Dark Tales for Dark Nights: Ghost Story Edition

Join us on this dark night as Sheffield Gothic revives the tradition of telling Ghost Stories on Christmas Eve by recommending some of our favourites.

The Open Door (1882) by Charlotte Riddell

Amy Jackson

The Open Door is a classic Victorian ghost story which shares much with the popular sensation novel. I like this story because the premise is simple: there’s a haunted house in which a door will not stay locked. The narrator is a sceptic, he doesn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, and this makes him confident that he can shut the door, ‘take the ghost in hand’, and receive the reward of two sovereigns. However, there’s a dark secret lurking behind the open door and it’s up to the narrator to discover what truly happened. The Open Door is wonderfully eerie and a great story to read on a cold winter night.

You can read the full text here.

Young Girl c.1670-5

‘Strange Event in the Life of Schalken the Painter’ (1839) by J.S. Le Fanu

Hannah Moss

Shut the door, light a candle and curl up with a collection of J.S. Le Fanu's short stories. ‘Schalken the Painter’ is a Gothic tale combining the demon lover trope with a dash of Dutch realism – what more could you want on a cold winter’s night? Inspired by the atmospheric works of Godfried Schalcken (1643-1706), an artist renowned for his mastery of chiaroscuro, Le Fanu imagines a dark story behind one of his candlelit paintings. I won’t give too much away, but suffice to say a moment of horror results in a burst of creativity for the splenetic artist, and the resulting painting becomes a kind of ‘found manuscript’ inherited by successive generations along with the story that inspired it. I love how this story juxtaposes realist art of the Dutch Golden Age with the supernatural to comment on the precarious place of women in society:

‘There are some pictures, which impress one, I know not how, with a conviction that they represent not the mere ideal shapes and combinations which have floated through the imagination of the artist, but scenes, faces, and situations which have actually existed. There is in that strange picture, something that stamps it as the representation of a reality.’

You can read the full text here.

‘The Signal Man’ (1866) by Charles Dickens

Ming Panha

Dickens might be known as a creator of a throng of grotesque and comic characters in his own brand of realism, yet ‘The Signal-Man’, published in 1866 in a Christmas edition of All the Year Round, begins its story at a very dark and quiet night, near the train station, simply with an everyman character. ‘The Signal Man’ features only two main characters and plays with quietude, loneliness, terror, and impenetrability of truth. When the signal-man at a train station tells the narrator about his encounter with weird apparitions at the tunnel, with no flickering lights at its end, the story leads you deeper into the dark, where the reader might also encounter the unknown. Based on true story of a train accident in the nineteenth century, this ghost story is simple and ‘real’ and yet mysterious and fantastical. Also, in our period with unstoppable technological advancement, ‘The Signal-Man’ still speaks to us that, despite scientific progress, the world can still be unsafe, unfair, and inscrutable. ‘The Signal-Man’, to me, can perfectly function like it has been doing since its publication as a ghost story for Christmas time.

You can read the full text here.

The Cold Embrace by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Lauren Nixon

Mary Elizabeth Braddon, perhaps best known for 1862 sensation novel Lady Audley's Secret, was one of the most popular and prolific writers of the Victorian period. In addition her novels and her founding of the Belgravia magazine, Braddon was also well known for her supernatural stoies - some of which were collected by the British Library a few years ago as part of their Terror and Wonder exhibition in a volume entitled The Face in the Glass. Braddon's supernatural and ghost stories excel in the sinister, able to elicit that creeping, hairs raised on the back of the neck fear that's hard to shake off even after you've finished reading. Whilst any of Braddon's tales would make for excellent Christmas Eve reading - The Shadow in the Corner and Old Lady Ducayne were both close contenders - but for my money it has to the chilling (pun intended) The Cold Embrace. The story concerns a nameless German artist - 'young, handsome, studious, enthusiastic, metaphysical, reckless, unbelieving, heartless' - who falls in love with his beautiful cousin Gertrude, pledging himself to her with a unique ring shaped like a gold serpent to symbolise eternity. In many way a classic Gothic tale of the blindness of young love and the fallibility of youth, the way that Braddon builds suspense and dread of the course of the story is really fantastic.

You can read the full text here. 

