guide to the dead into the afterlife. Marinka is friends with the Yaga’s house with chicken legs, playing tag and hide-and-seek in the forest, but longs for a human friend. To have a human friend, however, Marinka must break all the rules. Then, when the Yaga disappears, Marinka must go on a harrowing search for her – even if that means going into the afterlife itself.
Well, there you have it. A short and sweet tale of Baba Yaga and a bit about her mysterious history. We won’t ever truly know where her tale originated, or when her character came to be. And that might just be the coolest thing about her. Well, that and the house on chicken legs.
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or, not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
Hello, friends and foes! Today we’re talking all things werewolf. Where do werewolf stories come from? And what are werewolves, anyway?
A werewolf is a man (rarely, a woman) who turns into a wolf at night and hunts animals and/or humans. In parts of Europe and Northern Asia, the creature is believed to be a bear. In Africa, it’s a hyena or leopard, and in India and China, it’s a tiger. You can be turned into a werewolf (bear, hyena, or tiger) via a bite from another werewolf, or the gene can be passed down from your werewolf parents. Some people throughout history have truly believed they are werewolves – and these people were subsequently diagnosed lycanthropy. Lycanthropy is a mental illness that typically only appears in people who believe in reincarnation and the transmigration of souls. It’s often linked with belief in animal guardian spirits, totemism, and witchcraft.
Stories involving these half-man, half-wolf creatures go way back. Ancient Greece was rife with werewolf tales. The legend of Lycaon tells of a man who angered Zeus enough to make the god turn Lycaon and his sons into wolves. If you’re an etymology nerd like me, you might have noticed what “Lycaon” and “lycanthropy” have in common – the root “lykos”, which is Greek for “wolf”. Go figure.
In Nordic folklore, the Saga of Volsungs tells the story of a father and son who don wolf pelts that turn them into wolves for 10 days; they then go on a brutal killing spree in the forest. The father eventually deals his son a lethal blow. Luckily, with the help of a raven’s healing feather, the son is able to survive.
The first ever werewolf story is arguably The Epic of Gilgamesh – which is literally the oldest known Western prose. Like, ever. It dates back to 2100 BC and includes a female character who allegedly turned her ex-lover into a wolf. Much later came Leitch Ritchie’s The Man-Wolf in 1831, and Alexandre Dumas’ The Wolf Leader in 1857. Some scholars claim Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886) has implicit werewolf subtext. Food for thought.
Were there any real werewolves? Obviously (and sadly), no. But there have been several fascinating cases of mistaken identity throughout history. In 15th century Germany, Peter Stubbe allegedly turned into a wolf-like creature at night and killed and ate many citizens of Bedburg. When Stubbe was arrested, hunters claimed they saw him shape-shift from wolf to human. He was tortured into confessing to killing and eating numerous animals, men, women, and children. Stubbe also allegedly claimed to have a belt that gave him the power to turn into a wolf. The belt was never recovered.
Picture it: France, 1521. Pierre Burgot and Michel Verdun alleged to have an ointment that turned them into wolves. They confessed to murdering several children while in “wolf form” and were burned at the stake for their crimes.
There were also several cases of feral children that sparked werewolf rumors. The most famous of these is Peter the Wild Boy, a child discovered in a German forest in 1725. He was thought to be a werewolf, or at least raised by wolves. He was eventually adopted by King George I as a “pet” (this is the source’s term, not mine). After recent study of medical notes made about Peter during his short and tragic lifetime, it is now believed he had Pitt-Hopkins syndrome- a condition that causes distinct facial features, difficulty breathing, and intellectual challenges. As it turns out, there are several medical conditions that are similar to werewolf-ism. Lycanthropy (we talked about this before), hypertrichosis (excessive hair growth), and rabies.
Let’s check out ten werewolf books that don’t bite (yes, I used the joke again). I haven’t read enough werewolf literature and, as we dive headfirst into spooky season, some of these will certainly be added to my To Be Read Pile.
The Devourers by Indra Das (2015)
Das’ stunning debut has been compared to the work of Neil Gaiman and Margaret Atwood. It takes place in both 17th century and modern Kolkata, India. A stranger tells professor Alok Mukherjee a tale about shape-shifters that feed on human souls. Skeptical but intrigued, Alok translates and transcribes a collection of skin-bound notebooks to learn the rest of the fascinating tale. It’s been called “violent and vicious” by more than one source.
The Wolf Leader by Alexandre Dumas (1857)
In French, Le Meneur de loups, this book is allegedly based on a folktale local to Dumas’ hometown of Villers-Cotterets. Peasant man Thibault encounters a huge wolf, walking on his hind legs, who eventually offers him vengeance upon his enemies. Thibault enters a partnership with the wolf-man and finds that he is able to command the local wolves, hence gaining his own reputation of being a werewolf.
Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King (1983)
Would it really be a list of horror books if there wasn’t a King entry? This is a novella featuring illustrations by comic-book artist Bernie Wrightson. It tells a rather classic story of a werewolf that haunts a small town during the full moon. Marty, the wheelchair-bound, 10 year old protagonist, encounters the werewolf on the Fourth of July. The townspeople don’t believe him, but Marty vows to find out what – or, who – the werewolf really is.
The Werewolf of Paris by Guy Endore (1933)
This story is told through the lens of an American doctoral student who has found a French court document regarding the strange case of Sergeant Bertrand Caillet. According to the court document, Caillet was born into a cursed and tumultuous family and claimed to have nightmarish recollections of sadistic and sexual violent instances, within which he has transformed into a wolf. It’s a thinly veiled political commentary about the Franco-Prussian War and the Paris Commune, but is still a must-read for werewolf literature fans.
Red Moon by Benjamin Percy (2013)
A thriller set in the American west, this book follows several point of views of people who are confused and slowly changing… but into what? In Percy’s werewolf reality, the threat of the beasts has so far been controlled by laws, violence, and drugs. As the night of the red moon draws near, more people are changing, and the horror will eventually culminate in an epic battle for humanity.
The Book of Werewolves: Being an Account of a Terrible Superstitionby Sabine Baring-Gould (1865)
This is a collection of werewolf lore written by a man often described as “eccentric”. It covers over 1,000 years of lore, ranging from the berserker of Norse legend, French folklore, as well as some modern (for the time) accounts of cannibalism, madness, disease, and various crimes. It is regarded as the first serious academic study of werewolf and shape-shifter folklore by most cryptozoologists.
Cabal by Clive Barker (1988)
Horror literature icon Clive Barker tells the story of Boone, a young man with an unspecified mental disorder who is told by his psychiatrist that he is responsible for a series of brutal murders. Following a suicide attempt, Boone begins a search for Midian, a semi-mythical city that he has seen in his dreams that is supposed to offer sanctuary to monsters like him – the Night Breed (aka werewolves and the like).
The Were-Wolf by Clemence Housman (1896)
Housman’s first novel is described as a gruesome, erotic fantasy. Housman was a leading figure in the suffragette movement of the time. This story follows a woman named White Fell who struggles to maintain her role as a dutiful wife and successful woman because, well, she’s a werewolf. It’s widely regarded as an allegory for the conservative ideas of the time and their distaste for the New Woman and her strength and progress. Suffragette feminism and werewolves? Hell yeah.
The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan (2012)
This first book in a wildly successful trilogy follows Jake Marlowe, the last werewolf in the world. He is 200 years old and just your regular guy – he loves a good scotch, is super horny, and goes crazy with hunger for human flesh on the night of every full moon. While Jake is losing his will to live, there are two dangerous organizations – one new, one ancient – that want to capture him alive. But… why?
Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones (2016)
A finalist for the Shirley Jackson Award and the Bram Stoker Award, this spellbinding horror tells the tale of an unusual boy and his family that live on the fringes of society – for the outside world fears them. At its core, it’s a coming of age story, as the boy learns if he belongs in the shadows of regular society, always on the run in the night, or if he will make his way into the world, carving out his own place, away from the mongrels like him.
Well, there you have it. 10 werewolf books worth checking out as we inch our way into spooky season and, inevitably, Halloween. If you like this type of post, I did the same one with vampires not too long ago. You can check that out here: http://www.littlebookblogofhorrors.com/2021/09/a-very-brief-history-of-vampires/. Do you have any suggestions for the creature I should study next? It might be hard to find 10 Chupacabra books, but I’m up for the challenge…
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
Hello, friends and foes! Today we’re talking all things vamp. We’re all familiar with vampires; sparkly or creatures of the night, immortal or un-dead, sexy or terrifying (or both). Where do vampire stories come from? Who started writing them, anyway?
According to most of the stories, vampires are either immortal or un-dead – the distinction there being whether or not they were revived after death (hence, un-dead). They consume human blood or the human ‘essence’, i.e. psychic energy. Their looks can vary but they are usually described as pale skinned with large, sharp fangs. Sometimes they sleep in coffins (probably just for the aesthetic, because how much sleep could you really need if you’re un-dead?).
To become a vampire, you can be ‘turned’ by an existing vamp with a bite to the neck or other part of the body. There are other reported ways to become a vampire, depending on the region. In parts of Southern Europe, they believe if a cat jumps over a grave, the corpse will return as a vampire. These types of myths are the reason many corpses were buried with a stake through the heart… just in case. Greek vampires are believed to be created when babies are born during the week between Christmas and New Years. Killing a vampire usually involves a wooden stake through the heart, though sometimes decapitation is necessary, or burning with sunlight (unless they’re the sparkly ones, then this method is less than effective).
Vampire stories date back to Ancient Greece. In medieval Europe, they blamed most plagues of disease on vampires. This is believed to be linked to the vampire-adjacent symptoms of many diseases at the time. For example, tuberculosis caused pale skin and weight loss, porphyria caused sensitivity to sunlight, and rabies caused aversion to water and garlic (and biting).
Were there ever any real vampires? Sadly, no. However, there are some instances across history that might make you think differently. Take Vlad the Impaler, for instance. We’ve referenced him before as the possible inspiration for Stoker’s character Dracula. And you can’t blame people for thinking that – his name was actually Vlad Dracula. Like, before it was cool. He earned his nickname of Impaler because he enjoyed impaling his enemies on wooden stakes. He also allegedly enjoyed dipping his dinner bread in his enemies’ blood.
Later on, in the 18th and 19th century, there was what can only be described as a Vampire Hysteria. In 1817, college student Frederick Ransom of South Woodstock, Vermont, died of tuberculosis. His father exhumed his body in a misguided attempt to save the rest of his sick family. It was believed that someone who perished of disease (especially terrifying diseases like tuberculosis) could return as a vampire after death and spread the disease to other members of the community. The body would be exhumed and subjected to various methods of vampire murder – a stake through the heart, decapitation, or burning). Frederick was exhumed and his heart was burned in a blacksmith’s forge. Unfortunately, this ritual did not succeed, and most of Frederick’s family soon perished. Frederick’s case is interesting because it illustrated the spread of Vampire Hysteria, or Vampiric Panic, from uneducated and rural families to educated, well-off communities.
One of the most famous instances of corpse exhumation on the basis of vampire suspicion is that of Mercy Brown. In 1892, the Brown family of Exeter, Rhode Island was ravaged by tuberculosis. The mother and two daughters, one being 19 year old Mercy, tragically died. When the son of the family, Edwin, became sick, his father and the Exeter townsfolk blamed a vampire for spreading the disease. All of the Brown family bodies were exhumed, and all showed the normal signs of decomposition – except Mercy’s. Was it because she was kept in freezer-like conditions in a crypt in the middle of New England winter? Or was it because she was a vampire? Who can say. Either way, they cut out her heart, burned it, and fed the ashes to her sick brother.
Vampire poetry flourished during the early days of the Vampire Hysteria, like in Heinrich August Ossenfelder’s Der Vampyr (1748). The first English language depiction of a vampire in poetry is believed to be in The Vampyre (1810) by John Stagg. Then the vampire appeared in prose with John Polidori’s The Vampyre in 1819. I guess they didn’t have titles copyrighted back then.
Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897) is arguably the most influential vampire book (and was allegedly inspired by The Mysterious Stranger, written by an anonymous German author in 1823. It is so fascinating to me that the writer is still unknown to this day!). In 1931, Dracula was adapted into film, starring horror icon Bela Lugosi. The book also inspired the 1922 film Nosferatu… but it was apparently *too* inspired, as Stoker’s widow sued for copyright infringement.
With Anne Rice’s sympathetic portrayal of vampires in her novel Interview With a Vampire (1976), a new era of vampire tales was born. They were written with heart, with emotion, as blood-sucking romantic icons. I’ve made a list of ten examples of vampires in literature, from horrific to romantic to gothic to modern. There’s a vampire for everyone.
Interview With a Vampire by Anne Rice (1976)
Yeah, we just talked about this one, but it still has to be included. Rice ushered in a new age of vampire tales with her sympathetic and erotic tale of immortal vampires coming to terms with their tragic pasts and unending, inevitably tragic futures. The 1994 film version is also worth checking out, if only for Brad Pitt in period costume.
Dracula by Bram Stoker (1897)
I know, we just talked about this one, too. But Stoker really started it all, and it’s worth checking out. It’s the now-classic tale of a mysterious Transylvanian noble, Count Dracula. There have been many film adaptations made, though I’d have to recommend the 1992 version, directed by Francis Ford Coppola with an absolutely stacked cast (Winona Ryder, Keanu Reeves, Gary Oldman, Anthony Hopkins, and MORE!).
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (2005)
This one is a historical take on vampires, particularly Vlad the Impaler, who allegedly was a big inspiration for Stoker’s characterization of Dracula. Vlad III ruled over Wallachia with such tyranny that even Pope Pius II was informed of his cruelty! This book is a fantastical tale of a young woman who must decide if she wants to follow in her parents’ footsteps into a labyrinth of the secret history of vampires – including Vlad’s terrible reign.
The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix (2020)
The first of the Sookie Stackhouse series that inspired the HBO show True Blood, this book follows the misadventures of the mind-reading Sookie and her vampire friends, steeped in charming, small-town southern gothic imagery and accents. True Blood ran for seven seasons between 2008 and 2014 and starred Anna Paquin as the titular Sookie Stackhouse.
The Gilda Stories by Jewelle Gomez (1991)
Set in 1850’s Louisiana (there must be something in that southern water that brings out the vamps), an escaped slave is introduced to the world of the un-dead while employed in a brothel. The story branches across several different decades and highlights the important life events of Gilda, the black and bisexual vampire heroine. The novel won two Lambda Literary awards – one for fiction and one for science fiction – and was hailed by Oprah herself as one of the best modern vampire books.
Twilight by Stephanie Meyer (2005)
Hear me out! The era of Twilight changed the way we look at vampires in literature and film. This four-part series is worth checking out for the examination of its cultural impact alone. If you’ve been living under a rock and don’t know why this is controversial – the saga follows Bella Swan, a conservative teen who finds herself in a love triangle between a vampire and a werewolf. The series was stretched into five films, also worth checking out if you want a good laugh. Plot holes, confusion, and poor acting abound. But the books actually cover some dark material… just in really strange ways.
