This Horror Life

I know I’m not imagining things. It happens far too often for it to be some false connection in my mind. It bothers me a lot; enough to take me out of otherwise entertaining horror films and possibly prevent me from connecting again.

 Why do horror filmmakers hate the police? I can see justification for showing incompetence. Horror is larger than life: when the rules of regular life, law and enforcement, fail to reconcile the situation, what else can be relied on? But why are they so frequently becoming the secondary villain? I don’t see how that enhances the story in the least bit.

Case in point: Quarantine. An enjoyable remake, even if it is mostly shot for shot from the Spanish film [Rec]. I’d recommend watching both, to be honest, because they reflect different cultures in vastly different ways though the premise and actions are mostly identical.

 A major reason I like Quarantine is the reflection of the tensions between different action agencies in the United States. Firefighters, Police Officers, Military: they don’t always get along. During big emergencies, their jobs overlap and everyone is bucking for power. It’s almost territorial, and, to me, a big issue in procedures today.

But the film turned me off whenever the LAPD officer was portrayed as corrupt. Someone isn’t following his orders (known in real life as a punishable crime, but horror films (and film in general) ignore that) when it’s crucial to, his next action is always to point the gun in their face or assault them (known as corruption in real life, not standard procedure). I ask why? What does this do to enhance the film? Make people feel justified in hating police officers? Perpetuate an us versus them mentality that only serves to impede justice in the US system? How does this help make a film scary? Suspenseful? Thought provoking? Entertaining?

To a certain extent, police have to be ineffectual in horror films. The victim must bring their own justice or die trying. That doesn’t mean that every police officer must be viewed as corrupt. It disgusts me.

But maybe that’s just me.

And please, if you do comment, I ask you not to try the tired “But it’s what the news shows” argument. News is about ratings and money. “Good Cop Saves the Day” or “Good Cop Gives Directions to Confused Citizen” don’t make for controversial stories. “Corrupt Officer Unloads Gun [at man who attempted to shoot him in the face for apprehending him but we won’t tell you that part because that justifies police action and would make you support them]” sells papers and keeps viewers watching. Police officers doing the right thing isn’t considered newsworthy in America; therefore, much of their actual work is ignored for flashy stories that paint them as villains.

This is not the point of the post. Please stick to fictional horror film police officers. Thank you.

I can summarize my position on the horror short story in a simple phrase: two great tastes that taste great together. If horror is designed to bring out fear, then the short story is the quickest way to get the taste without lingering on extraneous details.

So why are there so few markets open to the horror short story? Aside from dedicated publications - Cemetary Dance, Weird Tales, Dark Wisdom , among others, there really isn’t a market for them. Joe Hill aside, most horror authors have to release a successful novel before being given the opportunity to publish a short story collection.

Publishing is dictated by the perceived notions of the market, yes, but if the market isn’t offered the opportunity to obtain the material then how could the tastes be accurately gaged? Judging by my local book store shelves, the only horror authors with any success are King, Koontz, Hamilton, and Lovecraft, the only anthologies coming from Carroll & Graff publishing, without which I would certainly go mad attempting to find good horror short fiction.

Are there alternate means of distribution? Yes. MicroHorror published any horror story under 666 words. Self-publication can offer a means to release material, but there seems to be even more stigma against self-publishing than the horror short story itself.

Do horror stories break through to more mainstream publications? Of course. I recall a stark dark fantasy story in the New Yorker called A Better Angel by Chris Adrian that was more disturbing in its approach to death than its incorporation of a not so benevolent guardian angel. Joyce Carol Oates was published in the first fiction only issue of the Atlantic with a disturbing sci-fi/horror crossover called *BD* 11 1 86. This kind of publication is the exception, rather than the norm, for a horror writer.

I’ve only recently returned to the world of publishing after a few year absence. Many of the markets I used to submit to are now closed, lost forever in a game that doesn’t suffer a loser kindly. I also recently realized that if I feel a story has merit, regardless of the content or genre, I should work off of a broader spectrum of targets. Would Harper’s publish (this story merely used as an example, housed perfectly well at MicroHorror) a dark ode to the ailing farms of mid-state NY called Black Dirt Country? Assuming it met the publication guidelines (it doesn’t), as unlikely as it is, one cannot know unless one tries.

I implore all horror authors - emerging, successful, and hobbyist alike - to at least take the chance. It’s ok, there will always be some darker publication to return to.

Perhaps no element of horror is more ignored than the music. While certain scores will constantly come up as particularly great, such as the band Goblin’s scoring of Suspiria or John Williams’ lurching strings in Jaws, the music contained within horror films tends to be ignored. But why?

Is it solely because of the nature of the score itself? After all, a good score is designed to enhance the film, not overshadow the action on screen. The music can shift your mood, distract you from the obvious, and bring you fully into the world of horror unfolding on screen.

It’s hard to imagine that people could just ignore the audio cues piled into the mix to help bring out the scares. Whether the mournful cry of a theremin or the undulating tremolo of an orchestra, these cuts of music are written specifically to bring out the best of the film.

