A perfect gift for Halloween: win a copy of The Gothic: 250 Years of Success, Your Guide to Gothic Literature and Culture! My publisher gives away 3 copies of the book, no strings attached. Unfortunately only US residents can participate in the draw.
To participate click here: The Gothic: 250 Years of Success giveaway
The draw ends on Oct 30, 2015 11:59 PM PDT, or when all prizes are claimed. See Official Rules .
Good luck and Happy Halloween!
Whether you enjoy books, comic books, movies or TV series, you can’t escape this—“darkness” is everywhere. “Dark”, “darkness”, the words that evoked fear in our ancestors are used nowadays as marketing tools. But what do we mean by “dark” when referring to a work of fiction?
Historically, it was the 18th-century Gothic novel that transformed negative emotions such as fear or melancholy into a source of pleasure (see the Gothic Novel and The Gothic: 250 Years of Success). However, the success of this initial wave of terrifying stories was short-lived, and in the 1820s this genre gave way to a more sophisticated kind of aesthetics—the Romantic movement was on the rise.
During the 19th and the 20th centuries—roughly until the 1970s—horror fiction was little more than an underground culture, although some horror books and movies managed to achieve long-lasting popularity. For example, classic adaptations of Frankenstein by James Whale and Dracula by Tod Browning were successful in the 1930s and remain influential to the present day.
Darkness does not necessarily equal horror, however. Science fiction and fantasy also grew darker in the 70s and the 80s. Those ugly and often ridiculous monsters who terrorized beautiful girls on the covers of pulp magazines were history—a new breed of monstrosities was about to transform science fiction. In Alien (1979), Ridley Scott created a shocking, futuristic aesthetic of fear. Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982) blended science fiction with film noir, and challenged our perception of human condition in the process. The Terminator (James Cameron, 1984) and Predator (John McTiernan, 1987) introduced us to new, disturbingly realistic sorts of killing machines.
Fantasy grew gritty, brutal, sometimes bleak and pessimistic. No need to insist on the influence of the Game of Thrones (this book had enough publicity already). Let’s mention a few noteworthy authors such as Steven Erikson (Malazan Book of the Fallen), Brandon Sanderson (Mistborn series), Joe Abercrombie (The First Law Trilogy), Patrick Rothfuss (The Kingkiller Chronicle), and Mark Lawrence (The Broken Empire trilogy).
In your opinion, why are we craving for this sort of terrifying stories? What makes them so appealing to science fiction and fantasy readers?
Read the first part here: Whitby, in the footsteps of Dracula (Part 1)
“Perched high on a cliff, it’s easy to see why the haunting remains of Whitby Abbey were inspiration for Bram Stoker’s gothic tale of Dracula,” states the English Heritage website.
The story of Whitby Abbey in itself could be the subject of a book. This story begins in 657 with the foundation of a monastery by Hilda of Whitby. This monastery became one of the most important religious centers in the Anglo-Saxon world. Following the withdrawal of Roman legions from Britain, Northumbria emerged as a powerful independent kingdom. Members of the Northumbrian royal family were buried at the Whitby monastery, which shows the symbolic importance this monastery had at that time. The layman Cædmon, the earliest English poet whose name is known, lived and died in Whitby in the 7th century. The memorial to Cædmon has been preserved and can be seen in St Mary’s Churchyard.
Whitby monastery was abandoned in the 9th century, probably because Viking raids. In 1078, when Viking invasions were already history, a monk named Reinfrid founded a new monastic community at Whitby. Initially the monastery was built of wood, but in the 12th century it was rebuilt in stone in the Romanesque style. Later, in the 13th century, the monastery was rebuilt again, this time in the Gothic style. As many Gothic buildings, Whitby Abbey was built in stages, and the work continued with interruptions until the 15th century.
Following the Protestant Reformation in the 16th century, the abbey was abandoned and its buildings sold to Sir Richard Cholmley (1578). During the Civil War (1642–51), the Parliamentarian troops captured Whitby and looted the Abbey House. After the war Sir Hugh Cholmley II restored it and added a new wing, known as the Banqueting House.
The Cholmleys abandoned the place in the 18th century. The Abbey House suffered from storms and part of its roof was removed. Weakened by erosion, the shell of the abbey church also started to collapse. The south transept collapsed in 1736, the nave in 1763, the central tower in 1830, and the south side of the presbytery in 1839.
In the 19th century, the Strickland family, descendants of the Cholmleys, entered in possession of Whitby Abbey. At that time, the abbey ruins became a popular tourist destination.
In 1914 Whitby was shelled by a German fleet. The abbey ruins were hit and the west front was damaged. In 1920 the Strickland family handed the abbey over to the Ministry of Works. English Heritage carried out archaeological excavations and surveys at this site between 1993 and 2008. The visitor centre was built during that period.