The Ancient Ones by Cassandra L. Thompson (2020)
The first of an oncoming trilogy, this is a true gothic horror vampire tale. It follows the story of David, the last vampyre alive, as he looks back on his tragic and tumultuous past. Flowery, impressive prose is married with gut-churning horror and an un-dead love story for the ages. It was published through the emerging dark literature publishing house Quill & Crow.
Carmilla by J. Sheridan Lefanu (1876)
Another alleged inspiration for Stoker’s Dracula, this novella (first published as a serial) is about a young woman who falls victim to a female vampire. It also created the idea of a female vampire, femme fatale, with homosexuality portrayed as morally ambiguous rather than evil. There have been several film adaptations, some faithful to the source material – The Vampire Lovers (1970),and others not so much –Lesbian Vampire Killers (2009).
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith (2010)
A re-written biography of American president Abraham Lincoln, but if he dedicated his life to killing vampires after the vampire-related death of his mother when he was just a kid. Grahame-Smith also wrote the screenplay for the 2012 film adaptation starring Benjamin Walker and Rufus Sewell.
Well, there you have it, friends and foes. A glimpse into the history of vampires and a few vampire stories to choose from, depending on your taste and preference. Stay tuned: I’m doing this same post with werewolves in a couple of weeks.
What’s your favorite vampire book, movie, or legend? Let me know in the comments below!
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
Because this is confusing and I need to make a list.
Hello, friends and foes! I wanted to compile a list of the six genres of horror with some examples. I think it’s so much easier to break into the horror game with some guidance – because it’s confusing out there, and there are a lot of great books to read.
What is horror, anyway? Quick and shameless self-promo: if you haven’t read my article Horror: Who Started It?, I recommend checking it out as a companion piece to this one. It touches on some of the big names and classics I might not get to here, but are still worth checking out. Horror in general is about fear (duh). These books create a dreadful atmosphere rife with startling twists, shocking turns, and repulsive imagery… most of the time, anyway. As I laid out in my earlier article, horror has its deepest roots in Ancient Greece, and more recent branches of the family tree include Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and Stephen King’s, well, everything. What I didn’t explore in my earlier article were the sub-genres of horror literature. Let’s break ’em down, in no particular order.
We’ll kick off the sub-genres with perhaps the most well known. Gothic horror focuses heavily on death and morality, and the existential nature of humankind. Early on, these stories were almost exclusively set in gothic castles and medieval ruins.
The Castle of Otranto (1764) by Horace Walpole is considered to be the first horror novel in general, therefore serving as the first in the gothic sub-genre. It’s set in a medieval realm where death abounds and prophecies of doom and despair haunt the characters along with the ghosts.
The Turn of the Screw (1898) by Henry James takes place on a country estate overrun with ghosts. It has a dreary atmosphere seeping with dread and creeping shadows. Bonus points for the creepy children.
Interview with a Vampire (1976) by Anne Rice deals with the existential struggles of immortal vampires through flowering and dramatic prose that is both terrifying and often described as “chillingly erotic”. Groovy.
My favorite sub-genre of horror in literature and film – ghost stories! Paranormal horror often includes ideas from fairy tales, folklore, and urban legends. Some horror buffs list paranormal and supernatural fiction as two different sub-genres, but for the purpose of this article, I’m lumping them together.
The Haunting of Hill House (1959) by Shirley Jackson is hailed as the greatest haunted house book ever written (The Wall Street Journal says so). It follows a group of individuals who stay in a presumably haunted house in an attempt to capture evidence of ghosts or paranormal activity.
Ghost Story (1979) by Peter Straub is about a group of five life-long friends that gather to tell each other ghost stories. They mysteriously start dying one by one, and they can’t help but wonder if the stories aren’t just stories, after all…
Pet Sematary (1983) by Stephen King is one of my favorite books ever. There’s a place you can bury your dead where they come back to life. But they come back… different. Supernatural and strange (much like most all of King’s work), it’s a great example of paranormal and supernatural elements coexisting in one very creepy story.
This one’s all about rituals- specifically, rituals that aren’t considered scientific or religious (no established religion, anyway). Whether it’s spells or incantations or cults, occult horror encompasses everything, well, occult.
The Complete Fiction of H.P. Lovecraft (1917-1935) published by Chartwell Books Classics collection in 2016 is obviously on this list. Lovecraft coined occult horror with his mysterious rituals summoning eldritch horrors, fantastical monsters of the deep, and fictitious ravings of those gone mad trying to summon and control limitless evils and supernatural powers.
The Damnation Game (1985) by Clive Barker is all about Faustian bargains (i.e. deals with the Devil) and how an ordinary man must stop the Devil from collecting his due. How do mortals compare to the limitless powers of the Devil? And why are mortals so obsessed with selling their souls when it’s really all they have?
Sorrowland (2021) by Rivers Solomon is the tale of a young woman who has escaped a commune (read: cult) and has given birth to twins in the wilderness. Though she escaped the commune, she is still being haunted by the rituals that took place there. This book also touches on the real life horrors of America’s history of violence against black bodies.
It’s kind of self-explanatory. The creepy crawly horror atmosphere married with fantastical and/or magical themes and settings.
Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962) by Ray Bradbury is a classic dark fantasy tale about a mysterious carnival that rolls into a small town. Two teenage protagonists must learn how to face their fears and the creepy carnies. Book review coming soon!
Salem’s Lot (1975) by Stephen King is about a writer who returns to a small town in Maine (A small town in Maine? In a Stephen King book??) only to discover that the residents are turning into vampires! Fun Fact: King has twice been quoted as saying this is his favorite book he’s written.
Under the Pendulum Sun (2017) by Jeannette Ng is a Victorian fantasy about a girl who goes on a journey to rescue her brother from the land of the Fae, soon to discover the fairy folk are not the kind and gentle creatures they are thought to be.
The characters are being hunted and try desperately to survive despite the disparity of their situation. This category is particularly popular in horror films (think Saw, or any Eli Roth movie).
The Ruins (2006) by Scott Smith follows four American tourists who visit Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula, only to stumble across a Mayan village terrorized by killer vines. Survival horror is rife with body horror and gore, perhaps more than any other sub-genre, and this book does not disappoint on that front. It’s absolutely gnarly.
The Troop (2014) by Nick Cutter is about a scoutmaster who takes his troop into the Canadian wilderness on a typical camping trip. But they are soon met with an unexpected and terrifying intruder. They have to survive the elements, a bio-engineered infection, and whatever else lurks in the forest.
The Hunger (2018) by Alma Katsu is a retelling of the real-life horrors of the Donner party with an evil, witch-y twist. If you’re not familiar with the Donner party, they met their grisly fate in the Sierra Nevada mountains over the winter of 1846-1847. They took an untested “short cut”, got stuck in a blizzard, and ran out of food… well, kind of.
Another self-explanatory category, all about horrific imagery and tropes blended with tech and science.
Frankenstein (1818) by Mary Shelley is hailed as the first science fiction horror book ever, and rightly so. It tells the tale of a young scientist (Frankenstein is the name of the SCIENTIST!!) who creates an almost-human creature with dead body parts and… science.
Carrion Comfort (1989) by Dan Simmons is an alternate history beginning in World War II. A man sent to the infamous Chelmno extermination camp in Poland embarks on a decades-long journey to reveal a secret society that is behind the world’s most violent events. Also, there are vampires… but not in the way you think.