1904 illustration by James McBryde

'Oh, Whistle and I'll Come to You My Lad' (1904) By M R James

Mary Going

Published as part of Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, M R James’ first collection of ghost stories based on tales he had written to entertain his friends and students at Christmas, ‘Oh, Whistle, And I’ll Come To You, My Lad’ (the title of which is taken from a poem by Robert Burns) is a perfect example of James’ ghost story telling credentials. It tells the tale of a Cambridge professor who finds a mysterious whistle while holidaying on the south east coast of England. This whistle has two Latin inscriptions, and of course, after the professor blows the whistle, strange, terrifying, and ghostly things start to happen. As a story that expertly builds its suspense, it will leave you terrified: its perhaps no surprise, then, that it has been adapted twice by the BBC, the first of which (originally broadcast in 1968) inspired the BBC's A Ghost Story for Christmas series. Both adaptations are well worth watching, but there is something about the 2010 version that is both terrifying and heartbreaking so do be prepared if you watch it.

You can read the full text here.

And you can also watch the BBC's 1968 version (here) and the 2010 version (here). 


The Turn of the Screw (1898) by Henry James 

Carly Stevenson

A quintessential Christmas ghost story and one of the finest novellas in the English language, James’ Gothic tale begins with a fireside reading from a mysterious manuscript and ends with chilling ambiguity. If this isn’t the perfect opening passage to a ghost story, I don’t know what is: ‘The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only case he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child.‘ Yuletide (or should I say Ghoultide) Greetings!

You can read the full text here.

'The Old Nurses Story' (1852) by Elizabeth Gaskell 

Sheffield Gothic

We would be remiss if we didn't mention this classic ghost story by Elizabeth Gaskell, which we discussed at last year's Nineteenth Century Christmas Ghost story reading group (jointly organised by Sheffield Gothic and the Centre for Nineteenth Century Studies). This fantastic story by Gaskell, master of the traditional ghost story, tells the tale of a young girl named Rosamond and her nurse who end up living at Manor House with the old aunt Miss Furnival upon the death of Rosamond's parents. Curious events begin to unfold as Rosamond is lured into the snow by a little girl, although it is pointed out that there is only one set of footsteps in the snow...

You can read the full text here.

Considering Oscar Wilde's Dorian Gray

Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890) is a Victorian fin de siècle novel which fully embraces the Gothic aesthetics of the supernatural and the hidden room. The novel engages with well-established archetypes and tropes, such as the Faustian pact. In the preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray, Wilde states that ‘there is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book’ and Wilde’s novel further develops this idea by reimagining the trope of the Faustian pact which is usually presented as a moral tale but may, in fact, just be a tale with no moral at all. Wilde took cues from his early Gothic predecessors, who altered the story of the Faustian pact by removing the historical and legendary figure of Johann Georg Faust, as he used the trope to comment on the Victorian aristocracy. There is no clear pact in the novel, no moment when Dorian signs on the dotted line using his own blood, but a transaction does take place sometime after Dorian exclaims: ‘If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that—for that—I would give everything! [...] I would give my soul for that!’ In this moment, Dorian unknowingly barters his soul for eternal youth, thus allowing him to freely partake in everything that Victorian aristocratic society has to offer without losing his treasured beauty. This is not a classic Faustian pact, where a soul is exchanged for knowledge and/or the servitude of a demon, but it is a Faustian pact that belongs to the Victorian aristocracy as it is in exchange for youth, beauty, and ‘sin’.

Dorian occupies the role of the Faust figure in the novel, even if he is not a typical rendition of this character, but his legacy lies beyond this archetypal role which was passed down to Wilde from the Renaissance era. Instead, Dorian has become a Gothic archetype which is separate from the Faust figure, no longer representing the consequences of diabolical temptation but the hedonism and decadence of the Victorian aristocracy. Dorian’s main characteristics as an archetype are his indulgence in sex, drugs, and art, and his ownership of a secret portrait which reveals the horrors of his misdeeds. Dorian cannot truly be Dorian unless he has a Calibanesque portrait stashed away in an attic or some sort of hidden room. It has become the defining feature of his entire character.

