Cecilie Ystenes Myhre er mental coach og gründer. Hun har også, som mange andre, sin egen podcast. I denne boka gir hun eksempler på hvordan man skal få overskudd til å få verden til å gå rundt. Men er boka like nyttig for alle?
I Hvilekraft beskrives det at det ikke bare er en type hvile, men at det er mange måter å hvile på, for å få best utbytte av det. Å hvile er viktigere enn vi tror, og det er viktig å gjøre det på riktig måte. Forfatteren skriver også om følelser, hvor viktig det er å lytte til kroppen vår, og noen ganger må man gi slipp på folk, hvis de viser seg for å være såkalte "energityver".
For mange utdrag fra podcasten hennes
Det er ikke ofte jeg leser slike bøker. Det spørs litt hva temaet er, eller om det er noe jeg vil lære mer om på måfå. Men tar dog ikke slike bøker spesielt seriøst. Ystenes Myhre kommer med noen egne råd, men boka begynte etter hvert å føles mer og mer ut som en reklame for podcasten hennes. Hun deler utdrag fra hva tidligere gjester har fortalt henne om deres erfaringer og hva som fungerer for dem. De fleste av dem er "kjendiser", og dermed føltes ikke boka så veldig relevant for meg. Det er mest om erfaringer og råd for travle mennesker med karriere og hektisk familieliv. Det var ikke mye for oss som bor alene eller lever et rolig liv med eller uten sykdom. Jeg er heller ikke så veldig interessert i podcaster, så disse utdragene ga meg ikke så mye. Sånn sett var ikke boka så veldig nyttig, i hvert fall ikke for min del.
Kanskje ikke like relevant for alle
Selv har jeg levd med ME de siste tolv årene, så når det kommer til overskudd, kommer jeg nok ikke til å få det på samme måte som andre, eller hvordan jeg skal forklare det. På grunn av det må jeg balansere energien på en litt annerledes måte enn det som er vanlig for andre. Men det var interessant å lese om forskjellig type hvile, for det er lett å tenke at hvile er hvile. I slutten av hver kapittel, er det også med sammendrag over hva man nettopp leste om. Sånn sett er boka veldig lettlest og oversiktelig, men noen kommer sikkert til å få mer nytte av boka, enn det jeg gjorde.
Fra min blogg: I Bokhylla
Eksemplar fra Aschehoug, mot en ærlig anmeldelse
A short story collection of weird and ghostly tales – filled with uncanny mystery - by Ambrose Bierce, a renowned American writer, journalist, satirist and poet. His writing is mainly realistic or naturalistic and often concerns war, but I’m only interested in his supernatural short stories. Especially since I’ve heard that his literary output and influence on supernatural literature is comparable to Edgar Allan Poe. (They have a very different literary style, though!)
Even though Bierce was a skilled and experienced writer, most of his stories are either a bit too tidy and systematic or structurally uneven, cryptic and confusing. To me, he seems to be forsaking or downplaying striking prose, imagery and atmosphere for suspense, unsettling speculation and surprising and/or grim endings. Not always, but most of the time. That’s what I personally liked most about his stories, though; horrifying events, deaths, strange beings and psychological state of minds shrouded in mystery, violence, deterioration and poetry.
“Oh God! what a thing it is to be a ghost, cowering and shivering in
an altered world, a prey to apprehension and despair!” (42)
My take is similar to Lovecraft’s in that he says that “Bierce’s work is in general somewhat uneven. Many of the stories are obviously mechanical, and marred by a jaunty and commonplacely artificial style derived from journalistic models; but the grim malevolence stalking through all of them is unmistakable, and several stand out as permanent mountainpeaks of American weird writing.” (Page 63 in Supernatural Horror in Literature: And Notes on Writing Weird Fiction)
In addition, he points out that "Bierce seldom realizes the atmospheric possibilities of his themes as vividly as Poe […] Nevertheless the genuineness and artistry of his dark intimations are always inmistakable, so that his greatness is in no danger of eclipse.” (65)
His stories, alongside Poe’s, could be described as proto-weird fiction, predating the The Weird Tale and classic weird fiction by just a few decades. He is worth a read if you are interested in the development of that kind of literature, that classic spooky horror stuff - especially about ghosts and other supernatural creatures lurking in the dark. My favorites are “An Inhabitant of Carcosa” (1886), “The Damned Thing” (1893) and “Moxon’s Master” (1899). Each of them are pretty cool and brings something fairly new to the table, so definitely go check those out.
The cover illustration of my luxurious deluxe edition from Pushkin press is pretty stylish, by the way! I love that shiny, almost unearthly glowing orange, the terrified man holding a candle behind a window and what appears to be barb wiring trying to break in and invading the whole frame of the front, seemingly alive and deadly. This is a keeper.
A short review of each story:
The Damned Thing - (1893) - 6
A very early example of the classic horror trope of (view spoiler). (SEE what I did there?) The explanation behind this one is actually more science based, though, than supernatural, which I think is pretty neat.
It's is divided into four chapters/parts. (Bierce seems to like dividing his narratives into different parts and viewpoints.) In the opening scene, there are seven people gathered around a man’s corpse for an inquest into the mysterious circumstances surrounding his death. One witness arrives to give testimony under oath. His name is William Harker, and he recalls, unsettlingly: “Nothing that I had ever seen had affected me so strangely as this unfamiliar and unaccountable phenomenon”(15).
That phenomenon is the Damned Thing!
And then we simply listen to Harker’s account about what happened to Hugh Morgan. What’s interesting is Harker visited Morgan “to study him, and his odd, solitary way of life” because Morgan “seemed a good model for a character in fiction” (13).
I agree. Morgan is like every human being in the face of powers beyond their apprehension. Simply because we lack perspective, the prerequisite knowledge, or because human senses have their limitations, because we lack the technology, the right instrument to measure such things. Lovecraft must have drawn some inspiration from this piece! I mean, “there are colors that we can not see” (25)!?
That’s what I like about this one. I liked that this story is short, but effective and suspenseful! Bierce keeps us guessing, keeps us wondering and questioning and peering out of our windows and into the night, fearful of unseen things lurking in the forest.
We so rely upon the orderly operation of familiar natural laws that
any seeming suspension of them is noted as a menace to our safety, a
warning of unthinkable calamity. (16)
The Moonlit Road (1907) - 5
A ghost story and a murder mystery presented in three parts from three different perspectives: The mother, the father and the son. I won't spoil anything else, but I really liked the way Bierce set up the narrative. There's such a stark difference between the three people and perspectives, and key elements of the event is revealed by each of them, making the story a very engaging read. I liked the prose too; it's like the words are uncomfortably distorted in some way, as if they’re spoken through a thick ghostly veil.
Standing upon the shore of eternity, I turn for a last look landward
over the course by which I came. There are twenty years of footprints
fairly distinct, the impressions of bleeding feet. They lead through
poverty and pain, devious and unsure, as of one staggering beneath a
burden --
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.
Ah, the poet's prophecy of Me -- how admirable, how dreadfully
admirable!”
An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge (1890) - 3
I read this at university for a short story class. I distinctly remember a guy falling into the water and people shooting at him. The ending definitely surprised me then, and since it's been ages since I last read it, it surprised me again now! I don't think I really liked it at the time, and I still don’t. It’s sad and intense, sure, but I’m not that into war and guns and swimming. In my dust jacket, it says it's "among the most famous American stories ever written". Very well. That doesn’t make me like it more than three stars.
These sensations were unaccompanied by thought. The intellectual part
of his nature was already effaced; he had power only to feel, and
feeling was torment. (57)
The Death of Halpin Frayser (1891) - 5
I'm not sure what to make of this one, but I found it fascinating. It's a fairly psychologically complex and elaborate story. Quite Freudian, one could argue, even if it's written before that guy’s theories became a thing. The atmosphere is dreamy, feverish and most of all weird. The supernatural element too. I can't tell what that was. Was it a ghost, a zombie, a vampire, a witch or a manifested nightmare?
Over all was that air of abandonment and decay which seems nowhere so fit and significant as in a village of the forgotten dead. (91)
I couldn't give it a full rating simply because there were too many moving parts and too much that I didn't understand, but I enjoyed the way it was written. Poetic and creepy. And that poem was chef's kiss!
From among the trees on either side he caught broken and incoherent
whispers in a strange tongue which yet he partly understood. They
seemed to him fragmentary utterances of a monstrous conspiracy against
his body and soul. (72)
The Suitable Surroundings (1889) - 3
A boy is venturing into the woods and finds a spooky house. Cut to the day before and some men are having an interesting conversation about literary enjoyment; that a work needs to be read under certain circumstances to have its full effect. Especially horror stories.
I liked the premise, and their conversation was interesting, but the execution confused me. I misunderstood what happened on my first reading. Thankfully, someone else helped me by pointing out what the deal was.
“There are certain emotions which a writer can easily enough excite
[…] But for my ghost story to be effective you must be made to feel
fear – at least a strong sense of the supernatural […] I have a right
to expect that if you read me at all you will give me a chance; that
you will make yourself accessible to the emotion that I try to
inspire.” (106)
Initially I gave it two stars, and it’s a four-star tale, to be fair, but I ended up on three stars because it didn’t grab me on the first read as it’s supposed to.
