What makes a horror story scary? Are you a monster? Indiscriminate acts of violence? Blood spill? Or are they symbolic of those things that crawl under our skin and send chills down our spines?
Mary Shelley’s Monster frankenstein (1818) is not a random collection of human parts, but a symbol of human arrogance and the potential consequences of pursuing knowledge and power that mortals may not be able to handle. It’s a reflection.
Bram Stoker movie protagonist Dracula (1897) isn’t just there to remind you to watch your neck. The Earl’s emigration from Transylvania to England was otherexemplified by a cast of noble British characters who join forces to stop a bloodthirsty earl before he corrupts the country.
Just as children on Halloween are encouraged to wear costumes that allow them to be bigger, badder, and bolder than they normally would be on the playground, social issues are often dressed up or disguised in horror literature. Sometimes they are hard to find and easy to miss. But they, like children in costume, are so powerful on the page that their importance becomes impossible to ignore. Social issues have played a large role in horror literature throughout history, dressed up and undressed. They can take the form of monsters, demons, demons, and even sharks, as in Peter Benchley’s novels. jaws (1974) but ultimately serve a similar purpose. That means exploring concerns within our current culture and often revealing the fears and personal pain of their creators.
Take, for example, novels published after World War II. At the time, stories involving nuclear attacks, post-apocalyptic wastelands, loneliness, and despair, such as Wilson Tucker’s novels, were on the rise. long noisy silence (1952), Richard Matheson i am legend (1954), by Neville Shute on the beach (1957), and Walter M. Miller, Jr. leibovitz hymn (1960).
After September 11, 2001 and the ensuing economic crisis, we saw horror move towards themes of collapse and concerns about government power, especially in television and film. Vampires and zombies took center stage, standing in for ruthless leaders and lonely masses stripped of safety, shelter, and even identity. Instead of the obligatory happy ending, the conclusion is darker and less optimistic.Stephen King’s novella mist (1980) and Frank Darabont’s 2007 film adaptation serve as powerful examples. King’s version leaves some hope that the surviving characters might find a safe haven, but in Darabont’s adaptation, the characters commit suicide seconds before being saved.
In my own novel, sisters of the lost nation (2023) examines racism, identity, social acceptance, and agism, as well as highlighting the prevalence of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls (WWIMG). Anna Horne, the 17-year-old protagonist, is a Native American living on the (fictional) Takoda Reservation in Louisiana. Anna is an outcast and a loner, tormented by her white peers’ inability to understand who or what she is. Anna, who insisted on cutting her hair short and wearing her father’s old clothes, is not her typical 1990s girl. She loves the folk tales of her tribe, and she worries that they will lose their importance. In contrast to Anna, her younger sister Grace is obsessed with her appearance and believes a cell phone will help her move up the ranks in high school, but when she goes missing from the reservation, Anna loses her beloved Influenced by the story, I come to believe that: Grace is transformed into a terrifying creature that has haunted her since she was a child. As her ghosts worsen, Anna, with her wisdom gleaned from her tribe’s stories, realizes that she doesn’t need to be anything other than herself and is far more than her classmates or the town sheriff. I realize that I am unique. She refuses to look for Grace.
Simply put, horror provides a voice for the marginalized, the abused, and the lost. In doing so, the reader is exposed to situations and situations that they would not otherwise be able to think about, let alone experience. Horror literature rarely addresses social issues such as racism, misogyny, religious oppression, identity, sexual orientation, police brutality, child abuse, and other injustices, the list goes on. , is a particularly effective way to help society. Outsiders (i.e., those who have not had these experiences) feel and understand what it is like. It doesn’t mean turning the last page of a novel fully feeling someone else’s trauma, but the nature of horror itself is meant to unsettle, disturb, and alarm, and it’s important to lean into these thorny issues. It makes an ideal container for exploring. problem.
Moreover, social problems in horror stories can force us to change something about ourselves or strive for the improvement of society. If we feel happy and at peace (which may be blissfully ignorant), we may become too comfortable. When we are exposed to and fearful of the fear that surrounds us, all too easily overlooked, like dust particles in the air, we are more likely to react. Humans are naturally driven by emotions. When we are hungry, we eat. When we are tired, we sleep. When we are lonely, we seek companionship. We seek safety when we perceive danger, and we are more likely to help others if the danger affects them more than ourselves.
If that’s not positive enough, exploring social issues through horror literature can open your eyes to the blessings in our lives. By understanding other people’s problems and challenges, you will begin to see that your own problems are not so bad.
Of course, horror will continue to be an outlet for social issues, and readers like me will continue to seek out stories that scare us, knowing that those stories might change us.
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