Can Zombies Be Gothic?

Two things have inspired tonight's post. Firstly, I have just returned from an international conference on the Gothic in Warsaw. Secondly, I read Rachel Caine's Kiss of Death - the eighth Morganville Vampires book - today. I'm a huge fan of the Morganville books, and my paper at the Warsaw conference was on YA vampire fiction, so I was very interested to see the change in direction the eighth book took. I'll give a brief summary (spoiler warning) first, and the reasoning behind this post should become a bit clearer.

Caine's young adult vampire series is set in the Texas town of Morganville. The series follows the adventures of Claire Danvers, who is a 16/17-year-old student at Texas Prairie University. After being bullied in her college dorm, Claire takes up residence at the Glass House with a group of slightly older teens. It is here that she learns the truth about Morganville - it is run by vampires, who 'protect' (own) the humans and demand 'taxes' (blood) from them. The series continues with Claire negotiating the town's rules, forming alliances with the 'old' vampires, working for the somewhat crazy vampire Myrnin and getting into a relationship with human teen Shane. As I argued in my paper at the Warsaw conference, the series draws on a number of tropes of the Gothic - particularly the invocation of an imagined past, with its concomitant morality and societal regulation.

Kiss of Death, however, offers something different. When new-vampire and aspiring musician Michael Glass (one of Claire's housemates) is offered the chance to record a demo CD in Dallas, the protagonists are given passes to leave Morganville. They have not travelled far before they arrive in the town of Durram. Here, they enter a diner replete with threatening "redneck" locals (who take an immediate dislike to the group of friends), stay at an abandoned motel (run by a shotgun-toting old lady) and are arrested by the town's sheriff on trumped up charges. They eventually escape, and arrive at Blacke - an even more deserted backwater town under siege from a group of 'vampires' that are suffering from a vampire 'disease' that had previously been eradicated in Morganville. (Claire and Myrnin's work to find a cure for this disease is the subject of the earlier books in the series.)

Even before the 'sick' vampires are described, horror-canny readers will notice that the tropes being utilized here are not those of vampire fiction, but those of the horror (specifically zombie) film. Sure enough, when the first of the Blacke vampires makes an appearance, it is clear that this is not the same sort of creature as has featured in the previous Morganville books: the most important difference, perhaps, is that he smells of death. Another Blacke vampire is described thus: "a shuffling, twisted old man with crazy eyes and drifting white hair". As these undead creatures approach, the heroes take a course of action that should be obvious to anyone familiar with zombie films - they run into a room, slam the door against the creatures and barricade themselves in. Near the end of the book, there is an acknowledgement that the teens have, indeed, been fighting a "vampire zombie army".

The departure that this book takes has prompted me to question: what exactly is the difference between a vampire and a zombie? And if we can say that vampire fiction belongs to the Gothic, can we say the same about zombie narratives? If zombies aren't Gothic, why are they not? What is that sets them apart from the Gothic sensibility?

In folkloric terms, the differentiation between the two types of undead is blurred, but in contemporary cinema, literature and art, there is a world of difference. Somewhere along the way, our revenants diverged. Though there is a huge amount of interesting material on folk beliefs in vampires and zombies, I'm not going to talk about that today. My interest is in popular culture, so I'm purely focusing on recent film, TV and literary representations in this post.

To start with, I'll offer a quick definition of the Gothic - though this is by no means absolutely definitive and I'm aware that I'm hurrying over some key points here. I agree with Catherine Spooner, who suggests (in Contemporary Gothic) that one of the clearest definitions of Gothic is to be found in Chris Baldick's introduction to The Oxford Book of Gothic Tales: Gothic texts should encompass "a fearful sense of inheritance in time with a claustrophobic sense of enclosure in space". Spooner elaborates on Baldick's definition by adding, "the dead rise from the grave or lay their cold hands upon the shoulders of the living".