Some modern adaptations, such as Penny Dreadful (2014-2016), remove Dorian from his own story and his Faustian origins and implant him into other stories as a villain or an anti-hero. Dorian’s descent into hedonism and violence, tempted by the vice character of Lord Henry, is often reduced to a forgotten backstory which is simply not as interesting as Dorian’s immortality or his excessive lifestyle. He becomes a caricature of his original character and, in attempt to make him somehow sexier or ‘edgier’, certain aspects of his personality and story are exaggerated, including his drug use and sexual exploits, in order to fulfil the archetypal characteristics which have been assigned to him. Dorian, when he is removed from his original context, is often portrayed as an indulgent character who throws lavish parties and occasionally commits murder and other violent crimes. He’s never fully satisfied by his decedent lifestyle and his immortality leaves him with a hunger for new experiences and adventures. Dorian is insatiable, violent, and reckless but he lacks any of the naivety that he possessed in the novel which distinguished him from other Faustian figures. Without his childlike qualities, including his ‘wilful, petulant manner’ which is so prevalent in the opening chapters of the novel, Dorian merely becomes another Faust figure who has sold his soul for immortality.

Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray may be a novel which is immersed in Gothic traditions, borrowing old archetypes and classic Gothic aesthetics, but the character of Dorian has a life beyond his own novel. Dorian is now an archetypal character which, to modern viewers and readers, represents decadence and debauchery; but this version of Dorian is, in fact, only a caricature of Wilde’s original character. 

Amy Jackson is a PhD candidate at the University of Sheffield researching the relationship between Renaissance drama and the Gothic. While she may know everything there is to know about Faustian pacts, she assures us that she has never made one herself, and definitely does not have a secret painting hidden somewhere in her house. 

Considering The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne

‘ON the north-east coast of Scotland, in the most romantic part of the Highlands, stood the Castle of Athlin; an edifice built on the summit of a rock whose base was in the sea. This pile was venerable from its antiquity, and from its Gothic structure; but more venerable from the virtues which it enclosed.’

It would be easy to overlook The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne, the first of Ann Radcliffe’s Gothic romances. ‘A Highland Story’, published in 1789, the novel lacks the depth and complexities that would define Radcliffe’s later works, such as The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794) and The Italian (1797). In comparison with the novels that followed it, Athlin and Dunbayne could seem somewhat brief: the heroines appear thinly sketched, motivations are under explored and the whole thing is over far too quickly. But regardless of this The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne is an important text, key in the shaping of the Gothic tradition. And, let’s be honest, it’s pretty good fun too. 

The Gothic novel’s roots in the romances of the Medieval period are evident in Athlin and Dunbayne’s feudal setting, and there are echoes throughout the text of Richard Hurd’s 1762 treatise Letters on Chivalry and Romance. Though Hurd had previously shunned the ‘Gothick’ romances for their supernatural elements – because how could one see value in something full of dragons and giants, heaven forbid – in Letters Hurd defended the romance’s employment of the Gothic as a means of an analogy in which to explore and discuss contemporary issues. In Athlin and Dunbayne, rather than the supernatural, the analogy is in the ‘ancient’ feudal past itself. 

(Meme created by Carly Stevenson)

The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne tells the story of two castles, as the title would suggest, and two families. We learn in the opening pages that twelve years before the events of the novel the ‘noble’ Earl of Athlin has been ambushed and slain by Malcolm, the Baron of Dunbayne, a ‘proud, oppressive, revengeful’ man. Unwilling to risk the lives of her people, the widowed Countess Matilda had chosen to not pursue vengeance and instead retreated into the castle to raise her children. Athlin, ‘venerable from its antiquity, and from its Gothic structure but more venerable from the virtues which it enclosed’, is characterised by the idealised society that Matilda presides over whose virtues are exemplified in her children, Osbert and Mary. 

In Osbert chivalry and sensibility are blended to create the Gothic hero: ‘nature had given him a mind ardent and susceptible, to which education had added refinement and expansion. The visions of genius were bright in his imagination, and his heart, unchilled by the touch of disappointment, glowed with all the warmth of benevolence.’ Osbert is a skilled soldier and respected leader, but able to temper his martial passions through his engagement and appreciation of nature and the sublime. During one such wander to calm his anger over his father’s death at Malcolm’s hands Osbert meets and forms a friendship with Alleyn, a young peasant of strangely noble features (spoiler – he’s actually the displaced heir to Dunbayne!). After learning of Malcolm’s poor stewardship his lands and all round bad guyness, Osbert decides that he can longer suffer his father’s murder to go unrevenged and rallies Athlin in a mission against Dunbayne. 

(Meme created by Celine Frohn)

What follows is a feudal family drama, full of human passions and misdeeds that is ultimately resolved in the restoration of a rightful heir and two marriages that restore order to the two castles. It may not be the best of Radcliffe’s works, but in The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne the foundations are laid for the conventions that would define her as one of the most popular authors of the late eighteenth century. The use of the ‘ancient past’, devoid of the supernatural is of particular interest here – there is no hint of a spectre or suggestion of unnatural forces. Rather what takes focus is the ills and evils which man can commit against man, the passions which warp hearts and the consequences of such actions: the lands that surround Dunbayne suffer because of the human malevolence that resides in the castle. 

