Thoughts on “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar” by Edgar Allan Poe

When I read this story, it was evening, and I was looking for something short to read in bed before sleep. I scanned the table of contents in my copy of Poe’s Complete Tales and Poems and decided on this one, since I had never read it and it seemed short enough. I have to say that I was very impressed with the story, the premise of which I found fascinating.

The basic plot of the tale centers around an experiment on mesmerism. The protagonist, who is relating the story, decides to see what would happen if an individual was mesmerized just before death.

My attention, for the last three years, had been repeatedly drawn to the subject of Mesmerism; and, about nine months ago, it occurred to me, quite suddenly, that in the series of experiments made hitherto, there had been a very remarkable and most unaccountable omission: no person had as yet been mesmerized in articulo mortis. It remained to be seen, first, whether, in such condition, there existed in the patient any susceptibility to the magnetic influence; secondly, whether, if any existed, it was impaired or increased by the condition; thirdly, to what extent, or for how long a period, the encroachments of Death might be arrested by the process. There were other points to be ascertained, but these most excited my curiosity—the last in especial, from the immensely important character of its consequences.

An acquaintance, M. Valdemar, who is terminally ill, agrees to participate in the experiment. He is mesmerized just before the moment of death. After he passes, he is asked a question, and responds.

I have spoken both of “sound” and of “voice.” I mean to say that the sound was one of distinct — of even wonderfully, thrillingly distinct—syllabification. M. Valdemar spoke—obviously in reply to the question I had propounded to him a few minutes before. I had asked him, it will be remembered, if he still slept. He now said:

“Yes; —no; —I have been sleeping—and now—now—I am dead.”

The implication here is that physical death does not mean the end of consciousness, that consciousness continues after the body ceases to function. And this begs the question: What is life, the functioning of the physical body, or the cohesive awareness of an individual’s consciousness?

It was evident that, so far, death (or what is usually termed death) had been arrested by the mesmeric process. It seemed clear to us all that to awaken M. Valdemar would be merely to insure his instant, or at least his speedy dissolution.

While this tale does have a touch of eeriness for which Poe is renowned, it is the exploration of consciousness that I found most fascinating about this short story. I highly recommend giving it a read. You can find the full text online if you are interested (since it is part of the public domain).

Thanks for stopping by, and keep reading interesting stuff.

Thoughts on “The Thirteenth Tale” by Diane Setterfield

Sometimes, you can judge a book by its cover. I went to an estate sale some years back that advertised having a large selection of books. Clearly, the person who had passed was a serious reader based upon the sheer volume of books for sale, most of which were nice hardcovers. Scanning through the stacks, the cover of this book caught my eye. The brief blurb on the jacket confirmed that this should be worth the couple dollars. Also of interest, the title page was inscribed. I guess a friend of the deceased had given this book as a gift. Kind of added to the overall mystique of the book.

The premise of the story is that a woman who is an antiquarian book dealer gets hired by a reclusive author, who is nearing the end of her life, to write her biography. As is to be expected, many dark secrets abound, and the tale unravels in a gothic atmosphere that works really well.

As a bibliophile who loves used and antiquarian bookstores, the early description drew me right into the story.

Rising from the stairs, I stepped into the darkness of the shop. I didn’t need the light to find my way. I know the shop the way you know the places of your childhood. Instantly the smell of leather and old paper was soothing. I ran my fingertips along the spines, like a pianist along his keyboard. Each book has its own individual note: the grainy, linen-covered spine of Daniel’s History of Map Making, the cracked leather of Lakunin’s minutes from the meetings of the St. Petersburg Cartographic Academy; a well-worn folder that contains his maps, hand-drawn, hand-colored. You could blindfold me and position me anywhere on the three floors of this shop and I could tell you from the books under my fingertips where I was.

(p. 12)

When reading a gothic novel, even a modern one, there are some tropes that you come to expect, such as the old, decaying house. Ms. Setterfield uses this image well throughout the book as a symbol for mental illness and psychological decline.

On the first day of silence, and as if nothing had ever happened to interrupt it, the house picked up again its long, slow project of decay. Small things first: Dirt began to seep from every crevice in every object in every room. Surfaces secreted dust. Windows covered themselves with the first fine layer of grime. All of Hester’s changes had been superficial. They required daily attention to be maintained. And as the Missus’s cleaning schedules at first wavered, and then crashed, the real, permanent nature of the house began to reassert itself. The time came when you couldn’t pick anything up without feeling the old cling of grime on your fingers.