Such is the story of Whitby Abbey. The symbolic importance of this building changed constantly over the centuries. Place of spirituality and knowledge, place of power, place of violence and tragedy, place of hope, place of leisure, place of artistic inspiration.
Why did Bram Stoker find inspiration here, among the ruins of Whitby Abbey? The past haunting the present—such has always been the main motif in Gothic fiction. Medieval ruins remind us that we cannot break from our history, at least not completely. Dracula is an intruder from our past; he brings with him the memories of troubled times and the ways of our ancestors. Yet we cannot ignore our medieval heritage. Whether it causes awe or fear, the medieval culture is still an important part of our civilization, and it will remain part of our culture for the decades to come.
Read also: Whitby Goth Weekend, April 2015 (Part 1) and Part 2.
Read the first part here: Whitby Goth Weekend, April 2015 (Part 1)
Okay, so now we climbed the 199 steps leading to the Church of Saint Mary and the cemetery surrounding it. Photographers huddle around the entrance of the church—the show is on!
The lighting is perfect, making colors rich and vivid. We meet gorgeous models competing for the attention of numerous photographers and visitors.
All imaginary worlds meet here: medieval fantasy, steampunk, cyberpunk, science fiction, horror …
I saved my favorite image for the end. Amid grim tombstones, we meet a lovely fae straight from an urban fantasy novel! What a delightful encounter, isn’t it?
I would like to thank all the lovely people who allowed me to take a picture of them. Very kind of you indeed!
Also read Whitby, in the footsteps of Dracula (Part 1)
Twice a year, Goths, steampunks, vampires, and other alternative culture lovers flock to Whitby, a small town located in North Yorkshire, to attend the Whitby Goth Weekend. This festival has been running since 1994 and is one of the largest of its kind in the world. It’s a brilliant opportunity to see some imaginative, wonderfully scary, sometimes phantasmagorical costumes.
Sunday 26 April 2015, Saint Ann’s Staith. Weather—wonderful. Atmosphere—surreal. Mood? Gothic, yet festive.
Now let’s cross the Whitby Swing Bridge and venture into Church Street. We meet couples in gorgeous Victorian or steampunk costumes. Some of them are kind enough to pose for the camera!
The feeling of unreality grows stronger. It’s difficult to believe we are still on Earth!
What? Vampires gathering in broad daylight! Did they drink fae blood? Call vampire slayers! I dial 913. “Hello, Whitby vampire hunters. How can we help you today?” I tell them what I saw. “Vampires on Church Street? Oh, this is normal, you see. No worries; they are vegetarian.” Ah. That explains a lot. “Good day, sir.”
Vegetarian vampires on the streets at noon? There is something fishy going on in Whitby. I’m glad I brought my vampire slayer kit with me. Just in case.
Okay, now let’s go up the stairs toward the Church of Saint Mary and Whitby Abbey.
I would like to thank all the lovely people who allowed me to take a picture of them. Very kind of you indeed!
Also read Whitby, in the footsteps of Dracula (Part 1)
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The adjective “amazing” was invented to describe the kind of experience I had in Whitby, a small town located in North Yorkshire, UK. This is where Bram Stoker found inspiration for his famous novel Dracula (1897). Now I understand what he felt when he visited this town – I felt it too.
I arrived in Whiby on Wednesday 22 April after a 6-hour journey by train. Went to the B&B where I had made a reservation, checked in, then started my exploration of the famous vampire town. My first destination was Whitby Abbey, or, to be more precise, the ruins of Whitby Abbey. In the footsteps of Dracula, I climbed the 199 steps leading to the Church of Saint Mary and the top of the East Cliff.
Old tombstones surrounding the church greeted me solemnly. I turned to contemplate the setting sun that burned like a molten copper orb, bathing the cemetery in a warm orange glow.
I continued my journey toward Whitby Abbey, its ruins silhouetted against the darkening sky.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a cloud of fog appeared to shroud the town in semi-darkness. It hung oppressively – as Edgar Allan Poe would say – over the bay, the valley and the town, eclipsing the last rays of the dying sun.
The cloud swiftly slid over the ruins of the abbey, as if some malevolent power had cast a spell. Then the cold came, this humid, traitorous, creeping cold that sucks the warmth out of your body. The change in temperature was as swift as the change in luminosity. The warm glow of the setting sun was replaced by an icy semi-darkness. This sight was surreal, as if nature itself had staged it for my benefit. I felt a connection, an inexplicable bond with this place – the ruins, the church, the cemetery, the old stones.
After this moment of awe came the realization that I was freezing. I felt the need to send some hot drink down my throat to expel the cold tentacles of the night. Destination – the nearest café!