So, yes, compared to its mighty three and four volume siblings The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne struggles to hold its own. But for anyone interested in tracing the origins of the Gothic novel as a form, or looking to begin their reading it’s an extremely worthwhile text. Also, it’s a perfect emergency handbag novel – I carried it around with me for months for unexpected waits and crowded commutes and it never disappointed. 

Lauren Nixon is a PhD researcher at the University of Sheffield specialising in masculinity in the Gothic, and she is also co-organiser of Sheffield Gothic and the Reimagining the Gothic project. As Sheffield Gothic's own 'renegade Austen scholar', she only brings up Jane Austen when it is absolutely relevant, which is apparently three to four times a day. 

Frankenstein Alive, Alive: The Immortal Being

This is a guest post written by Alan D. D. 

Mary Shelley’s story of a mad scientist and his creation has left an undeniable print in popular culture. Not in vain, the story has been described as ‘one of the most adaptable and adapted novels of all time, spurring countless renditions in film, television, comic books, cartoons, and other products of popular culture.’ (Braid, 2017, p. 232). One of the most praised works is the comic series Frankenstein Alive, Alive. Ironically, ‘the least known works of Frankensteiniana appear to be examples of the comics medium’ (Torregrossa, 2018, p. 1), but ‘Frankenstein-inspired comics may also be the most numerous adaptations of the novel’ (Torregrossa, 2018, p. 2.)

(Frankenstein Alive, Alive)

The comic, written by Steve Niles and with art of Bernie Wrightson and Kelley Jones, offers a pretty accurate summary of the original story, which was enough for me to fall in love with it. Although it would be pretty easy to ignore it, the comic goes along with the rules of the myth and remains loyal to them, but this doesn’t mean the series has nothing new to offer. You don’t always find a respectful, yet original, sequel as this one.

Frankenstein Alive, Alive takes place after the events in the original tale. The Being attempts suicide several times to end his suffering, and he apparently succeeds, before he is awakened once again by a man who seems to be more benevolent than his creator, Victor Frankenstein: Dr. Simon Ingles, who has thoughts similar to Victor’s. Ingles also tries to control the limits between life and death, but for different reasons. While Victor was obsessed, driven by vanity, in creating a new species using dead bodies, Ingles genuinely tries to save a life, although he does considers murder as a way to ensure his success. If forced to decide between the two of them, I would consider Victor to be the most ethical, for he is honest before and after accomplishing his goal.

The narrative is pretty fluent and respects the original style of the novel, but due to Wrightson’s death, the last issue had to be completed by Jones, presenting a lot of light in the images and curved lines that contrast a lot with Wrightson’s art. The story, on the other hand and as I said before, follows closely Mary Shelley’s ideas and narrative, with a couple of modern dialogues I suspect were not corrected. However, the comic does an incredible job both capturing the emotion, the feelings of the story and the actual events in it. The Being’s inner and outside worlds are captured in his narration. This is mostly done by Wrightson’s use of dark colors, several somber scenarios and lack of light. He describes in graphics what Shelley did with words 200 years ago.

The Being created by Victor keeps his self-conscious character and tells his story in his own words, assuring that ‘my very appearance in any town or village provoked such agitation, fear and hostility that I was quickly run out of town. I had done nothing. Their fear was based solely on my appearance.’ (Niles, 2018, p. 14).  Because of this, he ‘is forced into alienation in order to survive, and becomes the savage that mankind believes it is.’ (Brännström, 2006, p. 23) He also remains as a martyr, thinking that: ‘I seemed invulnerable, but it made the pain no less.’ (Niles, 2018, p. 14).

(Panel from Frankenstein Alive, Alive)

Morals play an important role on the comic, in which The Being reasons: ‘Who was I to point and cry “murderer”?’ (Niles, 2018, p. 8). Although he is often perceived as a monster, it seems like that, with the correct education he received after the events in the novel, The Being is even more conscious of humanity, life and death. Does this mean that to be a monster is the same as being an ignorant? A question open to debate.This matter is taken seriously even at the beginning of the series, when The Being says that ‘I am never what they expect... So I have also learned it is always best to give them what they expect. Give them what they want. A monster.’ (Niles, 2018, p. 6-7). This he says when he appears in front of a crowd who wants to see “The Frankenstein Monster” and is disappointed: The expected an angry, blood-thirsty creature, not a peaceful one, and so think they have been fooled.