Boneshaker (2009) by Cherie Priest is a Civil War era alternate history about a giant ice drill (Dr. Blue’s Incredible Bone-Shaking Drill Engine – say that five times fast) that malfunctions and unearths a gas that turns people into zombie-like creatures.
That concludes our dive into horror sub-genres. Do you have a favorite? Should I recreate this post but with horror film examples, instead? Let me know in the comments below!
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
“Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one!”
We all know the story of Lizzie Borden: a big house in Massachusetts, a lonely spinster woman, and two hacked up parents. Lizzie Borden took an axe… well, you know the rest. On August 4th, 1892, Andrew and Abby Borden were found murdered in their home on 2nd Street. Andrew was napping in the sitting room and Abby was in an upstairs bedroom, presumably cleaning. What really happened on that fateful summer day? And why did it happen? Did Lizzie really do it?
She was acquitted, so legally she didn’t. But that’s not what I’m talking about.
TRIGGER WARNING: CRIME SCENE PHOTOS (NO BLOOD)
Andrew Borden was a native to Fall River, Massachusetts. He had a huge net worth – almost $10 million in today’s money (a whopping $333,000 back in the day). He came from humble beginnings but became successful later on in life. He owned a considerable number of income properties and worked on the board of several large banks. He was frugal despite his fortune; the Borden house on 2nd Street didn’t even have indoor plumbing, despite it being available to the wealthy, and it still used kerosene lamps instead of electricity. His first wife (Lizzie’s mother), tragically passed away. Two years later, he married a woman named Abby Gray.
They lived in a wealthy area of Fall River, though not the wealthiest. Much of Andrew’s family lived in a neighborhood called The Hill, where all things high and society took place. It is said that Lizzie very much longed to live there, to be a part of high society, but her father refused. Their house on 2nd Street was close to town and shops and much of Andrew’s business dealings. The area was also home to a population of Irish immigrants, which was certainly considered undesirable.
Lizzie was born on July 19, 1860 (she’s a Cancer, of course) and she had a sister Emma, nine years her senior. When their mother was on her death bed, she made Emma promise to always take care of Lizzie, as if she was her own. This contributed to Emma’s ‘spinsterhood’, as she did not have time to marry and move away because she was raising Lizzie. She even dropped out of college after only a year to return home. Lizzie was described as a “moody” and “average” student in school. She was a sensitive child with problems meeting new people. She dropped out in her junior year of high school and spent the majority of her time involved in the local church. The Borden sisters were in their 30’s at the time of the murders, and were both considered ‘spinsters’; unmarried, childless, living in their father’s home.
This is neither here nor there, but Lizzie was also apparently a known shoplifter at the local stores in town. She would simply take things from the shelves and racks and walk out of the store without paying. The shop owner would then charge the cost of the items to Andrew Borden’s account, so technically it wasn’t “stealing”… but it still feels a lot like stealing.
The Borden sisters’ feelings toward their stepmother are recorded as being… not good. They resented Abby and never called her “Mother” or even “Mrs. Borden”, which was incredibly disrespectful at that time. Several months before the murder, Andrew Borden purchased a house for Abby’s sister, and Lizzie and Emma were reportedly irate. They hardly ate meals with their parents, which was essentially unheard of back then. Both Borden sisters would ignore Abby’s family when they greeted them in public, another act of Victorian disrespect. The Borden family maid, 26 year old Irish immigrant Bridget Sullivan (whom the Borden sisters called “Maggie” for no apparent reason), stated during the trial that there was palpable tension in the Borden household. She had even attempted to resign from her position because of it, but Abby paid her a hefty bonus to stay.
Lizzie is reported to have loved animals, often taking in stray cats and going horseback riding. A flock of pigeons had come to roost in the barn on their property, and Lizzie had taken to calling them her pets and feeding them. One day in early 1892, Mr. Borden killed all of the pigeons and made Bridget pluck them and put them in a stew. He claimed he did this to keep the neighborhood children from throwing stones at the birds, thus breaking several barn windows. Nonetheless, this fueled Lizzie’s mounting rage. (I have to put a note here that some Lizzie Borden scholars believe this situation to be more of a legend than reality, though I’ve come across it as part of the narrative in nearly every source I used for this research.)
The night before the murders, Lizzie went to visit her friend Alice. She told Alice that the whole family had recently fallen violently ill… except for her. It was later revealed that Lizzie had attempted to purchase prussic acid (poison!) from the local pharmacy several days prior, but the pharmacist refused to sell it to her. Did she poison her parents (and poor Bridget) in an attempt to kill them? Or perhaps just make them ill and weak? Lizzie also mentioned to Alice that she was worried someone might want to hurt her father. The home had been broken into several days prior to August 4th, and the only things stolen were sentimental items of Abby’s (and, according to some sources, Andrew believed someone within the home stole the items). Lizzie claimed to be worried that the intruder might return.
Also, Lizzie and Emma’s uncle John Morse was visiting the day prior to the murders. He slept in the guest room on the second floor. The reason for his visit is still unknown, but he was allegedly not involved in any part of the crime.
Let’s go over the timeline for the morning of the murders:
6:00 AM : Andrew and Abby Borden and John Morse wake up, go downstairs and have breakfast.
6:30 AM : Bridget wakes up, still feeling ill, and begins her work in the kitchen
8:45 AM : John Morse and Andrew Borden leave the home to go into town for business
8:50 AM : Lizzie appears for breakfast and coffee
9:00 AM : Abby Borden tells Bridget to clean all windows in the home, outside and inside *1
9:30 AM : (this time is approximate) Abby Borden is killed
10:45 AM : Andrew Borden returns from town early, feeling ill. Lizzie tells Andrew that Abby has been called away to tend to a sick friend, and has left the home. *2
11:00 AM : Bridget is in her room, resting but not asleep
11:15 AM : (this time is approximate) Andrew Borden is killed
11:30 AM : Lizzie Borden calls for Bridget to get a doctor upon “discovering” Andrew Borden’s body
(*1 it should be noted that, at this time, Lizzie asked Bridget if she had any plans to leave the home that day. Bridget said no, because she was not feeling well. Lizzie then informed her of a big sale taking place at a local shop, and suggested Bridget leave the home later that morning to go check it out)
(*2 it should be noted that, in court testimony, Bridget reported that Andrew could not get into the home when he returned, as there were multiple latches locked from the inside that were not typically locked. Bridget had difficulty getting them all unlocked to allow Andrew inside, and during this time she reported hearing Lizzie Borden giggling at the top of the stairs)
Lizzie screamed for Bridget to go across the street to their neighbor, who was a doctor. Bridget ran across the busy street only to find the doctor was not home. Lizzie then told her to go fetch her friend Alice (the same Alice she had met with the night before) because she did not want to be alone in the home, as the intruder could still be present. Eventually a nosy neighbor noticed Lizzie standing on the porch, distraught, and asked what was wrong. Lizzie told the neighbor about her father’s demise and the neighbor hurried over to check it out. When the neighbor asked Lizzie where she was at the time of the attack, Lizzie stated she was in the barn. Then, she told her neighbor that she might have heard Abby come home, but she wasn’t sure. Abby might be inside the house!
Alice arrives to the Borden home shortly after Bridget sends for her. Lizzie immediately insists someone search the second and third floors for Abby. Bridget and the nosy neighbor ascend the stairs to the second floor. From the landing they can see Abby Borden’s feet, outstretched behind the bed in the guest room. The neighbor flees in tears to tell Lizzie that they found Abby’s body. Bridget enters the guest room to confirm, and what she finds is absolutely horrifying.