Take for example the opening lullaby of Rosemary’s Baby. Jazz musician Krzysztof Komeda produced a serene ballad that encapsulates the essence of the film. The simple melody seems familiar, yet the orchestral harmonies and quasi-Baroque clavichord-esque keyboard work show that not is all as it seems. The perfect dream life of Guy and Rosemary Woodhouse is as much an illusion as the peaceful melody sung by Mia Farrow. Elements of the theme are used in different ways throughout to elucidate the events in time with Rosemary’s realizations.

Yet it is Polanski who time and again receives full credit for the craft of the film. This is not to question his role, no. Roman Polanski produced one of the best horror films by using more mainstream filmmaking techniques laced with disturbing imagery, much courtesy of novelist Ira Levin, to unnerve the audience, set them off balance, and betray all expectations of what the film initially seemed to be. It’s just the score is pushed aside like the fondant covering on a cake; both wrap the product up to a beautiful finish yet fall to the wayside when people dig in.

It is a personal belief that it does not take a music scholar to recognize the greatness of music. Such an education certainly helps in understanding how the product is made, though the lack of such experience is no excuse to ignore it. If we can comment on dialogue and sound effects with ease, we can surely mention a few words reflecting the hard, unheralded work of film composers in putting that final bow on the package.

A quick diversion, to start. If you are a member of IMDB, I strongly encourage you to participate in the second Horror Board Book Club reading. The selection for the month is Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury and should certainly stir up some interesting comments.

Which ties in directly to the meat of the post.

Embarrassed by the YA label and “Children’s Reading Room” stamp on my local library’s copy of Something Wicked…, I opted to buffer the reaction of the new crop of the librarians - far too familiar with my grab a bizarre horror novel, a genre short story collection, and a literary classic - by borrowing lost boy lost girl by Peter Straub. A wise choice, considering I am struggling to put it down in the face of a large stack of academic (re)reading I must complete for Monday.

Then I looked at a quote in the dust jacket that left me perplexed: “…Peter Straub affirms once again that he is the master of literary horror.”

This is the first time I’ve encountered the phrase “literary horror,” and to be quite honest, I hope it’s the last. Much like so-called “literary fiction,” “literary horror” is designed to create an almost us versus them dilemma within the horror genre.

Considering the general reaction of literary press to horror, attempting to justify approval of a certain variety of horror seems inexcusable to me. Why create the distinction at all? Shouldn’t all good horror be considered well-written if it accomplishes what it set out to do? What would actually define literary horror? A few well-placed semi-colons and a dispensation of vocabulary that would leave the most well read among us to scramble for our dictionaries?

Perhaps the part I dislike the most about “literary” in this context is the poor use of the term. Literary is defined from literature and refers to the nature of books and writing. Literature itself either means the combination of form and substance in writing or all writing printed in a particular language. It’s clear that “literary” is used to distinguish what some consider the highest quality of writing, but it’s also an insult to other writers not considered worthy of the demarcation.

Am I trying to claim all written works are created equal? Absolutely not. But this “literary horror” distinction seems to be one of the newer steps in downplaying the merit of horror. It’s the same way a horror film will suddenly be credited as a thriller or drama in the face of award season buzz. It’s an admittedly clever workaround to pretend that horror, as a whole, has no value to society. This is the kind of rhetoric that makes me want this site to work so much.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Post them below.

Welcome to This Horror Life, a small pet project derived from concepts developed during the planning stages of my main blog Sketch-y Details. I’m your humble host, Trent Sketch, here to guide you through the dark pathways of horror.

What is it that actually creates the fascination with horror? How has the genre developed? Where are the pitfalls, the traps, the challenges that modern fans face in navigating the new meta of horror still rapidly developing due to digital distribution and technology? Could one person actually answer all of these questions? Unlikely.

Which is where you, the reader, come in. This Horror Life borrows its name from the acclaimed radio program This American Life. Through intelligent and witty analysis of compelling stories, the Chicago Public Radio program led by Ira Glass delves into the nature of the human condition through stories on selective topics.

Therefore, the goal of this blog should be simple to explain. This Horror Life intends to probe all aspects of the genre, from page to screen, audio to visual, to try and develop a stronger interest in a higher level of horror analysis. This is not meant to be intimidating, nor antagonizing. It is just the belief of this blogger that there is more to be discussed about horror than body counts and plot twists.

What will the site cover? Reviews, of course, of old and new alike. Compelling news stories relevant to the fan, as well. Editorials, retrospectives, viewer discussion? Absolutely. Perhaps later on, after the always rocky initial stages, interviews with fans and professionals alike. Maybe even contests, such as themed short story contests or viewing events. Whatever direction this site goes, it needs your help.

This Horror Life will hopefully grow to represent something unique in the already crowed horror presence on the web. I hope you will stick with it and truly make it an interactive endeavor to discuss all that matters to the modern horror fan.