The last issue ends with a powerful reflection, and that could support the idea that ‘monster’ and ‘ignorant’ are the same thing: ‘Even if not a man, I am still alive... and any creature of this world, whether born by science or sorcery, deserves to live.’ (Niles, 2018, p. 20). Seems like The Being and I agree in something.

References:

Braid, B., 2017, The Frankenstein Meme: Penny Dreadful and The Frankenstein Chronicles as Adaptations, Open Cultural Studies 2017; 1: 232–243

Brännström, C. (2006). An Analysis of the Theme of Alienation in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Luleå University of Technology, Sweden.

Niles, S. (2018) Frankenstein Alive, Alive Trio. IDW Publishing, San Diego, United States of America.

Niles, S. (2018) Frankenstein Alive, Alive. Issue #4. IDW Publishing, San Diego, United States of America.

Torregrossa, M. A., 2018, Frankenstein in the Comics: A Neglected Tradition, 49th NeMLA Annual Convention, 14 April 2018, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.

Bio

Alan D.D. is an author, blogger and journalist who has been freaking the world since 1995. Hailing and writing out of Venezuela, Alan D.D. has worked with books, comics, music, movies and almost anything else that catches his attention. 99% of the time, it’s something about witches. He’s currently publishing a dark fantasy saga in Wattpad and searching for a 24/7 chocolate supplier.

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein: Genesis of an outcast

This is a guest post written by Alan D. D.


As ironic as it sounds, this has been pretty festive year for Goths. 1818 was not only the year when Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, by Jane Austen, were published after her death in 1817, it also started with the publication of Mary Shelley’s most famous work: Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus.

The novel describes the life of brilliant scientist Victor Frankenstein, who gets obsessed with the idea of creating life:

Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me as its creator and source, many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. (Shelley, 2016, p. 26).

Using parts from corpses, he manages to accomplish this, only to say that this creature ‘was ugly then; but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.’ (Shelley, 2016, p. 28). Victor then attempts to correct his actions, first, shunning the creature, turning him into a murderer, and then trying to kill him. As if to wipe himself clean, he tells his story to Robert Walton, a seafarer he encounters, before dying.

Victor (Colin Clive) and his creation (Boris Karloff) meet (Frankenstein, 1931) 

I am not fond of Shelley’s book due to the amount of descriptions she includes, mostly those of the surroundings. However, the print she has left is undeniable, and while I didn’t enjoyed the original work as I expected because of personal likes, I do love the large amount of those derived from it, be it comic books, movies, TV series, and everything else. The Frankenstein Monster, or The Being, to respect the novel’s terminology, remains as appealing as it was 200 years ago, and I think I understand why.

Shelley describes how a pure, innocent creature that comes to life, knowing nothing about good or evil, could become a danger to society because of society’s perceptions and actions. There is a passage that explains it quite explicitly:

I am malicious because I am miserable; am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear me to pieces, and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder, if you could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts, and destroy my frame, the work of your own hands. Shall I respect man, when he contemns me? Let him live with me in the interchange of kindness, and, instead of injury, I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude at his acceptance. But that cannot be; the human senses are insurmountable barriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be the submission of abject slavery. I will revenge my injuries: if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear; and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care: I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you curse the hour of your birth. (Shelley, 2016, p. 79).

According to The Being, he is no monster, for he ‘had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn’ (Shelley, 2016, p. 92). We should see him as a victim of the circumstances, for he was not born a monster:

A lack of love in the monster’s life predetermines him to become evil: he was born as “Adam” and turned into “Satan”. Since he was abandoned early after his birth, he experiences hate and prejudice, which influences his bad behavior (Sic.) and negative attitude towards people. (Skalošová, 2015, p. 55)

1831 Frontispiece 

Moreover, ‘he is never allowed to speak because he is met with fear, disgust and expectations of an evil mind’ (Knudsen, 2012, p. 44). This is what turns The Being into a violent, dangerous creature, because an ‘authentic dialogue rests on the mutual recognition of the participants’ (Hughes, 2017, p. 18), whereas ‘the traditional view of monsters is that they should be seen but not heard’ (Brännström, 2006, p. 12).