Vampires and zombies are both forms of revenants - they are the walking dead (or undead) - and frequently "lay their cold hands upon the shoulders of the living". Moreover, they share a predilection for anthropophagic eating habits, feasting on the blood and brains of their victims. Being the walking dead, the two creatures occupy a liminal space between life and death, transgressing the boundaries and breaking taboos. This cannibalism and transgression seems to point directly to the Gothic, a genre (or perhaps, more accurately, mode) that often explores and revels in such liminality. It is not, therefore, here that the difference between the two creatures can be found.

It's worth also considering the question of the 'uncanny', a concept which is deeply connected to the Gothic. In the introduction to his The Uncanny, Nicholas Royle describes the concept thus: "it is a peculiar commingling of the familiar and unfamiliar", adding that it can take the form of "something strange and unfamiliar unexpectedly arising in a familiar context". The walking dead are a good example of this. The faces of these entities are familiar (indeed, they are often the 'family' of the human protagonists in zombie and vampire fiction), but the fact that dead do not stay buried, do not behave as they did when living, is 'unfamiliar'.

Theoretically, then, there is nothing to preclude zombies from the Gothic. They are liminal, taboo-breaking, uncanny creatures. And yet, contemporary representations of zombies are seldom read as 'Gothic'. I'd like, then, to suggest a few reasons why this might be.

1. Gothic Aesthetic

However we might theorize the Gothic, it must be noted that the mode is characterized by a certain aesthetic. When I did a quick Twitter poll this evening, people were quick to suggest that zombies cannot be considered Gothic because they are not "beautiful" enough. A brief survey of recent pop culture representations should be enough to reveal the difference between presentations of the vampire (pale, sparkly and Byronic) and presentations of the zombie (grey, flaky and shambolic). The fact that a zombie decays, while a vampire does not is perhaps of paramount importance here: grotesque and repugnant bodies stand in sharp opposition to the Gothic aesthetic.

This clip from the BBC's Being Human (Series 3, Episode 3) illustrates this perfectly. Here, the regular characters (one vampire, two werewolves and a ghost) encounter a zombie. Note the difference between the vampire Mitchell (physically very much the 'Byronic' type) and the zombie Sasha:



While the Gothic does not preclude the grotesque per se, there is something about the repulsiveness of the zombie body that stands at odds with the dominant romantic understanding of the genre. Furthermore, as the clip from Being Human attests, the decaying and putrifying body of the zombie lends itself to humour as often as horror, which again distances it from the overall aesthetic of the Gothic.

2. Rationality and Madness

The origins of the Gothic are closely intertwined with the Enlightenment, and with ideas of rationality and reason. Often in 'classic' or 'High' Gothic texts, we see the rational and enlightened world pitted against the forces of an irrational and benighted past (usually medieval and Catholic). By the time we reach the end of the 19th-century, we see this conflict reach possibly its most fully-developed form; in Bram Stoker's Dracula, the modern heroes battle against the ancient count with the aid of education, medical knowledge, typewriters and train timetables.

It goes without saying, I think, that zombies are not rational creatures; however, they are not strictly irrational either - at least not by the standards used in the Gothic. They do not adhere to 'older' ways of thinking; they do not think at all. The unrelenting mindlessness of the zombie sets it apart from both the traditional villain and the traditional hero of Gothic fiction.

Vampires, of course, do 'lose their minds'. Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a case in point, as is Rachel Caine's Myrnin. They are also prone to a certain type of melancholy, characterized by excessive guilt and self-reflection. Without wanting to open too many cans of worms, Stephenie Meyer's Edward Cullen might be considered as an example of this melancholic vampire.

And now the caveat: some texts do present beautiful or melancholy zombies. Some do allow for an exploration of the irrationality and passion of the zombie. And, conversely, one need only look to F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu for an example of a vampire who does not fit the model suggested above. This brings me to my third, and perhaps most important, distinction between the vampire and the zombie.

