One of life’s great ironies is that those of us not born to wealth have to spend the years we’re young enough to enjoy ourselves stabilizing our situation until suddenly we realize we’re too old to do that kind of thing any more.I know I’m being overly dramatic, but it often does feel like life operates backwards.My professional career began where I’d hoped it would end, as a professor.I taught and published for almost twenty years and really nobody paid much attention.At least I had my teaching.I also had a family to support, so I had to accept the shift to publishing when that came along with an offer of a full-time job.Thus it has been for about a decade now.Within the last decade colleagues have begun to approach me, asking me to contribute to academic volumes, or to be involved in pursuits that are more associated with professors than editors.I could do with more irony in my diet.
All of this is a long-winded invitation to check out the new Journal of Gods and Monsters.I probably won’t be writing articles for it; lack of library and research time (both of which I had when invitation-free) assure that my scribbling will be non-technical and hopefully of the more general interest crowd.Then why am I telling your about this journal, fresh from the box?I’m on the Executive Advisory Committee and the first Call for Papers has been issued.Now, this blog really has no way to include attachments that I know of, so if anyone wants in on the ground floor for this journal please contact me (the About page on this website says how).I contributed to the first number of the first volume of the Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions and look where I am now!You just never know.
In addition to the books on which I’ve been assiduously working, I’ve got a number of commitments to edited volumes and encyclopedias (these invitations waited until I was safely out of academe before rolling in).The monster crowd is, I assure you, a welcoming one.As we seem to have turned the corner into autumn a touch early this year, and I see leaves beginning to change before August is out, my mind turns toward the realm of the uncanny.It may be less academic than ancient religions, but the world of monsters feels much more relevant these days.If you’re a researcher in these realms I’ll be glad to send you a call for papers.
I have to confess that I’d never heard of Ottessa Moshfegh before.Shame on me, I know.As a wannabe writer, I feel compelled to know other writers’ names.Hang in literary circles.Etc.The good news is, however, that I found Homesick for Another World in an indie bookstore.I’d gone in for something else that they didn’t have, but I don’t like walking out with nothing, especially when it’s a small store.Besides, I trust the taste of most independent store owners.
I can’t remember the last time I read a book of short stories all the way through.As with most writers some work appeals to you more than others.In my mind the first and last stories stick the firmest.The latter, “A Better Place,” is haunting, almost Shirley Jacksonesque.Others make you uncomfortable in your own skin.This is a rare talent.
Finding a writer who, using simple words and expressions, takes you to another place is a rare gift.The short story (the only kind of fiction I’ve actually published) is a versatile and engaging form of literature.Books collecting them are often good for picking up when you have a little time and putting down for a while again.I felt compelled to go through this whole work, being drawn into the weird and somehow familiar worlds of characters who seem to have no purpose, no goals.It’s almost as refreshing as Kafka or Camus.To be a writer who requires only one name to evoke a genre must be glorious.These stories are strange without recourse to the supernatural, and they defy easy genre assignment.(This makes publishers crazy.)
There’s an earnestness and a longing in this collection.A kind of nihilistic spiritualism.A wanting with no particular object in mind.I read a lot of fiction, some of it very good.The kind that leaves you a little stunned and questioning what reality is.This is that kind of book.Had I not gone into that indie shop that Saturday morning I never would have found it.I certainly didn’t know to look for Ottessa Moshfegh.Here again I’m reminded of the value of the bookstore experience.The ability to browse without clicking or scrolling feels like a luxury to me now.I may have to pay more than Amazon’s competitive pricing, but then this is like a finder’s fee for being in the real world.Even if the book makes you question that reality when you’re done.
It’s perfectly natural.Trying to make sense of things, I mean.It’s been a little difficult in America for the past three years or so, given that nothing seems to add up beyond greed and narcissism supported by a senate majority.Still, as I retreat into my horror films I realize that there’s a logic to it.Over the past several months I’ve been attempting to articulate it.You see, I have a couple of presentations to give on Holy Horror in October and one of the questions likely to arise is why.Why bring together the sacred and the scary?Those who’ve studied religion formally—and many who’ve not—are aware of Rudolf Otto’s classic The Idea of the Holy.It’s outdated and I’ve been waiting for someone to write its replacement, but we’re past the era when one scholar corners the market.Has nothing new emerged this past century?Nevertheless, Otto’s main ideas still make sense, before he lapses into a Christocentric view.
