Literary Criticism

     In her essay “Echoes of Dracula: Racial Politics and the Failure of Segregated Spaces in Richard Matheson’s I am Legend”, Dr. Kathy Davis Patterson argues that the vampires in I am Legend coincide with segregation and the Civil Rights movement in America. Dr. Patterson contends that “the dramatic structure of Matheson’s novel contains a very clear, racially charged subtext that reflects the cultural anxieties of a white America newly confronted with the fact that it can no longer segregate itself from those whom it has labeled Other” (Patterson 20), or in this case, an “’Africanist’ presence” (Patterson 20).

     Patterson reminds the reader that “[t]he link between literary vampires and racialized constructions of monstrosity is nothing new. Numerous studies of Dracula, in particular, have explored the characterization of Bram Stoker’s infamous Count as an allegorical representation of late nineteenth-century British anxieties regarding the influx of large numbers of Eastern European Jewish immigrants onto English soil” (Patterson 19). Dracula, Carmilla, and even Polidori’s The Vampyre have all used Orientalist oppositions to suggest white cultural dominance over Eastern cultures that had relocated to central Europe. “Orientalism”, a term made famous by Edward Said in his book of the same name, is a term used to describe the ways in which the Western world views the East, or the Orient. John McLeod, author of Beginning Postcolonialism, writes that “Said’s Orientalism is a study of how the Western colonial powers of Britain and France represented North African and Middle Eastern lands in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries” (McLeod 39). It is partly through Orientalism in European literature that Britain and France maintained cultural hegemony over colonized nations and Eastern immigrants.

     Patterson argues that such Orientalism is present in Matheson’s I am Legend upon examining the relationship between Robert Neville, the story’s protagonist, and the vampires that surround his house in post-outbreak America. Works by authors Toni Morrison, Jules Zanger, Judith Halberstam, and Gwendolyn Whitehead are quoted by Patterson in her argument. According to Patterson, author Toni Morrison “defines ‘Africanism’ as ‘the denotative and connotative blackness that African peoples have come to signify, as well as the entire range of views, assumptions, readings, and misreadings that accompany Eurocentric learning about these people’” (Patterson 20). This mention of “blackness” (Patterson 20) and black characteristics are found throughout Matheson’s I am Legend, Patterson points this out by stating that “Halberstam’s mention of black Africans as ‘threatening Others’ is especially worth noting in the context of this study” (Patterson 19), as evidenced by Neville’s constant connection of the vampires to “blackness” (Patterson 20). Patterson observes that “Neville recalls the Black Plague and thinks to himself that ‘Something black and of the night had come crawling out of the Middle Ages’ (Matheson 28)” (Patterson 20). She relates this to a passage later on in the story in which a preacher compares the vampires to “a black unholy animal” (Matheson 113).

     According to Patterson, “Neville’s feelings towards the vampires in explicitly xenophobic terms and creates a subtext within the novel that makes racial difference and vampirism synonymous” (Patterson 21). She examines a section of the story in which Neville is drunk and rambles to himself about the vampires being a “minority element” (Matheson 32), ending when Neville sarcastically asks himself “would you let your sister marry one?” (Matheson 32). This inner-dialogue that Neville has is one of the best examples of possible racial overtones in I am Legend, as it relays his hatred towards the vampires to the reader while giving the impression that Neville could be talking about racial issues.

     Patterson makes note of the fact that Matheson is quick to describe Neville as “a tall man, thirty-six, born of English-German stock” (Matheson 14), yet “the vampires have no obvious racial attributes per se.” (Patterson 21). It is thus that she describes Neville as “a white man who barricades himself in his house and spends most of his energy trying to keep the monsters out” (Patterson 21). She remarks that “[h]e has established a segregated space that he fights to keep exclusively for himself, a small bastion of civilization in the midst of a suburban wilderness decimated by the effects of the plague. His character parallels, in many ways, the ‘self-conscious but highly problematic construction of the American as a new white man’” (Patterson 21). It is interesting to think of Neville in this way, as in I am Legend, the roles have truly been reversed: Neville, the human, is the minority in a world inhabited by undead vampires.