3. Place and Time

If we look again at Baldick's theorization of the Gothic, we see that it is characterized by "inheritance in time" and "enclosure in space", and it is in this that the zombie most clearly defies the generic conventions, and the vampire most clearly confirms them. Even a grotesque, irrational creature like Murnau's Count Orlok has a fundamental presence in 'time' and 'place'. His very name implies "inheritance in time", and the staging of the film in the Count's castle evokes the Gothic "enclosure in space". It is the combination of these that creates the claustrophobic terror of Murnau's film.

The zombie does not have this sense of inheritance. While vampires are creatures imbued to their very core with the past, zombies belong wholly in the present. Usually devoid of memory (note that in the Being Human clip, the otherwise fairly coherent Sasha has no memory of her own death), and with few (if any) links to their human lives, zombies exist in a temporal vacuum. That is not to say that the zombie is not a product of its time - this has been demonstrated by a number of scholars working on horror fiction - but rather that the individual zombie should be read as a creature devoid of past or future.

Additionally, though the embattled opponents of the zombie often find themselves 'enclosed' in space, the zombie itself has no connection to a particular locality. Unlike other revenants, zombies do not haunt a specific place. They may attack a house, a mall, a pub or a diner, but these attacks are based on the proximity of human victims, rather than a pre-existing individualized connection to the location itself. In the majority of pop culture representations, zombies roam - this itinerant nature is a distinct contrast to the vampire's Gothic enclosure in a particular building or town.

As noted above, the Gothic is closely connected to the notion of the uncanny. In turn, the uncanny is aligned with the Freudian concept of the unheimlich (literally, the 'unhomely'). The unheimlich suggests foreignness, strangeness and the alien, but also relies on a comprehension of its inverse: the heimlich (the homely or familiar). Zombies explode these categorizations in their denial of the 'home'. In zombie narratives, spaces are consistently repurposed and distinctions between the 'home' and 'not home' are collapsed as territories are continually refigured.

The two ideas go hand-in-hand. It is in the zombie's denial of the past that the rejection of the concept of 'home' is seen most clearly. How can a creature that exists solely in the present be said to 'haunt' anything? And, as the Gothic frequently situates inheritance and past in a particular locality, the rejection of an individual place implies a concomitant rejection of time. If the Gothic requires a particular utilization of time and place, how can we describe something as 'Gothic' if it is based in a rejection of both concepts?


There are, of course, exceptions that prove every rule. There are also far more facets and implications to both the 'Gothic' and 'zombies' than I have had time to consider tonight. So rather than offer any definite conclusion to this post, I'd like to throw it open to discussion... do you agree? Have I missed something? Can you offer any examples of 'Gothic zombies'?

I'd love to hear your thoughts.




References:

Baldick, Chris (ed.), The Oxford Book of Gothic Tales (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992)

Caine, Rachel, Kiss of Death (London: Allison & Busby, 2010)

Royle, Nicholas, The Uncanny (Manchester & New York: Manchester University Press, 2003)

Spooner, Catherine, Contemporary Gothic (London: Reaktion Books, 2006)

Press Release from Anarchy Books

Just got this press release for something cool...

Are you feeling lucky, punk?

ANARCHY BOOKS A fusion of writing, music, game and film ANARCHY BOOKS is a radical new publishing company. Our focus is on multi-strand publishing projects, concepts which combine different media to present a wider experience for the entertainment junkie.

Our first project, SERIAL KILLERS INCORPORATED, is a thriller novel by Andy Remic, author of Spiral, Quake, Warhead, War Machine, Biohell, Hardcore, Cloneworld, Kell's Legend, Soul Stealers and Vampire Warlords, with the music album provided by th3 m1ss1ng (featuring Jon Bodan from Atlanta's Halcyon Way) and short film shot and chopped by Grunge Films. The novel and album release 1st April 2011, with the SERIAL KILLERS INCORPORATED short film June 2011.