Mysterium tremendum et fascinans isn’t an incantation, but with a little imagination the Latin makes sense.The holy, according to Otto is a mystery that is both terrifying (tremendum) and fascinating.To the laity in the pews this may be strange, but chances are pretty good that your minister has read this book.In the monotheistic west, the divine is terrifying.It’s not splitting hairs to suggest terror and horror differ, nor is it unreasonable to suggest they have much in common.Horror seems more embodied—a working-class variety of terror.Still, both have that element of fascinans.We fear but we can’t look away.I don’t have the time to sit and ponder that a Gilded Age academic had.Otto didn’t have to keep up with Facebook and Twitter.
Although academia required far more than eight hour days, the time during those days wasn’t spent “on the clock.”As one intellectual I admire once quipped, staring out the window is work.Not as far as HR is concerned, however.Productivity in an industry under stress is its own kind of mysterium tremendum, I guess.It doesn’t really allow for unstructured hours to read, take notes, close your eyes, and read some more.Work measures inspiration in terms of currency, which is one of the problems that stretches past beyond these last three years.Struggling hard with an idea is like wrestling an angel until dawn.You can’t win, and you can’t lose.But when the sun clears the horizon it will be time to be at your desk and ideas will have to wait another day.
So I’m active on LinkedIn.I try to keep social media down to the essentials, but you never know when opportunity might rap its knuckles next to your shingle.When LinkedIn began they ran the warning that you should only connect with people you actually knew, since people can say bad things about you and hurt your job prospects.Since that kept me down to about a dozen connections (many academics, being secure with tenure, don’t bother with LinkedIn), I eventually followed the advice of a wise friend and accepted invitations from people I didn’t know because, as he pointed out, they might be the ones with jobs to offer.That made sense.There is a flip-side to it, however, and that is people think I have work to offer.I don’t.At my job I have no hiring capacity whatsoever.(I can feel the links being broken even as I write this.)
The vast majority of people who contact me on LinkedIn want something from me.They obviously don’t read this blog.(See paragraph above.)Many people send me messages wanting me to publish their books.Editors, my dear and gentle readers, work in specific disciplines.No one contacting me on LinkedIn has written a book about the Bible, although my profile indicates that’s my gig.And besides, many companies, including mine, have policies against doing business over social media.I often think of this because the book business is easily researched.There’s a ton of information both online and on shelf about how to get published.Messaging someone on LinkedIn is not recommended.
Writing a book takes a lot of effort.I know, because I’ve done it a number of times.If you’re going to put years into doing something, it pays to spend at least a few minutes learning about how the publishing industry works.I made rookie mistakes in my younger days, of course.But that led me to learn about publishing even before I had a job in the industry.Quite apart from my job, I freely admit to being a book nerd.And publishing, despite its many problems, is an inherently fascinating industry.Although I’ve had academic books accepted for publication, I still struggle getting my fiction to press (I have had short stories published, but my novels remain unread).I won’t contact other publishers I know through LinkedIn, though.I’d rather have it be a personal experience whether it’s acceptance or rejection.And that’s something social media just can’t replicate.
Rereading books takes time.When I was a professor my reading time was largely limited to the summer and winter breaks.Those who haven’t experienced the academic lifestyle firsthand may not realize just how incredibly busy you are during term time.Class prep, grading, delivering lectures, leading seminars, committee meetings, office hours—it really is much more than a nine-to-five job.Time to sit down and read through books is limited, and since those books are heady, academic tomes, they take considerable time.(I’m reading an academic book at the moment and I can only get through a finger-full of pages at a sitting.)All of this means I’m generally reluctant to reread books.Not that I’m a traditional academic anymore, but because I have a huge and growing stack of books I haven’t read yet.