(p. 197)

I don’t want to give away too much regarding this novel. Suffice to say that I enjoyed it. It was a quick read, the story was engaging, it was well-written, and there were some interesting metaphors and correspondences. Bottom line, no matter what type of reader you are, you’re likely to find something you’ll like in this book.

Thanks for stopping by!

Shudder #1: Collector’s Edition

This is a “new” graphic horror magazine. I put “new” in quotations marks because actually, it used to be The Creeps magazine, but it seems that there was some copyright infringement and they had to change the name. Anyway, this is the first issue and it adheres to the time-tested format of short, campy horror tales done in black-and-white. The writers, artists, and editors are all alumni from the early days of Warren publications, so there is definitely an authentic feel that fans of the old horror mags like Creepy and Eerie will appreciate.

The tales are curated by Old Aunt Shudder, who introduces herself on the inside of the front cover page.

Welcome! …to the first great collector’s edition of Shudder magazine! Your Old Aunt Shudder here, and I’ll be your host as you journey through these terror-filled pages! Inside, you will find all new work from the greatest horror comic artists and writers in the history of monster-dom! I’ve scoured the globe for the world’s top talent to bring you the kinds of terror tales that haven’t been seen for nearly fifty years! Presented in the classic style of the best black and white illustrated horror comic magazines of the 1960’s and 1970’s! Shudder is dedicated to preserving the style of horror comics that were being created at the height of the genre, when realism ruled and dark, moody illustrations brought the world of monsters, creatures and things that go bump in the night to “life!” Now! Enter my world… it’s guaranteed to make you… Shudder!

This is great stuff to read during the Halloween season, especially if, like me, you were raised on the classic horror magazines that Shudder emulates. I am definitely looking forward to future issues.

Happy reading!

“Uzumaki” by Junji Ito

This book marks an expansion in my reading, being the first manga book that I have read. I had tried reading one some years back but had a difficult time following the flow. The left-to-right was one thing, but what confused me was the text within the panels. Anyway, I ended up not reading it and just never tried again. But my daughter came to visit and brought this book along for me to read. She said it was a favorite of hers and she thought I would enjoy it. So I had her give me some basics on reading manga, and took the plunge. Once I got comfortable with the format, it moved nicely.

For those of you who are not familiar with the genre, here is a little background.

Manga are comics or graphic novels originating from Japan. Most manga conform to a style developed in Japan in the late 19th century, though the art form has a long prehistory in earlier Japanese art. The term manga is used in Japan to refer to both comics and cartooning. Outside Japan, the word is typically used to refer to comics originally published in the country.

In Japan, people of all ages read manga. The medium includes works in a broad range of genres: action, adventure, business and commerce, comedy, detective, drama, historical, horror, mystery, romance, science fiction and fantasy, erotica (hentai), sports and games, and suspense, among others. Many manga are translated into other languages. Since the 1950s, manga has become an increasingly major part of the Japanese publishing industry.

(Source: Wikipedia)

This text falls into the horror sub-genre. It is the story of a coastal town in Japan contaminated with spirals. The spiral shapes that appear have bizarre effects upon physical reality within the town, as well as disturbing effects upon the collective and individual psyches of people within the town.

Early in the book, the spiral is identified as a mystical shape.

It fills me with a deep fascination…like nothing else in nature…no other shape…Mr. Goshima, I find the spiral to be very mystical.

(p. 20)

As the effects of the spiral increase within the town, it is discovered that spiral whirlwinds can be generated by the slightest of movements, which is then linked to the Butterfly Effect which is part of Chaos Theory in modern physics.

That’s what’s happening in this town. “The flapping of a single butterfly’s wings can create a hurricane on the other side of the world. This is like the “Butterfly Effect”…

(p. 447)

Finally, the spiral is revealed as a symbol of eternity and of cycles of creation, destruction, and rebirth, which both transcends and encapsulates time.

And with the spiral complete, a strange thing happened. Just as time sped up when we were on the outskirts, in the center of the spiral it stood still. So the curse was over the same moment it began, the endless frozen moment I spent in Shuichi’s arms. And it will be the same moment when it ends again…when the next Kurouzu-Cho is built amidst the ruins of the old one. When the eternal spiral awakes once more.