The brutality of the crime was unmatched in Fall River history. Andrew Borden’s face was essentially chopped off; he was unrecognizable. Abby was attacked from behind, wounds gathered on her upper back. And, for the record, the nursery rhyme has the count wrong: Andrew was hit ten times with a hatchet (not an axe), after Abby was struck nineteen times.
Two police officers arrived at the scene. A large portion of the Fall River police force was actually out of town, at Rocky Point in Rhode Island, for some kind of event – not really relevant, but kind of funny that they were all at the beach when this happened. They immediately questioned Lizzie, who had trouble accounting for her whereabouts during the attack. She claimed that she had been sitting in the loft of the barn on the property, where she ate three pears, then spent twenty to thirty minutes looking in the barn for sinkers and fishing lures. She then insisted to have heard a scream or groan (she couldn’t remember which) from inside and ran into the sitting room to discover her father. This point is particularly interesting because Bridget, who was inside the house, reported having heard no sound whatsoever.
Lizzie had lots of stories for the police. She said she had once come home at night to find a shadowy figure slinking around the house… but she couldn’t elaborate further than that. She was quick to correct them when they referred to Abby as her mother, too. She was Lizzie’s STEP-mother. Big difference, especially to Lizzie. When the doctor finally arrived, he took Lizzie to her room to relax with the aid of morphine (which they were just handing out back then, apparently).
The police searched the entire home and barn. They recovered two hatchets and two axes, though none were believed to be the murder weapon, as they had no blood on them. In the barn, they noticed there were no footprints in the thick sawdust in the loft where Lizzie reported to have sat during the time of the murders… interesting. That night, Lizzie, Alice, and John Morse (the uncle, remember?) stayed IN THE HOUSE where two people were just MURDERED, while their DEAD BODIES were on slabs in the sitting room. (Were all the hotels full??) A cop was watching over the house and, in the middle of the night, he saw Lizzie go into the basement and kneel beside the sink for one to two minutes, though he could not see exactly what she was doing. A few days later, Alice saw Lizzie burning scraps of a dress in the fireplace. She said, “I wouldn’t let anyone see me doing that if I were you”. Suspicious.
The funeral was held on August 8th. Emma came back to town (she was away, visiting a friend, at the time of the murders) and stayed in the house on 2nd Street with her sister and uncle. On August 10th, the police informed Lizzie that she was a suspect in the murders. She was reported to have said, “I am ready to go at any time”. (Read: “I dare you to arrest me.”) Then, on August 11th, Lizzie Borden was arrested on two counts of murder. There’s a shocker.
Lizzie had her daddy’s money, and she bought the best attorneys it could buy. They were quick to deny Lizzie’s guilt on the basis of two main points, the first being lack of forensic evidence. They called in a Harvard chemist who claimed to have found no blood on any of the axes or hatchets that were recovered from the Borden house. There was a teeny tiny drop of blood on the hem of the dress Lizzie was ALLEGEDLY wearing on the day of the murders (was the dress she actually wore burned in the fireplace?) Further, fingerprint testing was in its infancy in the late 1800’s, and the police did not perform any kind of print collection at the scene or on any of the potential murder weapons.
The second point of denial was on the basis of Lizzie’s gender and social class. Yeah, that was a legitimate defense. She was well-bred, virtuous, and in the words of the national president of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union at the time, a “Protestant Nun”. In other words, she was a tiny little Victorian spinster who totally couldn’t kill her old and sick (hell, one of them was asleep!!) parents. Women’s suffrage groups turned out in droves to support Lizzie in her innocence. And Lizzie played the part of their heroine- dressed tightly corseted and in all black, a fan in one hand and a bouquet of flowers (seriously) in the other. She would sigh or act faint from time to time throughout the proceedings, just as any distraught Protestant Nun would.
The trial was a circus. The first true media frenzy surrounding a high profile trial (the Lizzie Borden case walked so the OJ Simpson case could run). Testimony was given before a packed courtroom. Bridget’s story never changed, from the initial inquest to the formal trial to follow. Lizzie’s story wouldn’t stop changing. Let’s review:
It was confirmed by the coroner that Abby was killed between 9 and 10 AM. Lizzie claimed to be setting up an ironing board at that time, but couldn’t remember how long it took. Bridget was seen by neighbors cleaning the outside windows during this time frame.
At 10:45 AM, Andrew Borden came home. Lizzie claimed she was in the kitchen at this time, reading a magazine. However, this directly contradicts Bridget’s testimony that Lizzie laughed at her from the top of the stairs! When questioned further about this inconsistency, Lizzie said she couldn’t remember if she was upstairs or not. Convenient.
Lizzie told Andrew and Bridget that Abby received a note, calling her away to tend to a sick friend. When police asked who the note was from, or for the note itself, Lizzie didn’t know and couldn’t find it. Also convenient. Even if the note was real, why didn’t Abby leave to tend to her sick friend?
The prosecution argued that it would be nearly impossible for an intruder to sneak into the Borden home, kill Abby, stay in the home for an additional sixty to ninety minutes, then kill Andrew. No neighbors saw anyone come in or out (remember the nosy neighbor from before? Yeah, they didn’t see anyone). And the pure rage used in the attacks suggested someone close to the victims had perpetrated the crime.
Lizzie’s attorney gave a five hour closing argument to a jury of twelve men – farmers, tradesmen, factory owners (and a single Irishman – not sure how he passed through the selection process). They quickly acquitted Lizzie of all charges, then waited an hour to come out of the jury chambers so it looked like they really thought long and hard about it. Women’s groups cheered! The presses of the high society were thrilled – justice was served, justice for the innocent Lizzie! Working class papers and immigrant-run papers, however, were dubious.
Either way, Lizzie was innocent. Well, she was acquitted, at least.
Lack of forensic evidence and her Victorian femininity led to Lizzie’s release as a free woman. I’m paraphrasing, of course, because there are a myriad of cultural and legal reasons for her to walk free when all signs point to her guilt, and I just don’t have the time to dissect them all. I’m not even convinced there are many people reading to this point.
Lizzie and her sister Emma inherited their father’s millions and moved into a large house on The Hill. Lizzie was infamous, “Fall River’s curio”, gawked at in public and shunned by many in the town. Though she did manage a nice life of travel up and down the East Coast, dotted with fine dining and trips to the theater. She and Emma had a falling out in 1904, and reportedly never saw each other again. They died within days of each other in 1927.
Turns out, there might be more information than we once thought (by the way, all court transcripts and testimonies can be read in full online). In March 2012, researchers at the Fall River Historical Society discovered the handwritten journals of Andrew Jennings, Lizzie’s defense attorney. I haven’t been able to find the contents anywhere public online, but I have been in touch with the Fall River Historical Society to see what’s up with them. They’re only an hour away from me, and I’d be happy to make a trip out there if it means taking a look at these secret notes.
And because Fall River is only about an hour away, I could easily stay at the Lizzie Borden House Bed and Breakfast! That’s right! It’s the original house where Andrew and Abby Borden were murdered by Lizzie Borden an unknown assailant. Under new ownership as of May 2021, they’ve apparently been going through some pretty sweet upgrades. And, of course, the house is haunted. Guests have claimed to hear voices, experience strange odors, objects moving on their own, footsteps, even full-body apparitions! You can just book a tour if you don’t want to spend the night. Rooms are around $300 a night with your choice of the Lizzie & Emma Suite, the Andrew & Abby Suite, or the John V. Morse Suite (where Abby as murdered!). You can also book out the whole house for weddings, so… that’s cool. September and October are almost fully booked, so you better hurry and make a reservation!