     Kathy Davis Patterson also relates Neville’s protection of his wife’s corpse to white society’s attempts to keep African Americans’ bloodlines out of their race. Patterson contends that “[i]n Neville’s worldview, hybrid blood equals contaminated blood.” (Patterson 23). But this protection not only relates to racial issues, as Neville‘s protection of his wife correlates with the male predisposition to look at women as a possession. Patterson declares that:      


The phallicism of the stake, however, ensures that the sexual connotation remains. After being infected by the bacteria that causes vampirism, Virginia becomes a contaminated creature who threatens to reproduce her contagion in others. Her staking at the hands of Robert, her still-human husband and representative of the American cultural status quo, is a final act of possession, a gesture of his exclusive rights to penetrate her body. (Patterson 23)Yet when Neville rids his wife’s crypt of a vampire, Patterson argues that a deeper act has been committed, as“[t]hanks to [Neville’s] efforts, [Virginia’s] body will neither produce nor nourish any vampires. Metaphorically, the white male has protected the sanctity of the white female body, thereby assuring the continued incorruptibility of white blood” (Patterson 23).

     I think that Kathy Davis Patterson provides a fascinating insight into Matheson’s story, as much of her argument is sound and based in past literary criticism. At some times, however, her theory seems a bit far-fetched, especially when concerned with “blackness” (Patterson 20) and Neville’s “protection” (Patterson 23) of his wife. Yet Patterson backs up her claims with enough evidence that I have certainly looked at I am Legend in a while different manner. I especially like that Patterson points out how at the end of the story, “it is Neville who has become stagnant, ‘passé’, a persistent stereotype that refuses to die” (Patterson 27). This criticism brings to mind many issues concerning race and the modern vampire novel. I find it interesting to wonder if Matheson actually intended his story to reflect so much of the racial situation of 1950’s America, or if it truly is “coincidence” (Patterson 19). The criticism also makes me wonder how the connotations regarding “black” and “blackness” actually found their way into literature -- was it because of religion, superstitions, or Orientalism? Patterson notes that at the end of the story, Neville realizes that he is also a “monster” (Patterson 26) and also part of a dying breed. But with Patterson’s racial issues in mind, it is interesting to examine whether or not Neville’s relationship with Ruth led to this understanding, and whether or not Neville himself feels corrupted and therefore must end his life. This criticism has made me think of I am Legend in a different way. Even if Matheson’s intention was not to base his story on race, past vampire novels and the stereotypes presented have made Patterson’s criticism of I am Legend valid and interesting to contemplate.
　

　                              Works Cited

Matheson, Richard. I Am Legend. New York: Tom Doherty Associates LLC. 1995.

McLeod, John. Beginning Postcolonialism. Manchester: Manchester University Press.
     2000.

Patterson, Kathy Davis. Echoes of Dracula: Racial Politics and the Failure of
     Segregated Spaces in Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend. 
     https://uwm.courses.wisconsin.edu/d2l/lms/content/viewer/main_frame.d2l?ou=226674&tId=1426120

A Byronic Hero in Post-Apocalyptic America

A Byronic Hero in Post-Apocalyptic America
Option #2

Robert Neville is a significantly different character than the typical hero of past vampire novels. In Robert’s apocalyptic situation, the roles have been reversed in a significant manner, as not only is he the “hunter”, he is also the “hunted”. Neville exhibits several of the traits of the stereotypical Byronic hero: he is intelligent to the point of arrogance, struggles with himself and the past, and holds a distaste for social institutions and norms. He is quite the contrast from the protagonists found in the other vampire stories that we have read this semester.  Neville’s depiction as a hero depends very much upon whether or not the reader sides with Neville or the vampires.

I actually found Neville to be most similar to Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, when compared to all the other stories we have read, because of the alienation and despair that he endures and the death that he dishes out on a daily basis. Neville sees it as his duty to rid the world of as many undead as he can, even though he knows that he is fighting a losing battle. “Despite everything he had or might have … life gave no promise of improvement or even of change.” (95). Having lost his wife and daughter, Robert has nothing left to lose -- the possibility of being shot for not burying his wife means little to him, other than that he will no longer be alive. Being the last “living” human being on Earth took its toll on Robert’s psyche, as “[t]he thought of forty more years of living as he was made him shudder” (95).

For being the last “living“ being, Neville is certainly not kind to himself. He abuses his body out of boredom and because of the solitude he faces, as “[t]rying to analyze it, he came to the conclusion that his last drunk had put him on the bottom, at the very nadir of frustrated despair. Now, unless he put himself under the ground, the only way he could go was up” (110). Robert knows that his only true escape is death, and for the most part, he does not fear death, as exemplified when he thinks to himself “I’ll drown myself in whiskey! Like Clarence in his malmsey, I’ll die, die, die!” (92). With all Byronic heroes, his tragic flaw is his need for companionship, as “he had clung to the hope that someday he would find someone like himself -- a man, a woman, a child, it didn’t matter. Sex was fast losing its meaning without the endless prodding of mass hypnosis. Loneliness he still felt” (101).

