It was a joy to join my co-editor Emily Strand to talk about our new book Star Trek: Essays Exploring the Final Frontier with the New Books Network podcast!
Emily Strand and Amy H. Sturgis, “Star Trek: Essays Exploring the Final Frontier” (Vernon Press, 2023) - New Books Network
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Let’s keep this Gothic Halloween-fest going!
Today’s text is Wieland; or, The Transformation (1798) by Charles Brockden Brown.
Read it here.
Quote: The tales of apparitions and enchantments did not possess that power over my belief which could even render them interesting. I saw nothing in them but ignorance and folly, and was a stranger even to that terror which is pleasing. But this incident was different from any that I had ever before known. Here were proofs of a sensible and intelligent existence, which could not be denied. Here was information obtained and imparted by means unquestionably super-human.
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I am very happy to share that my essay “‘Lifting Old Curses’: The mirror dance of The Flowers of Vashnoi and The Mountains of Mourning” has been published in Short But Concentrated #2: a second essay symposium on the works of Lois McMaster Bujold, edited by the brilliant @unamccormack. The ebook version is free for download here.
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One more of the so-called “horrid novels” referenced in Northanger Abbey is The Orphan of the Rhine (1798) by Eleanor Sleath.
Read it here.
Quote: “Here Silence has fixed her abode, disturbed only at intervals by the howling of the wolf, or the cry of the vulture. In such a situation actions have no witnesses; these woods are no spies.”
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Today’s text is Games for Hallow-e’en (1912) by Mary F. Blain.
Read it here.
Quote: The dining-room should also be in total darkness, except for the light given by the Jack-o’-lanterns, until the guests are seated, when they should unmask. The supper could be served in this dim light or the lights turned up and the room made brilliant. After the supper is over and while the guests are still seated a splendid idea would be to extinguish all the lights and to have one or more of the party tell ghost stories….
Another suggestion is to have the hall totally dark with the door ajar and no one in sight to welcome the guests. As they step in they are surprised to be greeted by some one dressed as a ghost who extends his hand which is covered with wet salt.
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Let’s wrap up the Gothic portion of this year’s countdown with a classic that was published the same year as the now-better-known Dracula: The Beetle (1897) by Richard Marsh.
Read it here.
Quote: So far, in the room itself there had not been a sound. When the clock had struck ten, as it seemed to me, years ago, there came a rustling noise, from the direction of the bed. Feet stepped upon the floor,— moving towards where I was lying. It was, of course, now broad day, and I, presently, perceived that a figure, clad in some queer coloured garment, was standing at my side, looking down at me. It stooped, then knelt. My only covering was unceremoniously thrown from off me, so that I lay there in my nakedness. Fingers prodded me then and there, as if I had been some beast ready for the butcher’s stall. A face looked into mine, and, in front of me, were those dreadful eyes. Then, whether I was dead or living, I said to myself that this could be nothing human,— nothing fashioned in God’s image could wear such a shape as that.
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Today’s text is “A Night in Monk-Hall,” an excerpt from The Quaker City; or, The Monks of Monk Hall (1845) by George Lippard.
Read it here.
Quote: I was sitting upright in bed, chilled to the very heart, afraid to move an inch, almost afraid to breathe, when, far, far down through the chambers of the old mansion, I heard a faint hushed sound, like a man endeavouring to cry out when attacked by night mare, and then great God how distinct! I heard the cry of `Murder, murder, murder!’ far, far, far below me.
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Another Gothic title very popular with women working in 19th-century factories in Manchester and Lancashire, UK, was The String of Pearls; or The Barber of Fleet Street (aka Sweeney Todd) (1846-1847) by James Malcolm Rymer and Thomas Peckett Prest.
Read it here.
Quote: “How still everything was in those vaults of old St. Dunstan’s. Were there no spirits from another world—spirits of the murdered, to flit in horrible palpability before the eyes of that man who had cut short their thread of life? Surely if ever a visitant from another world could have been expected, it would have been to appear to Todd to convince him that there was more beyond the grave than a forgotten name and a mouldering skeleton.”