Following SKINC comes SF novel SIM by Andy Remic, SF/horror novel MONSTROCITY by Jeffrey Thomas, the anthology VIVISEPULTURE featuring such notable authors as Neal Asher, Lauren Beukes, Eric Brown, Ian Graham, Vincent Holland-Keen, James Lovegrove, George Mann, Gary McMahon, Stan Nicholls, Andy Remic, Jordan Reyne, Ian Sales, Stephen Saville, Wayne Simmons, Jeffrey Thomas, Danie Ware, Ian Watson, Ian Whates, Conrad Williams, and with artwork by Vincent Chong, then horror novel RAIN DOGS by Gary McMahon. Each "project" is a work in progress, and will ship with varying degrees of album, game and film components.

ANARCHY BOOKS is looking to collaborate with musicians, video game creators (any platform) and filmmakers. Please read our SUBMISSION guidelines.

Welcome to our little corner of ANARCHY...

Finally, there's ANARCHY in the UK!

Review: Stephen M. Irwin, The Dead Path (Doubleday, 2009)

Published in 2010 by Doubleday, The Dead Path is Stephen M. Irwin's first novel. It tells the story of Nicholas Close, a man troubled by visions of ghosts, who returns to his Australian home following the death of his wife. His return sparks a resurgence of childhood memories and coincidences with the murder of a child. Nicholas finds himself re-evaluating his formative years in Tallong, putting together pieces of a chilling secret, and being drawn further and further into the woods near Carmichael Road.

I was first introduced to The Dead Path as a 'horror' novel. Indeed, the backcover of the US hardback edition makes much of this generic classification, including a quote from The Guardian likening Irwin to Stephen King. I'm not completely convinced that this is the most apt categorization of The Dead Path; instead, I'm inclined to agree with Jeff Lindsay's description: "a truly creepy thrill-ride". This is a novel of suspense and creeps, rather than out-and-out horror - more shivers down your spine than lurches in your stomach.

That is not to say that the novel does not contain some pretty horrible set pieces (particularly if you have any aversion to arachnids), but Irwin's writing tends more towards the 'haunting' than the 'horrific'. For me, this was a real strong point. Gore and shocks do little for me, unless they are truly integral to plot. On the other hand, Irwin's style of low-key creepiness, which escalates into terror and fear, has more of a cumulative effect.

I refer to 'set pieces' and 'episodes' deliberately, as The Dead Path contains several of these. The pacing is careful, and the plotting considered. The story is told through a series of crescendos, before reaching its final climax. Each time, the reader feels they have learned more about what is happening in Tallong - but the last few pieces of the jigsaw are held back until the gripping conclusion. While other critics have praised Irwin's "electric use of language", I feel that the real strength lies in Irwin's intelligent and skillful storytelling. Clues, hints, implications are fed to the reader slowly, and the author demonstrates a real ability to control suspense. The ending is satisfying - and does justice to Irwin's overall technique.

Another aspect of The Dead Path that I found particularly strong was Irwin's construction of character. Nicholas Close is a believable and, on the whole, sympathetic character. His ability to see ghosts is utterly plausible within the consistently created world of the novel. Nicholas is a Samhain child - the implications of which he (and we) do not truly understand until later in the novel. Moreover, Irwin's ghosts, while not unique per se, are certainly well-drawn examples of their type.

However, it is Irwin's cast of supporting characters that really makes this novel for me. Unusually, these supporting roles are almost exclusively female. Nicholas's sister Suzette and mother Katharine, his late wife Cate and new-found acquaintance Laine Boye are fully-rounded and explored. Each of these women, and their relationship to Nicholas, is nuanced and different. Irwin does not rely on the hackneyed good girl/bad girl divide so favoured by some horror writers. I will say very little about my favourite character, as to do so would be to give away far too much of the plot. Suffice to say, Irwin's third-act heroine is a delightful creation (and I'm not just saying that because she shares my name!).

As the references here to ghosts, woodlands and Samhain may have suggested, the plotline of the novel is steeped in Celtic paganism. This surprised me a little, as it was not what I was expecting from an Australian novel. There are also elements of the plot that can be divined by a reader well-versed in this mythology. Nevertheless, Irwin adds enough of his own take on these legends to keep the suspense going. Certain revelations ground the novel very firmly in Australian history, and the suburbs of Tallong is convincing. Irwin's weaving together of Celtic myth and Australian 'reality' gives the story a fresh and vibrant feel, despite the fact that many other stories have trodden similar ground.

