“There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.” - Frankenstein, Mary Shelley.
Amid the motley forms of literary compositions that a reader may come across once leastways when looking at the works of literature themselves, what has become an observation that captivates great fascination is that a sight of some spectacle, on whose presence itself, a sense of deep eccentricity is undertaken for comprehension in the mind of one right away, is often spoken of as an image capable of inciting a sensation of ‘fear’, ‘timidity’, ‘intensity’, ‘shrinkage’, ‘darkness’, ‘grotesquerie’, ‘premonition’ or ‘presage’, to name a few merely. The sight must be terrible! But how far can it be seen as ugly only? How far before one finds a corner that is strangely beautiful in a room whose air is thickly engrossed in being a viscous black?
Over time, the conviction has been entrenched that the adjective, rather an adjective of quality, namely ‘gothic’, is germane to terror, horror, revulsion to the eyes of one. Indeed, the meaning of ‘gothic’ can be pondered over as one of extreme fright; something that can be described as gothic is horrific, and likely to make someone catch a nerve. This meaning may paint the latter in shades of dark colors where the picture is hidden in significant disguise. What is meant for a mention here is the truth and the truth only as a gothic art speaks out, and demands from us the same thing.
This piece of verity may appear somewhat shocking to those gradually commencing to study literature, or those who are now dwelling in the waves of the ocean of pages stained with sallow sepia, but significantly, the truth will be astonishing to those who have deemed nothing but dark terror by ‘gothic’ hitherto. In a composition of other words, it is to be laid on the terra firma that ‘gothic’ is not merely terrible, but enchanting; not merely repulsive, but captivating.
Well then, what exactly is ‘gothic’? How can it be defined? Which adjective(s) are appropriate for its connotation in every context, if there is, or are any?
Speaking of the foregoing queries posited so far, the rather unfortunate edge of them all is that their answers are really hard to find. When with the blue borders of the beauty that ‘gothic’ entities do possess, though sent away are those who wish to see them with expectations of beauty only from beauty itself, these are the rings on the pelmet curling tighter than ever, and we fancy that the white stucco of the walls is bleeding. Perhaps, the ‘gothic’ object is of the kind that testifies to the truth that beauty hides in one nook or the other where there is nothing but absolute ugliness if the vision captures merely a superficial sight.
Gothic images thus concern aspects of beauty in their own ways. One can also say that the scene that is rendered gothic connects less with the notion of the ‘beautiful’, and is more deeply attached to the face which is ‘awe inducing’.
This can be better fathomed with the aid of references to movies and cinematic work. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (which is known to have had its influence on Bram Stoker’s Dracula as well), and many more have been adapted for screenplays which provoke a sense of awe inside the spectators. Their depiction of the wildness of nature, the cracks heard from the brooks at a distance at night, the empty and colossal castles in the woods where as much as aloofness, nature also breathes strange enviable solitude, the installment of a certain sensation of cold realization that the being we represent on our Mother Earth is way too negligible upfront the vastness that nature is gravid with in the Universe, all are potent of leaving one awestruck.
Perhaps, it can be formulated that the gothic facet seeks to bewitch more than terrorize the soul, leaving one more stunned in arrant astonishment then scare one away – beguile then delude to disabuse the eyes for the beautiful truth in ugliness.
Ananya Dutta
Editorial Board
Redstockings Literary Society
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