If you’re looking for more Lizzie Borden related media, there’s a true treasure-trove of options for you. Lizzie Borden Took an Axe (2014) is the only good Lifetime film ever made, starring Christina Ricci as Borden. It was followed up by a Netflix series The Lizzie Borden Chronicles (2015). This retelling of the murders is super fictionalized, but still fun to watch. Lizzie (2018) is a feature film starring Chloe Sevigny as Borden and Kristen Stewart as Bridget Sullivan. Another retelling steeped in fiction, this one portrays Lizzie and Bridget in a lesbian affair that eventually leads to the murders.
All jokes aside, the Lizzie Borden case is a fascinating piece of American legal history. Do you think she killed her father and step-mother? If you’re looking for motive, most people claim resentment of Abby and a longing to use her father’s money to enter high society, specifically The Hill. If you’re looking for forensic evidence, it’s long gone. Though I’d love to know if Lizzie did burn the dress she wore at the time of the crimes in the fireplace. And I’d love to know what she was doing in the basement sink in the middle of the night.
I guess you could always call her up on the Ouija board on your next visit to the B&B.
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
“Old people and kids are invisible to the rest of the world… It makes us unbeatable at hide-and-seek.”
There’s a typo on the first page of this book. At least, that’s what I thought. I thought, “How weird that there’s a typo on the very first page in the very first line of this New York Times bestselling novel”. I kept reading, and there was no immediate answer. I even Googled it. “Imaginary Friend misprint”. Nothing. So, I kept reading. And, eventually, it all came together. But before it came together, it fell terribly and tragically apart.
I bought this book after seeing it in a book TikTok. A BookTok, if you will. The reviews were all incredibly promising; TIME, New York Times Book Review, and Emma Watson all sang its glowing praises. Though I haven’t read Chbosky’s smash hit The Perks of Being a Wallflower, I know enough about it through osmosis to know that Imaginary Friend is an epic (and terrifying) departure.
Stephen Chbosky is arguably best known for his 1999 coming of age novel, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. He also wrote and directed the 2012 film version, starring Emma Watson (remember her from the book reviews earlier?) and Logan Lerman. He wrote the screenplay for 2005’s film adaptation of the musical Rent and the 2021 film adaptation of the musical Dear Evan Hansen. I was also surprised to learn that he wrote the screenplay for the live-action remake of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I was surprised because, well, 2019’s Imaginary Friend is nothing like anything I’ve listed above. It’s not perky, it’s not a musical, and it sure as Hell isn’t Disney.
Imaginary Friend introduces us to a wide cast of characters, each with their own struggle in life. We meet the main character Christopher, a young boy with dyslexia and a hard time making friends, and his mom Kate. They are on the run from Kate’s abusive boyfriend and eventually take refuge in a quiet-seeming town in Pennsylvania. Kate gets a job and enrolls Christopher in a good public school, where he makes a small but loyal group of friends. Then we meet Mary Katherine, a devout Christian high schooler trying to juggle her faith and emerging sexuality. And Ambrose, an elderly army vet whose eyes are being “taken by clouds” (cataracts), and whose kid brother went missing a long, long time ago. And the sheriff, plagued by nightmares of a young girl he could not save. There are other POV’s, too- not as in depth as those listed above, though just as important. That’s a big theme with this book – everything and everyone are connected, no matter how seemingly brief or unimportant.
One day, Christopher goes missing in the Mission Street woods. He’s gone for six days. When he returns, Christopher claims “The Nice Man” saved him and helped him escape the woods, though the sheriff can find no sign of anyone else being involved. As Christopher adjusts back to life as he knew it, he knows at once that he has changed. He knows things. Awful things. Most importantly, he knows he must build a tree house in the Mission Street woods before Christmas, or the world will end. Through the tree house, Christopher can access another world- like ours, but different. It is terrorized by a monstrous woman Christopher calls “The Hissing Lady”. The Nice Man tells Christopher that he must defeat The Hissing Lady before the end of the world.
There’s a lot going on in Imaginary Friend. Much more than I can succinctly summarize (and, as a querying writer, I shudder to think of the synopsis and query letter Chbosky had to put together for this!). Multiple POV’s entwine in different plots and subplots and character arcs, and everyone’s actions effect the rest. It’s a whirlwind of nightmarish imagery and secret messages and hidden worlds that culminates into an extravaganza of tear-jerking endings (yes, I cried), horrors, and the redemption in new beginnings.
And damn, did this book hurt. It hurt my heart and soul. It made my skin crawl, it made my heart ache, thinking of helpless children in horrific nightmare sequences, facing truths and fears they should never have to face. And everything is important! How amazing it is, how the smallest actions can have the largest chain of consequences. Things you read and don’t think twice about are suddenly the most important thing that’s happened over the course of the 600+ page book. You second-guess yourself, you second guess what you read, and it’s achingly chaotic and bizarre and beautiful. There’s a confrontation of the loneliness of being too young and too old. You’re young and you want to know everything, then you’re old and you forget and you want to know everything you used to. And the power of imagination and wonder that we lose when we grow up. “Adults are bad at remembering how powerful they can be because somewhere along the line, they were shamed for their imagination.”
Underneath all the horror of this book is the pulsing strength of a mother’s love, and the perfect way children see their parents, even with all their faults. Could a mother’s love defeat The Hissing Lady, or the end of the world, or God and the Devil and everything else? Only one way to find out…
Speaking of God and the Devil, Imaginary Friend packs a bit of a religious punch. Despite it’s nightmarish imagery and body horror and general terror, there’s an underlying theme of Christianity, and what it means to have faith, and what it means to believe. “To kill in the name of God is to serve the devil.” It’s not overwhelming, though it becomes more prevalent in the last quarter of the book, and it’s thought provoking for someone like me, who was raised in religion and is now… well, this isn’t about me. Chbosky tackles big, human issues through the lens of a child stuck in what seems like a never-ending nightmare. When I finished reading, I sat and stared at the ceiling and wondered what I believe. And I’m still wondering today.
Anyway, anyway, anyway. Was this book scary? I’d say absolutely yes. It has gore, body horror, and nightmare sequences that made my skin crawl and toes curl. Children with their eyes and mouths sewn shut, literal Hellish punishments inflicted unto sinners for all eternity, torture, etc. The tension of the building plot among the different POV’s, then when they overlap and the codes become clear, the puzzle pieces align – I couldn’t put it down until I knew the end. And even then, I wanted more.
“Everyone gets an ending. Whether or not it’s happy is up to them.”
Five stars overall, three stars on the scare scale.
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
From Plath to Poe to Baudelaire; channeling a lifetime of sadness into art.
Hello, friends and foes! Today we are examining the lives of several esteemed poets and the similarities that tie them together. I’ll preface this article by admitting that I am not a poet and have failed at writing poetry more times than I would care to admit (at least 15, maybe more). While I have enjoyed reading poetry as prose (think the Crank series by Ellen Hopkins), I have never been particularly drawn to poetry collections. I’ve put together this post in an attempt to learn more about the elusive art of poetry, and hopefully come to admire it more than I already do. At the end I’ve put together a small list of poetry I’ve recently read and enjoyed, and I hope you take a moment to check out some contemporary (and perhaps very sad) poets.
*Trigger Warning: the following post contains references to suicide and drug use*
We begin our journey into poetry with Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), a man whose life could most certainly be hailed as a series of unfortunate events. Baudelaire was a French poet of a humble background. He experienced the death of his father at a young age and gained a sizable inheritance at 21 (sounds similar to a couple of other Baudelaires I know…). His first publication came in the year 1845 – the same year as his first suicide attempt.