Robert’s interaction with the dog offers a great deal of insight into his loneliness and Matheson’s views on the food chain. Upon seeing the living dog, Robert undergoes a change, as he can no longer stand his loneliness and simply needs a companion. Matheson writes that “Somehow, though, he managed to ignore his iconoclastic self and went on praying anyway. Because he wanted the dog, because he needed the dog” (97). Similar to Heathcliff, Neville does whatever it takes to get the dog inside of his house. Neville is amazed by the dog’s intelligence and ability to survive just as long as he has, and even though it is another losing battle, he feels it to be his duty to nurse the dog back to health. The relationship with the dog is also representative of the dilemma he faces with the vampires -- “trust” (107). The dog does not trust Robert because of the actions of the undead. If Robert and the vampires were to even consider calling a truce, there would similarly be no trust because of everything that has already happened.

I found it quite interesting when Neville began to turn to science and technology in his search for the possible causes and cures of the disease. Neville’s relationship with technology is quite similar to his struggle against the vampires: as much as he loathes technology for what it has caused, he knows that it is the only way that he can possibly cure and end the disease. At the same time, as much as Neville taunts and hates the vampires around his house, he needs them in order to have a purpose in his solitary life. Neville obsesses about finding a cure much in the same way that Dr. Seward obsessed over his psychiatry but also in the same way that Carmilla obsessed over Laura and “the men” obsessed over Dracula’s demise.

I found Neville’s relationship with Ben Cortman, his neighbor-and-friend-turned-vampire, to be another interesting aspect of the story. Cortman’s taunting of Neville becomes expected after a while -- it’s almost as if it wouldn’t be nighttime without the vampire Ben saying “Come out, Neville!” (23). Neville, out of boredom and out of spite, plays games with the vampires. Ben Cortman and Robert Neville, two beings that were friends in a past life, are both out for each other’s blood -- yet when there is a possibility that Neville might not be the one to end Cortman’s undead existence, Neville feels distressed. “He couldn’t fight the sick apprehension he felt at the thought of Cortman’s being killed by these brutal strangers. Objectively, it was pointless, but he could not repress the feeling. Cortman was not theirs to put to rest” (159). I think this is a fascinating contrast when compared to Dracula and Carmilla, as the men kill the vampires out of fear, rather than spite. Neville knows that life as he knew it is over, and his post-apocalyptic lifestyle will come to an end sooner than later as well. Robert compares the situation to the “end of Oliver Hardy, he thought, the death of all comedy and all laughter. He didn’t hear the continuous full-scale of shots. He didn’t even feel the tears running down his. His eyes were riveted on the ungainly form of his old friend inching up the brightly lit roof” (160). Without a rival, Neville’s life would be even more unfulfilling -- just as he treats the undead as worthless unnatural beings, the undead treat him as worthless aside from the blood he will provide. Yet both need each other: Neville needs the vampires to keep his sanity, while the vampires need Neville to rally against and help form their new society.

Written in post-World War II American society, I found this story to be a great contrast to the other vampire novels and stories we have read this semester. Instead of a fear of Victorian decline, Americans at the time feared post-war change and the political based “Red Scare”, or fear of Communism. It is interesting especially as the roles have been reversed: instead of a society of humans fighting a single vampire, it was a society of vampires fighting against a single human -- “the world that was theirs and no longer his” (162). I also found Matheson’s usage and explanations of the stereotypical vampire hunting tools to be enjoyable. As Neville states, “Witches, vampires -- in all these feared being there was a sort of interwoven kinship. Legends and superstitions could overlap, and did.” (116). Matheson has twisted the archetypical vampire story into a new tale of survival, yet the underlying themes remain similar to the other vampire and gothic novels we have read so far this year.

Dracula and Victorian Fear of Decline

Dracula and Victorian Fear
Option # 2

In his criticism The Occidental Tourist: Dracula and the Anxiety of Reverse Colonization, Stephen D. Arata conveys the idea that the vampire represents the “decline of the empire” and Victorian society. I think much of the subtext of the novel clearly has to do with Victorian society’s fear of loss.

In his criticism, Arata writes that Stoker “transforms the materials of the vampire myth, making them bear the weight of the culture’s fears over its declining status. The appearance of vampires becomes the sign of profound trouble” (465). This statement relates Victorian society’s fear of decline and the arrival or integration of the unknown. Harker facilitates Dracula’s moving to London, in essence, letting the vampire “in” to Victorian society. British fears concerning outsiders and outside cultures are manifested in the character of Dracula and what he represents -- this not only shows an Orientalist attitude towards cultures that are not British and do not reflect the ideal Victorian viewpoint, but also the coming change (and fear of decline) of British culture. Once Dracula is “let in” to Victorian culture, he corrupts and alters society to the point that the men are motivated to action -- they must drive the interloper from their (supposedly) pure society. As Arata states, “[t]he Count endangers Britain’s integrity as a nation at the same time that he impales the personal integrity of individual citizens” (465). The fears expressed by the men are the fears of Victorian society -- fear of the unknown, loss of power, loss of culture, and loss of subservience when concerning women. In essence, the vampire, or the outsider, opposes everything that Victorian culture stands for.