The most prominent example in this case is Victor’s behavior: although he accepts he created The Being, he also rejects and shames doing it, and never recognizes him as a life worthy creature. However, it is curious that, while he decides to kill The Being, this, in turn, ‘kills everybody around Victor because he cannot kill his creator’ (Knudsen, 2012, p. 28).

Because of that, I’m inclined to consider him nobler than Victor. In the middle of his misery, The Being seems to still thank Victor for creating him, only hoping things could have been different between them. He loathes his actions as well, lamenting: ‘Oh, Frankenstein! generous and self-devoted being! what does it avail that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! he is cold; he may not answer me’ (Shelley, 2016, p. 121). He later asks Walton ‘think ye that the groans of Clerval were music to my ears?’ (ib.) which reinforces the fact that he detests his violent actions.

Keeping this in mind, viewing him and Victor Frankenstein as opposites, the second one fits the description of what a monster is according to The Being, a sentiment I think I understand. How often do we find or live a situation in which society creates a monster? How many times have we felt outcasts in the environment we live in? We all have felt deceived at least once, and sometimes this is caused by the person we thought would never harm us, making us discover a hatred we thought inconceivable. We all have been The Being.

The novel shows ‘how society alienates people because of their certain characteristics which usually do not fulfil the desired and decisive taste of the society’ (Sarkar, 2013, p. 29), which, as Shelley showed, is a harmful process that creates an actual monster. This makes me wonder: if we look at the news and our modern world, could we say that we have changed? Or could it be that some of us are still Beings in a Victor-ish society?

Danny Boyle's Frankenstein (2011) featuring Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller

References:

Brännström, C. (2006). An Analysis of the Theme of Alienation in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Luleå University of Technology, Sweden.
Hughes, B. (2017) ‘A devout but nearly silent listener’: dialogue, sociability, and Promethean individualism in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818). The Irish Journal of Gothic and Horror Studies 16 (Autumn 2017). 4-21.
Knudsen, L. O. (2012). Reading Between the Lines: An analysis of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, or, the Modern Prometheus, using Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto as an example of male discourse about women. Master’s Thesis. Aalborg Universitet, Denmark.
Sarkar, P. (2013) Frankenstein: An Echo of Social Alienation and Social Madness. IOSR Journal Of Humanities And Social Science (IOSR-JHSS) Volume 9, Issue 3 (Mar. - Apr. 2013). 29-32.
Shelley, M. W. (2016). Frankenstein. Gothic Digital Series. British Gothic Novels (1764 - 1820). Universidade Federal de Santa Catarina, Brazil.
Skalošová, Ž. (2015). Monster and Monstrosity in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Diploma Thesis. Masaryk University, Czech Republic.

Alan D.D. is an author, blogger and journalist who has been freaking the world since 1995. Hailing and writing out of Venezuela, Alan D.D. has worked with books, comics, music, movies and almost anything else that catches his attention. 99% of the time, it’s something about witches. He’s currently publishing a dark fantasy saga in Wattpad and searching for a 24/7 chocolate supplier.

Reimagining the Gothic 2018

Reimagining the Gothic 2018:

Aesthetics and Archetypes

Friday 26th - Sunday 28th October

Sheffield Gothic is pleased to announce the draft schedule for our upcoming conference 'Reimagining the Gothic: Aesthetics and Archetypes.' Taking a break from its traditional May slot, this year's Reimagining will be a one off Halloween special taking place from Friday 26th to Sunday 28th October. This event is also our first three day event and will be entirely devoted to reimagining, rethinking, and reconsidering Gothic Aesthetics and Archetypes - and we want you to join us! As always, Reimagining is open to all levels of study, including undergraduates, MA students, PGRs, ECRs, and independent scholars.

You can find the draft schedule here. 

Not only do we have schedule filled with brilliant papers exploring this year's theme, we are very excited to welcome our two keynotes, Professor Catherine Spooner (Lancaster University) and Kieron Gillen (Comics writer). On Saturday evening we will also be hosting our Creative Showcase: displaying lots of great artwork and creative projects. At the Creative Showcase, we will announce the winners of our Creative Competition (the deadline for our Creative Competition closes on Monday 17th September, and you can find more details here).

To register for the conference follow this link (there are two seperate ticket types for speakers and for delegates). The Creative Showcase will take place on Saturday 17th October 7-9 pm and will be free and open to the public: if you just wish to attend the Creative Showcase you will not need to register for the conference, and a seperate eventbrite will be created nearer the time. A full FAQ can be found here, but if you have any extra questions do email Sheffield Gothic at reimagininggoth15@gmail.com.