Nevertheless, a project on which I’m working required rereading Gerald Brittle’s The Demonologist.I read this about two years ago, while commuting.The thing about reading on a bus is that the quality of reading time is strained.Recall isn’t the same as when you’re in a comfy, stationary chair, and no stranger’s head is lopping onto your shoulder as they doze.(Yes, that happens, and frequently for those of us on the first bus of the day.)In any case, my copy of this book doesn’t have an index and I couldn’t remember if some specific instances were discussed.The only thing for it, then, was to read it again.My second reading was done with more skepticism than I could conjure on a bus ride, but still my original sense remains: we willfully cut out much of human experience if we stop our ears completely. At least in principle.
Ed and Lorraine Warren were self-taught ghost-hunters.More often than not, their cases turned into what they believed were demonic cases.Since academics tend not to publish much about such things, the self-taught are pretty much free to declare themselves experts—just switch on reality TV and check me on this.Experts are those with experience who are willing to share it.The other day I met someone who, like me, used to live the commuting life.We both agreed that telecommuting was a more authentic way to exist—your otherwise mandated three or four daily hours traveling can be more sanely used at home.Still, we had to agree, bus time could be used for activities like reading, and once you stop commuting you have to carve time out for it.In such a situation rereading a book is at times necessary.When I was a professor, I reread frequently.But then, it was mostly articles or books that I wouldn’t take on in their entirety. In the reading life there’s never enough time.
It was almost a little too real.As I looked at the fake blood—this wasn’t a horror movie—I had a hard time accepting this wasn’t the real thing.I mean Beyond Meat’s vegetable-based sausage.My daughter recently sent me a captivating article about artificial meat.Unlike many paeans to its virtues by fellow vegetarians and vegans, this was written by an omnivore who unabashedly stated that we’ve reached the point where synthetic meat has surpassed the real thing in flavor and the eating experience.The piece on Outside made me glad.Feedlots, apart from being the largest industrial polluters in this country, are a horror film based on a true story.The way we treat “food animals” violates just about every ethical stance in the book, and it’s a big book.We do it for profit, of course.Now that artificial meat is turning a substantial profit, those who slaughter are starting to pay attention.
I recently ate at a local restaurant where our waiter recommended the cauliflower burger.The thought wasn’t appealing.Don’t get me wrong, I do like cauliflower.I prefer it raw, however, since cooking brings out its more cruciferous qualities.In any case, our server said, “It’s new on the menu.We offered it once before and so many people requested it that we’ve made it a regular item.”Now we don’t exactly live in a hippie haven here.Still, enough people are asking for alternatives that we’re discovering it pretty easy to find plant-based protein in some pretty remarkable places.It put me in mind of my most challenging course in college: biomedical ethics.
A class that asked, and then pressed on very sensitive questions, biomedical ethics required a term paper.I wrote mine on animal testing.This was back in the 1980s, and technology has moved on since then.Even back in those dark ages of Reaganomics, artificial tissue was being lab grown, eliminating the need for animal testing on many products.Now we’re reaching the point where the same may apply to comestibles.I’ve long used vegetarian alternatives (now vegan ones) and they’ve increasingly improved.When I had the most recent alternative, however, I couldn’t believe it wasn’t meat.It was too real.I’m not morally opposed to verisimilitude, I assure you.The closer they get to the real thing, the better it is for the animals who’ll never need to be born to be killed by us.It’s just I find the fake blood upsetting, and I’m happy to be reminded that this is only a simulacrum after all.
I first heard of Norman Ohler’s Blitzed: Drugs in the Third Reich before it found a publisher.Even at that point I found the idea fascinating.My knowledge of the Second World War isn’t deep.I was born less than two decades after it happened, so it was still heavy in American consciousness, but as a child I wasn’t much interested in history.(I was a fan of monsters even then.)Like many people, since November of 2016 I’ve had a renewed interest in how the Nazis rose to power, and how a highly intelligent nation could follow someone as unstable as Hitler.When I spotted Blitzed on a discount table at the Moravian Book Shop I figured it was a good opportunity to learn more.