Mina’s saviors’ fears are rooted in Orientalism and Orientalist oppositions -- Dracula represents the unknown, the mysterious, and the non-British. The characters that come in contact with Dracula experience a regression of sorts from the typical Victorian lifestyle: Renfield goes mad and reverts to primitive ways. Mina and Lucy experience a sexual awakening of sorts, and many characters that represent the “old blood” (Lucy’s mother, Mr. Hawkins) meet their demise after Dracula‘s arrival.

The fear of the unknown relates to Said’s theory of Orientalism in which the notion that colonized nations are inferior is imposed on both the colonized and the colonizer. With this in mind, the coming of Dracula represents Victorian society’s fears of losing racial identity. Lucy succumbs to the power of Dracula, representing the fear that Victorian women might be corrupted by the non-British culture spreading across western Europe. Not only is Dracula from the anomalous Transylvania, his servants are described as “gypsies” (323), further exemplifying Orientalist oppositions. In essence, the men in the story wish to do what Colonial Britain poised to do: dominate and assimilate other cultures. Dracula stands in opposition to this philosophy, and therefore must be removed. It is interesting to note that Quincey, an American, is the only man who suffers death during the final encounter. I think this could be Stoker’s way of contrasting Quincey with the pure-blooded British men who live to tell the tale and to re-validate Victorian ideals. Quincey is described as “all man” (285), perhaps insinuating that although he holds physical power, he lacks the superior rationale of pure British society.

The loss of Victorian power coincides with the loss of female obedience and virtue. Mina is seen as pure and strong (or at least as strong as a woman is allowed to be), and thus she is able to survive Dracula’s attempts at corruption. Lucy, on the other hand, shows weakness and succumbs to his actions. Dracula distorts the Victorian ideas of what is right and wrong. The men’s attempt to save Mina doubles as Victorian society’s efforts to confine the female sexual awakening in Britain. With Orientalism in mind, it is interesting to examine the power that religion holds over the men and the vampires. Most Victorian ideas come from Christianity, and the power that religious iconography holds over the vampires is certainly of note, as it is the ultimate “squelcher” of the unknown.

I’m not quite sure if the reinvigorated popularity of the vampire in American culture is due to “a sign of profound trouble in our current society”, however it is an interesting idea to explore.   I really don’t think that the popularity of True Blood or Twilight is due to immigration issues or the Iraq war, however many of the themes found in Dracula are valid, especially if the vampire and other characters were transported to 2010 America. I think that over the years, the “mystique” of the vampire has become less frightening and more interesting -- rather than driving Dracula from the land, we choose to look closer. Orientalist attitudes still exist in America and other countries, however the modern vampire tale seems to work in reverse. As society is obviously much more “open” than it was in Victorian times, it is intriguing that we now choose to embrace the vampire and the vampire tale.

Dr. Seward and Technology

Dr. Seward and Technology
Option #5
　
My blog this week is going to focus mostly on option #5, but it is difficult to discuss the character of Dr. Seward without mentioning technology, science, and Renfield (options 2 and 3). Much of Dracula is revealed from the perspective of Dr. Seward. It is through this perspective that we get a sense of the purpose of technology and science, two aspects of Victorian society that offset the presence of Dracula and the unknown.

Dr. Seward seems to represent the growing reliance upon technology and medicine in Victorian society. The simple fact that Seward’s journal is “KEPT IN PHONOGRAPH” (62), whereas the other characters physically write letters says a great deal about his role in the novel. While some characters (Renfield) keep no journal, and others communicate frequently via letters (Jonathan, Mina, Lucy), Seward keeps notes on his phonograph, which was innovative at the time as it had just been invented and few would have access to such a device. Seward’s actions reflect the use of such technology, as he tends to act and observe more logically (or factually) than the other characters -- unlike the other characters, his passion appears to consist of science and facts, rather than emotions.