Finally, although not part of the Reimagining schedule we would like to draw your attention to this year's Halloween special SIIBS seminar that is part of SIIBS's Autumn seminar programme, where our co-organiser Mary Going will be speaking about 'Cain, Shylock, and the Blood Libel: Exploring the Vampire's Jewish Origins.' Taking place on Monday 29th October at the University of Sheffield from 3-4.30 pm, our Reimagining delegates are welcome to attend this talk.

Reimagining the Gothic: Aesthetics and Archetypes is generously sponsored by the AHPGR Forum at the University of Sheffield. 

To keep up with the latest Reimagining the Gothic updates follow us at: @SheffieldGothic and @TheReimagining 

#GothsAssemble

Sheffield Gothic Profile Blog: Lauren Nixon

Sheffield Gothic's final instalment in our profile blog series features our co-organiser, Lauren Nixon, PhD student at the University of Sheffield. Read on as she explores her interest in the Gothic, her favourite Gothic texts, and who she would invite to dinner!

 

Introduction: 

Hi! I’m Lauren Nixon, a PhD researcher at the University of Sheffield. Those of you familiar with this blog and the general goings on at Sheffield Gothic might already know me: I’ve been co-organiser of Sheffield Gothic since 2014, subsequently the Reimagining the Gothic project and, our recent endeavour, Gaming the Gothic. I did my undergraduate at Bath Spa University and came to Sheffield to begin my PhD part-time in 2013, though I’m based in my home town of Nottingham. You can find me on Twitter @literaryla.

What do you research?

My thesis research focuses on the way in which Gothic novels between 1764 and 1826 represented masculinity and national identity in the figure of the soldier. My thesis, ‘Conflicting Masculinities:  the figure of the soldier in Gothic fiction, 1764 – 1826’, explores the way in which the soldiers’ identity in Britain shifted and changed from the period following the Seven Years War, through the American Revolutionary War and into the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of gender, and the way in which social perception of gender is affected and altered by national identity, but my original research was far more focused on women in the Gothic. About a year into my PhD, I mentioned to my supervisors (Profs. Angela Wright and Andrew Smith, whose profile blogs you can find here and here) that I thought it was interesting how often the heroes of the early Gothic novels were knights, chevaliers and soldiers. I kept returning to the idea, and eventually Angela and Andy suggested that I make it my focus. My thesis looks particularly at the works of Ann Radcliffe, but also the ‘Northanger Novel’s’ and, of course, Jane Austen as well as Mary Shelley’s Valperga and The Last Man. 

My interest in gender and the Gothic stretches well beyond the long eighteenth century, however, and recently I’ve worked on the representation of the soldier and trauma in contemporary texts such as True Blood and Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
 

(Northanger Abbey)

How did you become interested in the Gothic?

Anyone who has followed the Sheffield Gothic blog for some time is probably well aware that I am a notoriously easy scare: my poor nerves can’t handle even the slightest jump scare, and I’ve never been much one for Horror. In fact, when I first came to the Gothic as undergraduate I was pretty certain I didn’t like it: I only took the module because it had my beloved Northanger Abbey on the reading list. But it was there that I discovered not only my love for the Gothic (even if I did think The Mysteries of Udolpho was boring the first time I read it…) but that, really, I’d always been in love with the it. I just didn’t really know what the Gothic actually was. As a kid, I was obsessed with myths, legends and fairytales (shout out to my local library for helping me find and read any and every text that related to King Arthur one particularly drizzly six weeks holiday) as well as texts like Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials and the Sally Lockheart series, Tove Janssons’s The Moomins and all things Alice in Wonderland. Once I began studying the Gothic, looking at everything from Le Fanu’s Carmilla to Blade Runner, I couldn’t stop – after all, the answer to ‘but is it Gothic?’ is always yes.
 

What Gothic texts (including shows, films, plays, music etc.) would you recommend and why? 

(Mervyn Peake)

So, the downside of going last is that my fellow Sheffield Goth’s have stolen away the best recommendations. However, there are few texts that are very close to my heart!