(p. 610)

While this book seems formidable, weighing in at over 650 pages, it does not take a lot of commitment to read it, since the storyline is heavily driven through the use of graphic imagery. Which prompts me to say a few words about the artwork. In addition to writing this story, Mr. Ito also drew all the illustrations, which are stunning and intricate. To be gifted in either writing or the visual arts is a blessing, but to be gifted in both is highly unusual, and Junji Ito demonstrates that he is adept in both artistic fields.

I am grateful that my daughter brought this book along on her visit and encouraged me to read it. I really enjoyed it and feel that it expanded my reading horizons. I suspect I will be reading more manga in the future. If you have suggestions for other manga to read, I would love to hear from you. Thanks for stopping by, and keep broadening your horizons.

The Creeps: Issue 25

Catching up on my creepy collection of classic chilling tales of spine-tingling terror. This issue has six shocking stories of scintillating suspense, but I am going to only focus this post on one of the tales.

It seems that in every installment of this publication, they do a short illustrated version of a classic horror story, and in this issue they present a graphic version of The Other Lodgers by Ambrose Bierce. Basically, it is the story of a man who sleeps in a deserted hotel and encounters restless spirits, since at one time it was used as a hospital to treat soldiers in the Civil War, many of whom died there as a result of their injuries.

“Sir, if you’ll sit down, I’ll tell you of this place. It’s not a hotel… It used to be a hotel, and afterwards it was a hospital. Now it’s deserted and unoccupied. The room you slept in was the hospital’s dead-room where were always plenty of dead. The night-clerk you described used to check-in the hotel’s guests. Later he checked-in the hospital’s patients, but he died a few weeks ago!”

(p. 17)

I have not read Bierce’s original short story, but I think I will. I enjoyed this graphic retelling, so I am sure I would like the original text.

Thanks for stopping by, and keep reading.

“Dracula” by Bram Stoker: Exploring the Vampire Archetype

The vampire is a powerful archetype and one that is manifest in our modern society—that being that lives in darkness, feeds of the life-force of others, and is motivated by selfishness and the baser animalistic instincts. This archetype is fully explored in Bram Stoker’s classic horror story, Dracula.

There are such beings as vampires; some of us have evidence that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the teachings and records of the past give proof enough for sane peoples.

(p. 227)

I suspect we have all had experiences with individuals who embody the vampire archetype. They are the ones who drain us when we are around them, with whom we must always keep up our guards, and who seem to thrive on the fear and pain of others.

The nosferatu do not die like the bee when he sting once. He is only stronger; and being stronger, have yet more power to work evil.

(p. 228)

Vampiric individuals do not feel remorse when they inflict pain or suffering on another. On the contrary, they feel empowered. It is a lack of empathy that allows these people to sting again and again, each time feeling more emboldened by feeding on the sense of power experienced over the domination of another person.

One of the best ways to understand the vampire archetype is to contrast it with its opposite.

Well, you know what we have to contend against; but we, too, are not without strength. We have on our side power of combination—a power denied to the vampire kind; we have our sources of science; we are free to act and think; and the hours of the day and the night are ours equally. In fact, so far as our powers extend, they are unfettered, and we are free to use them. We have self-devotion in a cause, and an end to achieve which is not a selfish one. These things are much.

(p. 229)

This paragraph describes the characteristics of individuals who are not vampiric in nature. They are thoughtful and motivated by science and logic. They are free from their baser desires and can therefore act in the best interest of themselves and of those around them. They are balanced (symbolized by the equal parts of night and day), and they are selfless and devoted to causes which further humanity, as opposed to striving solely after personal gain.

While the drinking of blood and transformation into an animal are well-understood symbols of the vampire archetype, another aspect worth noting is the ability to turn into mist.

He can come in mist which he create—the noble ship’s captain proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance he can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He come on moonlight rays as elemental dust—

(p. 230)

Here, mist becomes a symbol of obfuscation. When we find ourselves in close proximity to the vampire archetype, our humanity begins to become obscured, our thoughts unclear. Our minds are in essence affected by the presence of a toxic individual. Thankfully, our minds are also affected when we are close to a positive and nurturing person. But we should always be aware of the subtle changes in our personalities that result from our associations with others.

There are many expressions of the vampire archetype in our modern culture: the news, social media, advertising, politics, all sucking our life-blood and draining us of our humanity, driving us to embrace our lower instincts and discard our empathy for others. The good news is, once you learn to recognize the vampire, you don’t need garlic to protect yourself; logic, compassion, and when necessary, distance, are all sufficient to ward off the vampire’s effects.