The Dead Path is a compelling read. Though it is not the most shocking or horrific 'horror' novel around, it has enough tension and creepiness to give you a shiver on a dark night. Well-plotted, and with well-drawn characters: I definitely recommend this book.

CFP: 5th Global Conference: Fear, Horror and Terror

Tuesday 6th September 2011 - Thursday 8th September 2011

Mansfield College, Oxford, United Kingdom

This inter-disciplinary and multi-disciplinary conference seeks to examine and explore issues which lie at the interface of fear, horror and terror. In particular the project is interested in inverstigating the various contexts of fear, horror and terror, and assessing issues surrounding the artistic, cinematic, literary, moral, social, (geo)political, philosophical, psychological and religious significance of them, both individually and together.

We are also looking towards a 'track' theme in the area of the relationship between fear, horror and terror and the audio-visual (sight/sound/silence) this year. We invite proposals on any area listed below that relates to this track theme, as well as any areas related to the conference. This thematic track is envisioned to develop with each subsequent meeting.

In addition to academic analysis, we welcome the submission of case studies or other approaches from those involved with its practice, such as people in religious orders, therapises, victims of events which have been provoked by experiences of fear, horror and terror - for example, lawyers or others involved with law enforcement, medical practitioners, or fiction authors whose work aims to evoke these reactions.

Papers, reports, work-in-progress and workshops are invited on issues related to any of the following themes:

1. The Contexts of Fear, Horror and Terror

• case studies
• professions dealing with the Fear, Horror and Terror (Therapists, Clergy, Lawyers, Law enforcement etc.)
• creating and experiencing fear, horror and terror
• the properties of fear, horror and terror
• contexts of fear, horror and terror
• the language of fear, horror and terror
• the meaning of fear, horror and terror
• the significance of fear, horror and terror

2. At the Interface of Fear, Horror and Terror

• the role of fear, horror and terror
• emotional releases (pleasant or negative) achieved by Fear, Horror and Terror
• techniques of fear, horror and terror
• marketing fear, horror and terror
• recreational fear, horror and terror
• aesthetic fear, horror and terror
• the temperature of fear, horror and terror
• the sound of fear, horror and terror
• silence as a strategic subversion of the operation of fear, horror and terror
• fear, horror and terror and the visible/invisible

3. Representations of Fear, Horror and Terror and:

• the imagination
• pleasure
• art, cinema, theatre, media and the creative arts
• survival horror video games
• literature (including children's stories)
• the other
• technology
• hope and despair
• relations to anxiety, disgust, dread, loathing
• hope and the future
• the sublime

For 2011, the Fear, Horror and Terror project will meet alongside our project on Making Sense of: Health, Illness and Disease. It is our intention to create cross-over sessions between the two groups - and we welcome proposals which deal with the relationship between health, illness and disease and fear, horror and terror. Themes could include: fear and global threats to health (swine flu, bird flu, SARS, for example), or horror and disease (fear of our bodies, contagion, HIV/AIDS, for example), or terror and biological warfare. Papers will be accepted which deal with related areas and themes.

300 word abstracts should be submitted by Friday 25th March 2011. If an abstract is accepted for the conference, a full draft paper should be submitted by Friday 22nd July 2011. 300 word abstracts should be submitted to the Organising Chairs; abstracts may be in Word, WordPerfect, or RTF formats, following this order:

a) author(s), b) affiliation, c) email address, d) title of abstract, e) body of abstract

Emails should be entitled: FHT Abstract Submission

Please use plain text (Times New Roman 12) and abstain from using any special formatting, characters or emphasis (such as bold, italics or underline). We acknowledge receipt and answer to all paper proposals submitted. If you do not receive a reply from us in a week you should assume we did not receive your proposal; it might be lost in cyberspace! We suggest, then, to look for an alternative electronic route or resend.