Never a drug user myself, I grew up in a culture where such use was prevalent.I had never realized, however, just how ubiquitous drugs were in Nazi Germany.Ohler begins by noting the use of crystal meth in keeping German soldiers awake and alert for days at a time, thereby allowing Blitzkrieg to take place.The offensive on the western front would likely not have worked without it.The story gets seedier from there.Hitler, a vegetarian who eschewed drugs and alcohol, had a personal physician who began giving him daily injections of vitamins and what we’d likely recognize as placebos for a number of physical ailments.Even as decisions were made for genocide, der Führer was being injected with hard drugs of the opiate family, eventually becoming an addict.Decisions about the fate of an entire nation were being made by a leader so high that straight thinking wasn’t a possibility.
Ohler is careful not to claim that Hitler’s excesses of hatred and megalomania were the results of his drug use.They were there well in advance of his decline.Outside the bunkers in which Hitler spent much of the war, drugs were widely used, and abused, in the German military.In order to try to entice young men into what would become suicide missions, high doses of drugs were provided, often enough to prevent the effective outcome hoped for.This is a fascinating, sordid story.It’s a side of the tragedy of the war that we don’t often hear, and it’s a further indication of just how easily madness spreads.Reading the descriptions of Hitler’s personality, in this particular era, was frightening.Especially since history has a nasty tendency to repeat itself.
Sometimes updates don’t help.That’s because evil is so good at masquerading as righteousness that constant vigilance is required.Michelle Goldberg’s Kingdom Coming: The Rise of Christian Nationalism was recommended to me by someone at a local church.I’ve been giving educational talks to help people understand what Evangelicalism is, so I figured I’d better read it.The optimistic epilogue to this otherwise excellent book allowed relief after the 2006 midterm elections.Of course, nobody back then could’ve believed an even less intelligent president than W could ever be put forth by the GOP.That doesn’t mean Kingdom Coming shouldn’t be read.It should.And it should be required reading (aw, gee!Homework?).There have been many studies that have demonstrated repeatedly that Christian Nationalism is highly organized and well funded.Meanwhile intellectuals scoff that religion is dead.
I spent most of the last week in a kind of panic.I have another public talk coming up, and I needed to read Goldberg before that.Yes, it is dated.But yes, we have Trump’s bumbling form of “leadership” with a well funded, highly organized Evangelical subculture calling the shots.Forget the politicians—they’re only interested in money—it’s everyone else who suffers from America’s growing fascism.The fact that the GOP won’t stand up to 45 shows that we’ve already turned the corner toward das Vaterland.Anyone the Republican Party elects from now on could be the new dictator.Christian Nationalism stands behind this as journalists scratch their heads.
Goldberg’s book has likely been shelved because eight years of Obama made it seem like the threat was gone.The problem is, silence works to the benefit of Christian Nationalists.Perhaps the most frightening thing about all of this is that many intellectuals simply don’t take the threat seriously.At the same time I was reading this, I was also reading about Nazi Germany (because I’m such a cheerful guy).The parallels are blatant and entirely too obvious to miss.Christian Nationalism has an agenda and it is fascist in nature.Even obeying the words of Jesus takes second place to the political objective of making America in their own image.This may sound alarmist, but it’s based on solid information.The Devil, they say, is most powerful when people don’t believe in him.Those who would make America into a theocracy would claim to follow the other guy, but looking at their tactics, it’s pretty clear who’s really in charge.
With a happy coincidence I discovered a website called Horror Homeroom.Featuring articles and podcasts and reviews on horror films, I felt its siren call.Then I learned it is run by a professor at nearby Lehigh University, making it even closer than I initially supposed.I wanted to be part of the conversation.You see, after years and years of being a Bible scholar and having to fight to find any kind of interest whatsoever in what I had to say, I’ve found the horror community extremely welcoming.Perhaps because we all know at some level that horror is considered transgressive—it isn’t unusual to find critics who still claim it’s debased—we find each other.There’s an aesthetic to horror, and it isn’t about gore and violence.Horror, when done well, is an excellent marker of what it means to be human.