The Gormenghast series - Mervyn Peake

I absolutely adore these books: if I could only read one series for the rest of my life, it would be Gormenghast. (‘Yes, we know, you talk about it constantly!’ I hear you cry.) It’s hard to describe Gormenghast succinctly – the first time I read it, I had to constantly reread pages because I couldn’t quite work out what was happening. But in a good way, promise. Peake’s prose is so enchanting and unique: the way he paints both scenes and characters is easy to loose yourself in, and his exploration of the ways in which place, legacy and ritual shapes identity was part of what drew me to academia.

Over the Garden Wall – Cartoon Network, 2014 

Okay, yes, I know: I’ve also talked about this one before. But Over the Garden Wall is a must watch for anyone interested in Gothic storytelling. This ten part animation tells the story of Greg and Wirt, two brothers who find themselves lost in a strange place called The Unknown. The series draws on a number of American Gothic motifs and conventions, playing with what the viewer expects to create a story that is both entertaining and unsettling. Each episode is only around ten minutes long, which makes it a perfect binge watch for an Autumn evening.

The Romance of the Forest – Ann Radcliffe 

I couldn’t not recommend a Radcliffe novel, could I? It was a hard choice between The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne and The Romance of the Forest¸ but ultimately it’s Radcliffe’s third text that really won me to her. Though not as complex or as masterfully written as her later works, for me The Romance of the Forest is everything you could want from a Gothic romance: suspense, mystery, adventure and more. Also, I was a big fan of Disney’s Sleeping Beauty as a child and I am convinced someone working on that film must have read this novel. The scene where Aurora and Philip meet and dance to ‘Once Upon a Dream’ is almost identical to the first meeting of Adeline and Theodore. Including the friendly woodland creatures.

Dragon Age – Bioware

I was hesitant to recommend this video game series, not because I don’t think its Gothic but because playing them nearly ruined my PhD. The first in the series, Dragon Age: Origins captured my attention almost straight away with its Dungeons and Dragons inspired levelling system and in-depth worldbuilding. All three game employ Gothic aesthetics and conventions, but the second in the series (Dragon Age 2) for me was particularly consciously Gothic. I spoke briefly at this year’s IGA conference about the way in which the play experience is used in the series to convey and create emotional responses. Each game you play as a new hero, but your choices and decisions in the previous game directly affect the state of the world in the next. 

Buzzfeed Unsolved 

(Buzzfeed Unsolved)

I’m someone who consumes media constantly, and on a large scale. The dawn of platforms like Twitch (my beloved DnD livestream show Critical Role nearly made it to this list, and though I do highly recommend it for anyone interested in joint storytelling or fantasy gaming, it is a lot of hours of content) and Youtube have brought some wonderful shows to life. Buzzfeed Unsolved, which is now in its fourth season, is a must watch for anyone who enjoys mystery and the unexplained. The show is split into two: True Crime and Supernatural. Each week hosts, Ryan Bergara (who does believe in the supernatural) and Shane Madej (who most certainly does not) either discuss an unsolved mystery or visit a location that is supposedly haunted. It’s a fun and informative show, whether you believe or not (#Shaniac). 

Gaslight (1944) 

Each year when we decide the schedule for our reading group, we try to include a variety of mediums – which, as someone who can’t handle a scare, can be difficult sometimes when it comes to film. However Gaslight has always been at the top of my must see list when it comes to Gothic cinema: based on the play by Peter Hamilton and starring Ingrid Bergman, this film is truly a masterpiece in Gothic storytelling. The pacing, the score and the superb acting all create undeniable tension and sense of dread in the viewer that, for me, few films have ever achieved.

There are certainly more texts that I could recommend (I chose not to mention Austen’s Northanger Abbey, because everyone knows I love that book), but these are certainly the ones that I am fondest of. Lately I’ve been interested in the way in which pop culture uses Gothic aesthetics to frame masculinity, and what it is that makes it so appealing to a young female audience. I’ll be discussing the Marvel Universe’s beloved trickster Loki, but also the music videos of the hugely popular Korean boy band EXO. For a taster, check out the video to their 2016 single ‘Monster’:

If you could invite any Gothic writer, artist, musician or character to dinner, who would you choose and why?

Shocking I’m sure no one, I’d invite Jane Austen and Ann Radcliffe: to listen to them discuss books would be a dream come true. Plus that made up meeting in Becoming Jane did them both a huge disservice – I refuse to accept a meeting between the two would have been that dull. I’d invite Mervyn Peake and his wife Maeve, just to listen to their stories and peharps Sheridan Le Fanu, so we can have a frank conversation about how disturbing (but excellent) his short story Green Tea is.