by G. K. Chesterton (1908)

2024 reads, 25/22:

“An anarchist is an artist. The man who throws a bomb is an artist, because he prefers a great moment to everything. He sees how much more valuable is one burst of blazing light, one peal of perfect thunder, than the mere common bodies of a few shapeless policemen. An artist disregards all governments, abolishes all conventions. The poet delights in disorder only.”

For this year’s October “spooky” read, I went in a bit of a different direction. Maybe it was because the other horror books on my to-read list were already checked out on Libby, but I decided to tackle something I added to my to-read list years ago. The Man Who Was Thursday, by G. K. Chesterton, is a novel about man who infiltrates a seven-man anarchist group, all with codenames that represent the different days of the week. And honestly, what better story to finish around Halloween, than one of metaphorical masks and anarchistic misbehavior?

A foggy London town sets the backdrop of our two main characters, Lucian Gregory, the anarchist poet, and Gabriel Syme, his foil. You’ve probably immediately clocked the biblical imagery here: Lucian, a play on Lucifer, the fallen angel of light, and Gabriel, representing the archangel and heavenly messenger. But it doesn’t stop there – the Christian allegory is rampant in symbolism and motifs throughout this novel, and I’m sure there were many allusions that I missed.

Early on, Chesterton doesn’t hold back in hitting us with a few reveals and twists, and what starts as a philosophical musing on double identities, and the role of anarchy in society, quickly unfolds into a mysterious thriller. There’s still lots of exposition on these topics, especially when Syme starts to ponder about whatever current situation he’s in, but it is contrasted by witty (and even comical) dialogue. Seriously, I was surprised at how slapstick these characters could be.

“‘Secretary,’ said the President seriously, ‘if you'd take your head home and boil it for a turnip it might be useful. I can't say. But it might.’”

Although published in early twentieth century England, the writing is not terribly dated for a novel of that era (though I did have to look up a few archaic words at times). And there’s enough action to keep things interesting, to keep you wanting to know what happens next. I guess that’s all we can really ask for, right?

“This particular evening, if it is remembered for nothing else, will be remembered in that place for its strange sunset. It looked like the end of the world. All the heaven seemed covered with a quite vivid and palpable plumage; you could only say that the sky was full of feathers, and of feathers that almost brushed the face.”

#readingyear2024 #british #philosophy

by Mary Shelley (1818)

2022 reads, 18/20:

I fittingly finished this novel on Halloween night (as you can see, I’m behind on reviews), and overall enjoyed it much more than I thought I would. As my friend Corey said, the first thing that stuck out to me was the fact that the creation of the monster happens very early on, and there’s no real theatrical “Hollywood” moment as it happens – it just happens. And the rest of the book is all about the aftermath of that fateful night. We follow Victor to see what happens afterward, learn about the tragic downfall of the monster, and how this translates to the terror that Victor experiences. Make no mistake though; I believe that Victor is the true monster. He knows this too, but at times almost cannot bring himself to face what he’s done. This, of course, has drastic consequences.

“But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.”

What a line. I also really enjoyed the parallels between Victor and the monster. Isolation, vengeance, and the creation/destruction of life are all traits that are present in both of these characters. Another unexpected pleasure I had from reading this was all of the natural descriptions of the European landscape as the characters traveled around. To me, this “sublime nature” of the book was a perfect foil to the human horror that we are constantly inundated with in the main story.

“The weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper in the ravine of Arve. The immense mountains and precipices that overhung me on every side, the sound of the river raging among the rocks, and the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty as Omnipotence—and I ceased to fear or to bend before any being less almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements, here displayed in their most terrific guise. Still, as I ascended higher, the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character. Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains, the impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from among the trees formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was augmented and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and shining pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to another earth, the habitations of another race of beings.”

I definitely enjoyed this classic much more than I thought I would, and highly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t read it yet.

#readingyear2022 #british #spooky #gothic

by Bram Stoker (1897)

2022 reads, 10/20:

Originally, I was going to read this via an email subscription service which sends you the letters/journals/newspaper clippings that make up this epistolary novel on the date they were written; but honestly the book was too enticing to wait until the next email, so I ended up just going ahead with it.

Vampires have become such a popular genre since this was published in 1897 (Twilight, Blade, American Horror Story, What We Do In The Shadows, the list goes on…), so we have all become somewhat unfazed by them, even obsessing over them. So going into this, I tried to imagine someone reading about vampires for the first time, especially in the late 1800s, where vampires threatened the Christian and puritan ideals so prevalent at the time. In this novel, submitting to someone like Dracula presents an eternally damned fate worse than death.

"To us for ever are the gates of heaven shut; for who shall open them to us again? We go on for all time abhorred by all; a blot on the face of God's sunshine; an arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we are face to face with duty; and in such case must we shrink?"

Regarding plot, I’d say the first four chapters are probably my favorite. There are only two main characters, Jonathan Harker and Count Dracula, and all you can do is read as the horror slowly unfolds upon itself; it’s honestly such a strong beginning. But after these chapters, the plot and pacing start to slow down.

And to me, the pacing from this point onward presents kind of a Catch-22 situation. By that, I mean there were a lot of dry parts between the letters and journal entries, especially as we get to know all the new characters introduced after Jonathan’s visit. However, the presence of these dry parts amplified the shock when horror scenes did occur, and for that reason, passages such as the recollection of sailors on the boat had such a profound effect. I don’t know if these scenes would be as gruesome had the book just been filled with Dracula’s misadventures and wrongdoings. So, I can’t necessarily blame Stoker for wanting to build up story and mystery in the scenes between the horror.

“He can, within limitations, appear at will when, and where, and in any of the forms that are to him; he can, within his range, direct the elements: the storm, the fog, the thunder; he can command all the meaner things: the rat, and the owl, and the bat—the moth, and the fox, and the wolf; he can grow and become small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown. How then are we to begin our strife to destroy him?”

#readingyear2022 #british #epistolary #gothic #spooky