Life always ends in death.Many people spend as much time as possible trying to avoid thinking about it.There is, however, great creativity in facing squarely what you cannot change.Well, that’s a good sounding excuse anyway.All of this is by way of announcing my guest blog post on Horror Homeroom.A few weeks back I was quite taken with The Curse of La Llorona.Not that it was a great movie, but it had a way of coming back to haunt me.Part of it has to do with the poorly understood way that local customs blend with imperialistic religions.Faith is a local phenomenon.Once you switch off the televangelist, you’ll begin sharing beliefs of your neighbors.There’s no such thing as a pure religion. Pure religion is one of the most dangerous myths there is.
Those of us who study religion professionally have been taught to call the blending of religions “syncretism.”I’ve stopped using that word for it because it assumes that there are pure forms of religion.Religion always takes on an individual element.We make it our own when it gets translated into our personal gray matter.The idea that there is a pure form of any religion requires an arbiter of greater rank than any here on earth.You can always say “but I think it means…”Horror, I suspect, latched onto this truth long ago.Without some hint of doubt about your own individualized belief system, it’s difficult to be afraid.Horror need not be about blood and gore.Often it isn’t.Often it’s a matter of asking yourself what you believe.And once you answer it, opening yourself to asking questions.
I try to keep up.Really, I do.Although my specialization is in ancient religions, at heart I’m an historian of ideas and I try to keep up with the origins of the many Christian denominations.You see, with so many competing versions of the one correct way to please God it pays to hedge your bets.Thing is, there’s so many options and some seem to spring out of nowhere, like toadstools after the rain.The other day I attended a local community event.One of those kinds of affairs where local organizations set up tents and sometimes sell food.Many of the tents were for churches.As supporters of community values (mostly) this isn’t unusual, even with the declining numbers in the mainstream.Then I heard a voice.
“Do you read?” the man asked.I confess to having a bookish look, so I admitted I do.“We want you to have a free book,” he said, handing me a plastic bag (warning sign one) containing a small paperback and several fliers.Now, I was here to look around and maybe get a bite to eat, so I thanked him, tucked the bag under my arm and walked on.Only on the way home did my wife look at the contents.The church—for it had to be a church giving such things away—was one of which I’d never heard.This would’ve been disorienting if it weren’t for the fact that ever since college—where I learned quite a lot about denominations—I’ve been noticing new varieties of Christianities, cropping up somewhat frequently.Each seems to believe it has found the answers, despite the threadbare denominations that have been around for centuries.
I make fun on nobody’s search for meaning, or the truth.It is, after all, a lifelong quest.I am suspicious of those who claim to have already gotten there, however.For those traditions that declare they’ve found the answer centuries ago, the passing years with their constant changes have worn on them.Especially if they’re awaiting a divine cataclysmic ending to it all that’s been delayed for a couple of millennia now.Others are, apparently, wanting to pump some fresh air into these tired lungs.This group featured a website “the famous one [all one word].com.”I was surprised and a touch saddened to see Jesus relegated to the role of a media celebrity.But then again, I can’t keep up like I used to.
Mercenaries have long been part of human culture.With some exceptions, people really don’t like to fight to the death meaning that wars have often relied on those willing to fight for pay.As society buys more and more into capitalism—and capitalism always means you want what someone else has—we’ve had to pay armies to become a massive part of our national existence.In the United States the military budget is the most massive drain on taxpayers’ dollars, dwarfing all other areas of government spending.Even Dwight Eisenhower, himself a military man, warned the country of the military-industrial complex.It was becoming too powerful, he believed.Knowing better, we continue to spend to curb our fears—generally unfounded.
The other day I was reading about the private military industry.I didn’t even know there was such a thing.Yes, I’ve known of mercenaries since I was a kid, but I think was got to me was the word “industry.”This has apparently now become a legitimate line of work, I suspect with tax breaks and other kickbacks.What’s more, it’s recognized by governments as a legitimate business. Perhaps I spend too much time in my own headspace—I am a Bibles editor after all—but I felt like I’d just crawled out from my scriptural rock.There’s an entire industry where your job is to be a fighting force for hire?Victory to the highest bidder?The ultimate, weaponized free agents?How does that feel?Mercenaries have often suffered in reputation.Now we recognize them as just another job.I guess that’s one way to handle unemployment.