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Another dark and dreadful novel that women working in 19th-century mills in Lowell, Massachusetts reported enjoying was Alonzo and Melissa (aka The Asylum) by Isaac Mitchell (1804/1811).
Read here the later version attributed to Daniel Jackson, Jr.
Quote: The person in her room then uttered a horrible groan, and gliding along by her bed, took his stand behind the curtains, near the foot. The noises below, the cry of murder, the firing of the second pistol, and the running up stairs, were all corresponding scenes to impress terror on her imagination. The pretended ghost then advanced in front of her bed, while lights were slowly introduced, which first shone faintly, until they were ushered into the room by the private door, exhibiting the person before her in all his horrific appearances. On her shrieking, and shrinking into the bed, the lights were suddenly extinguished, and the person, after commanding her to be gone in a hoarse voice, passed again to the foot of the bed, shook it violently, and made a seeming attempt to get upon it, when, perceiving her to be springing up, he fled out of the room by the secret door, cautiously shut it, and joined his companions.
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On my latest “Looking Back at Genre History” segment on the StarShipSofa podcast (Episode 743), I recommend four new books for the Halloween season related to genre history.
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Today’s text is Helps and Hints for Hallowe’en (1920) by Laura Rountree Smith.
Read it here.
Quote: Hist! be still! ’tis Hallowe’en,
When fairies troop across the green!
On Hallowe’en when elves and witches are abroad, we find it the custom over all the world to build bonfires, to keep off evil spirits; and this is the night of all nights to entertain friends with stunts similar to those performed two hundred years ago. On this night fortunes are told, games are played, and if it so happens that your birthday falls on this night, you may even be able to hold converse with fairies—so goes the ancient superstition!
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Before we leave the subject of Northanger Abbey completely, let’s include one more work that inspired the novel (and left a lasting mark on the Gothic tradition), The Monk (1796) by Matthew Gregory Lewis.
Read it here.
Quote: “Be cautious not to utter a syllable!” whispered the Stranger; “Step not out of the circle, and as you love yourself, dare not to look upon my face!”
ALT
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Some of the Gothic works deemed “horrid” by Jane Austen in 1818’s Northanger Abbey (“are you sure they are all horrid?”) are available online, so let’s shift this countdown to those dark and delicious novels. (One is The Children of the Abbey, already covered on Day 7.)
Today’s title is The Castle of Wolfenbach (1793) by Eliza Parsons.
Read it here.
Quote: “My Lord came here once or twice, but the ghosts made such a noise he could not stay. Several gentry have slept here at times, but no body would stay a second night, and so we have all to ourselves by day, and the ghosts, or what they be, have got all the rooms by night and then they be quiet enough.”
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Today’s creepy novel, also mentioned as “horrid” in Northanger Abbey, is The Necromancer; or, The Tale of the Black Forest (1794) written by Carl Friedrich Kahlert (under pseudonym) and translated by Peter Teuthold.
Read it here.
Quote: “…a dreadful chilliness seized us, we felt the grasp of the icy fangs of horror, being in a burying vault surrounded by rotten coffins. Skulls and mouldered bones rattled beneath our feet, the grisly phantom of death stared in our faces from every side, with a grim, ghastly aspect. In the centre of the vault we beheld a black marble coffin, supported by a pedestal of stone, over it was suspended to the ceiling a lamp spreading a dismal, dying glimmering around.”
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Today’s text is The Black Vampyre; A Legend of St. Domingo (1819) by Uriah Derek D’Arcy.
Read it here.
Quote: When reason and sense returned, she [The Lady] found herself in the same place; and it was also the midnight hour. She was laying by the grave of Mr. PERSONNE, and her breast was stained with blood. A wide wound appeared to have been inflicted there, but was now cicatrized. Imagine if you can, her surprise; when, by a certain carniverous craving in her maw, and by putting this and that together, she found she was a—VAMPYRE!!! and gathered from her indistinct reminiscences, of the preceding night, that she had been then sucked; and that it was now her turn to eject the peaceful tenants of the grave!