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Learn more about the history of this town in
In December 1764 appeared a curious book titled The Castle of Otranto. Its preface stated:
The following work was found in the library of an ancient Catholic family in the north of England. It was printed at Naples, in the black letter, in the year 1529. How much sooner it was written does not appear. The principal incidents are such as were believed in the darkest ages of Christianity; but the language and conduct have nothing that savours of barbarism.
The preface went on to speculate that this story had been written during the Crusades, between 1095 and 1243. A haunted castle, a mysterious prophecy, an evil and manipulative aristocrat, two young and beautiful heroines, a forbidden love and lots of action – such are the ingredients of this wildly imaginative melodrama.
Despite an initially positive critical reception, this unlikely story could have remained a footnote in the history of literature, as did other literary curiosities. However, the following year, a second edition of this book was published, and, this time, its true nature was revealed by the author. The Castle of Otranto: A Gothic Story was a work of fiction written by Horace Walpole, a forty-eight-year-old English aristocrat known for his passion for the medieval period and Gothic architecture.
In this stylish, rationalist 18th century, dominated by the baroque and the Classicism, Walpole was viewed as an eccentric. He went as far as to transform his villa at Strawberry Hill (just outside London) into an imitation of a Gothic castle. In the preface to the second edition of The Castle of Otranto, Walpole explained that his book was “an attempt to blend the two kinds of romance, the ancient and the modern”. In other words, he transposed his love for medieval art into literature and thus created the first neo-Gothic fictional work in history.
In the 1760s, the world was not yet ready for the onslaught of the Gothic. However, two decades later, England was ready, as were other European countries that went through radical social changes.
The Gothic novel exploded in the 1790s and the 1800s, when, in England, up to 20% of all published titles belonged to this type of literature. Paradoxically, the effects of this cultural phenomenon were as profound as the books that caused it were shallow. Few Gothic novels published in the 18th century had literary merit (those by Ann Radcliffe being among the rare exceptions). More than their intrinsic quality, it was their ability to excite the imagination of a broad readership that made them so influential. The 18th-century Gothic fiction was probably the first popular genre in the history of Western civilization; it was the prototype of what we call a genre nowadays.
The success of this early wave of terrifying novels was short-lived, and, in the 1820s, readers grew tired of this kind of story. Nevertheless, 19th-century literature would not be the same without the spark of wild imagination brought by the Gothic novel. This genre created a portal between the mysterious past and the rational present through which the power of medieval fancy could relive to inseminate the modern culture. It inspired Jane Austen to write her first novel, Northanger Abbey, a satirical, yet respectful parody of the Radcliffean Gothic. It influenced Walter Scott, the father of historical fiction. It paved the road for the budding Romantic Movement, in particular its darker forms, and we can see its imprint in Byron’s poems or in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
Some literary critics viewed the Gothic as biologists view extinct species, like a relic of the past, something that had a role in evolution, but was now history. As a genre the Gothic is no more; nevertheless, as an artistic style it is as strong nowadays as it was two centuries ago. It was its ability to evolve beyond the boundaries of a genre that made it so influential and widespread.
By the first decade of the 19th century, the Gothic had invaded literature and, to a lesser extent, theatrical drama and visual arts. By the first decade of the 21st century, the Gothic was everywhere: cinema, TV, comic books, music, internet, role-playing games, video games, digital art, and fashion. Not only was it adopted by every form of art and media, but it also penetrated most genres; we can find its influence in fantasy, science fiction, thrillers, romance, historical fiction, and literary fiction.
From The Gothic: 250 Years of Success by A J Blakemont. Copyrighted material.
H. P. Lovecraft (1890-1937) had a particularly grim vision of the future. He created a dark, yet sublime fictional universe. What Lovecraft brought to speculative fiction is the concept of world building. He did not only create a myth; he created an entire fictional world to illustrate his cosmological views. This is how he summarized his vision in the introductory paragraph from The Call of Cthulhu (1926):
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
What if he was right?
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) is known for his mystery and horror short stories, but he also wrote in other genres, including science fiction. His best science fiction stories (in chronological order) are The Unparalleled Adventure of One Hans Pfaall, The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion, The Colloquy of Monos and Una, and Mellonta Tauta. We can also mention A Tale of the Ragged Mountains, Mesmeric Revelation, The Power of Words, and The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.
His only (complete) novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838), bordered on science fiction and inspired masterpieces such as Moby-Dick (1851) by Herman Melville, Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea (1870) and An Antarctic Mystery (1897) by Jules Verne. Edgar Allan Poe also wrote an essay on cosmology, Eureka: A Prose Poem (1849), that can be read as a philosophical science fiction work.