While the Good Book is considered outmoded by many, I do think it has many things right.One of its most compelling messages is that we should be peacemakers.We should love one another, seek to help, not to harm.Nobody’s going to pay a lot for that, however.War is more profitable.Meanwhile the education industry—even it can be capitalized—suffers.We don’t want to pay for cooperative ventures where the entire human race, and other species, might benefit.That we deem too expensive.After all, there’s only so much money to go around for bombs and missiles and whatnot.How are we supposed to protect that which we’ve extorted from others if we don’t have a massive military?I suppose we could hire freelancers, but then, that costs money.
It was a self-inflicted double feature.I’d been pondering movies about the weather.Tons of movies have the weather in them, sometimes even as a significant plot element.Few films, however, take the weather as their central thesis.These movies verge on horror as the weather is something much larger than we are and which is deadly.Let’s face it, a film about sunny skies and light breezes doesn’t have much of a hook.I began by watching The Perfect Storm.I’d seen it before, of course.Not much like its book, which is nonfiction, it follows the loss of the sword boat Andrea Gail in the eponymous storm of 1991.Not all members of the crew get a backstory, and since nobody knows what really happened, it was a chance for special effects to drive the story just as massive waves drive the boat.The weather, while central, is seldom commented upon.The characters are motivated by trying to make a living but there’s not enough time to give all six of them adequate stories.Add to that another boat with no backstory and the movie become disjointed and smoky.
The next feature was The Day after Tomorrow.Again, I’d seen it before, but you know how one thing leads to another.Like The Perfect Storm, The Day after Tomorrow introduces more subplots than the movie can handle, even bringing a Russian freighter up Fifth Avenue in order to have a wolf-chase scene that is simply dropped after it’s discovered that wolves can’t climb ladders.Still, the latter story has an environmental message.Aware that human activity does lead to global warming, it tries to picture what would happen if it were speeded up into a matter of weeks rather than years.Nomatter how long it takes, the weather will get you.
As I’ve contended before, the sheer scope of the weather practically makes it divine.Although we live in different climatic zones we’re all tied together under a single, volatile, powerful atmosphere.Early humans realized that their survival depended on the weather.Drought kills as readily as sudden ice ages.The key, it seems, is balance.Nature isn’t kind to species who assert too much dominance.One of the means of nature’s control is the weather.Until the development of meteorology, and even after its first tentative steps, the weather was considered a divine bailiwick.We may proclaim it entirely natural, but it still commands its share of awe and majesty.And it can easily claim a few weekend hours searching the skies for some kind of meaning.
The other day I met one of the organizers of the Easton Book Festival.Coming in October, this festival is something new.It took the efforts of a couple with vision—the owners of a small, independent bookstore—to get other people on board, but now it’s going to happen.A weekend dedicated to books.I found out about the Festival as I was looking up area bookstores that might let me do a presentation on Holy Horror.For whatever reason, my last book missed its projected autumnal publication date, and fall is when people are really thinking about horror movies.Approaching its birthday in late December, it never really had a proper launch.Priced the way it is, I don’t expect a sales boost, but I would like people to know about it.When you spend years writing a book you’d like it not to be completely obscure.
In any case, when looking up one of the Easton shops—hey, book lovers, the Lehigh Valley has lots of bookstores!—I noticed that the Festival was still seeking participants.Since it falls just before Halloween, the timing felt perfect.I signed up.Now this is one of the many new tricks for this old dog.I tell authors all the time that self-promotion is key to book sales, even when a press is fairly widely known.In fact, the store owner himself writes books and has to pay for his own tours to promote them.Book culture is worth promoting.
On a personal level, it does me good to see that there are others who appreciate books.They are a form of collective mind.A communion.When I’m feeling down, or uninspired, a trip to a bookstore—or even a library—often helps.Reading books leads to a sense of accomplishment.Every year I set a goal on Goodreads.I don’t set the goal to make me read—I’d do that anyway—but to share with others both what I’ve been reading and what I think about it.The Easton Book Festival will be a way of doing something similar, hopefully with those many others who feel the draw of books.Writing, for me, is a labor of love.I don’t know too many people personally, so meeting them through books is one of my own goals.Just the other day I met an academic who wanted to read Weathering the Psalms.Such things happen only in that wonderful land built of books.