Unlike the other perspectives used in Dracula, Seward’s journal entries seem to focus more on facts than emotion. This could be due to proximity to the Count, as Harker’s letters begin as being more fact-based, but soon turn towards emotion. Lucy and Mina’s correspondences focus almost primarily on their emotions. It is also through Seward that we are exposed to the frequency of Lucy’s sleepwalking and a medical perspective of Dracula‘s effects on a young Victorian woman. Seward notes that “Lucy walks more now than ever” (72) before choosing a suitor, which could be symbolizing that without the guardianship (or protection) of a man , Lucy would give into her impulses. It is also interesting to note that the only times when Seward shows emotion are concerning Lucy and her rejections of him.

Not only does Seward use the phonograph, he relies on it to validate his memories. Seward states that “I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss” (71). Instead of obsessing about sex or emotion, Seward obsesses with science and technology. He uses the phonograph to calm his fears -- in fact, it often seems that characters write (or keep record) to calm their fears. Seward does physically write when necessary to communicate (104-108), but prefers to use the telegraph. It is also because of Seward that Professor Van Helsing, another character who represents knowledge and science, is brought into the situation.

Perhaps the most interesting part of Seward’s diary is the asylum that he supervises. It is through Dr. Seward that we learn about the odd plight of Renfield, one of his patients.. Seward’s fascination with Renfield is definitely worth examining because it seems to slowly lead Seward into madness himself. Instead of the vampire causing Seward to stay up late into the night, it is his obsession with studying Renfield. It is also interesting to contrast the manner in which Seward observes Renfield with the way that Renfield interacts with his “pets” (69). I think much of Seward’s interaction with Renfield is representative of the advent of psychology. The theories of Sigmund Freud were being published and studied around the time of this novel, and although they might have been controversial at the time, they marked the beginning of psychoanalysis. Seward’s psychoanalysis of Renfield often follows Freud’s notions. Seward notes that Renfield “has certain qualities very largely developed: selfishness, secrecy, and purpose” (69). Not only are Renfield’s actions symbolic of the coming of the vampire, they offer an examination of primitive vs. civilized from the viewpoint of a doctor. As Renfield consumes his “pets” (69), Seward invents “a new classification for him, [calling] him a zoophagous (life-eating) maniac” (71). His fear of Renfield is also intriguing, as Seward notes “a strong man with homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The combination is a dreadful one” (96). The fear of the primitive is clearly noted, but it is also worth noting Seward’s trepidation with religion, especially when concerning the ways that Catholicism is used to protect the women from the vampire.

I especially find it is interesting to contrast the way that Seward appears in his own journals compared with the way that he is written about by others. Lucy remarks in a letter to Mina that Seward “is a doctor and really clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and-twenty, and he has an immense lunatic asylum all under his own care” (56). Lucy is not attracted to him, rather, she is attracted to his position in society (although obviously not enough to marry him). In fact, Lucy suggests that Seward “would just do for [Mina]” (56), if Mina was not already engaged to Jonathan. Seward is described by Lucy as “the most resolute” (56) and “the most calm” (56) person that she has ever saw -- two traits also shown through Seward’s reliance on technology and science.