With this delightful prospect of immortality before her, she began to examine the graves, for subject to satisfy her furious appetite. When she had selected one to her mind, a new marvel arrested her attention. Her first husband got up out his coffin, and with all the grace so natural to his countrymen, made her a low bow in the last fashion, and opened his arms to receive her!
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Another Gothic title very popular with women working in 19th-century mills in Lowell, Massachusetts was The Children of the Abbey (1796) by Regina Maria Roche.
Read it here.
Quote: The horrors of my mind I cannot describe; I seemed to stand alone in the world, without one friendly hand to prevent my sinking into the grave, which contained the dearest objects of my love.
ALT
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Today’s text is the short story “The Invisible Girl” (1833) by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.
Read it here.
Quote: “What beacon is it that helps us at our need?” asked Vernon, as the men, now able to manage their oars with greater ease, found breath to answer his question.
“A fairy one, I believe,” replied the elder sailor, “yet no less a true: it burns in an old tumble-down tower, built on the top of a rock which looks over the sea. We never saw it before this summer; and now each night it is to be seen,—at least when it is looked for, for we cannot see it from our village;—and it is such an out-of-the-way place that no one has need to go near it, except through a chance like this. Some say it is burnt by witches, some say by smugglers; but this I know, two parties have been to search, and found nothing but the bare walls of the tower. All is deserted by day, and dark by night; for no light was to be seen while we were there, though it burned sprightly enough when we were out at sea.”
“I have heard say,” observed the younger sailor, “it is burnt by the ghost of a maiden who lost her sweetheart in these parts; he being wrecked, and his body found at the foot of the tower: she goes by the name among us of the ‘Invisible Girl.’”
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Another Gothic novel that was a favorite with women working in 19th-century mills in Lowell, Massachusetts was The Three Spaniards (1801) by George Walker.
Read it here.
Quote: “That unhappy phantom will ever pursue Fernando, till he shall be pacified. He ever attends him invisible, and at this moment sits at the foot of the corpse of Almira.”
The Inquisitors and the prisoners shuddered, and turned their eyes towards the spot; but they could see nothing, except the pale body of the murdered maid.
“… I will command this unhappy spirit to become visible, and say what are his particular desires, and how he shall be tranquilized in the grave; then shall Fernando enjoy that uninterrupted repose he so well merits.”
ALT
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Because we mentioned The Castle of Otranto yesterday, let’s show some love for the dark reimagining of Walpole’s novel by Clara Reeve, The Old English Baron (1778). Reeve called it Otranto’s “literary offspring.”
Read it here.
Quote: …he thought he saw a glimmering light upon a staircase before him. “If,” said he, “this apartment is haunted, I will use my endeavours to discover the cause of it; and if the spirit appears visibly, I will speak to it.”
He was preparing to descend the staircase, when he heard several knocks at the door by which he first entered the room; and, stepping backward, the door was clapped to with great violence. Again fear attacked him, but he resisted it, and boldly cried out, “Who is there?”
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We’ve reached the last post in the portion of this countdown devoted to the creepy Gothic books beloved by the women working in 19th-century mills in Lowell, Massachusetts. Today’s entry is the controversial autobiography of Maria Monk (1836).
Read it here.
Quote: We all believed in ghosts.
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On my latest “Looking Back on Genre History” segment on the StarShipSofa podcast (Episode 754), I discuss (in a spoiler-free way!) Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins, intellectual history, and genre references. Here is the link!
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Science fiction may help foster a sense of global solidarity by evoking awe, study finds
“In particular, the researchers focused on a concept called ‘identification with all humanity.’ This refers to how much individuals feel connected to all people, regardless of nationality, race, or background. It reflects a broad, inclusive identity that supports concern for others around the globe. Previous studies have linked this identification to prosocial behaviors such as donating to international causes, supporting refugees, and caring about the environment. The authors theorized that science fiction, with its imaginative worlds and frequent focus on humanity’s shared future, might encourage people to adopt this global perspective.”
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