“Stephen King: The Art of Darkness” (Ch. 1-2)
The next book in my reading journal is "Stephen King: The Art of Darkness", by Douglas E. Winter. Winter's book is a critical look at King's work up to the mid-80's mixed with biographical information.
Chapter 1 - Introduction: Do the Dead Sing?
The first chapter and introduction to the work poses the question, "Do the Dead Sing?". With that question, Winter brings us into the world of King by a broad overview of some of King's works, and an analysis of how they fit into and have molded modern American Horror. Winter discusses some of the common elements found in King's fiction, using "The Reach" as an entry point:
- Many of King's characters journey from East to West, both physically and metaphorically. Winter says this is a reflection of "the recurrent American nightmare... the search for a utopia of meaning while glancing backward in idyllic reverie to lost innocence."
- Winter also says that King's characters are "all trapped between fear of the past's deadly embrace and fear of future progress..."
- King makes a conscientious use of horror tradition, and it is this use of tradition that "...lends credibility to the otherwise unbelievable. The supernatural need not creep across the floorboards of each and every horror story..."
- King puts forward a theme of "rational supernaturalism" -- "...a dark truth we all suspect: that rationality and order are facades, mere illusions of control imposed upon a reality of chaos."
Winter also brings us the questions of what is horror fiction and why we read it.
- Horror fiction is, at a minimum, a means of escape.
- Further, it is "a counterfeiting of reality whose inducement to imagination gives the reader access to truths beyond the scope of reason."
- Quoting King himself, "Literature asks 'What next?' while popular fiction [horror] asks 'What if?'
- The escape, and what we seek in it, makes us value what he have even more. (A paraphrasing of critic Jack Sullivan)
- Quoting Charles Fisher, "Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives."
- "The confinement of the action to the printed page or motion picture screen renders the irrationality safe, lending our fears the appearance of being controllable."
- "Every horror novel, like every nightmare, has a happy ending, just so long as we can wake up..."
- "...horror fiction has a cognitive value, helping us to understand ourselves and our existential situation."
- Historically, horror started from a realist perspective, that it should follow a "consequential pattern: that some semblance of reason, however vague, should underlie seemingly irrational or supernatural events."
- "As the modern horror story emerged in the late 1800s, however, neither a rational nor a supernatural explanation of events needed ultimately to be endorsed."
- King's work "suggests that explanation, whether supernatural or rational, may simply not be the business of horror fiction -- that the very fact that the question "Do the dead sing?" is unanswerable draws us inexorably to his night journeys."
- Horror is a "...subversive art, which seeks the true face of reality by striking through the pasteboard masks of appearance."
- In the context of our society, there is no "earlier way of life" to sentimentalize. King's fiction substitutes youth for that earlier way of life, drawing on a time when it seemed more important to understand what a person is, when uncertainty in "our own sense of self renders the process of knowing and communicating with others difficult and intense.", and the fact that the maturation process causes us to leave this world behind through, as King puts it, "...the eventual ossification of the imaginary faculties".
- Winter wraps up by saying, "The truth is that it was fun..."
What's this all mean to me? There's a lot here in just a few 10 pages. For me, I get from all this that horror fiction is a form of escapism, which could be said of all fiction. But horror fiction concerns itself squarely with the fears of the human condition, giving us a safe mechanism to work through those fears, to understand those fears, and to vicariously conquer them if just for a short time. In our modern context, too, I think there's this important concept of a real lacking of a 'golden age' for us to build our foundation on. There is not previous time when things were better. I'm a cold war kid, and I would have no desire to return to such a tense time in our history or to have my own children subjected to it. But there's a certain innate innocence to youth, and that while the events of our youth are as unique to each of us as our hair color or our eyes, or things that set us into nervous little ticks, the fact that we were all young once and did have a certain innocence is the best substitute for that idea of a golden age.
I'm also really intrigued by Winter's identification of the journey King's characters take, from east to west. I'm a fan of ancient mythology, spending probably too much time in studying up on the Egyptian, Mayan, and Sumerian myths. West is a magical place, a land of the dead, an end to the journey in our human experience. It is a scary place, where we hope to find answers, but don't always expect them. To move from east to west is representative of the journey we all must make.
Finally, I can also embrace this concept of "rational supernaturalism", that there's not always rationality under it all. If we are to believe in the concepts of balance, the Yin and Yang, we must accept the idea that there's as much chaos in events as there is order. The world is an illusion, events are an illusion, what we perceive in our human experience is an illusion of control over the world around us. That's enough to permit any monster in and scare the shit out of all of us.
Chapter 2 - Notes Toward a Biography: Living with the Boogeyman
I got a lot less from this chapter than I did from the first. It's a 10 page biography, clearly not enough to encompass the life of the master, but there are some significant points to King's life that would seem to help give insight into his works.