Carmilla from the Perspective of Orientalism

Carmilla from the Perspective of Orientalism
Option #4

     In the essay The Vampire in the House: Hysteria, Female Sexuality, and Female Knowledge in Le Fanu’s ‘Carmilla’, Tamar Hellar comments on the elements of Orientalism found in Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla. Carmilla exemplifies Orientalist stereotypes and binary oppositions, as the vampire and everything that surrounds her are shrouded in Orientalist contrasts.
     Having taken Professor Wilson’s American Indian/Postcolonial Literature class (English 520), I am familiar with the term Orientalism and its significance. To define the term, I simply had to dig out my English 520 textbook, Beginning Postcolonialism by John McLeod. “Orientalism” is a term made famous by Edward Said in his book of the same name to describe the ways in which the Western world views the East, or the Orient. McLeod states that “Said’s Orientalism is a study of how the Western colonial powers of Britain and France represented North African and Middle Eastern lands in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries” (McLeod 39). McLeod notes that “’Orientalism’ refers to the sum of the West’s representations of the Orient” (McLeod 39), and also observes that “Said shows how the modes of representation common to colonialism have continued after decolonization and are still very much a part of the contemporary world” (McLeod 40).
     Upon close examination of almost any text from the 19^th and 20^th centuries, the term “Orientalism” can be applied as many authors (some knowingly, some unknowingly) have asserted binary oppositions towards what is considered to be odd or ‘the unknown’ in their literature. McLeod states that “Orientalism constructs binary divisions … is a western fantasy … is literary … and acts as an institution” (McLeod 40 - 45). Orientalism essentially uses western or “civilized” stereotypes to compare what eastern and “uncivilized” lands are like and should be like. Nations that do not act in the western “norm” are quite often made to look inferior by drawing binary oppositions between western culture and non-western culture. Once Carmilla is exterminated (or executed), the Baron speculates that evils such as Carmilla could not come from within a civilized land such as Styria, as he “[assumes], at starting, a territory perfectly free from the pest” (318). Since Carmilla and her characteristics are far from the implicit “norm,” nothing of her kind could come from within a civilized society.
     Much of Carmilla’s secrecy is shrouded in binary oppositions and Orientalist ideas, beginning with the crash of the carriage. Le Fanu writes “she described a hideous black woman, with a sort of colored turban on her head, who was gazing all the time from the carriage window, nodding and grinning derisively towards the ladies, with gleaming eyes and large white eye-balls, and her teeth set as if in fury” (257). Laura’s father and Madame Perrodon immediately draw Orientalist oppositions, as Laura’s father describes the men as “ugly, hang-dog looking fellows … They are clever rogues” (257). In reply, Madame Perrodon remarks that “Besides looking wicked, their faces were so strangely lean, and dark, and sullen” (257), yet she is “curious” (257) to hear why Carmilla would be traveling with them to begin with.
     This brings to mind the “return of the repressed”, which is the process whereby repressed elements, preserved in the unconscious, tend to reappear, in consciousness or in behavior, in the shape of secondary and more or less unrecognizable "derivatives of the unconscious." (http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G2-3435301263.html). This theory derived by Sigmund Freud in his The Interpretation of Dreams, focuses on the subconscious. Because we (or Laura and the villagers of Styria), have repressed certain memories, our thoughts and actions are influenced by what is being repressed. This applies to both what Laura has been taught and what happened in her first encounter with Carmilla as a young girl. Laura’s awakening (282) and new sexual feelings are dually influenced by the “norms” of Styria and what happened to her as a child -- the main reason that she does not give in completely to her newfound feelings is because she has been taught not to. This coincides with Said’s Orientalism, as people of a savage or uncivilized nature are considered to be primitive, and thus more animalistic and sexually free.
     Some of McLeod and Said’s descriptions of Orientalism struck me as imperative to the discussion of Carmilla and Orientalism, especially when concerned with Heller‘s essay. In his criticism, Said states that “Orientalism makes assumptions about gender” (McLeod 45), that “the orient is degenerate” (McLeod 46), but most notably, that “the Orient is feminine” (McLeod 45). Heller explores this notion in her essay when she writes that the “feminine invasion is figured in terms of imperialist anxiety, for Carmilla rides into Styria -- already, because of its orientalism, an only tenuously domesticated zone -- like the return of the repressed colonized Other” (84). I think that Heller’s opinion is justified and quite valid, as Carmilla’s sexuality and sexual nature threaten the male hegemony of Styria (and other Western cultures). Laura states that Carmilla’s “confidence won [her] the first night [Laura] saw her” (262), which shows that Carmilla is clearly unlike the stereotypical 19^th century woman -- she is opinionated, assertive, and obviously a major contrast to any female Laura has encountered before. The fact that Carmilla attempts to impose her sexual feelings on another female shows the male fear of losing authority and the restructuring of power. She is described in exotic manner to convey her differences from the town of Styria and the conventional norms -- Carmilla exposes her history with “an ever wakeful reserve” (262), is surrounded by images of “black” (262), and constantly conveys a representation of the unknown.
     After taking a class that focused on Orientalism, it is difficult to read any text without Orientalist oppositions in mind. Knowing that most of the “classics” in literature are filled with Orientalist thoughts and oppositions is difficult to fathom, yet such Orientalist viewpoints must be examined to truly understand the text. While most of the oppositions in this tale were evident, they say a great deal about 19^th century beliefs while adding to Carmilla’s mystique at the same time.

　

Works cited

Definition of Return of the Repressed - 　http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G2-3435301263.html

Hellar, Tamar. The Vampire in the House: Hysteria, Female Sexuality, and Female
     Knowledge in Le Fanu’s Carmilla (1872). Harman, Barbara, and Meyer,
     Susan (ed). The New Nineteenth Century: Feminist Readings of Underread
     Victorian Fiction. USA. 1996.

Le Fanu, Sheridan. In a Glass Darkly. Oxford University Press, New York, 2008.

McLeod, John. Beginning Postcolonialism. Manchester University Press,
     Manchester, 2000     http://books.google.com/books?id=hiRDc5N27YkC&printsec=frontcover&dq=beginning+postcolonialism&source=bl&ots=zc8bD9eRhQ&sig=QF6OWf9mmyrvMXwhHrQYVAO5OQc&hl=en&ei=GNWsTLjHHoSnngfS_43hDA&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1&sqi=2&ved=0CBsQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q&f=false

A Catholic Vampire in Ireland?

