I have finally read the very first gothic novel. Yes! I have read a classic! Go me!

Because this novel is said to mark the beginning of horror as a literary genre, I chose to buy the Oxford World’s Classics edition. I specifically wanted to read an edition that explained and contextualized the novel. I mean, it’s written in the middle of the 18th century, for goodness’ sake. That means engaging with the work of an author whose heart and mind was from a completely different time, place and culture. So, I needed someone knowledgeable and intelligent to teach me what I needed to know to fully appreciate this classic.

Before I opened the book, though, I asked myself what I expected from it. And based on everything I had read about it and gothic horror in general, I had high expectations. Naturally, I expected a scary story, you know, with scary supernatural stuff. Even with some macabre and violent stuff. I looked forward to ghosts haunting an eerie, moonlit, labyrinthine castle filled with hidden and subterraneous passages. I wanted to get to know a dysfunctional family with characters haunted not only by vengeful ghosts, but by their own madness, and tragic victims of their own cruel vices and dark secrets. All drama, all mystery. All elegantly described in retro chic, poetic prose.

But I got basically none of that, none of what I was expecting, and I’m sad to say I did not enjoy reading it. I know I shouldn’t have expected modern horror, and I knew I had to accept a few cliches. But this is a bit ridiculous. Sure, there are ghosts in here, though just a haunted helmet and a haunted painting. There are also some secret passages to be found and a tragedy or two. Fine. Other than that, I’m disappointed to say, it’s just a whole bunch of romantic squabbling and bickering with messy dialogue, performed in a very melodramatic and theatrical manner. Which does makes sense, given the overuse of Shakespearean references, but everyone is so childish with their crying and yelling , and they are overly concerned with marriage, God and status that everything else just fades into the background.

Should I have seen that coming? Some of it probably shouldn't come as a surprise. It’s just so much of it. Constantly. I generally don’t mind a bit of melodramatic shock and awe every now and then. Intense, direct, over-the-top expressions can feel genuine and appropriate too, in the right moment, or they can be used to great comedic effect. So, I didn’t cringe when I for instance read “every suggestion that horror could inspire rushed into her mind” or “words cannot paint the horror of the princess’ situation. Alone in so dismal a place, her mind imprinted with all the terrible events of the day, hopeless of escaping”. I actually liked that. It made me invested. I can also appreciate the more atmospheric sentences like “arriving there [a forest], he sought the gloomiest shades, as best suited to the pleasing melancholy that reigned in his mind. In this mood he roved insensibly to the caves which had formerly served as a retreat to hermits, and where now reported round the country to be haunted by evil spirits”. Oooh! Sweet!

But I do start to cringe when I read “She told me, replied Theodore, that she was on the brink of destruction; and that, if she could not escape from the castle, she was in danger in a few moments of being made miserable for ever” or “he started and said hastily, Take away that light, and begone. Then shutting the door impetuously, he flung himself upon a bench against a wall, and bade Isabella sit by him. She obeyed trembling.” There’s much more where that came from, I can promise you that. And when you come across that same exaggerated tone of voice, it feels awkwardly forced, it loses its effect and gets tiresome.

In the introduction (which I enjoyed more than the story itself!), Professor Nick Groom rightfully points out that here “sensibility is taken to an extreme, and the combination of supernatural event and mental anguish is magnified to create a stunning melodrama”. Apart from the word stunning, I agree. He also explains that “the characters speak as if in translation (…) there are no similes – this is a world in which language is rooted in direct experiences, and furthermore that Walpole’s aim was to ‘place his characters in extreme conditions: ‘in short, to make them think, speak and act, as it might be supposed men and women would do in extraordinary positions’. And the result was ‘a new species of romance’”. Indeed, this is romance, ladies and gentlemen, not horror, not at all. Nor is it entertaining, thrilling or anything else that’s worth your time.

But that’s just me. Let’s hear what Lovecraft has to say. In “Supernatural Horror in Literature”, Lovecraft calls Castle of Otranto “thoroughly unconvincing and mediocre” and “tedious, artificial and melodramatic”. Interesting. Even Nick Groom says that “The Castle of Otranto is a striking example of a book that by inaugurating a new style within a few years made itself obsolete”. Thank you for your insightful comments.

But what should you expect from a classic then? What should you expect from something that’s the first of its kind? What is fair judgement? How should I understand it? What lessons do I take with me? I’m not sure I have all the answers to that, but Groom makes another fair, relevant point when he argues that “to judge Walpole’s novel by his successors is to do Otranto a serious critical injustice”. I get that, I get that, but I can’t for the life of me rate it any higher than two stars, nonetheless.

Ah! Shock! Anguish! A two stared death! Devil! Cruel world!

I’ll probably appreciate it more as I read more gothic fiction, though, as I trace the lines and see how it develops over time. I can at least say that Walpole inspired other writers with his Gothic castle, his ghosts, his cruel villain, his hero and heroine and other literary techniques and themes. He truly inspired and started something magnificent, and I applaud him for that.

And now I have my classic reading achievement unlocked. The next stop in my gothic fiction literary adventure is [book:The Mysteries of Udolpho|93134], and I have the audacity to have even higher hopes for that one. I dare to believe, to plunge into the depths of high risk, high reward!

Swoon!