The Middle Toe of the Right Foot" (1890) - 2
A haunted house story, I think. Nothing grabs me, and again I'm in the dark as to what happens. There’s no atmosphere, no build-up. No mystery. But there's a duel to the death with knives by a pair of forgettable characters. And then there's a ghost and someone dies. I guess. Oh well.
In the blaze of a midsummer noonday the Old Manton house was hardly
true to its traditions. It was of the earth, earthly. The sunshine
caressed it warmly and affectionately, with evident disregard of its
bad reputation. (128)
Moxon’s Master (1899) - 5
Speculative writing at its best. Much like “Frankenstein”, I’m urged to pose these questions: What is life, intelligence, instinct, reason, sentience, free will, cause and effect? Is consciousness an illusion? Are machines and humans the same in any significant way? I think Bierce alludes to the theory of panpsychism, but still he seemed to be way ahead of his time with this science fiction story with a dramatic gothic vibe to it. A chess playing robot in 1899? Dangers of AI? What a pleasant surprise!
The theme has, unsurprisingly, been explored thousands of times since, but it must’ve been very innovative at the time, and I still think the story has aged well.
Consciousness is the creature of Rhythm. (143)
An Adventure at Brownville (1892) - 4
A man sits on a fallen tree and observes a family of lizards one night when he hears two voices – “a woman’s, angry, impetuous, rising against deep masculine tones, rich and musical”. (153) He doesn’t know who they are, but they are acting very strange. There are a lot of unanswered questions about them throughout the story, and you never quite figure out who they are or what they’re doing. This is another one of those stories where you’re in the dark as to what really happens and what kind of supernatural being the characters are encountering. It’s both frustrating and intriguing at the same time.
But a moment later I heard, seemingly from a great distance, his fine
clear voice in a barbaric chant, which as I listened brought before
some inner spiritual sense a consciousness of some far, strange land
peopled with beings having forbidden powers. (162)
The Eyes of the Panther (1897) - 2
A woman refuses a marriage proposal and insists that she is insane and/or possessed because of something that happened to her mother. I think. And there’s a scary panther there, or not. And someone might be a werewolf, or it might just be a subconscious instinct or desire. Bierce is being too convoluted again, and not in a good way.
Surely in such a mind imagination once kindled might burn with a
lawless flame, penetrating and enveloping the entire structure. (184)
The Spook House (1889) - 4
A family mysteriously disappears from a plantation house in 1858. A year later, two men are forced to take shelter there. The story is about what they experience inside, and let me tell you, it’s some gruesome and nasty and eerie stuff! Lovecraft actually said
This apartment was suffused with a faint greenish light, the source of
which I could not determine, making everything distinctly visible,
though nothing was sharply defined. (195)
An inhabitant of Carcosa (1886) - 6
My favorite! A man from the ancient city of Carcosa awakens in a dreamy, unfamiliar, hostile environment. Very weird, poetic and atmospheric, which is what I love the most. That ending is so perfect!
This story seems to have served as inspiration to several notable authors, for instance Robert W. Chambers, who used the same setting for The King in Yellow. I wish Bierce had written more like this, but alas, it seems to be an exception.
So old seemed these relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials of
affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained -- so neglected,
deserted, forgotten the place, that I could not help thinking myself
the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric race of men whose
very name was long extinct.
New words:
Inquest = a legal or judicial inquiry, usually before a jury, especially an investigation made by a coroner into the cause of a death.
Extravasate = to force out from the proper vessels, as blood, especially so as to diffuse through the surrounding tissues.
Privation = lack of the usual comforts or necessaries of life
Fortid trer inn i fremtiden, men er det egentlig mulig?
Oppslukende dagbok
Sofie er med i en venninnegjeng som er helt oppslukt av å være med på Melodi Grand Prix Junior. Sofie er med på leken, selv om hun ikke er like involvert. Hun har ikke helt den samme interessen. Hun blir stadig mer fraværende, etter at hun fant en eldgammel dagbok som hun blir oppslukt i. Hvem er denne Klara? Dagboka står svært mye om et søsterskap, der den ene søsteren er alvorlig syk. I samme blokk, har Miriam og moren hennes flyttet inn. Hun og Sofie finner ikke akkurat tonen med det første. Miriam er lei av å være sanndrømt og hun savner bestekompisen sin. Det føles ut som hun mister kontakten med ham. Begge jentene opplever merkelige ting. Har det en sammenheng?
Klara er ikke akkurat en grøsser, selv om kanskje coveret kan tyde på det. Det er fiksjon for barn og ungdom med noen overnaturlige elementer, som er både lettlest og underholdende. For eldre lesere, blir nok handlingen og karakterenes valg og løsninger, veldig forutsigbart. Men det er godt å se at norsk forlag endelig gir ut slike bøker, selv om det er for de unge. Det er ikke mye av det som utgis i Norge, dessverre, fordi det er mange som ser på slike sjangre som "useriøs". Noe som er trist.
God fortellerstemme
Selv om handlingen kan fort bli forutsigbar for eldre lesere, hadde boka en underholdningsverdi og Lynstad er god på å beskrive karakterer på kort tid. Boka er veldig tynn, og det er begrenset hva forfatteren kan ta med og ikke. Hun beskriver usikkerhet, å vokse fra vennene sine og finne sitt eget ståsted på en god og realistisk måte. Det er noe å kjenne seg igjen i.
Men bruken av gammel dagbok, de overnaturlige elementene og avslutningen, ble kanskje vel typisk? Jeg liker klassiske spøkelseshistorier, noe jeg har lest mye av, men samtidig er det også kjekt når noe blir gjort på en annen måte. Gjøre sin egen vri, og savnet vel litt mer av det. Men så må man huske på at jeg ikke er helt i målgruppa når det gjelder denne boka.
Fra min blogg: I Bokhylla
Eksemplar fra Aschehoug, mot en ærlig anmeldelse
A post-apocalyptic zombie novel from 2007 with slow-moving zombies. Great for beginners of zombie fiction, if you want to ease into it and prefer character-driven stories with not too much action. You won’t escape all that blood and gore and body horror stuff, though. You never will with zombies, but that’s half of the fun anyway, am I right?
(I do warn you, there are some truly disgusting scenes in here! I’ll show you one who stuck with me at the end of my review.)
Origin of the virus is unknown, by the way. The circumstances leading up to the outbreak and apocalypse are unknown. We simply begin with a man, Jonah, who’s all alone out there among the zombies, trying to survive. He then meets other people and joins their community. Once there, he listens to several people’s very personal stories. There are conflicts happening too, but not before you genuinely get your hopes up.
During the first half of the book, I thought: “Oh, so this is what an average zombie novel looks like!” It’s is fraught with either exposition and needless explanations, like for instance advising us that “a bullet anywhere other than through the brain won’t put a zombie down” (17) or that “the bite would kill me and turn me into zombie in a matter of hours or days” (17), as if the reader needs a crash course in how zombies work. It’s a fairly early zombie novel, though, from the beginning of the zombie renaissance (circa 2003-2015), so I guess we can cut the author some slack for that, but the amount of explanations is jarring, and others are more inexcusable, like “you never used a gun if you didn’t have to, for its noise brought lots of unwanted attention” (5) or “they’d all follow the same goal, which was always the same: find someone to kill and eat”(22).
Geeh, okay.
“They were what we, the temporarily living, would inevitably become, each and every one of us – a rotting, tottering, mindless parody of ourselves. (118)
But then the story grew on me. Or rather, the people Jonah meets touched my heart. They work hard for the people they care about, they support each other, save each other, listen to each other. And yeah, then there’s this weirdly captivating guy called Milton. He’s a “smelly messiah with a weird eczema” (84) who “holds a strange power over the dead” (blurb). He was my favorite character, and I believe I won’t forget him for a while. So humble, wise and compassionate. Another reviewer described him perfectly when he said that Milton has a “tremendous desire to not only rebuild a better civilization but a passion for learning from humanity's greatest weaknesses and strengths”.
The conversations between Jonah and the other members of the community reminded me of "World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War" in the sense that we hear their stories from back when it all started, hear about their journey, their struggles. And you get to take in different perspectives. Their accounts aren’t as comprehensive, of course, but I still enjoyed learning about these people. I started to care about them and the way they reimagine a new world ravaged by the undead.
I don’t even think it’s a matter of guilt and innocence anymore. It’s a matter of just trying to keep beautiful things alive in an ugly world. (177)
You also start to think about what makes a good community in the first place, what’s most valuable and what makes it work. How do we make people trust each other, take responsibility and feel better about their lives? The conversation between Jonah and Milton is deep and philosophical and my highlight of the book. Oh, and I just felt so at ease with his love of reading!
“I needed books on what makes people tick, on what they value, on how they get along with each other. So I read, and I learned.” (85)
“Isn’t that strange – we had all his plays, just sitting around, and I never bothered to read them? And now we have to fight and kill to get some copies of his books and others, books that are blowing around at the smashed-up local bookstore, quickly turning into dust. Maybe that was what was wrong with the way we used to live – so many luxuries sitting around that we didn’t appreciate them.” (102)
It’s a fairly quick read, and although it’s not exactly a page-turner most of the time, I think the action and plot moves at a steady pace. Zombie fighting will of course happen too, and those action scenes are just alright and nothing special. Like I said, it’s focused on character and community and general survival in a difficult environment.