Upon reading the first nine chapters of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla, I think it is safe to say that the text is replete with social commentary on mid-19^th century Irish culture. The character of Carmilla, a vampire dating back to the late 1600’s, is representative of the many changes Ireland was undergoing in the mid 1850’s. The text is a vessel to relate Le Fanu’s views on the awakening of female sexuality and the growing Irish Catholic culture of the mid-19^th century.

The introduction to this text, written by Robert Tracy, offers good insight into Ireland’s circumstances and Le Fanu’s beliefs during the writing of Carmilla and 19^th century Ireland -- if anyone is having trouble understanding the text, I highly recommend reading the introduction. Tracy begins by stating that “Sheridan Le Fanu’s chief interests were Ireland and the supernatural, interests which often coalesced” (vii). The interest in the supernatural is obvious throughout the first nine chapters of Carmilla, but it is interesting to examine the subtext in the Irish sense, rather than the universal stories that focus on British, French, or American ideas.

Tracy writes that “Political issues can be rephrased in supernatural terms when religion is intermixed with politics” (xx), most notably because these issues “aroused as the Catholic Irish began to assert themselves, especially in terms of the central issue of nineteenth-century Ireland” (xix). Much of Carmilla’s dialogue is suggestive of the Irish Catholic church’s teachings and beliefs, and Le Fanu‘s fear of their growing dominance over Irish society. An example of this is when Carmilla, in a discussion with Laura, says “Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours … and you shall die -- die, sweetly die -- into mine. I cannot help it, as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others … but trust me with all your loving spirit” (263). This dissertation is reminiscent of the Catholic church’s teachings regarding the “holy trinity” and spreading the Catholic gospel. Carmilla asks for unquestioned trust, similar to religion, and the mention of becoming one is also quite similar to the Catholic view of the afterlife. This is also worth examining when contrasting the Irish Catholic view of eternal life and the archetypical vampire’s version of eternal life. It is also worth noting that Le Fanu’s letters written in the late 1860’s “show an increasing fear of Catholic power” (xxvi). Instead of blatantly writing out against the church‘s expansion, he projected his fears into an innovative vampire tale.

Le Fanu’s story also exudes the tension regarding sexual repression and awakening. With the broadening of the Catholic faith in Ireland and the changing culture regarding sexual repression, Carmilla must also be read as a rejection of the sexual repression of the time. I think that the best example of female sexual awakening can be found after Laura has the dream about the “monstrous cat” (278). Laura describes her encounter, stating that “Certain vague and strange sensations visited me in my sleep. The prevailing one was of that pleasant, peculiar cold thrill which we feel in bathing, when we move against the current of a river. This was soon accompanied by dreams that seemed interminable … they left an awful impression, and a sense of exhaustion, as if I had passed through a long period of great mental exertion and danger” (282). This passage goes on to describe the caress of Carmilla, as Laura’s “heart beat faster, [her] breathing rose into a sense of strangulation, supervened, and turned into a dreadful convulsion, in which my senses left [her] and [she] became unconscious” (282). This passage, although describing a supposed dream involving a vampire, can obviously be read in a sexual tone, an experience that Laura had only experienced before in a similar meeting with Carmilla. Tracy writes that “In the threat that Carmilla poses to Laura, we can see a fear of female sexuality which reappears in Dracula” (xxvi). The fact that the tale revolves around the feelings of two women is a great example of this, and the manner in which Carmilla serves as an “awakener” is quite symbolic of the fear of sexual awakening in Irish culture of the time.

I also find the whole metaphor of the bite, or the fact that Carmilla lives in part off of Laura, to be quite interesting. Great Britain was imposing its authority over Ireland at the time of this story, something that most Irish grew to detest. Although Tracy does not make much note of it, it is worth considering whether or not the fact that Carmilla drinks from Laura and uses the land could be symbolic of Britain’s occupation and “sucking” of Ireland. Tracy does note that Carmilla is “predatory” (xxiii) in her nature, something that could be said of the way that Britain implemented its will on the country of Ireland.

It will be interesting to see what becomes of Carmilla and Laura, although I expecting Carmilla to share the same destiny experienced by Dracula and other vampires of the time.

