Jayaprakash Satyamurthy
Knivesout no more
I was asked, on a literary fiction forum, to weigh in with my viewpoint on the horror genre and its evolution. Here was what I came out with:
For me, reading (and writing) horror is basically a quest for the moment when the numinous is evoked - generally the bad numinous, in a horror story. That moment when the scale shifts and something approaching awe is conjured. I'm less interested in fiction as story as in magic, it seems, and good horror writing, or even some bad horror writing, can work a deep, dark magic of its own.
I'll quote a contemporary horror writer I admire who expresses this better than I just have: 'What appeals to me most are not stories of horror but stories of awe -- even if that awe emanates from the dark. Horror writing allows me to explore that dark ineffableness, and try to then convey it to the rational world.' (Simon Strantzas).
Because of its gestation through the Gothics and the stamp placed on the genre by Poe, a brilliant man and a visionary, if given to emotional hyperbole and the use of an excessively inflated vocabulary, and Lovecraft, who picked up much that was good and bad from Poe, there is a lot of horror that is written luridly and hysterically, seeking to achieve effect through excess. The reason I still admire Lovecraft is because much of what he wraps up in his excesses, if they are at all to be taken as such, resonates so well. His theoretical framework for horror, explicated in the essay 'Supernatural Horror in Literature' is still, I think, a powerful text that does a lot to explain the appeal and nature of the genre. Modern horror owes as m uch to Ambrose Bierce, who had a far more dry, sardonic style than Poe and brought in a more earthy, grounded approach from which to build towards the horrific. Nathaniel Hawthorne's ventures in this genre bring in a sense of pre-ordained doom and moral engagement.
Writers like Fritz Leiber and Ramsey Campbell worked from a Lovecraftian starting point to bring wider conceptions and more subtle literary values to the genre. Shirley Jackson brought greater values of character development and a strong, eerie sense of place to the table. Then the Horror Boom unleashed a lot of debris; splatterpunk, which had a valid aesthetic premise, but few talented practitioners and all the various Writers Who Would Be King. Stephen King is a surprisingly good critic of horror fiction, and openly admits that his first aim is to achieve the sort of awe-tinged horror I've referred to above; unfortunately, if he cannot do this, he just as openly admits that he is willing to 'go for the gross-out'. Still, some of King's work resonates because he is fundamentally an honest storyteller; he always reaches into his own darkest fears to find fuel for his story-machine.
Then there's the English ghost story tradition, which might seem like a cozy, fireside gesture but contains much of the truly weird, in stories by writers like J. Sheridan Le Fanu and MR James and attracted contributions by prominent literary figures like Dickens and Henry James. This strand of supernatural fiction was broadened by writers like Arthur Machen and Algernon Blackwood, men with deeply-held mystical beliefs who have helped shaped the treatment of the weird in literature as much as the atheist Lovecraft (who knew and admired their work).
I tend to favour short stories over novels in horror; I have to admit there are very few horror-story concepts that benefit from the extended treatment possible in a novel, or at least very few horror writers who can bring it off well. Ramsey Campbell has written some very good horror novels, but on the whole his short fiction is more effective.
I think that horror fiction is in a very healthy condition today, with numerous talented authors regularly releasing work, including Thomas Ligotti, perhaps the most significant weird fiction writer since Lovecraft, and Laird Barron whose noir-tinged horror fiction is as different from Ligotti's austere, cryptic fiction as possible, and just as effective. As long as we crave anything from the safe shudder induced by a fictional monster to something, anything, that will evoke a context larger than the quotidian, horror has a place and a role.
For me, reading (and writing) horror is basically a quest for the moment when the numinous is evoked - generally the bad numinous, in a horror story. That moment when the scale shifts and something approaching awe is conjured. I'm less interested in fiction as story as in magic, it seems, and good horror writing, or even some bad horror writing, can work a deep, dark magic of its own.
I'll quote a contemporary horror writer I admire who expresses this better than I just have: 'What appeals to me most are not stories of horror but stories of awe -- even if that awe emanates from the dark. Horror writing allows me to explore that dark ineffableness, and try to then convey it to the rational world.' (Simon Strantzas).
Because of its gestation through the Gothics and the stamp placed on the genre by Poe, a brilliant man and a visionary, if given to emotional hyperbole and the use of an excessively inflated vocabulary, and Lovecraft, who picked up much that was good and bad from Poe, there is a lot of horror that is written luridly and hysterically, seeking to achieve effect through excess. The reason I still admire Lovecraft is because much of what he wraps up in his excesses, if they are at all to be taken as such, resonates so well. His theoretical framework for horror, explicated in the essay 'Supernatural Horror in Literature' is still, I think, a powerful text that does a lot to explain the appeal and nature of the genre. Modern horror owes as m uch to Ambrose Bierce, who had a far more dry, sardonic style than Poe and brought in a more earthy, grounded approach from which to build towards the horrific. Nathaniel Hawthorne's ventures in this genre bring in a sense of pre-ordained doom and moral engagement.
Writers like Fritz Leiber and Ramsey Campbell worked from a Lovecraftian starting point to bring wider conceptions and more subtle literary values to the genre. Shirley Jackson brought greater values of character development and a strong, eerie sense of place to the table. Then the Horror Boom unleashed a lot of debris; splatterpunk, which had a valid aesthetic premise, but few talented practitioners and all the various Writers Who Would Be King. Stephen King is a surprisingly good critic of horror fiction, and openly admits that his first aim is to achieve the sort of awe-tinged horror I've referred to above; unfortunately, if he cannot do this, he just as openly admits that he is willing to 'go for the gross-out'. Still, some of King's work resonates because he is fundamentally an honest storyteller; he always reaches into his own darkest fears to find fuel for his story-machine.
Then there's the English ghost story tradition, which might seem like a cozy, fireside gesture but contains much of the truly weird, in stories by writers like J. Sheridan Le Fanu and MR James and attracted contributions by prominent literary figures like Dickens and Henry James. This strand of supernatural fiction was broadened by writers like Arthur Machen and Algernon Blackwood, men with deeply-held mystical beliefs who have helped shaped the treatment of the weird in literature as much as the atheist Lovecraft (who knew and admired their work).
I tend to favour short stories over novels in horror; I have to admit there are very few horror-story concepts that benefit from the extended treatment possible in a novel, or at least very few horror writers who can bring it off well. Ramsey Campbell has written some very good horror novels, but on the whole his short fiction is more effective.
I think that horror fiction is in a very healthy condition today, with numerous talented authors regularly releasing work, including Thomas Ligotti, perhaps the most significant weird fiction writer since Lovecraft, and Laird Barron whose noir-tinged horror fiction is as different from Ligotti's austere, cryptic fiction as possible, and just as effective. As long as we crave anything from the safe shudder induced by a fictional monster to something, anything, that will evoke a context larger than the quotidian, horror has a place and a role.