Organising Chairs

Colette Balmain
Independent Scholar, London, United Kingdom

Sorcha Ni Fhlainn
School of English, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland

Rob Fisher
Network Founder and Network Leader
Inter-Disciplinary.Net, Freeland, Oxfordshire, United Kingdom

The conference is part of the At the Interface series of research projects. The aim of the conference is to bring together people from different areas and interests to share ideas and explore various discussions which are innovative and exciting. All papers accepted for and presented at this conference are eligible for publication in an ISBN eBook. Selected papers may be invited to go forward for development into a themed ISBN hard copy volume.

For further details about the project, please click here.

For further details about the conference, please click here.

Review: Tom Fletcher, The Leaping (Quercus, 2010)

Published by Quercus in 2010, Tom Fletcher's The Leaping tells the story of Jack and Francis, two university graduates who work in a call centre in Manchester. Fletcher's debut novel has already attracted a great deal of praise - and was nominated for The Guardian's Not the Booker Prize.

It's quite difficult to write a synopsis of the plot of The Leaping without giving too much away. So suffice to say, Jack meets a woman named Jennifer at work, and the two quickly form a relationship. Eager to escape the city, Jennifer buys a dilapidated house in the Lake District, and she and Jack move there. Horror (and genuinely frightening horror at that) ensues. Paralleling this is the story of Francis, who is obsessed by the danger and disease (particularly cancer) that he perceives as existing all around him. Francis is forced to address some of these issues when his dad is diagnosed with throat cancer. Francis's revulsion and fascination with the diseased and disintegrating human body is a driving force of his narrative, and contributes significantly to the awfulness of what happens.

I was first made aware of Fletcher's novel when I was contacted by writer and lecturer Nicholas Royle. Having heard about the She-Wolf conference, Royle wanted to recommend The Leaping, and I was duly sent a review copy. The tagline on the front of the paperback edition reads: "An ancient evil is waiting...", and the blurb on the back promises: "When the sky is blood-red, when the rivers freeze and snow lies upon the fells, it's time for the wolves to cross - time for the Leaping." Given this introduction, I was expecting a 'werewolf novel' - indeed, that was the reason it had been recommended to me in the first place - but I soon realized that this is far from an adequate assessment of Fletcher's novel.

Although the "ancient evil" is waiting for the protagonists in Cumbria, the first part of The Leaping is set in Manchester. Fletcher's portrayal of the city combines the familiar (for example, the characters drink in 'actual' Manchester bars) and the uncanny (such as the unsettling presentation of Jack's bosses in the call centre), creating a 'Manchester' that is just as terrifying as the Cumbrian setting of the second half of the novel. Indeed, Fletcher skillfully weaves 'urban horror' with 'horror at the urban' to make an unnerving cityscape. Consider this passage from early in the novel, which exemplifies the book's approach to modern life: "The Christmas lights were up but not yet turned on. Electricity meant we could work all kinds of shifts and stay out all night with our vision unimpaired, and it turned us into unnatural creatures, awake and ravenous all the time." Or this apt description of work in a faceless call centre: "The slimish scorn of the nation, dripping through earpieces and trickling into our open ears like warm, lumpy milk." It is from this horror that Jack and Jennifer attempt to escape by moving to the Lakes - only to run into something potentially worse. However, Fletcher's presentation of the two different settings leaves the reader to question whether the "ancient evil" of Fell House is really much worse that the "darkness of our own invention, all muggings, murders, rapes".

This 'urban horror' is compounded by Fletcher's careful characterization. Jack and Francis - the novel's two narrators - live in a student-house-like residence with other recent graduates, Graham, Taylor and Erin. The five met at university, completed their studies, and have since drifted into shift work at a call centre, regular drinking and a gradual loss of motivation and ambition. Fletcher's descriptions of student-esque life are evocative and identifiable, as well as grounded definitively in the early 21st century: "So if you drew a Venn diagram of all the things that we - the five of us - like, the area in which all our circles overlap would contain one thing: Mario Kart." Later on, as the five attempt to come up with a name (for something I shall not reveal), they run through a medley of pop culture, history and politics that reads like a who's who for today's twenty-somethings - beginning with Tim Burton, ending with Hitler, and including Gandhi, Kilroy, Homer, Brad, Spacey, Bush and Spongebob.