On major gripe I had with it was the way the author inserted Christian mythology. To be fair, according to his author profile, Kim Paffenroth is a professor of religious studies, which makes perfect sense. But the characters, especially the main character, would often mention God in their assessments of situations or just make random comments about him, as if to preach his merits and convince the reader that they have a reason to believe in him and thus accepting the possibility of a God. They were conveniently going from saying that God either let things happen for a good reason or that he intervened whenever a great thing happened. Everything happens in God’s favor, of course. Not every time, mind you, there were moments of doubt in the characters, but God seemed to be a recurring talking point a bit too often for my tastes.
“I think the thing that surprised and interested me the most was how so many people agree that people’s souls have several parts. They differ on what to call them, or how many there are, but they agree that there are parts. Had you always known there were several parts? I found it so amazing!” (86)
Other than that, “Dying to live” was overall a very heartwarming reading experience. Who knew? I’ve never been this optimistic about a zombie apocalypse before, but Kim Paffenroth’s uplifting and inspirational community of people shows us what we can always hope to accomplish together, no matter how bad things may look, as long as we have each other.
And even though it didn’t quite make it to a five in rating, I’d still love to read the second book of this trilogy, just because I want to know what happens to the characters. To be able to touch your reader’s hearts like that, can you hope for anything better as a writer?
“I think perhaps we got too spoiled in our old world, and I wanted a world where we’d have beauty, but we’d appreciate it better, not take it for granted.” (103)
New word: Smock = A loose, lightweight overgarment worn to protect the clothing while working.
New information about zombies (specific to this novel): they tend to avoid sunlight. Huh!
Bonus quote, as promised!
“Like the nurse on the first floor, many were missing limbs or parts of their faces or torsos, with viscera and other organs spilling out. Their various open wounds had leaked every bodily fluid, and all this mortal slurry had now dried and decayed into a shiny slime all over them. They rolled around in their own insides just as cheerfully or obliviously as they would in a bubble bath, flesh reveling in flesh, with no respect or shame, and with all its hidden ugliness bursting to the surface.” (150)
Eeewwwwwwwww!
Nicolai Alexander Styve som svar til Piippokatta :
13:45, 10. september 2024 Diskusjon: Piippokatta om Frankenstein, eller Den moderne Prometevs av Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley av Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Fabelaktig anmeldelse!
Jeg kan gjerne tenke meg å lese den på norsk en gang. Lurer også på om jeg vil få en fornyet fascinasjon for hele boka når jeg leser den en gang til. Tror i begge tilfeller at det blir en like verdifull leseopplevelse :)
Nicolai Alexander Styve som svar til Piippokatta :
13:42, 10. september 2024 Diskusjon: Nicolai Alexander Styve om Frankenstein Case Studies in Contemporary Criticism av Mary Shelley av Mary Shelley
Ja, jeg er helt enig med deg! Mesterlig :) Godt sagt!
I’m currently on an adventure through the classics of horror literature. Gothic fiction especially has turned out to be a marvelous discovery for me. Simply marvelous. Here I am, having arrived at one of the earliest vampire novels (novella?) ever written, and I’ve come to understand that some of the most prevalent ideas we have today about the vampire have their basis in this novel. Others from the first vampire novel from back in 1819, called The Vampyre by John William Polidori. There were other written vampire tales too before Dracula, actually, some by a handful of Frenhcmen and some Russians - like Guy de Maupassant and Nikolai Gogol. The first full-length vampire novel in English, though, is Varney the Vampire; or, The Feast of Blood (published periodically in penny dreadfuls from 1845-1847), but if you’re just as fascinated with vampires as I am, and just as enthralled by old school horror literature, “Carmilla” is considered an essential read. A classic.
I was not frightened, for I was one of those happy children who are studiously kept in ignorance of ghost stories, of fairy tales, and of all such lore as makes us cover up our heads when the door cracks suddenly, or the flicker of an expiring candle makes the shadow of a bedpost dance upon the wall, nearer to our faces. (13)
There are reasons why it’s regarded as a classic. Some of them I agree with, some of which I don’t agree with, but I’ll get back to that later.
First of all, the story is not too short, like for instance The Vampyre, and its’ not too long and inconsistent as Varney the Vampire; or, The Feast of Blood. Then there’s the tension, gradually intensifying paranoia and mystery of the plot, the eerie gothic setting, the darkly creepy and distress-inducing, but still very much sensual atmosphere. And the establishment of modern vampiric lore. Not to mention an important point: The protagonist is female, and the vampire antagonist is also a female, who preys on other women, through pure emotional manipulation and then draining them, of mental and physical strength, slowly, until they meet their demise.
My oh my!
“I thought I was receiving into my house innocence, gaiety, a charming companion for my lost Bertha. Heavens! What a fool have I been!” (19)
Much can be said about the vampires’ seductive behavior, about the bittersweet attraction that’s both hot and scary, enticing and dangerous. I won’t elaborate on this any further, as it can be interpreted in any number of ways, both culturally, economically, religiously, politically, psychologically etc., but it’s worth mentioning that Polidori first transformed the bestial, traditional vampire ghouls into the aristocratic, more captivating killer we know them to be today. And then Le Fanu fleshed them out, so to say, gave them more depth and complexity with “Carmilla”, and we should all be grateful for that. Especially as it served as inspiration for Dracula, the most important and most famous of all vampires.
“Why, she has been dead more than a century!"
"Not so dead as you fancy, I am told," answered the General. (128-129)
The modern literary vampire is honestly one of my favorite supernatural creatures. Every iteration I’ve come across in my life in books, films and TV-series have been absolutely fascinating to me. Their whole being is drenched in powerful contrasts: a hungry, vicious, cunning, coldhearted, even feral disposition. A forceful expression. But also a confident, regal, patient, wise, erotic and passionate energy about them. An emotionally charged air of capability. There’s something about that complexity of their nature that appeals to me. They’re timeless too, in a sense, both physically and philosophically, and I think I’ve yet to figure them out, which is part of the allure.
After all these dreams there remained on waking a remembrance of having been in a place very nearly dark, and of having spoken to people whom I could not see; and especially of one clear voice, of a female's, very deep, that spoke as if at a distance, slowly, and producing always the same sensation of indescribable solemnity and fear. (83)
Unfortunately, I didn’t find the vampire Carmilla as fascinating as I hoped her to be. She never strikes me as a dangerous and powerful vampire, but rather a weak and harmless one. She doesn’t seem very hungry for blood, only needy for it. Nor is she particularly clever or predatory. More like she’s immature, inexperienced, fickle and sort of cryptic. She also doesn’t have that air of ancient wisdom about her either, the kind of cold and calculating kind of intelligence that could only come from several human lifetimes of experiences as a vampiric hunter. No, actually, most of the time, she comes across as drunk, disoriented, absent-minded and exhausted. There are scenes where it seems like she knows what she’s doing, scenes with flashes of brilliance and determination, but they are few and far between. You’d have to wait until the ending to actually see her in action as a vampire, to feel her undead cunning and ruthlessness.
Under a narrow, arched doorway, surmounted by one of those demoniacal grotesques in which the cynical and ghastly fancy of old Gothic carving delights, I saw very gladly the beautiful face and figure of Carmilla enter the shadowy chapel. (140-141)
The reason why I feel this way is because there really isn’t any mystery to unravel when you already know that Carmilla is a vampire. The word “vampire” isn’t actually even mentioned until close to the end. Before that, both Carmilla and the connection between Laura and Carmilla is supposed to be this big mystery. I think those obscurities would’ve had a much greater effect on me if I knew nothing of her nature beforehand. This information kind of ruined the reading experience for me, as it diminished the uncomfortable mysteriousness, lessened the impact of the atmosphere and the gruesome reveal.
This is also the reason why I didn’t find the story all that compelling either. The haunting atmosphere and picturesque sceneries are too scarce, there are very few directly unsettling elements, not a lot of action or psychological terror and intense emotional distress. Too little of what makes gothic literature so great. And with that lack of speculation to arouse my curiosity and dread, things become more confusing than unnerving. The story also relies too heavily on foreshadowing, exposition and implications. It’s a slow, somber and moderately grievous read.
Without knowing it, I was now in a pretty advanced stage of the strangest illness under which mortal ever suffered. There was an unaccountable fascination in its earlier symptoms that more than reconciled me to the incapacitating effect of that stage of the malady. This fascination increased for a time, until it reached a certain point, when gradually a sense of the horrible mingled itself with it, deepening, as you shall hear, until it discolored and perverted the whole state of my life. (82)
To be honest, I expected a dark, forbidden love story that would haunt my nightmares with a dangerously erotic fantasy and images of a deadly, hypnotic vampire standing by the bedroom window, partially hidden behind some red velvet curtains and backlit by a hauntingly glowing silver moon, and there would be sharp fangs biting down on a willingly exposed neck, and a lustful gasp and lots of blood dripping down the …
Ahem.
All that to say: I’m not convinced.
