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regndoftI have
- Rented movies with dad and sis (Wreck-It Ralph, Les Misérables, Beasts of the Southern Wild and... something else I can't remember). Also bought I, Claudius, becauseDerek Jacobi's face it was on sale and I've been meaning to watch it for ages. Also Romans.
- Started and finished reading Carmilla, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. Otherwise known as one of the earliest vampire novels, major source of inspiration for Stoker's Dracula, and "that one with the lesbians".
First published in 1872, Carmilla is a novella that follows a pretty standard format of gothic horror; the introduction of something dangerous and unknown to an otherwise isolated environment. Laura, the first person narrator of the events, lives alone with her father, governesses and servants in an old castle in southeast Austria when the eponymous character of Carmilla, through circumstances, becomes a temporary house guest of the family.
Likewise, the language is what one might expect from the Romantics; adjectives and commas are not spared, but despite the purple prose it's still a very readable story. By virtue of being a short story, Le Fanu doesn't linger on unnecessary events or descriptions, but only what is necessary to create a suitable atmosphere for the story. The dialogue might be stilted by virtue of being, well, written in the 19th century, but unlike some Victorian authors I could think of it's not an arduous task to get through a chapter.
If anything, I had more problems with the structure of the novella itself; Laura is not the most compelling of narrators, although by no means a bad one; I think this is simply a limit of the format (I always find it harder to pin down a character's personality traits when they're a first person narrator). As long as the story is focused on her and her relationship with Carmilla it's a compelling read, and I really enjoyed it, but once the focus shifts to the male characters of the piece it loses something. It becomes prosaic and slightly dull.
Something else that would not have been a problem when this was published but is to the modern reader, is that... this story has had a finger in shaping a genre, and it shows. Le Fanu carefully crafts an atmosphere of mystery around Carmilla and who or what she is which is lost on someone who has grown up in a time when the concept of vampires long since entered the public conscience. On top of that this novella's entire claim to fame is the fact that it's one of the earliest vampire stories. Subsequently a lot of the horror aspect of the story is lost, and the gratuitous exposition near the end rather tedious.
Character-wise, once again because of its format, the novella remains unimpressive; Laura has a couple of distinctive enough character traits, but she plays the passive part of victim. Once it becomes necessary to take action, she falls back into the background. Her nearest family mostly resemble stock characters.
Carmilla is, appropriately enough, the most compelling character of the piece, if only by the sheer mystery of her presence. Despite her frank dialogue and passionate declarations of love, we're left in the dark of her true intentions, the nature of her affection towards Laura. She casts a long shadow, both in Laura's and the reader's mind, by the end of the story; an ambiguity I do believe was intentional on the part of the author.
I'm a fan of gothic fiction, although not a great vampire affecionado. I did largely enjoy this story despite its shortcomings, but only partly because of the story itself; a major source of fascination is not only the genre-shaping aspect, but what a ripe source of queer interpretation it is.
The lesbian vampire trope has been a staple of horror movies since... well, at least the Hammer horror movies in the late 60s/early 70s, if not even before that (I'm not an expert on the history of vampires in pop culture, horror as a genre even less so). Carmilla is for good reason usually pegged as the originator of this trope, but at the same time I feel that's not quite fair. Lesbian themes in horror are largely the result of fetishisation; in La Fanu's novella the erotic aspect is nigh non-existant, and there's no Male Gaze to speak of.
This makes Carmilla's passion all the more intriguing-- because it is passion, and if it's not love it's something nearly as ardent; the novella states as much itself. While the physical aspects - kisses on the cheek, embraces and arms around each other's waist - of their relationship would be standard for the kind of romantic friendships largely endorsed before the medicalisation of homosexuality, Carmilla's dialogue is frank to the extent that it makes Laura uncomfortable.
In fact, the extent of Carmilla's passion is interesting to me, because it feels like it's unusual for women in literature to display such deep emotion, even towards men; not just because of the emotion itself, but the reason why it's directed at Laura. Does she love her as a person? The life she represents? Is it not love, but the obsessive need to corrupt another soul and make her as Carmilla herself (You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me, and _hating_ me through death and after.)?
On a meta level, what was Le Fanu's intent when he wrote this in? It's hardly a statement on female homoerotic relationships (or the perils thereof, seeing as this was in 1872), but Carmilla explicitly targets young women, not just Laura. Then again, perhaps Carmilla should be considered a non-human being, rather than a person restrained by definitions of femininity and masculinity (trufax: when the Hammer horror movie based on Carmilla, The Vampire Lovers, was made in 1970, this is the exact reason they gave for avoiding censure of the considerably more erotic lesbian elements on screen).
(Speaking of which, I really need to watch The Vampire Lovers. It has Ingrid Pitt and I have watched worse vampire movies for... actually exact the same reason. And that reason is Who actors.)
(No but seriously if I can suffer through the dudebro mess that was Lesbian Vampire Killers for Paul McGann I can suffer through anything).
Speaking of genre, something Bram Stoker definitely did not get from Carmilla is the largely unsympathetic portrayal of vampires. While Anne Rice is perhaps rightfully credited for humanising (heh) said creatures of the night, I was a bit surprised to find how Le Fanu treats his. Once again, the ambiguity in Carmilla's character makes it hard to tell exactly how she relates to the people around her, but she is clearly capable of a range of emotions rather than being relegated to the role of a predator.
Overall, it's far from a flawless story, but it's a compelling enough concept as well as interesting as an example of a book that's played a huge role in creating a genre. It's also a short story, just over a hundred pages, so if you're curious and have two or three hours to spare I recommend it.
Also, it being published in 1872, it's available free for download on sites like Project Gutenberg.