- Quoting King, "In truth, the urge to make up unreality seems inborn, innate, something that was sunk into the creative part of my mind like a great big meteor full of metallic alloys..."
- King's mother was a religious woman, relatively fundamentalist.
- King himself believes in God, and that we live inside a mystery.
- His mother read to him and his brother a lot.
- He discovered his grandmother, dead in her bedroom, at the age of 10 or 11.
- He wrote, and still writes, incessantly.
- He was an introspective teenager.
- He feels that participating in creative writing courses in college was the worst thing for him, stifling his output.
- Getting out of the writing workshops freed him up to stop worrying about what felt right and just do what felt right.
- Stories may have beginnings, middles, and ends, but King believes that everything we do has a history.
- King was given serious support by faculty at the right time in his life. He stopped listening to those people who told him that what he's doing isn't important.
- One of his faculty, Burton Hatlan, states, "[The interaction with certain faculty] suggested to him that there was not an absolute, unbridgeable gulf between the academic culture and popular culture..."
- Both King and his wife took jobs outside their desired profession to make things work - he was a laborer in an industrial laundry, she worked as a waitress.
- King, the master of horror himself, was not without doubt. Early on, he began drinking heavily, and in his own words: "I began to have long talks with myself at night about whether or not I was chasing a fool's dream."
- The paperback sale of Carrie was what freed him up to work full-time. But he accomplished this without being able to write full-time, with all the normal stresses and tensions of everyday life.
What I get from this is that King's history is not about writing. He has his own set of family issues, his own emotional baggage, he had some early experiences with death. He believes he's predisposed to storytelling. He had doubts in himself. He had to balance family, work, and his passion for writing. I believe all of these, except maybe the early experiences with death, are common to writers. Part of what set King apart is his perseverance. He had to make money to live, so he did - but he didn't stop writing. He doubted himself, but he worked through it - he didn't stop writing. There were those who supported his efforts, but they weren't the ones who decided for him - he never stopped writing.
I also take away from this a new meaning to "write what you know". I think it might be more appropriate to rephrase this, based on the brief history of King, into "write what you believe". If you as the writer don't believe - in yourself, in the story you tell, in the characters you create, and the horrors you bring to life - how or why would a reader ever believe it? I go back to what King said about his creative writing courses: "[I]t was a constipating experience; it was the worst thing I could have done to myself. And it really muffled everything for a while. Once I got out of the writers' workshops and I could stop worrying about what felt right and just do what felt right, everything was fine."
Never stop writing. Do what feels right.
“From Shadowed Places”
There are two aspects of this piece I find as valuable models for a writer. The first is the idea of death by inches. In my experience with horror, death come as a relatively swift blow - maybe there's some torture, definitely some pain, but it is usually played out by a lot of tension and a quick end. Peter Lang has been under severe torture for months by the time we enter the story, and it shows through Matheson's use of action, dialog, and description:
The sight made Jennings gasp. If ever a face could be described as tortured, it was Lang's. Darkly bearded, bloodless, stark-eyed, it was the face of a man enduring inexplicable torment.
And:
Peter snorted. "Who the hell knows?" he said. "Maybe it's delirium tremens. God knows I've drunk enough today to --" The tangle of his dark hair rustled on the pillow as he looked towards the window. "Hell, it's night," he said. He turned back quickly. "Time?" he asked.
"After ten," said Jennings. "What about--?"
"Thursday, isn't it?" asked Lang.
Jennings stared at him.
"No, I see it isn't"
The other valuable model I found in this is Matheson's portrayal of this primitive ritual in the middle of an American Play-boy's apartment. It's a stark contrast of cultures, with a bit of anti-racism mixed in. But the real value to me as a writer is how Matheson plays through the ritual without having it come off a cheesy. Dr. Howell (Lucine) presents herself and executes the ritual, as bizarre as it is for the context, with sincere concern for Lang's well-being. And to have the character behave with sincerity makes the piece feel genuine.
“Person to Person”
Dialog like this is a challenge. Matheson's main character, David Millman, is ultimately having a conversation with himself. He's the crazy guy who hears voices in his head. I've written a couple of pieces that have this happen in them, but I haven't been able to pull them off so well (in my humble opinion). Why is it that this story works but my own efforts haven't?
I think it's because when I've done it, my crazy main character sounds... crazy. I think one reason this piece is pulled off so well is that, through Millman's internal dialog, the reader is presented with several plausible alternatives to him actually being crazy. The internal dialog is presented as a having a series of explanations that all have the appearance of an external dialog - some through technology, one as communication with the dead. All are direct dialogs - person to person. So this internal dialog never gets old, as a fresh perspective is presented with each new plausible explanation.