Though Fletcher's graduate cast are instantly recognizable - particularly for those who have lived through that transition from 'student' to 'real world' - they are not stereotypes or cliches. Each character is carefully and individually drawn. By doing this, Fletcher manages to pull of the difficult task of using multiple first person narrators. Alternate chapters are told from Jack's and Francis's perspective. I have read a number of books recently that employ this technique, and, in my opinion, Fletcher has mastered it. Unlike with some multiple-narrator novels, I did not find myself having to flick back to the beginning of the chapters to remind myself who was speaking. Jack and Francis have distinct voices, and I came to feel that I 'knew' each narrator well enough to tell the difference between their stories. And of course, the identification and empathy the reader feels for the central characters adds further layers to the horrific events that occur later in the novel.

One exception to this - and one of the few criticisms I have of the book - is the characterization of Jennifer, Jack's girlfriend. Jack is instantly besotted with the woman he describes throughout as "Morgana le Fay"; Francis also becomes fixated on her. As Jack and Francis utterly idealize and near-venerate Jennifer - and it should be remembered that Morgana has long been associated with goddesses and 'the Goddess' - it is hard to move beyond the young men's awe and see the woman behind it. The novel's other female character, Erin, is somewhat more fleshed out, and this is partly achieved by the novel's beginning with a prologue spoken in her voice. I would, nevertheless, like to have seen and known more of Jennifer.

I am aware that I have almost come to the end of this review without mentioning werewolves at all. And this is no accident. In many respects, it is a shame that Fletcher's book has been consistently categorized, marketed and reviewed as a 'werewolf book'. There is so much more to the novel than lycanthropy; as I have suggested, the book is as much an unsettling tale of modern life for today's burgeoning graduate class as it is a werewolf gorefest. The scope of the horror in The Leaping is carried through the precision and skill with which Fletcher uses language. The hallucinatory quality to his writing makes even the most mundane incident seem dangerous and sinister, while also making the more fantastic elements utterly believable.

Fletcher's werewolves are original, frightening and thought-provoking - and, indeed, I shall be exploring them more in future articles - and, for that reason, I recommend the novel to anyone interested in the werewolf mythos or lycanthropy. However, I would also recommend this book to people who are not particularly interested in werewolves, or who may be turned off by the idea of a novel about lycanthropy. It is an accomplished and stylish contemporary horror novel, and well worth a read.

Two Horror Film Festivals for October

We'll be absolutely spoilt for horror films this October.

First up... The Bram Stoker Horror Film Festival runs in Whitby from the 14th-17th October. Featuring 'independent narrative features, documentaries and shorts from around the world', this festival promises to offer films that you may not have chance to see elsewhere, including some world premieres. In addition to this, awards will be given in several categories.

As well as the films, there will be some pretty impressive special guests, a Hammer exhibition, talks and a Vampires' Ball on Saturday 16th October. And, of course, the whole thing takes place just yards away from where the Demeter ran aground (and spiritual home of all goths) - Whitby.

There are a few different passes and ticket options available on their website, and (if you don't fancy the films) tickets can be bought separately for the Vampires' Ball.

And if that's not enough...

Grimm Up North! Manchester's Premier Horror and Sci Fi Festival is returning for its second year. Running 28th-31st October at The Dancehouse in central Manchester, this festival features films, talks and special guests (including Ramsey Campbell and Christopher Priest).

Among the films already announced are Reel Zombies and Alien vs. Ninja. Visit their website and sign up for the newsletter to find out more.

Again, there are a variety of ticket options, including a few early-bird passes that allow you to save up to £40 on tickets.