Thanks for stopping by, and stay safe.

“Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring,
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov’d. I lov’d alone.
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still;
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

This poem was written by Poe in his youth and expresses feelings of isolation and of not belonging, which are common among young people. I can speak from my own experience that growing up I never really felt like I fit in anywhere, even though I tried to fit in everywhere. And like Poe, I found my greatest happiness in times of solitude, when I could finally take off my mask and be myself. And this is the sentiment that Poe conveys when he says “And all I lov’d. I lov’d alone.”

While this poem conveys an almost universal feeling, Poe makes it his own at the end:

From the thunder, and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

Here we are provided with a glimpse into the creative mind of Edgar Allan Poe. Poe’s feelings of isolation are the source of his literary expression. He does not see the world as “normal” people do. When he looks into the sky, instead of seeing the blue, he sees the clouds, which reflect the demons lurking within his psyche. And just as a child when he projects those inner demons onto the clouds, as a mature writer, he projects those demons onto his pages.

Like so many tortured youth, Poe looked to artistic expression as a way to deal with his loneliness and face his inner demons. Pain, sadness, and loneliness are prime inspiration for painters, writers, and musicians burdened with the need to have the cathartic release which art provides.

I hope this poem inspired you. Have a great day and thanks for stopping by.

The Creeps – 2019 Annual Spooktacular

While visiting my local comic store recently, I noticed this issue on the rack, and it is hard for a graphic horror fan to pass up a “spooktacular” issue.

The Creeps is a graphic horror magazine published by Warrant Publishing and revives the style and feel of graphic horror from the 1970s, and from what I read online, they employ writers and artists from that period to create an authentic experience. Issues are curated by The Old Creep, a character with a macabre sense of humor that adds a playful feel to the publication.

This compilation issue contains short tales from previous issues, and the cover claims that this is a collection of “fear fables and classic terror tales.” It is the phrase “fear fables” that stands out for me and which is important to discuss regarding this publication.

The magazine contains eleven tales, and what is consistent is that each of them have a kernel of morality woven into the storyline. Protagonists are confronted with an array of horrors, but these horrors are the result of actions that express a moral flaw. So those seeking revenge, those who mock people over disabilities, individuals acting out of greed, pedophiles, and so forth, all come to grisly ends as a result of their actions. Essentially, you could think of this as the morality of the macabre.

Growing up, I read horror magazines extensively: Creepy, Eerie, Tales from the Crypt, Vamiprella, and so forth. As a kid, I never gave much thought to the lessons of morality that were woven into the tales, but looking back, I sense that these early seeds of my reading habits were planted in my psyche, and as a result, I was much more open to accepting concepts of karma as I matured. There was never a question in my mind: if you do wicked deeds, then something wicked will your way come.

It is easy to point fingers at films, books, games, music, and so forth, and condemn them for corrupting young minds, but the truth is that we really don’t know how these art forms will manifest later on in a person’s life. We should not be so quick to judge. Sometimes, the seeds of wisdom are found in strange places.

I hope you enjoyed this post, and expect more “spooky” posts as October moans on.

Thoughts on “The Premature Burial” by Edgar Allan Poe

This is a great story to read for Halloween. It’s dark, creepy, and the topic is one that gives the chills. For as Poe states early in the tale: “To be buried while alive is, beyond question, the most terrific of these extremes which has ever fallen to the lot of mere mortality.”

He goes on to describe the feeling of being buried alive, of awakening to find oneself trapped within a tomb. He even makes a nice allusion to his poem, “The Conqueror Worm.”

Fearful indeed the suspicion — but more fearful the doom! It may be asserted, without hesitation, that no event is so terribly well adapted to inspire the supremeness of bodily and of mental distress, as is burial before death. The unendurable oppression of the lungs — the stifling fumes of the damp earth — the clinging to the death garments — the rigid embrace of the narrow house — the blackness of the absolute Night — the silence like a sea that overwhelms — the unseen but palpable presence of the Conqueror Worm — these things, with thoughts of the air and grass above, with memory of dear friends who would fly to save us if but informed of our fate, and with consciousness that of this fate they can never be informed — that our hopeless portion is that of the really dead — these considerations, I say, carry into the heart, which still palpitates, a degree of appalling and intolerable horror from which the most daring imagination must recoil. We know of nothing so agonizing upon Earth — we can dream of nothing half so hideous in the realms of the nethermost Hell. And thus all narratives upon this topic have an interest profound; an interest, nevertheless, which, through the sacred awe of the topic itself, very properly and very peculiarly depends upon our conviction of the truth of the matter narrated. What I have now to tell, is of my own actual knowledge — of my own positive and personal experience.