It’s curious the way people find books.I sometimes see them advertised (the way publishers suppose people see them), but far more often I find them more serendipitously.I’m active on Goodreads, and many times a book someone else has reviewed will catch my eye.I like to read things that I notice in independent bookstores.I’m always on the hunt for a bargain.At work we have a used book rack where any volume is half-a-buck.During lunch one day I spied Victor Gischler’s Vampire a Go-Go.Now the title told me this wasn’t exactly a serious novel, but it had vampire in the title and when I write horror it often ends up on the funny side.All in all it seemed like it would be worth the tiny investment, even if I don’t have a clear idea of what go-go really means.
While not laugh-out-loud funny, this is an enjoyable romp through monster land.Kind of like Harry Potter with some adult themes thrown in.The characters—which include ghosts, witches, wizards, a werewolf (sorry lycanthrope), a golem, and a vampire—are likable and strangely believable.An unexpected twist came with the Battle Jesuits, a nice touch that shows yet again how close religion and horror can be.I won’t try to summarize the action here, but I’ll simply note that there are twists and turns aplenty and smiles and splatter along the way.It’s clear that Gischler researched the novel well, bringing interesting texture to the tale.
Like the last novel I read, also acquired in an inexpensive browsing situation, much of the story is set in Prague.My wife and I visited Prague back when it was still in Czechoslovakia, and before it had become a tourist haven.From reading these recent novels, apparently quite a lot has changed there.Of course, in those days I hadn’t tapped into my love of monsters for many years.Working on a doctorate has a way of doing that to you.Now that I’m back, I’m enjoying the variety available in the genre these days.I still have a soft spot for Stephen King novels, and Poe will always remain among my sacred texts, but I’m inclined to read these newer treatments as well.There’s nothing really to scare you in Vampire a Go-Go, but there are remarkably moving moments.And some of the monsters are quite a lot of fun.It would restore my faith in the power of the accidental find, if it ever required resurrection.
In a recent article, which will hopefully be published, I explore the origins of the horror tradition in the Bible.That should come as no surprise since the Good Book is really the beginning of the western literary canon.Yes, there are earlier works—the Epic of Gilgamesh may be considered part of that canon as well, for the canon has no official curator—but because of Scripture’s status literature in the western world takes off from there.In any case, the other day I was considering the additions to the book of Daniel in the Apocrypha.The Apocrypha is, of course, part of the Catholic biblical canon, but not the Protestant.The additions to Daniel roughly fall into three stories, or two stories and a poem.The two stories—Bel and the Dragon, and Susanna—involve Daniel as an early kind of detective.
Traditionally the inventor of the detective story is Edgar Allan Poe, and certainly in the modern literary canon that may be so.One wonders, however, if Poe might have drawn his inspiration from these apocryphal stories.Susanna goes like this: two nasty elders fall in lust with Susanna, the beautiful wife of a local prominent judge.They stalk her, learning her habits, and when they know she’ll be alone they confront her demanding sex.If she won’t, they’ll claim they caught her with another man and since the law requires two witnesses, well, she was screwed.Since she won’t comply they accuse her and she is condemned until a young Daniel in turn condemns the court for not questioning the men separately.When Daniel does so the details of their story don’t match and Susanna is vindicated.Part courtroom drama and part ratiocination, this is an early detective tale.
Bel and the Dragon involves a couple stories together, but the story of Bel is the one involving detective work.The priests of the god Bel take food into their temple every night to offer as a sacrifice.Since it’s gone in the morning, they offer this as proof that Bel is real.Daniel, however, knows Bel is just a statue and so he sprinkles a fine layer of ash on the floor around the food one night.The next day as Bel’s followers announce the food is gone and the temple was sealed for the duration, Daniel takes them back and shows the footprints in the ash—the priests have been entering from a secret access and eating the offering.There may not be a direct line from these stories to Poe, but they nevertheless reinforce the idea that the western canon begins with Holy Writ.If we explore this with our own ratiocination we’ll discover, I believe, much more.