Baudelaire was a gothic romanticist, writing poems and prose about vampirism, Satanism, and sex. The most notable of his poetry collections is Les Fleurs du mal (1857). Les Fleurs du mal, or in English, The Flowers of Evil, made Baudelaire a household name in France. He had a propensity to write about the Catholic sense of original sin, feminine beauty and the general sensuality of women.
He was deemed a legend, a cursed poet, a poète maudit (living on the fringes of society and relatively ignored by his contemporaries). He was eccentric and morbid and kept rather odd company. He had a fascination with the American poet Edgar Allen Poe and published several meticulous translations of Poe’s most famous works, thus bringing Poe’s work to a global audience. He experimented with drugs and alcohol and died in his mid-forties, presumably of syphilis. Baudelaire’s gothic legend lives on, however. Not only did Lemony Snicket write A Series of Unfortunate Events with a family bearing Baudelaire’s name (and several other Charles Baudelaire-themed Easter eggs throughout the series!), but The Cure adapted his poem Les Yeux des Pauvres (English: The Eyes of the Poor) into their 1987 song How Beautiful You Are. Both the song and the poem speak to the tragedy of love, and thinking you know the innermost thoughts of your partner when, sometimes, you do not.
This brings us to our familiar friend Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849) and his similarly unfortunate tale. Poe was born to traveling actors in Boston and was tragically orphaned a mere three years later. He was adopted by a wealthy merchant in Virginia, raised with expectations of becoming a businessman and promptly sent to college. Unfortunately, Poe was forced to drop out of college because his father, though wealthy, refused to pay for it. Poe was later ejected from West Point Military Academy. Subsequently, he returned to visit his college fiancee only to find that she had become betrothed to another!
Eventually Poe found wedded bliss with his fourteen year old cousin (too much to unpack right now, but let me know if you’d like a whole article about this in the future). When his wife passed away at just 27, Poe was left devastated and unable to write for months on end.
Poe shot to literary fame with his 1845 poem The Raven, a lyrical tale of a man’s descent into madness. Annabel Lee (1849 – published posthumously) explored one of Poe’s most prevalent tropes – the death of a beautiful young woman. He also wrote a myriad of short stories including 1843’s The Tell-Tale Heart, another descent into madness after a murder has taken place.
When Poe passed away he was alone, for he had mysteriously disappeared during an outing and was found unresponsive in a bar outside of town, then taken to a hospital where he soon died. Upon his death, a literary rival wrote a defamatory obituary claiming Poe was a drunk with no respect for women or anyone else. Instead of erasing Poe from the literary realm as this rival intended, the obituary caused Poe’s sales to skyrocket (albeit, posthumously). Poetic justice?
Perhaps one of the most tragic figures in poetry is Sylvia Plath (1932-1963). Another heartbreaking tale that begins in Boston, Plath endured the death of her father at a young age (another recurring tragedy, it seems). She went on to excel in her studies in college but began to exhibit symptoms of depression and what is now believed to be bipolar disorder; an illness that was not understood nor medicated during Plath’s time. Plath attempted suicide at the age of 20, miraculously survived, and was subsequently institutionalized and subjected to electro-shock therapy. This horrific series of events inspired her now-classic novel The Bell Jar (1963). Later, Plath was abandoned by her unfaithful husband and left with two small children to raise alone. She took her own life at the age of 30.
Plath’s poetry described her mental turmoil in devastating detail. She was honest about her fascination with human emotion, the idea of death, and the allure (in her perception) of suicide. Some contemporaries deemed her to be ahead of her time, fascinating, and a prolific writer of the tragedies of the human experience. Others did not appreciate her morbidity nor her blatant honesty about the fragility of the human mind, emotion, and ego. A troubled life met with a tragic end, leaving behind traces of herself in her poems and prose.
Well, that was depressing. For such creatively brilliant minds to be plagued with misfortune and mental illness is indescribably sad, as is much of the work they left behind. Check it out if you don’t mind shedding a tear or two. In my research of poetry and poets, I found a small collection that I thought I would share with all of you. Take a moment to check them out if you like horror poetry, poetry that scares you, or poems that are just straight-up sad.
Poems from the Attic by Morgan Nikola-Wren (2019). The idea that this is a collection of overflow poems, the odd ones out, the poems too strange for other projects, is intriguing and endlessly appealing as I, myself, am strange and unusual. The companion images are full of gothic whimsy, including art-deco stylized moons and stills from silent movies. The poems range from the violence and passion of heartbreak to the pain of loneliness in heartbreak’s wake. They explore the pain of being ignored – except when writing poetry. The more haunting the poem, the more haunting the companion imagery. An odd collection for an odd soul that often feels out of place.
Adrift on a Sea of Shadows by Spyder Collins (2021). Collins is a Twitter personality known for his viciously dark poems and short stories- the gore of which are well-emulated in this collection. It is brought to us by the “quaint and curious” indie publishing house Quill & Crow. Collins’ poems are achingly sad and melancholic, pining for lost loves and singing odes to ravens, blood, bones, and murder (oh my!). Depressing laments mingle with rotten descriptions of death and decay and the delight that the narrator finds in such darkness. Heart-achingly sad, loneliness seeps off every blood-stained page.
I am Not Your Final Girl by Claire C. Holland (2018). Seeping with nostalgia for all our favorite horror flicks, this collection follows the fates of famous final girls, or as Holland dubs them “horror heroines”, from their point of view. The collection questions women’s role in these bloody tales. Why do we put women through such torture – both in fiction, and reality? It’s chilling to have such an intimate look into the minds of characters now so familiar in the horror genre. While they may have been slain in their respective films (or not – hence “final girl”), these badass women live on in these poems, giving voice to the horrors that come before and after the credits roll.
Bloodhound by Marie Casey (2020). A self-published poetry collection, Bloodhound recounts a bloody tale of the beauty and horrors of love and deception. Violence and gore are peppered amid what can only be described as love poems, creating a dichotomy true to the essence of love – it can hurt, and it can bleed. The pain of being betrayed, the ending of trust, and the depravity humans are capable of are explored through poems and lyrical prose. It is a noble cause, to write through trauma and the darkest of human experiences, and Casey has shown that it is possible, through darkness, to find light. That’s what art is all about, right? Giving medium to our fears and nightmares in the hopes that maybe they aren’t so scary, after all.
What do you think about poetry? Do you have a favorite poet? If you check out any of the above collections, please let me know. (Disclaimer: I’m not responsible for any nightmares resulting from the reading of Collins’ work).
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
Hello, friends and foes! Today we’re taking a look at some of Disney’s fairy tale retellings and their way-scarier source material.
Let’s get one thing out of the way – I don’t consider myself to be a “Disney Adult”, but I do consider myself to be a general fan and avid Disney animation historian. And through my obsession with the evolution of Disney animation, I’ve come to learn quite a bit about the history of the company as a whole. And what a fascinating history, it is…
It all started with a mouse. Well… kind of. In 1923, The Walt Disney Company was started by Walt and Roy Disney under the name Disney Bros. Studio. Mickey Mouse came along in 1928 and was quickly followed by Pluto and Donald Duck, etc. And the rest, as they say, is history. A history rife with wartime propaganda (Der Fuehrer’s Face, 1943; Education for Death: The Making of the Nazi, 1943; Donald Gets Drafted, 1942), racism (Song of the South, 1946, an offensive depiction of cheerful African Americans post slavery), and anti-union and low pay corporate policies (resulting in multiple strikes between 1941 and present day). It was on the backs of those underpaid animators and musicians and cast members that the corporate giant we know today was built.