As with so many of Poe’s tales, there are often parables or symbolism woven into the macabre stories, and this one is no different. The following passage describes the protagonist’s vision of the sheer number of people who were buried prematurely.

I looked; and the unseen figure, which still grasped me by the wrist, had caused to be thrown open the graves of all mankind; and from each issued the faint phosphoric radiance of decay; so that I could see into the innermost recesses, and there view the shrouded bodies in their sad and solemn slumbers with the worm. But, alas! the real sleepers were fewer, by many millions, than those who slumbered not at all; and there was a feeble struggling; and there was a general sad unrest; and from out the depths of the countless pits there came a melancholy rustling from the garments of the buried. And, of those who seemed tranquilly to repose, I saw that a vast number had changed, in a greater or less degree, the rigid and uneasy position in which they had originally been entombed.

I see this passage as an allegory for the general state of humanity. Many of us die having never fulfilled our life’s purpose, or never doing the things we long to do, or without expressing to another how we truly feel. In essence, we are buried prematurely, with unrealized life still within us. I see this as Poe’s way of telling us to live now, don’t put things off, because soon, you will be food for the Conqueror Worm.

Thanks for stopping by and sharing in my musings. I hope you have a blessed Samhain.

Symbolism in “The Hollow of the Three Hills” by Nathaniel Hawthorne

This is a very short tale, but rich in symbolism. In the opening paragraph, which is a little long, Hawthorne manages to lay the foundation for all the symbols that manifest in the story.

In those strange old times, when fantastic dreams and madmen’s reveries were realized among the actual circumstances of life, two persons met together at an appointed hour and place. One was a lady, graceful in form and fair of feature, though pale and troubled, and smitten with an untimely blight in what should have been the fullest bloom of her years; the other was an ancient and meanly-dressed woman, of ill-favored aspect, and so withered, shrunken, and decrepit, that even the space since she began to decay must have exceeded the ordinary term of human existence. In the spot where they encountered, no mortal could observe them. Three little hills stood near each other, and down in the midst of them sunk a hollow basin, almost mathematically circular, two or three hundred feet in breadth, and of such depth that a stately cedar might but just be visible above the sides. Dwarf pines were numerous upon the hills, and partly fringed the outer verge of the intermediate hollow, within which there was nothing but the brown grass of October, and here and there a tree trunk that had fallen long ago, and lay mouldering with no green successor from its roots. One of these masses of decaying wood, formerly a majestic oak, rested close beside a pool of green and sluggish water at the bottom of the basin. Such scenes as this (so gray tradition tells) were once the resort of the Power of Evil and his plighted subjects; and here, at midnight or on the dim verge of evening, they were said to stand round the mantling pool, disturbing its putrid waters in the performance of an impious baptismal rite. The chill beauty of an autumnal sunset was now gilding the three hill-tops, whence a paler tint stole down their sides into the hollow.

So let’s go through the paragraph and look at the various symbols that will come into play during this story.

First are the two women, one young and one old. They represent the maid and crone aspects of the triple goddess. But also, they represent the past and present for the older woman. The younger woman symbolizes the memories of the older. The choices that were made when the woman was young led her to her place now. So when the crone conjures dark memories of the young woman’s past, she is essentially reliving her own memories, which will lead to her liberation from the bonds of guilt and shame.

The next symbol we encounter is the three hills. The three hills represent the three memories which the crone conjures for the young woman. Each of the hills is a painful memory and represents separation, symbolic death (think grave mound). The young woman severed connections with parents, then with husband, and finally with child. In Hawthorne’s time, the only way a woman could be free was to shake off all bonds to family.

Next, we see that the setting of the story is in October. This represents the time of reaping. We all must reap what we sow, and the young woman must face up to the decisions that she made.

Finally, we have the symbol of the fallen tree. This represents the woman’s lineage, or family tree. When Hawthorne writes that there is “no green successor from its roots,” it is a metaphor for the fact that the woman no longer has any family or children to carry on her bloodline. Like the tree, she will just get old and decay.

While this is not a horror story, per se, it is certainly dark and eerie, and a great short read for an October evening.