Short Stories: Kwaidan

Kwaidan by: Lafcadio Hearn

Kwaidan is an interesting take on horror versus what most Americans are used to when it comes to ghosts or poltergeists. These stories within the collection are beautifully written and focus more on the beautiful details of the setting and emotions rather than action and dialogue. It’s refreshing to see and feel the cultural differences by simply reading about mannerisms and even the priorities of the protagonist and the minor characters around them.

Although Kwaidan is a collection of many spooky tales, the one story that stuck with me the most until I fell asleep was about a blind man who could play wonderful music and literally show and have the audience feel incredible emotion. This tale is called Mimi-Nashi-Hoichi. What stood out to me the most about this particular ghost story is the fact that there was a little moral to it. Unlike most paranormal stories I’ve grown up with, where everything is creepy 24/7, Hearn takes a different approach as to making the reader develop an attachment to the characters only to see havoc break loose in the end. Throughout the rest of the stories, it was exciting to see how certain arrangements of the story telling made it difficult to predict the outcome. In other words, the stories weren’t cliché and because of that, the suspense and spookiness kept me on toes and had me frequently checking behind my back as I continued to read on. 

After reading the stories, I decided to watch the movie as well. It’s an incredible collection of 4 stories that had my nerves on edge and my by the incredible sets and the superb acting. Modern-day horror movies (gore-or slasher movies) are a travesty compared to the patiently built tension and subtly disturbing images presented by the director, Masaki Kobayashi. From the sad, yet chilling results of Eternal Love (the woman with the long black hair) to the thrilling battle scenes of the fall of the Taira Samurai clan (Hoichi the earless), I was so engrossed and amazed that I even got my floor-mates hooked. Being skeptical at first, I didn’t believe J-Horror would turn into one of my preferred genres.

Novel: Interview with the Vampire

Interview with the Vampire by: Anne Rice

            After reading this novel for the second time, I could pick up a few more details (such as symbolism) that I happen to gaze by the first time over. Throughout the story, three main characters guide us throughout the journey of vampirism: Louis, Lestat and even little Claudia. This book tackles many controversies that both humans and vampires encounter throughout their mortal (or even immortal) lives. Even though the motif of this fiction is literally Louis’ story/interview, one could easily say how everything said and explained was far from being “one-sided”.

            Although there are many different challenges that were brought up throughout the book, one of the first few challenges were suicide/death versus immortality/life. Anne Rice takes a familiar approach for the opening to this by bringing in a pathetic character with little motivation. Of course, before his permanent decision, Lestat (the vampire) seduces our pathetic character (Louis) into a happier and immortal life. Of course, this offer sounds attractive to anyone whose about to end it all which is why Louis accepts without a second thought. This brings our protagonist to experience one of the hardest cruelties known to man: not being able to die even though it’s the one thing the heart desires. Come to think of it, Louis is actually romantic about his decisions, for, becoming a vampire might have been his biggest regret at one point or another. He explains this by banishing the idea of ever feeding on another living human. Instead, Louis scavenges for food though animals versus the impulsive acts that Lestat follows: murder.

            Later on, we meet a character named Claudia. Still being a little girl and orphaned, Lestat converts her as well and gladly calls her his and Louis’ little daughter. At this point, I am unsure as if Anne Rice was meant to slide in the possible thought of homosexuality or, alternatively, the unimportance of gender and sexuality altogether. As years go by, Louis and Claudia both learn the importance of survival and begin to become what Louis refers to as a “monster”. With this, Claudia is both maturing mentally and emotionally and begins to curse Lestat for trapping her in an “infant’s body”. Lestat mimics himself as he explains to both Louis and Claudia that he is their “savior” and should be respected. This is another challenge that Claudia faces—always being treated as a child even though her mind is an adult. Again, Rice may suggests an underage uncomfortable love between Claudia and Louis as if he title “daughter” has been skewed to an affect that is nothing less than taboo.

            Towards the ending of the book, the interviewer has been seduced towards this lifestyle as well while craving and even desperate towards the thought of immortality. Again, this issue is brought up which is foreshadowed brilliantly as if Rice is subliminally trying to explain how certain promises and warnings are overlooked by stubbornness and selfishness for something as depressing as  the simple thought of immortality. 

Novel: Zone One

Zone One by: Colson Whitehead

Whitehead was able to peek our curiosities, prompting us to ask a dual question: what will become of New York, and what will become of Mark Spitz? What I find fascinating is just how Whitehead manages to seduce our curiosity and leave us on the edge. His methods mostly cut to the orders of the horror genre, but he also deflects any natural empathy we might feel for the novel’s two chief protagonists: Spitz and New York City. To the complaint, “I just couldn’t connect with Spitz,” and I imagine Whitehead’s response would be, “And?”

This strategy forces us to come to a disturbing realization: we want to know what will happen next, not because we are vested in a particular personality or cityscape, but because we are mesmerized by the horror itself. Even this shaky investment in the plot is made the object of authorial mockery at the very close of the novel. We aren’t told whether Spitz will make it or not because we already know survival is beside the point. It is, to intensify the cliché, “only a matter of time.”

The inevitable question arises: to what end? (No pun intended!) Why take a concept we normally assume to be playful and fantastical—the zombie—and make of it a vehicle for, “more serious pursuits?” I think we can find a clue in Kermode’s epilogue, and specifically in his discussion of the disappointment he felt because readers of Sense of an Ending did not pay much attention to his reconsideration of existence. Defensively, Kermode calls attention to the concept’s usefulness through history, and up to the present moment. He reminds us that, “…corporations…have a kind of immortality since they survive their mortal members.” It would be simplistic to suggest that Whitehead shackles the zombie trope to any such obvious and direct equivalence. Yes, zombies survive their mortal members (in multiple senses of the word) in the sense that corporations do, invested as the latter are with legally defined immortality.