One last thing:
Many people might disagree with me, and that’s okay, but I don’t think this is a queer story. By that I mean it doesn’t seem correct in labelling it as such. Don’t get me wrong, I really wanted it to be queer! I absolutely wanted it, I expected it and I was looking forward to it. But I didn’t see it, and I didn't feel it.
First of all, to me, for a story or book to be called queer, there needs to be someone in that story who feels, genuinely, either a romantic or sexual attraction. At the very least, they or someone else needs to realize this attraction, or act them out. Or be conflicted about it. Or the story needs to be about the living conditions of queer people, about being queer in a particular time or place. And one of these things needs to be explicit and clear.
Laura and Carmilla never engage in any sexual activities, and they actually never develop a romantic relationship. Not even a clandestine one. You could argue that they develop a deep level of emotional investment in each other. You could argue that they share intimate moments. But are these moments genuinely romantic and/or sexual? Especially if the word “friend” is used so frequently? Especially if Carmilla considers Laura her prey? If she is draining her of blood, of life, then Carmilla’s advances are never genuine. They’re tactical, so there would be no real love or attraction in her. Laura does find Carmilla beautiful, but finding beauty in others is universal to me (it's not unusual for straight women to see beauty in other women), and people can become emotionally invested in others without romantic feelings.
Her murmured words sounded like a lullaby in my ear, and soothed my resistance into a trance, from which I only seemed to recover myself when she withdrew her arms.
In these mysterious moods I did not like her. I experienced a strange tumultuous excitement that was pleasurable, ever and anon, mingled with a vague sense of fear and disgust. I had no distinct thoughts about her while such scenes lasted, but I was conscious of a love growing into adoration, and also of abhorrence. This I know is paradox, but I can make no other attempt to explain the feeling. (46-47)
I actually think that if I didn’t have prior knowledge, a presupposing one, of anything sapphic happening, I might have viewed their relationship in a different light, enjoyed it even more on another level. I was actively looking for romantic love to grow and deepen with every interaction between Laura and Carmilla, so that clouded my judgement of the story. But Laura doesn’t identify as queer/lesbian, they don’t develop a genuine romantic relationship, no one talks about the experience of being queer. It’s simply not being addressed.
Carmilla is more likely, in my opinion, to be using vampiric powers to falsely create a sense of attraction in Laura, who doesn’t seem to think of Carmilla as a lover or a romantic partner. It’s too ambiguous, and honestly, a huge wasted opportunity. I was disappointed, because I see the appeal. I wanted it too, believe me, but the lesbian overtones are simply that: interpretations. Suggestive. Evocative. Wishful thinking.
If I take a step back, their relationship (before knowing Carmilla is a vampire) is a story about loneliness and friendship and human connection, where Carmilla brightens up and enriches Laura’s sad and solitary existence. And vice versa. Platonic relationships can also be very lovely and powerful.
You, who live in towns, can have no idea how great an event the introduction of a new friend is, in such a solitude as surrounded us. (36)
I just don’t think the queer label is warranted because of that ambiguity. That’s all.
And it just lessened the reading experience for me. For some, the ambiguity is thrilling and promising and enticing, and that’s arguably part of what makes this book come alive, makes it a great classic. That act of reading and experience is still valid, and I appreciate that. It certainly makes it even more memorable and inspirational.
The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous people, it had marvelous physical influences connected with life. (22)
So, if you haven’t read “Carmilla” yet and are looking for a lesbian love story/a lesbian erotic affair, or if you’re looking for a gothic horror vampire story, don’t get your hopes up too much.
But if you’re interested in reading “Carmilla” to explore the horror genre’s historical context and development, and for the lore of the literary vampire, then I would recommend it. Personally, it’s not that bad, by all means. I hope I've managed to convince of you that it has some noteworthy moments of gothic beauty and trepidation. I’s just not that amazing either.
En stødig thrillerserie som også kan leses som krim.
Nye triste hendelser for Liv
Psykolog Liv Eriksson mistet kjæresten i en ulykke for noen år siden. Denne gang blir en av hennes nærmeste venninner funnet myrdet. Venninnen hennes var journalist og Liv blir oppringt av en annen journalist som gir henne den triste beskjeden. Venninnen hennes deltok i et møte for folk som er besatt av konspirasjonsteorier. Et møte som Liv egentlig skulle også være med på sammen med henne, men måtte avlyse. Hun tenkte ikke at venninnen kom til å dra alene. De tror at noen fra møtet drepte henne. Liv og journalist Mikael, slår seg sammen for å finne ut hvem morderen er.
Jeg liker krim og thrillere, men jeg er ikke så veldig opptatt av konspirasjonsteorier, så temaet i boka var ikke så spennende på grunn av det. Selv om jeg liker Liv av og til, er jeg ikke helt fan av når en hovedkarakter spiller helt, eller prøver å være det. Det er ikke spesielt overbevisende. Det samme med Liv og Mikael. Synes at båndet mellom dem utviklet seg litt for fort og hastig. Syntes heller ikke det passet helt inn i resten av handlingen.
Et innblikk i hvor skremmende Interenett kan være
Men jeg likte mørkheten i boka og det dystre. Noe av det var relevant som også skjer i virkeligheten. Det gir eksempler på hvor deprimerende Internett kan være, spesielt mørkenettet. Simonsen har en enkel fortellerstemme som gir en fin flyt. Jeg var ikke alltid like interessert på grunn av temaet, selv om konspirasjonsteorier kan være "skremmende". Men boka greide ikke å gi meg den frykten som boka prøvde å beskrive og fortelle.
Selv om dette ikke er en favorittbok i serien, leser jeg gjerne videre da det er en stødig serie. Det er alltid noe som skjer. Min favoritt er fremdeles Crux. Ikke nødvendigvis på grunn av realisme, men det var kanskje temaet som fascinerte mest hittil.
Fra min blogg: I Bokhylla
Eksemplar fra forfatter, mot en ærlig anmeldelse
Bjørg Marit Tinholt som svar til Tine Sundal :
14:47, 2. september 2024 Diskusjon: Tine Sundal om Hjertegress av Johanna Mo av Johanna Mo
Enig, langtekkelig og lite handling, alt for lang. Likt hennes tidligere bøker veldig godt, men nå er jeg ferdig med henne tror jeg🫣
Linda Olsson er kanskje mest kjent for La meg synge deg stille sanger, som jeg aldri leste da det ikke er helt min vanlige sjanger. Men prøver å komme meg ut av komfortsonen av og til, også.
Når livet forandrer seg drastisk
Langsomt lukker jeg døren er om sorg og savn. Helga har opplevd en stor sorg som hun ikke vet helt hvordan man skal håndtere, og det er jo kjent at folk sørger på hver sin måte. Hun har et hus, som hun gir bort til en mann som har gjort noen ærender for henne, og han bor der nå sammen med sin datter. Han har stelt i stand huset på en veldig fin måte, og hun syns at han fortjener det.
Hun besøker Hamilton Beach en siste gang, før hun legger ut på en reise, og lever en periode på en gammeldags måte. Man blir kjent med hennes kjærlighetshistorie, perioder av lykke og hvordan ting brått forsvinner.
Samtidig blir man kjent med Joseph i korte innblikk fra da han tilfeldigvis fikk øye på Helga en dag, og at han ønsker at hun en dag skal komme tilbake igjen, selv om det noen dager virker lite sannsynlig. Vil de møtes igjen og klarer Helga å komme seg videre etter den store katastrofen?
Det er sjeldent jeg leser romaner. Det hender seg av og til. Det spørs litt hva tema og handling er. Denne leste jeg litt på måfå da kjærlighet er et tema jeg kanskje er minst interessert i å lese om. Det er et tema jeg aldri har interessert meg for.
Snegleaktig handling
Boka er ganske kort på bare 245 sider, men likevel var den ganske tung å komme seg gjennom, fordi den opplevdes som veldig stillestående og jeg fikk ingen connection til denne Helga. Som nevnt tidligere sørger mennesker på forskjellige måter, men likevel opplevdes hun som noe selvsentrert. Til tross for det hun hadde vært gjennom, klarte hun ikke å se hva hun hadde rundt seg, noe som var en smule frustrerende. Syntes også at fortellerstemmen ble vel lavmælt og tregt. Jeg har ikke noe i mot langsomme handlinger, men denne gang ble det altfor langsomt.
Olsson prøver hardt å være rørende, men det bet dessverre ikke på meg. Jeg syntes mer synd på Joseph enn Helga, da han virket mer menneskelig, og noen ganger er ensomhet et kjent begrep, noe han fremstilte på en forståelig måte. Bortsett fra det, ble boka veldig traurig og det er ikke en sånn bok man tenker på lenge etter at den er ferdiglest. Det skal mye mer til for å gjøre meg rørt.
Fra min blogg: I Bokhylla
Eksemplar fra Vigmostad & Bjørke, mot en ærlig anmeldelse
Hello? Thank you, fellow booklover, for calling. You must be dying to know what just happened to me. Hmm. Where to begin?
Well, my first ever proper read of surrealist literature just happened! It's is this cute little book of short stories by one Leonora Carrington, who, as far as I can tell, was a major figure in the surrealist movement. A staunch feminist as well. And a painter! How cool is that 😊
The blurb calls these short stories “dreamlike, carnivalesque fables”. Oooh! They are also “masterpieces of invention and Grand Guignol humour”. What on earth is Grand Guignol? Well, I looked it up and it was some kind of theatre where they performed naturalistic horror shows.