Now, I’m not here to discuss Disney as a corporation (at least, not any more than I already have). The stunning artistry of the animators and musicians and writers deserves to be appreciated for what it is – moving and emotional art. Many of these stories and characters are cornerstones of our adolescence. I watched The Lion King every day for a year when I was five, and my mom fast-forwarded past Mufasa’s death scene every single time… no one tell her I run a horror blog now.
Disney applied its show stopping and jaw dropping art to many preexisting and classic tales. For example, Pinocchio. It was originally written as a serial by Carlo Collodi between 1881 and 1883 in Italy. According to Francelia Butler, scholar and pioneer of children’s literature, Pinocchio is the most translated Italian book (in over 250 languages) and the second most widely read. What’s the first most widely read book in Italy? Oh, just The Bible. Disney’s film version of Pinocchio was released in 1940 and left out just one little detail… Jiminy Cricket was supposed to be dead. Yep. In the book, Pinocchio kills him with a hammer, but little Jiminy stays with him as his conscience, teaching him right from wrong.
Turns out, this is a recurring theme of Disney’s retellings – taking out some of the gnarly, scary stuff. We here at Little Book Blog of Horrors want the gnarly and the scary. So, let’s talk about it.
I’m sure you’re all familiar with Cinderella (either the 1950 animated version or the 2015 live-action remake). The Disney film follows Cinderella, a maid to her evil stepmother and stepsisters, heckled and mistreated at every given chance. With the help of her fairy godmother, Cinderella gets to attend a ball – but only until the stroke of midnight. Her dance with the prince is cut short as the clock strikes midnight, and in her haste she leaves behind a single glass slipper. The prince tries to find his lost love by having all the maidens that attended the ball try on the glass slipper. Eventually it is revealed that Cinderella is the prince’s mystery girl and they live happily ever after.
The film is based on Charles Perrault’s 1697 version of the ancient tale (and I mean ancient – this story goes back to Rhodopis in Ancient Greece, around 7BC). Disney chose Perrault’s version of the tale because he was the first to include the glass slipper. Other versions have other calling cards like jewelry or notes. In the Brothers Grimm 1812 version of the tale, the glass slipper is gold and Cinderella’s name is Aschenputtel (literally just German for Cinderella). Also in the Brothers Grimm version and conveniently left out of Disney’s is the fate of the stepsisters Anastasia and Drizella. In their desperate attempts to fit into the glass slipper and marry the prince, one stepsister hacks off her toe and one hacks off her heel. Both times, the prince sees the blood on the slipper and says “no, thank you”. Then, at the wedding of the prince and Cinderella, pigeons peck out the stepsisters’ eyes and they were “punished with blindness as long as they lived”. Gnarly.
“Rook di goo, rook di goo! There’s blood in the shoe. The shoe is too tight, This bride is not right!”
“rucke di guck, rucke di guck, Blut ist im Schuck (Schuh): Der Schuck ist zu klein, die rechte Braut sitzt noch daheim”
Moving right along to another tale from those weird Grimm brothers: Snow White. The 1937 film was a benchmark for Disney; it was the first full length traditionally animated feature film EVER, and the first feature length film for Disney. In the tale we meet orphaned Snow White, living with her stepmother The Queen. The Queen forces Snow into servitude because she’s prettier than her. When The Queen’s magic mirror breaks it to her that Snow is still the fairest in all the land despite being demoted to lowly servant, The Queen orders a huntsman to kill Snow White and take out her heart.
Snow hides out with the seven dwarfs, safe until she is poisoned by a cunning witch with a poison apple. She falls into a coma and the dwarfs place her in a glass coffin in the forest, standing watch beside her. Then, a prince comes and kisses her and she wakes up to marry him. The End.
The 1812 Brothers Grimm version is pretty similar, though Snow White actually dies from eating the poisoned apple and the dwarfs put her in a glass coffin because she was still so beautiful after death (the poison kept her from decaying, apparently). The prince comes across the coffin in the forest and begs the dwarfs for it, claiming, “I cannot live without being able to see Snow-White!”… weird. As the prince’s servants are carrying the coffin to the castle, one trips and jostles Snow’s position. This dislodges the poison apple from her throat and she miraculously comes back to life! She still marries the prince and they live happily ever after, after all. Oh, but not before The Queen attends their wedding and is forced to dance on burning iron shoes until she drops dead. Perhaps an early rival to Game of Thrones‘ infamous Red Wedding?
Though there are plenty more Grimm x Disney collaborations to go through (Rapunzel, The Little Mermaid, etc.), let’s take a look at some different source material. Victor Hugo’s 1831 classic Notre-Dame de Paris, or, as we know it, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. DISCLAIMER: this article will contain usage of the word “gypsy”. This word is widely recognized as a slur against individuals of Romani descent. It is being used in the context of this article to refer to its usage in the works of Victor Hugo and the Walt Disney Company, and is in no way intended as derogatory by the author.
Disney’s 1996 animated version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame is arguably Disney’s darkest film (infanticide, murder, lust, sin and eternal damnation abound – and still rated G!). In 1460’s Paris, we meet Minister of Justice Frollo. He’s on a mission to rid the city of Paris of gypsies. He murders a gypsy woman while she pleads for “sanctuary” inside the Notre Dame cathedral. Frollo discovers a deformed baby in her arms. He attempts to drown the infant but is caught by the cathedral’s archdeacon, and is forced to raise the baby as penance for his sins. That infant grows up to be the hunchback Quasimodo (and his name literally means “half formed”… wtf).
Quasimodo has no friends – except for three cathedral gargoyles that come to life – until he meets the beautiful gypsy woman Esmeralda. Frollo lusts after Esmeralda and burns down half of Paris hunting her and the other gypsies down (see Jonathan Young’s metal cover of the original Disney track Hellfire here: https://open.spotify.com/track/3VLFgFwCPediasLOXX2cUD?si=87c908a48c54404e ). Frollo tricks Quasimodo into leading him to the gypsy camp and tries to burn Esmeralda at the stake. Luckily, this is a Disney movie, so Esmeralda is rescued by Quasimodo, Frollo burns to death in a pit of molten lead, and Quasimodo is accepted into Paris society as a hero.
So, it was already dark. Especially by Disney standards. Still not as dark as Hugo’s version, however. In the original French text, Frollo frames Esmeralda for murder (he’s still lusting after her, by the way). Quasimodo tries to give her “sanctuary” in Notre Dame but she is eventually hanged for her ‘crime’. In the end, Quasimodo murders Frollo and then starves to death, clinging to Esmeralda’s lifeless body.
In short, Disney did a great job of turning terrifying children’s stories into… slightly less terrifying children’s films. I absolutely recommend checking out the source material if you want the gritty backstory to your childhood favorites. I’m thinking of doing a list of scary moments in Disney films (think Dumbo‘s Pink Elephants montage). If that’s something you’d be interested in, let me know in the comments below!
Reader beware, you’re in for a scare! Or not. Trick-or-treat, after all.
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Sneewittchen, Kinder- und Hausmärchen, (Children’s and Household Tales — Grimms’ Fairy Tales), final edition (Berlin, 1857), no. 53
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, “Aschenputtel,” Kinder- und Hausmärchen [Children’s and Household Tales — Grimms’ Fairy Tales], 7th edition (Göttingen: Verlag der Dieterichschen Buchhandlung, 1857), no. 21, pp. 119-26.