A Psychic Vampire

A Psychic Vampire
(response to question #4)

After reading Wuthering Heights and Lakshmi Krishnan’s essay Why am I so Changed?, I completely agree with the assessment that Wuthering Heights should be read as a vampire novel. While not featuring any otherworldly monsters, Wuthering Heights presents duality, revenge, and passion in a way similar to a vampire novel. Although he might not suck the life out of his “victims” with his teeth, Heathcliff can certainly be considered a “psychic vampire” because of the way he drains the life from those around him.

Krishnan writes that “readings that view Gothic monsters as reflections, either of other characters, or of the readers themselves … [are] compelling, namely because of the prominence of doubling in Gothic fictions; as a literature that defines itself in opposition, it is appropriate for its creatures to be figures of contrast” (Krishnan 3). This statement alone provides a convincing argument that Wuthering Heights should be read as a vampire novel. Heathcliff’s loss and penchant for revenge provide a great example of this “reflection” (3) theory. I find it interesting that most of the binary oppositions found in this novel are found in the circumstances (rich / poor, educated / uneducated), rather than the characters. No one in the novel seems to represent a clear-cut opposition of good / evil. Similar to the archetypal vampire novel, there is no 100% “good“ or “evil.”

Bronte's Wuthering Heights echoes many of the same themes of classic vampire novels, such as passion, un-acted upon love, youth, revenge, and knowledge. Krishnan writes that “to decipher Gothic fiction, we must turn to its monsters, figures that embody its doubleness” (Krishnan 3). Throughout the novel, Heathcliff is referred to as a “fiend” (258), “villain” (254), and “wicked” (224). It is obvious that he is Wuthering Heights’ version of a monster -- not in the physical Shelley/Frankenstein or the Stoker/Dracula sense, but due to the fact that he dominates everything around him in misguided spite. With Krishnan’s statement in mind, I find it interesting that Linton claims that he would “rather be hugged by a snake” (258-259) when Cathy is being pressured to marry Linton. The duality between Cathy and a snake suggests the Adam & Eve myth, another example of passion gone wrong.

Heathcliff is described as the manifestation of a beast in a paragraph where he is engrossed in a fire. “Mr. Heathcliff paused and wiped his forehead … his eyes were fixed on the red embers of the fire; the brows not contracted, but raised next the temples … imparting a peculiar look of trouble, and a painful appearance of mental tension towards one absorbing subject” (273). Ellen “didn’t like to hear him talk!” (273), which only further exemplifies the duality of Heathcliff as a gothic monster. It is interesting that essentially every character that comes into contact with Heathcliff for an extended period of time ends up becoming ill. This is similar to what Lord Aubrey encounters in Polidori’s The Vampyre and what Harker, Lucy, Mina, and others endure in Brahm Stoker’s Dracula. The sicknesses portrayed in Wuthering Heights are suggestive of the loss of will to live. Catherine Earnshaw-Linton is as healthy as most young girls in London before Heathcliff returns to Wuthering Heights, yet upon his return, she feels “a sense of physical violence by the violent, unequal throbbing of her heart, which beat visibly and audibly under this excess of agitation“ (151) when in Heathcliff‘s presence. Her sickness coincides with Heathcliff’s increase in power, similar to the effect that a vampire has on its victims. Linton Heathcliff’s sickness is quite similar, as his father has, in essence, sucked the life out of him and refuses to help him -- it is all part of his plot. Upon Linton’s death, young Catherine remarks that he is “safe” (276) from Heathcliff, now that his father cannot make his life miserable any longer, yet Heathcliff has gained power from his loss of life.  Edgar Linton obviously wants to endure to make sure that his daughter is not corrupted by Heathcliff’s wishes. Edgar walks “feebly, and looked so pale” (245) throughout his final days, which is quite similar to the sickness that Aubrey endures and the effect that Dracula has over others.

Krishnan refers to Dracula as a “corrupter” (3), which is clearly what Heathcliff has become to Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange. Heathcliff has a draining effect on everyone, although young Cathy is somewhat able to resist his inclinations as she rebukes him by stating, “Mr. Heathcliff, you’re a cruel man, but you’re not a fiend, and you won’t, from mere malice, destroy, irrevocably, all my happiness” (258). Much like the archetypical vampire, Heathcliff is only able to have effect on those who allow it. In a similar manner, Heathcliff himself feels a “torture” (272) from the loss of Catherine. While he “sucks” the life out of those around him, Catherine (or the lack of her presence) haunts and sucks the life out of Heathcliff.

While “there is no single, colossal vampire in Wuthering Heights” (Krishnan 8), I think that the effect that Heathcliff imposes on those around him is quite similar to those of a vampire. Instead of blood, he feasts on love and the lives of those around him. When he is not given love, he resorts to ruining the lives of those around him and, in essence, sucking the life from them.