(I should add that we are quite big fans of Grimm Up North! here at She-Wolf, as they've been really supportive while we've been getting the project off the ground.)

So between the two festivals, you should be able to get enough frights to keep you awake for most of November. Enjoy.

Vampire Conference in London (November 2011)

Vampires: Myths of the Past and the Future

An interdisciplinary conference organised by Simon Bacon, The London Consortium in collaboration with the Centre for the Study of Cultural Memory, Institute of Germanic & Romance Studies, University of London

Deadline for submissions: 30 April 2011
Conference dates: 2nd-4th November 2011
Venue: Institute of Germanic & Romance Studies, School of Advanced Study, University of London

Myths of vampires and the undead are as old as civilisation itself, wherever humans gather these 'dark reflections' are sure to follow. Whether as hungry spirits, avenging furies or as the disgruntled dearly departed, they have been used to signify the monstrous other and the consequences of social transgression. Embodying the result of a life lived beyond patriarchal protective proscription that quickly changes from dream to nightmare and from fairy tale to ghost story.
However their manifold and multifarious manifestation also provides a point of opposition and resistance, one that subverts majority narrative and gives agency to the disenfranchised and oppressed within society. This is seen most clearly in the late twentieth century where, in a plethora of filmic and literary texts, amidst a growing 'sympathy for the devil' the vampire is constructed as a site of personal and social transition. Here alternative narratives (e.g. feminist, ethnic, post-colonial discourses etc) find expression and ways in which to configure their own identity within, or in opposition to, the dominant cultural parameters revealing hybridity as the catalyst for future myth making.
In the course of the past century the vampire has undergone many transformations which now see them as a separate evolutionary species, both genetically and cybernetically, signifying all that late capitalist society admires and desires thus completing its change from an adhorational figure to an aspirational one; the vampire is no longer the myth of a murky superstitious past but that of a bright new future and one that will last forever.
This interdisciplinary conference will look at the various ways the vampire has been used in the past and present to construct narratives of possible futures, both positive and negative, that facilitate both individual and colelctive, either in the face of hegemonic discourse or in the continuance of its ideological meta-narratives.

Keynote speakers include:

Stacey Abbott
Milly Williamson
Catherine Spooner

We invite papers from a wide range of disciplines and approaches such as: anthropology, art history, cultural studies, film studies, history, literary studies, philosophy, psychology, theology, etc.

Possible themes include, but are not limited to:

• Myths, fairy tales and urban legends
  
• Cross cultural colonisation, vampiric appropriation and reappropriation
  
• Cinema, Manga/Anime and gaming


• Fandom, lifestyle, 'real' vampires and identity configuration


• Minority discourse and the transcultural vampire


• Genetics, cybernetics and the post human


• Blood memory, vampiric memory and the immortal archive


• Dracula vs. Nosferatu; Urban vs. Rural


• Globalisation, corporations and 'Dark' societies


• Immortality, transcendence and cyberspace


• Old World/New World and vampiric migration


• From stakes to crosses to sunlight


• Blood Relations and the vampiric family


• Abjection, psychoanalysis and transitional objects

Papers will also be considered on any related themes. Abstracts of 300 words should be submitted to Simon Bacon no later than April 30th 2011.

Oxfam Manchester Sci Fi/Horror/Fantasy Event

The lovely people at Oxfam Manchester have sent me details of an event they are running that might be of interest to some. Funnily enough, it's being held at the shop that I used to manage before I left the world of charity retail for academia. Sometimes, it's a very small world.

Manchester Oxfam is holding a FREE science fiction/fantasy/horror event at the
Oxfam Emporium, 8-10 Oldham Street, on Thursday, July 8, from 6-8pm. We have debut Manchester horror novelist Tom Fletcher, Dr. Who writers Paul Magrs and Steve Lyons and and feminist sci-fi writer Gwyneth Jones all reading, there will be a sci-fi quiz, music, drinks and refreshments, and an informal Q&A. Cos play is encouraged with a prize for the best costume. For more information email Emma Cooney or call 0161 273 2019.