You are intrigued. I can tell.
Me too, I’ve been intrigued by surrealism ever since I heard about it in school, and I should have explored it much, much earlier.
You know, actually, I recently discussed Carrington’s collection with my imaginary friends from the upper echelons of the void. We sat in an abandoned, poorly lit and overgrown warehouse full of alien footwear. Some of my younger friends found her short stories too silly and called them confusing and dumb. In response, two of my two-year older friends slammed their fists down on the expensive mahogany table - purchased exclusively for this meeting - and disagreed with a raging tongue and bulging eyes, shouting that Carrington’s writing style is simply whimsical and quirky, meant to simply entertain, so we would be happier and better served letting go of our arrogance! And then, in the corner of the room was seated a strong, savage sage with a withered rose on his left shoulder and flies swarming around his cheap toupee while he smoked the last cigar of our former king. He whispered how clever Carrington had been, how immaculately astute of her to write in this manner. “Shut up!” interrupted a tired, gray tree outside the banana shaped window, “she’s too eccentric”, he moans. “Too wonderful for her own good. Meeting adjourned.” And so, they all left, and I was, again, forever alone in the imaginary dark mires of time and space.
Ahem. Through these stories I’ve learned how surrealism performs (!) a life and a world which is constantly changing, where transformations happen extraordinarily and unexpectedly, and where the imagination is but a mirror-image of our soul. You bet! My mind was warped and twisted in profound ways. It was like going out one night to a place you’ve been hundreds of times before, but never once have you seen it in the dark. Can you imagine? Or it was like turning my head upside down, just so that I could see the world from a different view. Like, I’ve sometimes been struck by a fancy to lay down in the corner of some room I’m very familiar with and look up at it from a new angle. It’s like seeing the room for the first time! Like seeing a different room, even! That’s what’s called jamais vu, by the way. The opposite of déjà vu. And that’s what it’s like reading Carrington’s stories.
Unfortunately, because of the symbolism and randomness of it all, I sometimes struggled to figure out what she meant, getting many bad answers in return, or too many, or too few. And I sometimes struggled to understand what was happening. You see one thing, then another, then nothing or everything. But then I asked myself: does it even matter? I don’t think so. It’s a bit like poetry or a prose poem: Just feel the words, react to the situations, oooh and aaah and hahaha at the surreal wackiness. Just let go of your questions and have fun. That’s what I did, and it was all worth it. Promise!
White Rabbits – 6
A woman observes from her balcony the house opposite. A woman appears and scarily fascinating stuff happens.
“Do you happen to have any bad meat over there that you don’t need?
[…] Any stinking meat? Decomposed flesh meat?” (3)
Uncle Sam Carrington – 6
Opening lines say: “Whenever Uncle Sam Carrington saw the full moon he couldn’t stop laughing. A sunset had the same effect on Aunt Edgeworth. Between them they caused my poor mother a great deal of suffering, for she had a certain social reputation to keep up.” (8)
When I finished reading the story, I made an observation, which I wrote down in my notes:
I don’t understand what it all means. Snippets of wisdom. Amusing observations. Sprinkled bits of philosophy on a cupcake making a serious face. It is made of rebellious dough.
“The vegetables have to suffer for the sake of society” (13)
The Debutante – 4
A friendship between a privileged girl and a caged hyena in a zoo. The ending was unsatisfying, too simple. Dumb. Or maybe I was the dumb one here? Hah! Whatever.
“She’ll probably die if she hasn’t got a face.” (17)
The Oval Lady – 5
Someone visits an unusual family of three and a magpie.
“’Madam, do you like poetry?”’
‘No, I hate poetry,’ she answered in a voice stifled with boredom,
without turning to me.” (21)
The story made me think of domestic abuse, bad parenting and imaginary friends.
“As for me, I danced a sort of polka so as not to die of cold.” (24)
The Seventh Horse – 3
Opening line: “A strange-looking creature was hopping about in the midst of a bramble brush.” (29)
What even is the significance of the number seven? Carrington mentions it all the time here. Asking for a friend.
“Do you know that I can hate for seventy-seven million years without
stopping for rest. Tell those miserable people that they are doomed.”
(30)
My Flannel knickers – 4
Hmm. Is the narrator a metaphor for something? Or a symbol of something? An idea? A concept? Beats me, I enjoyed this nonetheless.
“There I was, sitting in the dark bloodstream like a mummified foetus
with no love at all. (41)“The quickest way of retiring from social face-eating competition
occurred to me when I attacked a policeman with my strong steel
umbrella.” (44)
The Skeleton’s holiday – 6
This was my favorite! No wonder, though, as it is about a happy skeleton. I love undead things. And contains some rich imagery. It’s layers upon layers of positive effects:
I found it to be wonderfully whimsical when
“The skeleton knew how to give him the slip, by letting fall a young
zeppeline bone, on which the professor pounced, reciting chemical
hymns and covering the bone with hot kisses.” (45)
Super sad when I was asked:
“Have you heard the appalling moan of the dead in slaughter? It’s the
terrible disillusionment of the newly born dead, who’d hoped for and
deserved eternal sleep but find themselves tricked, caught up in an
endless machinery of pain and sorrow.” (47)
Brimming with beauty when
“He looked like a transparent monument dreaming of an electric breast,
and gazed without eyes, with a pleasant and invisible smile, into the
inexhaustible supply of silence that surrounds our star.” (46)
And curiously clever when
“In the evening, at cocktail time, he went to the café on the corner,
where he read the Necromancer’s Journal, the paper favoured by
high-toned corpses.” (47)
By the way, there’s a book written about the author called "Leonoras reise" by Susanne Christensen, which traces Carrington’s life in pursuit of her desires and her own alternative, but powerful vision of the world, of feminism and mystery and insanity. That’s what it says in the blurb, anyways, and after having read these short stories, I’m eager to explore more of her work and have added to my list both "The Complete Stories of Leonora Carrington" and the novel "The Hearing Trumpet". Next up in surrealism for me, though, is reading "Mad Love" by André Breton.
I think have it here somewhere.
Oh well, I’m hanging up now. Talk soon. Bye.
Nicolai Alexander Styve som svar til Piippokatta :
13:57, 20. august 2024 Diskusjon: Nicolai Alexander Styve om Frankenstein Case Studies in Contemporary Criticism av Mary Shelley av Mary Shelley
Jeg er litt usikker på om jeg skjønner spørsmålet, men essayene er ikke skrevet av hverken redaktøren eller Mary Shelley; de er skrevet av ulike personer (akademikere, kritikere osv.)
Nicolai Alexander Styve som svar til Piippokatta :
13:53, 20. august 2024 Diskusjon: Nicolai Alexander Styve om Frankenstein Case Studies in Contemporary Criticism av Mary Shelley av Mary Shelley
Så bra du likte artiklene også. Det er så kult at historien om Frankenstein og monsteret kan inspirere til skriverier om så mangt, og at det får en til å tenke og føle alskens ting.
Livene til både Mary Shelley og moren Mary Wollstonecraft virker spennende og lærerike, og en dag skal jeg som sagt få lest boken om dem begge: “Romantic Outlaws: The Extraordinary Lives of Mary Wollstonecraft and Her Daughter Mary Shelley”.
Gleder meg litt til å lese hva du synes om historien også :)
«Myter og eventyr blir aldri uaktuelle. For de handler ikke bare om
den gang og den tid. De kan like gjerne fortelle om hver gang og
alltid. Men hver generasjon må likevel fortelle dem om igjen. På sin
måte. Holde dem opp mot lyset fra sin egen hverdag. Jeg ser på slike
fortellinger som trampoliner for fantasien. Og som en hjelp til å
forstå oss selv og den verden vi er født inn i.»
Bringsværd og Sissel Gjersum har laget et prakteksemplar av en bok om Medusa, den en gang så vakre og vene menneskedatteren av de eldgamle sjøormene Forkys og Keto, som igjen er barn av Gaia, moder jord.
Jeg leste en gang en annen bok om Medusa, Medusa: In the Mirror of Time, men den var såpass akademisk og tungt skrevet og så fokusert på tolkninger at jeg ikke klarte å glede og undre meg over selve historien. Det klarte jeg denne gangen. Dette var morsomt! Språket er enkelt, og illustrasjonene er fabelaktige. Gjersum har vært så flink; man kan ikke unngå å smile fra øre til øre av hennes kunstneriske stil.
Boken innledes med en introduksjon til gresk gudelære, om begynnelse, om vårt egentlige opphav og Gaia, titanene og de greske gudene. Det historiske og «biologiske» opphavet til Medusa. Myten om henne har alltid appellert til meg, både fordi den umåtelig tragisk og urettferdig, men også fordi Medusa, til tross for uretten begått mot henne, fremdeles fremstår som sterk og mektig.