The other thing I found valuable from this story is how the title positions it. "Person to Person" is a model for dialog - Millman's have a direct conversation with another person. But, the ending brings out the double meaning. Millman suffers a psychotic break (or some such - I'm no psychologist), and what's really happening is he is transition from being one person to another.
“The Funeral”
What I found most useful in this story is the sense of perspective, and how the POV character needn't necessarily be the main character. The story is told from Morton Silkline's perspective - the Director of a little cut-rate funeral home. While the story is his, I would argue that he doesn't really experience any change and isn't really the main character. It's the vampire Ludwig Asper who is looking for a change, and ultimately receives it in the form of the funeral he never had.
There's a good sense of humor in this story as well, a gather of undead to give one of their own a proper burial. I think Matheson does well at portraying each of these individuals - a witch, a mad scientist, Ygor - with their own personalities beyond the stock characters they're derived from. The brief interactions we see during the funeral get the reader beyond the standard images.
“Mad House”
Matheson uses a great focus technique to bring the reader into this story. The first four sections of "Mad House" are told in present tense, after which the story switches to the usual past tense. These first four sections, which cover only a few pages, are very special. They are tightly focused on the main character and his anger problem. They are very action oriented, walking the reader through several incidents of conflict between the main character and his surroundings. We get no narration on who this guy is or why he's so angry. We get pure action and emotion. By the time the reader reaches the last section, there's a mountain of questions that have developed and drive the reader on through the rest of the piece.
The transition between the fourth section and the rest of the story give almost the sense of a camera pulling back from tight focus to reveal a broader context.
So though the days and nights. His anger falling like frenzied axe blows in his house, on everything he owns. Sprays of teeth-grinding hysteria clouding his windows and falling to his floors. Oceans of wild, uncontrolled hate flooding through every room of the house; filling each iota of space with a shifting, throbbing life.
Matheson fills in the context, builds the story out around the tight focus on anger and this mans interaction with his house. Matheson also has a great sense of pacing in these first four sections. The language is quick and short, fast beats matching the agressive behaviour.
“Dress of White Silk”
Telling a story from a child's point of view is a challenge. Telling it in a child's language is a challenge as well. This piece was a little difficult for me to get engaged with because of Matheson's lack of punctuation and the poor grammar (both intentional). This has the feel of an experimental piece.
I think that to be an effective writer at this sort of thing takes a lot of practice. I kept thinking of Cormac McCarthy and his breaking of the rules. I think the challenge put to the reader must be rewarded by the payoff, and in this case, I don't think the payoff was worth it. A good story, yes, but I think it would have been just as effective told with more conventional grammar and just using the child's point of view.
“Witch War”
Why didn't someone tell me there were so many vignette's in "I Am Legend"?
Anyhow, this little snippet is almost poetry. It's a great collection of images given in clear, if abrupt, language:
Sky clearing its throat with thunder, picking and dropping ling lightening from immeasurable shoulders. Rain hushing the world, bowing the trees, pocking earth. Square building, low, with one wall plastic.
It's what really stands out to me here. Matheson's use of imagery is overpowering here, which is okay since there's not much other than an intriguiging incident here. Not even a main character to speak of, nor a clear conflict other than the generic conflict we find in any war. As a writer, the poetics of this piece really appeal to me, and I think it's a good example of how to work poetic images into narrative.
“Prey”
This vignette by Matheson gives an interesting parallel between a horrible little Zuni fetish doll, and the power of a parent over their child. As a reader, I enjoyed the chase and suspense of the woman being hunted by this little hunter. It's a cool little encounter.
What I found most valuable as a writer, though, is the phone conversation between mother and daughter, as well as their family dynamic. Mother is manipulative and demanding, and is preying on her daughter's emotions. It felt a little bizarre at first, having Matheson take us from this emotionally charged interaction into this physically charged chase. But, I found myself hoping that this little chase would give Amelia the strength (change her character) to stand up to her mother and start taking control of her own life.
Not quite what happens, but the ending is still satisfying to me as a reader.
Undead Blog
I've revived my blog. It's been dead for about a year. Poor blog.
I started a Master of Arts program in Writing Popular Fiction at Seton Hill University at the end of June. Kismet - the first day of my first writer's residency was also my birthday.
Anyhow, part of the program involves reading (of course). And that requires a reading journal. Perfect use for a blog.
Welcome back, poor little neglected blog. Welcome back.
“The Near Departed”
Another interesting little vignette by Matheson. To be honest, though, I didn't find anything particularly interesting from a writer's perspective. The dialog is plain, there's little action, no real sense of tension, and the ending is standard "Twilight Zone" material.