(This post is probably riddled with spelling and grammar errors. Because it's twenty minutes to four AM. Yolo, and all that.)
- Rented movies with dad and sis (Wreck-It Ralph, Les Misérables, Beasts of the Southern Wild and... something else I can't remember). Also bought I, Claudius, because
- Started and finished reading Carmilla, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. Otherwise known as one of the earliest vampire novels, major source of inspiration for Stoker's Dracula, and "that one with the lesbians".
First published in 1872, Carmilla is a novella that follows a pretty standard format of gothic horror; the introduction of something dangerous and unknown to an otherwise isolated environment. Laura, the first person narrator of the events, lives alone with her father, governesses and servants in an old castle in southeast Austria when the eponymous character of Carmilla, through circumstances, becomes a temporary house guest of the family.
Likewise, the language is what one might expect from the Romantics; adjectives and commas are not spared, but despite the purple prose it's still a very readable story. By virtue of being a short story, Le Fanu doesn't linger on unnecessary events or descriptions, but only what is necessary to create a suitable atmosphere for the story. The dialogue might be stilted by virtue of being, well, written in the 19th century, but unlike some Victorian authors I could think of it's not an arduous task to get through a chapter.
If anything, I had more problems with the structure of the novella itself; Laura is not the most compelling of narrators, although by no means a bad one; I think this is simply a limit of the format (I always find it harder to pin down a character's personality traits when they're a first person narrator). As long as the story is focused on her and her relationship with Carmilla it's a compelling read, and I really enjoyed it, but once the focus shifts to the male characters of the piece it loses something. It becomes prosaic and slightly dull.
Something else that would not have been a problem when this was published but is to the modern reader, is that... this story has had a finger in shaping a genre, and it shows. Le Fanu carefully crafts an atmosphere of mystery around Carmilla and who or what she is which is lost on someone who has grown up in a time when the concept of vampires long since entered the public conscience. On top of that this novella's entire claim to fame is the fact that it's one of the earliest vampire stories. Subsequently a lot of the horror aspect of the story is lost, and the gratuitous exposition near the end rather tedious.
Character-wise, once again because of its format, the novella remains unimpressive; Laura has a couple of distinctive enough character traits, but she plays the passive part of victim. Once it becomes necessary to take action, she falls back into the background. Her nearest family mostly resemble stock characters.
Carmilla is, appropriately enough, the most compelling character of the piece, if only by the sheer mystery of her presence. Despite her frank dialogue and passionate declarations of love, we're left in the dark of her true intentions, the nature of her affection towards Laura. She casts a long shadow, both in Laura's and the reader's mind, by the end of the story; an ambiguity I do believe was intentional on the part of the author.
I'm a fan of gothic fiction, although not a great vampire affecionado. I did largely enjoy this story despite its shortcomings, but only partly because of the story itself; a major source of fascination is not only the genre-shaping aspect, but what a ripe source of queer interpretation it is.
The lesbian vampire trope has been a staple of horror movies since... well, at least the Hammer horror movies in the late 60s/early 70s, if not even before that (I'm not an expert on the history of vampires in pop culture, horror as a genre even less so). Carmilla is for good reason usually pegged as the originator of this trope, but at the same time I feel that's not quite fair. Lesbian themes in horror are largely the result of fetishisation; in La Fanu's novella the erotic aspect is nigh non-existant, and there's no Male Gaze to speak of.
This makes Carmilla's passion all the more intriguing-- because it is passion, and if it's not love it's something nearly as ardent; the novella states as much itself. While the physical aspects - kisses on the cheek, embraces and arms around each other's waist - of their relationship would be standard for the kind of romantic friendships largely endorsed before the medicalisation of homosexuality, Carmilla's dialogue is frank to the extent that it makes Laura uncomfortable.
In fact, the extent of Carmilla's passion is interesting to me, because it feels like it's unusual for women in literature to display such deep emotion, even towards men; not just because of the emotion itself, but the reason why it's directed at Laura. Does she love her as a person? The life she represents? Is it not love, but the obsessive need to corrupt another soul and make her as Carmilla herself (You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me, and _hating_ me through death and after.)?
On a meta level, what was Le Fanu's intent when he wrote this in? It's hardly a statement on female homoerotic relationships (or the perils thereof, seeing as this was in 1872), but Carmilla explicitly targets young women, not just Laura. Then again, perhaps Carmilla should be considered a non-human being, rather than a person restrained by definitions of femininity and masculinity (trufax: when the Hammer horror movie based on Carmilla, The Vampire Lovers, was made in 1970, this is the exact reason they gave for avoiding censure of the considerably more erotic lesbian elements on screen).
(Speaking of which, I really need to watch The Vampire Lovers. It has Ingrid Pitt and I have watched worse vampire movies for... actually exact the same reason. And that reason is Who actors.)
(No but seriously if I can suffer through the dudebro mess that was Lesbian Vampire Killers for Paul McGann I can suffer through anything).
Speaking of genre, something Bram Stoker definitely did not get from Carmilla is the largely unsympathetic portrayal of vampires. While Anne Rice is perhaps rightfully credited for humanising (heh) said creatures of the night, I was a bit surprised to find how Le Fanu treats his. Once again, the ambiguity in Carmilla's character makes it hard to tell exactly how she relates to the people around her, but she is clearly capable of a range of emotions rather than being relegated to the role of a predator.
Overall, it's far from a flawless story, but it's a compelling enough concept as well as interesting as an example of a book that's played a huge role in creating a genre. It's also a short story, just over a hundred pages, so if you're curious and have two or three hours to spare I recommend it.
Also, it being published in 1872, it's available free for download on sites like Project Gutenberg.
(This post is probably riddled with spelling and grammar errors. Because it's twenty minutes to four AM. Yolo, and all that.)