«Monstre og uhyrer har alltid gitt oss en slags skrekkblandet fryd. Vi
er på en gang både tiltrukket og frastøtt av dem. Selv har jeg lenge
vært fascinert av Medusa. Ikke bare fordi hun er skremmende og
uhyggelig. Men fordi beretningen om henne eier en slik merkelig og sår
undertone. Kvinnen med slangehåret har en tragisk dimensjon – som
griper oss.» (77)
Jeg reagerte forresten på én ting, og det er at Bringsværd fremstiller samleiet mellom Medusa og Poseidon som samtykkende. Jeg har alltid lest/fått høre at hun ble voldtatt, og at dét er noe av det som gjør historien såpass mørk og trist. Her virker det som at de bare koste seg, for han skriver faktisk at de «elsker».
«Begge er nakne. Men hun tenker: Jeg er ikke redd ham- Jeg vet at han
aldri vil gjøre meg ondt. Nettopp på det stedet hvor de elsker, finnes
restene av et lite tempel. » (34-45)
Er det en grov feiltolkning, tok Bringsværd på seg rosenrøde briller for moro skyld, eller er det bare slik at myter har ulike tolkninger, og at det finnes ulike versjoner av dem?
Hmm. Ja, det kan godt hende. Han skriver jo at han "ønsker å være trofast mot de gamle mytene", men at tradisjonstrådene ofte er motstridende, slik at "innenfor denne rammen føler jeg meg fri til å velge blant alle de muligheter stoffet gir. Fri til å vinkle alt på min egen måte." (77) Da så! Da blir det jo ikke like trist og tragisk, syns jeg, for da blir Medusa bare mindre stereotypisk pen. Hva så?
«Nå som hun er borte … nå som ingen lenger vet hvor hun er … blir
sangene om medusa mer og mer eventyrlige. Men tonen er mørk nå, og
ordene skarpe og farlige. Hun er den ondeste, synger de. Den mest
grusomme. Og fremfor alt: Den mest heslige av alle skapninger … Hun er
den de voksne pleier å skremme barna med, når det er fare for at de
voksne ikke kan få det helt som de vil.» (46)
Selv om denne boken er enkelt forklart, og har artige illustrasjoner, vil jeg ikke kalle den en bok for barn, for både gresk mytologi og historien om Medusa kan være ganske groteske, seksuelle og voldelig (incest, spising av barn osv.). Men den er å anbefale til deg som ønsker en kort og fargerik oversikt over myten. Bakerst i boken er det ekstra informasjon om kildene og kommentarer til flere av ordene og hendelsene som tidligere kun blir nevnt, men ikke forklart.
Jeg har lest noen bøker av Shari Lapena og lurer på om denne blir min siste.
Grunnen er at bøkene hennes minner meg veldig på bøkene av Ruth Ware. De kommer opp med noen gode konsepter, men fortellerstemmene blir noe flatt og forutsigbart. Ingen lykkelig familie hadde et godt konsept og mistenker at jeg ville ha likt den bedre hvis den var skrevet av noen andre.
En spesiell familie
Ingen lykkelig familie er uansett om en rikmannsfamilie som aldri har vært lykkelig, stort sett på grunn av den kravstore faren i familien. Han har alltid vært kravstor til de voksne barna hans, og aldri hatt noe nært forhold til dem. Rikmannskfamilier er kjent for å overlate barna til de andre bare fordi de kan. Hans kone er den som ikke tør å gå i mot ham.
Etter en påskemiddag, blir foreldrene deres funnet myrdet på en brutal måte i deres eget hjem. Det går rykter om at det må være en av barna deres, eller elsker bare naboene deres sladder?
Ikke en forfatter for alle
Jeg har lest tre bøker av Lapena i skrivende stund: Ingen lykkelig familie, Naboparet og A Stranger in the House. Så har prøvd bøkene hennes på norsk og engelsk. Det har ikke noe med oversettelsene å gjøre at jeg ikke er helt begeistret for bøkene hennes. Det er nok fortellerevnen som ikke engasjerer helt og bøkene hennes blir fort for lette. Det krever ikke mye å lese dem og fungerer best som grei underholdning der og da. Det samme gjelder Ingen lykkelig familie. Syntes mange av karakterene var interessante å lese om, spesielt Dan, men det var ikke nok.
Fascinerende familiedynamikk og harde bud som var underholdende og engasjerende å lese om, men ellers var Ingen lykkelig familie noe langdryg og masete. Tror nok dette blir min siste bok av Lapena siden jeg ikke får mye connection til bøkene hennes.
Fra min blogg: I Bokhylla
Eksemplar fra Gyldendal, mot en ærlig anmeldelse.
Nicolai Alexander Styve som svar til Piippokatta :
12:07, 14. august 2024 Diskusjon: Nicolai Alexander Styve om Frankenstein Case Studies in Contemporary Criticism av Mary Shelley av Mary Shelley
Hei! Så hyggelig at du fikk noe ut av det jeg skrev :) Jeg kan ikke finne en norsk utgave av denne, dessverre. Det beste jeg har funnet av analyse/kritikk av Frankenstein på norsk, er en serie artikler i Vagant (https://www.vagant.no/liv-uten-veiledning-frankenstein/) og en artikkel i Sivilisasjonen: https://sivilisasjonen.no/anmeldelse/litteratur/58429/hva-er-det-frankenstein-egentlig-handler-om/
I’m happy to announce that I’ve finally had the utmost pleasure of reading this classic! And I now see why it truly is a classic in all senses of that word: First and foremost because it’s widely considered to be a masterpiece, as the quality of the writing has stood the test of time (it’s an ageless beauty worthy of multiple rereadings), it’s released in many different editions over the years, part of curriculums at universities and translated into a bunch of languages. Also, it has inspired and continues to inspire authors worldwide and is considered the first science fiction novel in particular because of the way it thematizes consequences of groundbreaking, ambitious scientific exploration and experimentation. I’m also happy to announce that I loved it so much!
The edition that I’ve read, by the way, not only includes the complete text of “Frankenstein” in part one, but also an introduction with biographical and historical context and a selection of contextual documents. In part two you get a thorough introduction to five different schools of literary criticism: psychoanalytic, feminist, gender, Marxist and cultural. After each introduction, you get an analytical essay from that school’s perspective on the novel. One final essay demonstrates how several critical perspectives can be combined.
Ah, I’ve learned so much! It was like reading several books at once!
So, I will first tell you about my expectations going in. Most of them weren’t met, but some of the critical essays actually shed some light on why that is, which made me feel a lot less disappointed about it. I will then share my response to each section coming before the novel as well as the novel itself. To be honest, I’m doing a lengthy review mostly for myself, but I am hoping that you’ll find my writing useful and/or interesting!
Expectations:
- I expected a lot more science. I was surprised by how little science in general went into anything that happens in the story and how little, if any, people are involved in either speculative technology or scientific discussion and/or exploration. The part of this book that makes it science fiction is fairly small, and I guess it’s fair to say there’s a deep, dark gothic resonance to it at its core. But as far as I can tell, the novel is more like a forerunner of science fiction. A harbinger or herald, if you will. (Perhaps the same can be said for the horror genre?)
Luckily, the Marxist critic, Warren Montag, broadened my understand of this topic and stunted my initial disappointment of the seemingly lack of science. I mean, I was totally wrong in thinking about it in that way, because he points out that Frankenstein is actually “the instrument of science” (390) insofar as his encounters with it in his studies are “a ruse of scientific and technological progress, realizing itself through him but without his knowing it”. It’s as if Victor represents humanity, and the monster represents science, and that it is ironic how the monster calls him slave, when Frankenstein “dreamed of creating a race that would worship him as a master”. The irony of this servitude to science stems from its destructive potential and its indifference to human law and morality. The monster is supposed to be a product of enlightenment and reason and all that entails, but ironically, the novel “rejects one of the most fundamental myths of the Enlightenment, the notion that scientific and economic progress will continually improve the condition of humankind, the idea that once the barriers to knowledge are pushed aside, the conditions for perpetual peace and a universal harmony will have been established.” But instead, “we will not have achieved the freedom we dreamed of but merely a new kind of servitude. […] No longer does the progress of science and, by extension, reason necessarily entail and improvement of the human condition.” Furthermore, “from the moment Frankenstein surrenders to the ‘enticement of science’ (p. 55) he is irrevocably divided from his family and friends. Even the University of Ingolstadt fails to provide anything like an academic community. It is a world of separate, solitary scientists.” (391)
Which means that scientific advancement won’t always be beneficial for human progress, and therefore, “humanity’s greatest achievement may have been to hasten its own destruction.” That’s what the monster means! That’s also what a lot of science fiction teaches us. So, the science fiction element is so much more an essential part of this book than I realized. Even more so due to its marked absence during the monster’s creation.
- Which is another expectation I had: I envisioned the moment of the monster’s creation a little like this: a raving mad scientist with huge glasses, wild eyes and white disheveled hair is holding some kind of weird-looking tool in his hands, all the while he’s laughing maniacally and sweating profusely, thunder and lightning roaring ominously in the background as his creation finally comes to life!
But that didn’t happen at all.
