The True Meaning of Fear
The defining elements of what make a story "Gothic" and how to capitalize them.
“The acts that create fear and presage even more in the Gothic novel are supreme. They are grievous sins, not mere wrongs — the worst of what man or devil is capable.” - James M. Keech
Fear is a defining element of the Gothic genre. It is what makes these stories captivating, pulling the reader in so far that something as simple as words on a page raises their heart rate. Without it, these stories no longer evoke the same emotions from their audience, thus losing some of their appeal. Therefore, the authors of these stories utilize different elements to create this feeling, embedding their narratives with grotesque monsters and darkly lit hallways.
The main perpetrator of this emotion does not arise from these images, however. It is not the monster’s repulsion, but rather what that monster may be capable of—even if it has not done anything. There is this fear of the unknown when the reader’s brain starts to conjure up those worst-case scenarios, the endless possibilities of “what if?” controlling their thoughts.
This fear in the Gothic genre does not only grow from the images the author creates, but rather what the author does not explicitly write.
The Origins of the Gothic
To better understand this specific element in the Gothic novel, it is essential to recognize where this genre stems from and to decipher it.
The Gothic has always come to a definition that sits in severe disparity to its Roman and Classical counterparts. These connotations draw from a political history ravaged by war and tyranny, negatively portraying the Goth to directly juxtapose the positive force of Classical aesthetics.
Despite this box the genre has been confined to, these assumptions are not unwarranted, and they do not act to contrast the other alone. The Goths and the Romans shared a complicated relationship, comprised of several Roman defeats that soon ended with Alaric—the King of Goths, now Sacker of Rome—ultimately conquering Rome. With this victory, the Goths displayed their anger by obliterating Roman architecture and their other possessions, destroying its benevolent beauty.
It is this ruined architecture, this tangible representation of the tyrannies of war, that plays a large role in classifying the Gothic. These motifs of crumbling castles and haunted architecture that the Romans or Greeks once owned fill the Gothic novel’s pages, losing all classical beauty aspects. These ruined fortresses reflect the fall of a nation as well as the savagery that caused it, painting the Goths in a destructive light. It is this that gives the Gothic genre such pessimistic implications—with a past full of destruction, it makes sense.
Fear of the Unknown
However, despite what many may believe, it is not this imagery that invokes the sensation of fear—at least, it is not these images alone. Instead, it is what is not explicitly stated that does. To surmise:
“Fear in a Gothic novel moves beyond the concrete in allowing the imagination to build upon and shape foreboding outlines into a sustained fear which is verified periodically by peaks of concrete terror or horror” (Keech 132).
While a dark corridor may instill this emotion in a reader, the unknown lurking within the darkness hammers the nail in the coffin.
Keech describes an instance of this from the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: the sense of fear does not only stem from the vicious murder of Victor’s brother but also the premonition of the monster’s “future atrocities” that it is capable of committing (132). Although Shelley fills her pages with nauseating horrors and repulsion, the fear of what the future entails remains forever present in the back of the reader’s mind.
In a sense, these physical elements act to magnify this deeper, more frightening perception of fear.
The Magnitude of Horror
There is also the level at which these elements reside that help to define this genre. The horrors that push the plot forward are not mundane acts that marginally wrong others, but rather are “the worst of what man or devil is capable” of (133). Instead of gambling, there is blasphemy; instead of thievery, there is rape; instead of involuntary manslaughter, there is the intentional massacre of innocent children; and the list continues.
With this, there are also symbolic fears. For example, there is this discourse of terror regarding Oedipal complexes, the horror of suppression, the fear of execution, and so on. These fears are never overtly explained—at no point does the author state, “this character is afraid of being castrated by his father”—but the reader can sense this metaphorical panic that the character experiences, thus fostering it to themselves.
Setting the Scene
For all of these elements to work, though, an appropriate atmosphere has to take shape. Castles are a common location in the Gothic genre; however, there are just as many other stories that display them positively, describing their deteriorating forms as something to marvel at for eternity.
For this fear to come into play, the atmosphere must be that of an ominous nature. With this tone, it can “arouse and sensitize the reader’s imagination,” meaning it allows the reader’s mind to evoke this emotion of fear (Hume 284). Anything can become terrifying with the right atmosphere—a children’s nursery, a birthday party, the doctor’s office—and the authors of this genre recognize this. These authors also know that they would have to work harder without this ominous atmosphere to keep their novels in the genre.
Keech perfectly encapsulates this disconnect when comparing the likes of The Castle of Otranto to “The Cask of Amontillado.”
In the first, the novel’s dungeons are lacking severely in atmospheric detail, but it has other redeeming qualities to keep it in the genre. However, the second story describes its catacombs in a manner that embodies Gothic fear flawlessly: they are dark and damp, filled to the brim with skeletons, and have such a foul air that instead of the torches burning, they glow. This imagery puts “The Cask of Amontillado” at a higher level than The Castle of Otranto in terms of atmosphere—what one is absent in, the other excels.
Final Thoughts…
The Gothic will probably never distance itself from its traditional inventory of elements. These destroyed castles and haunted graveyards are a direct result of where this genre originates, that being a politicized history of tyranny and war; therefore, they are, like fear, another essential factor of the genre.
Although these elements do hold some importance, the word “Gothic” will always define the foreboding fear that these stories evoke, and it is this fear that plays the most considerable role in doing so. Take out this fear, and these stories are no longer a part of the Gothic genre; capitalize on this fear, and one may have just written the next Dracula.
Hume, Robert D. “Gothic verses Romantic: A Revaluation of the Gothic Novel.” Modern Language Association, vol. 84, no. 2, Mar. 1969, pp. 282-290, http://www.jstor.org/stable/1261285.
Keech, James M. “The Survival of the Gothic Response.” 2010, The Johns Hopkins University Press, vol. 6, no. 2, 2010, pp. 130-134, http://www.jstor.org/stable/29531653.