Montag continues: “Utterly absent from the narrative is any description or explanation of the process by which the monster was created. The sequences so central to the film versions of Shelley’s tale, in which the mystery of technology is reaffirmed through iconic figures of electric arcs and bubbling chemicals, have no place at this point or any other of Mary Shelley’s narrative. The process of production is evoked but never described, effectively presenting us a world of effects without causes. […] Technology and science, so central to the novel, are present only in their effects; their truth becomes visible only in the face of their hideous progeny and is written in the tragic lives of those who serve them.” (392)
- And what’s funny is that, for a long time, I thought Frankenstein was the name of the monster, not the scientist’s last name. The monster is simply called “creature”, “Fiend”, “dæmon”, “wretch” etc., which Bouriana Zkharieva, a cultural critic, can explain is “a sign of incompleteness. The lack of name is a lack of social endorsement, of inclusion under the Law of the Father, of self-identity […] The lack of name makes impossible an answer to the questions “Who are you?”. (425) The monster is being excluded from the social world, denied a family, through use of language, as the psychoanalytic critic David Collins, points out: “The monster’s condition is made clear again when he describes his experience as a reader. Recognizing that he is ‘similar, yet at the same time strangely unlike to the beings concerning whom’ he reads, […] he finds himself in an oblique relation to language. If we regard books as language preserved in print, then we can understand why the monster cannot find anyone like himself in them. Books exclude the bodies of the dead and preserve only their words, whereas the monster is pieced together solely out of fragments of corpses. The monster embodies precisely what books cannot preserve.” (290)
His conclusion is therefore that “the monster must remain nameless, for a name comes with a story that tells how one originates in social and sexual relations, in kinship, and thus in language” (290-291), and as such, the monster is “fated to define himself in relation to Victor, and vice versa, each becoming the other’s double, the mirror-self that haunts his every step.” (292)
I also thought there would be a monster bride, but she was never created. I can thank the film versions for that misunderstanding.
I also expected a bunch of furious pitch-forking villagers torching stuff. And more fighting and fast paced action.
Despite all of this, as I hope you’ve understood so far, the novel was more than I hoped it would be. My expectation and vision of the story could easily have made it a bit comical, to be fair, but there was nothing comical or exaggerated about the story and the characters here (like for instance in the first gothic novel “Castle of Otranto”, where I couldn’t take anyone or anything seriously. Barf.). This, on the other hand, was serious and philosophical and full of heartfelt emotions, loneliness, prejudice, alienation, existential despair and love and humanity.
What I also hoped to experience, and actually did experience despite my initial surprise, was a sense of wonder for science, and the power of science, approached with indelicate ambivalence and fear.
Ah, magnificent!
“Introduction: Biographical and Historical Contexts”:
This section reiterates highlights from - and discusses the political background in - the life of Mary Shelley, her mother Mary Wollstonecraft and her father William Godwin, and connects the dots between their ideologies. I had no idea that Mary Shelley and her parents were so intricately tied to politics. (The novel itself too, consequently.) Her “radical” parents especially both seem to have been part of revolutionary movements, and their political views influenced their daughter immensely. Mary Wollstonecraft is a very interesting and prominent historical figure who wrote extensively about women’s rights and the condition of the poor, and I’m now more eager than ever to read Charlotte Gordon’s biographical book “Romantic Outlaws: The Extraordinary Lives of Mary Wollstonecraft and Her Daughter Mary Shelley” to learn more about their lives and their views on gender (femininity, marriage, sex, rights, equality), culture, economy, revolution, philosophy and art. And Mary Shelley had meetings with a poet in a graveyard, for goodness’ sake. I definitely want to know more about that!
“(…) she came to accept an ideology of dependent femininity, and
portions of Frankenstein suggest that a society produces monsters less
by systematic oppression than by inept parenting.” (4)“In Victor’s view, the creature is like the rebellious working class:
he has no right and no claim to the recognition he demands from his
superior.” (16)
“Introduction”:
Mary Shelley herself wrote a short introduction to “Frankenstein” as well, which is placed between the previous section and the text, where she shares personal details of her life, her relationship with her brother, what led to writing the book as well as her thought-process behind it. I appreciated her candor, and I appreciated her wonderful writing even more. My goodness does she have a way with words!
“I busied myself to think of a story, - a story to rival those which
had excited us to this task. One which would speak to the mysterious
fears of our nature, and awaken thrilling horror - one to make the
reader dread to look round, to curdle the blood, and quicken the
beatings of the heart. If I did not accomplish these things, my ghost
story would be unworthy of its name. I thought and pondered -- vainly.
I felt that blank incapability of invention which is the greatest
misery of authorship, when dull Nothing replies to our anxious
invocations. Have you thought of a story? I was asked each morning,
and each morning I was forced to reply with a mortifying negative. “
(23)“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating
out of void, but out of chaos; the materials must, in the first place,
be afforded: it can give form to dark, shapeless substances, but
cannot bring into being the substance itself (…) Invention consists in
the capacity of seizing on the capabilities of a subject, and in the
power of moulding and fashioning ideas suggested to it.” (23)“Swift as light and as cheering was the idea that broke in upon me. ‘I
have found it! What terrified me will terrify others; and I need only
describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow.’” (24)
A continuation of my review of the novel “Frankenstein”:
I mentioned earlier my main reasons for enjoying the novel; the overarching reason being that it takes itself very seriously. More specifically, whenever the monster discovers the joys of nature and meaning imbued within human life, it’s genuinely filled with curiosity, genuinely invested in our love and our passion with ardor and fascination. Whenever the monster is banished to the depths of existential despair and abjection, its actions are darkly and deeply honest responses.
One observation I made along the way was that this kind of writing is different from more modern writing in more ways than vocabulary. I feel like the story wouldn’t work as well as it did if Mary followed a certain modern doctrine of writing, a certain narrative technique called “show, don’t tell”, which seems to have originated in the 1920’s. Mary Shelley and other gothic/horror writers of old tell you a lot of things, and it still works. They still wrote great literature which still makes me as a reader emotionally and mentally invested. I will never take that technique, or rule, as gospel anymore.
In any case, there’s a story within a story within a story here, which is a prelude to my second observation. It all begins with a letter from a Robert Walton to his sister Margaret. He is on an expedition, by boat, to explore the North Pole. Since he’s never been there before, all he really knows is that it’s a very cold place, but he tries “in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of beauty and delight.” So, mental note, his imagination drives him there. He proclaims: “I shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death”. The veil of mystery gives rise to romance, and by that I mean an idealized, romanticized vision of adventure into unknown lands and the discoveries to be made once there. And then he sees that contrary to popular beliefs, “snow and frost was banished; and, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders an in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe”. Indeed, he may even “discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle; and may regulate a thousand celestial observations, that require only this voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever”. (28)
Just like Victor Frankenstein before the creation of his monster, Robert’s sense of purpose is potential for discovery. And it makes me think about what’s actually left to discover nowadays. Humans don’t do these kinds of adventures anymore. We travel, sure, but we know where we’re going, we know what awaits us there. Most places are discovered, imprinted by the foot of man. I mean, we have Google maps. There’s very little mystery and wonder left, and it seems like we can only discover ourselves now as we venture out in our personal journeys in our hearts and minds. That’s the closest thing we get.
And journeys into books such as these, of course!
I am all the same reminded that this is a story written way before internet and before instant long-distance communication. Every time I read a story like this, were people who write a letter must wait a very long time for a reply, I somehow get nostalgic for a time I’ve never lived in. A time where words from our loved ones where more significant, where time itself held more yearning and hope. And a world where the unknown was such a powerful force that anxieties and superstitions rose up in humanity like a great army invading our spirits. A world so much vaster, more mysterious, sensory and wonderful. I also wonder if we’re somehow biologically hardwired to be curious, meant to explore, and that we’re somehow malnourished of discoveries, depleted of wonder. If so, through stories like this, I feel fully replenished.
And of course, I won’t ever forget all the other things “Frankenstein” made me feel and think about: rejection, loneliness, beauty (standards), grief, vengeance, friendship, love, passion, arrogance, pursuit of knowledge, justice, morality, sorrow, misery, wonder, identity… and I can go on and on.
And yes, Victor Frankenstein is a freakin’ scientific necromancer who created a true (but fleshy) artificial intelligence. That’s so cool!
This is what great literature is to me, what it does to me, and that’s why I read.
You know, I enjoyed it so much that I’d like to read it again sometime. But I’d love to read it in Norwegian when I do. I’m curious to find out how my experience of it will change from both a first reading to a second and how it will be like to read it in another language. Will I interpret things the same? Will it be easier to read in my mother tongue? Will I appreciate certain paragraphs even more? Or even love the novel even more? I’m looking forward to engaging with a classic in a different way when the time comes. I am positive that a rereading will offer a new sense of discovery.
Thank you so much, Mary Shelley 😊
Norskættede Richard Matheson døde i 2013, og etterlot seg noen moderne klassikere som Hell House og I Am Legend. Han skrev også manuskriptet til Duel som var regissert av Steven Spielberg. Matheson var en forfatter de fleste har et eller annet forhold til.
Beryktet hus
Hell House ble utgitt i 1971, og legger vekt på mørke krefter og det erotiske. Fire personer blir sendt til Hell House av en gammel mann som ikke har lang tid igjen å leve, for å teste om det er liv etter døden eller ikke. De får også en pen sum for bryderiet. Huset ligger i Maine og heter egentlig Belasco House, men er mest kjent for å bli kalt Hell House. Huset tilhørte okkultisten Emeric Belasco, og han var kjent for hemningsløse fester, orgier og kriminelle aktiviteter.
Dr. Barrett tar med seg to som påstår at de er et medium og kona. Kona hans Edith er bare med fordi hun ikke orker tanken på være hjemme alene, og en av de andre har overlevd Hell House tidligere. Det ene mediumet påstår under oppholdet, at Emeric må ha hatt en sønn, men de andre stiller seg tvilende til det. Under diverse undersøkelser, opplever de rare ting, som at huset tar kontrollen over dem, og de blir utsatt for både erotiske og skremmende opplevelser.
Holder seg godt
Det er noen tiår siden Hell House ble utgitt, men den holder seg fremdeles godt selv om skremselsfaktoren ikke er helt der. Det er likevel en god historie med noen interessante karakterer. Selv kunne jeg ha fint klart meg uten de erotiske beskrivelsene. Skjønner det ofte er en del av horror, i hvert fall i gammeldags horror, men syntes handlingen klarte seg bra uten den delen. Matheson skriver godt, og er god på å få frem det dystre, og at karakterene forventer det verste. Likte også at kapitlene var delt opp som tidspunkt.
Men som sagt, ingen skummel hjemsøkt hus bok, men heller dyster og stemningsfull. Noen av karakterene var en smule irriterende, som blant annet Edith, som bare var der for å være der. Den er helt klart verd å lese, og er en god inspirasjon til mange hjemsøkte hus bøker. Av denne og I Am Legend, likte jeg vel I Am Legend hakket bedre, da den var en god del mørkere.
Fra min blogg: I Bokhylla
En litt ukonvensjonelt utformet science fiction-roman om det mest konvensjonelle ved menneskelig natur: konflikt. Den være seg kulturell, mellommenneskelig eller ideologisk. Hvorfor har vi ikke funnet harmonien mellom oss selv den dag i dag? Er slike konflikter en uunngåelig del av oss? Er roten av de verste konfliktene, de voldeligste, å finne et uutgrunnelig sted i vår biologi, eller er den å finne et sted langt bak i vår kollektive historie og vår forståelse av den? Eller handler den om at vi lever så oppdelt og isolert, til tross for vårt moderne og digitale samfunn, at vi nærmest blir manipulert til å kategorisere hverandre og gruppere oss, at vi således er underlagt et system som forener for få og skaper avstand mellom for mange?
I "Kintsugi" anskueliggjør Tor Åge Bringsværd i både små og vidstrakte trekk hva som er så frustrerende typisk ved oss mennesker, og hvordan limet som holder oss sammen, markerer også forskjellene mellom oss, markerer grensene. For i denne romanen drar en hel generasjon mennesker, av alskens slag og med ulike verdier og synspunkter, ut på eventyr til en annen planet. Denne reisen vil ta dem så lang tid at det vil være en fremtidig generasjon som ankommer. Her får menneskeheten en ny sjanse til å skape et nytt liv i fred og harmoni.
Anmelder Bjørn Vatne fra Klassekampen sier at Kintsugi er en «ambisiøs og formmessig kompleks roman, som sparker i gang det moralske apparatet». Live Lundh fra Morgenbladet bemerker seg at boken er et resultat av den muliggjørende kraften i at «fantasi handler om å tenke langt, men også om dyp innlevelse». Dette klarer Bringsværd ved å, som Janna Rzadkowska påpeker i BLA, «skape et stort persongalleri» som «spenner opp et ambisiøs lerret der en hel planets vitenskapelige og antropologiske historie blir belyst fra forskjellige vinkler».
For over 600 år etter menneskenes ankomst på denne nye planeten utfolder en ny epoke seg, og da ankommer du, leseren, denne verden for å se hvordan det har gått med menneskeheten. Bringsværd avlegger således en slags rapport om tingenes tilstand på to måter: fiktive utdrag fra historiske og religiøse tekster mellom hvert kapittel, som gir deg kontekst og forklarer på mer overordnet nivå. Og innblikk i hele ti levde liv fra årene 638 til 683, som illustrerer levevilkårene på felleskaps- og individnivå. Kombinert får vi se denne nye verden og dens samfunnsutvikling fra mange hold og perspektiver. Jeg syns selv at dette var en interessant fremgangsmåte, som ga meg et mangfoldig perspektiv, og min forståelse ble slik sett akkumulert over tid, uten at det ble for tørt, sporadisk og inngripende. Alt henger jo sammen på en måte, og det store bildet åpenbarte seg for meg etter hvert.
Bokens omslagsdesign viser dette store bildet; en planet som har blitt satt sammen igjen med det som ser ut som gullforgylte elver. Det illustrerer på en nydelig måte at romanen er utformet med utgangspunkt i konseptet «kintsugi», som blir forklart innledningsvis i boken:
"Kintsugi eller Kintsukuroi betyr 'gyldent arbeid' eller 'gylden reparasjon' og betegner den japanske kunsten å reparere ødelagt keramikk og porselen ved hjelp av lakkarbeid blandet med gull eller sølv. Hensikten er at objektet skal bli enda vakrere enn det var før det gikk i stykker ..."
«All vår felles hukommelse er gått i stykker. Dette er en sannhet som
gjelder for etterkommere fra alle kulturer. Ingenting er slik det var.
Og ingenting kan bli slik igjen. Noen av de lange historiene våre har
sår og skrammer, andre er fullstendig smadret. Men det betyr ikke at
alt er håpløst. For fra brokker og skår kan det spire nye tegn og
tanker. Og der hvor vi lar bitene vokse sammen, kan det blomstre
fortellinger, like fargerike og frodige, like vakre og kloke som de
som en gang ble fortalt på Gammeljorden. Det har vært mitt kall, sier
jeg til vinden og de to himmeldyrene, å vise verden at det bor mer
poesi i en slik vakker skjøt enn i slappe flertallsmeninger. Amen,
sier min døde bestemor og blåser meg mykt i øret. Kintsugi, svarer
jeg. Kintsugi.» (182)
I Bringsværds framtidsvisjon får altså menneskeheten en ny sjanse. Lar vi den gå til spille? Mye mulig. Krig og elendighet viser seg som en like destruktiv kraft som alltid. Men kan et ødelagt samfunn bli reparert igjen? Vel så mulig, for vi får se hvordan disse menneskene forholder seg til bruddstykker av egen fortid, og hvordan dét enten kan skape avstand mellom dem eller forene dem. Verden blir gradvis satt sammen igjen. Fortiden påvirker nåtiden, som igjen styrer vår retning mot fremtiden. Det er håp for utvikling og forsoning i denne fremtidsvisjonen. Fremtidige generasjoner viderefører ikke bare frykt og urovekkende fordommer, men også ønsket om å kommunisere, om å forstå, om å samarbeide og komme nærmere hverandre. Hvis begge deler er en konstant og ikke en variabel i utligningen som utgjør vår natur, vil vi for alltid både være dømt til flere konflikter, men samtidig være prisgitt kjærligheten og dens forsonende kraft.
«Vi prøver å se forskjellen mellom det vil kan gjøre noe med, og det
vi ikke har mulighet til å endre, sier noen. Vi kan ikke styre alt som
hender, men vi kan styre hvordan vi tenker på det. Frykten skader oss
mer enn det vi er redd for, sier andre. En av sangene deres begynner
slik: Jeg ploger min tanke gjennom mørket. Du er herre over det ordet
du ikke sier. Men det ordet du har sagt, har ingen makt over lenger.
Om alt vi eier og samler på heter det: Først når vi slutter å bruke
dem, innser vi hvor unødvendige de fleste tingene er.» (221)
Selv om jeg likte fremgangsmåten og syntes den var interessant, er det både fordeler og ulemper ved den. Det har seg jo sånn at vi følger mange karakterer over lang tid, og det gjør at man fort kan oppleve de ulike historiene som usammenhengende, forvirrende og komplisert. Mange synsvinkler kan også gjøre det mye vanskeligere å leve seg inn i enkelthistorier. Jeg ble selv nødt tilbake til oversikten over navnene og årstallene eller egne notater for å få grep om sammenhengen. Det var av og til litt vel krevende og forstyrrende, og da syntes jeg at det hadde gjort seg med færre karakterer. Jo lenger ut i boken jeg kom, jo mer falt jeg av oppi alt mylderet av perspektiver. Men i første halvdel av boken syntes jeg det funket bra. Da var det ikke like mye å holde styr på, så da klarte jeg å leve meg mer inn i det. Da satte noen av de sterke historiene dype spor i meg. Jeg ble rørt, forbanna, forbauset, provosert, lei meg, forundret og håpefull om hverandre underveis i boken. Jeg satte pris på at Bringsværd er såpass direkte i både språk og handling, for da kommer han fortere inn til kjernen av realitetene. Samtidig så gjør dette at jeg som leser også må bli med på å sette sammen deler av historien, lime sammen bruddstykker, ved å forestille meg hva som har skjedd i mellomtiden, ved aktivt å finne sammenhengen, og da føles det som at jeg på en måte tar del i prosessen, i hele utviklingen. Så man må være skjerpet og åpen underveis. Men hvis man klarer det, blir man rikelig belønnet.
«Vi står i ondskapens forværelse og ler sammen. Og gjennom latteren
viser vi at vi godtar hverandre slik vi er.» (103)
Sist sett
