Analysis: Le Fanu's gothic stories can help us engage in the far more terrifying task of confronting reports of horrors in the real world
In the Victorian era, Irish Gothic author Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu wrote many texts that pretend to be real documentary evidence of abject horrors. It was not an uncommon choice for Gothic writers to engage in this kind of ruse by writing what is often called found-manuscript fiction. This format finds its way into fiction well into the present day and has a cinematic equivalent in the found-footage subgenre, where the hapless characters of films such as The Blair Witch Project, [Rec], or Paranormal Activity record their experiences of witches, zombies, and ghosts.
Dr Cecilia Sayad at the University of Kent argues that the boundaries between the fictional universe and reality are collapsed in a found-footage film. And it's this effect which perhaps goes some way to explain why someone like Le Fanu and so many others might present their narratives in a documentary format.
A Victorian reviewer from the publication The Athenaeum identified the importance of this aspect of Le Fanu’s work in their review of In a Glass Darkly (1872), the short-story collection that contains Le Fanu’s famous vampire story "Carmilla". All the stories of In a Glass Darkly are accounts of ghostly phenomena collected by one Dr Hesselius and the reviewer argues that "[a] certain verisimilitude is given to the most extravagant flights of fancy by this method". We gain this sense of verisimilitude, that simulated feeling that we are receiving reports of that which is unknown and yet may exist around us. That simulated situation, where we read a document that reports vampiric happenings, might prompt reflection on our own daily experiences, where we so often receive second-hand reports of horrors in our world and must choose how to respond.
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From RTÉ Radio 1's Arena, on Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, one of the first writers to introduce the vampire into literature
"Carmilla" is framed in a somewhat complicated manner: the story is a letter written by a woman named Laura. Doctor Hesselius collected and gave brief comments on the letter. The letter and Hesselius’ comments are presented to us by an unnamed editor who apparently idolises Hesselius. The story is therefore delivered to us through multiple intermediaries. That invented textual history of "Carmilla" helps the story to mirror the methods by which we gain knowledge of the world around us.
In Laura’s letter, she tells of the titular vampire Carmilla who was brought to her father’s estate by two strange, unknown women. Laura became entranced by Carmilla, who lavished homoerotic affection on and literally drained blood from Laura. However, Carmilla’s vampiric nature was soon uncovered, after which government officials discovered her grave and executed her. Laura did not see the execution, but wrote "[m]y father has a copy of the report of the Imperial Commission, with the signatures of all who were present at these proceedings, attached in verification of the statement. It is from this official paper that I have summarized my account of this last shocking scene".
Officials thus produced documents that assure Laura, the wider community, and by extension us, that vampires have been dealt with. Their documents downplay the subversive power of this materially unreal and socially unacceptable creature who threatened to seduce and kill young girls, potentially turning them into a host of bloodsucking monsters that might threaten us.
Further, Doctor Hesselius, who collected this tale, presents himself as someone capable of coherently understanding and defeating such supernatural phenomena. His expertise, passed down in his writings, offers a possible sense of safety for the reader. The editor tries to further reinforce Hesselius’ authority by asserting that Hesselius treats this tale "with his usual learning and acumen, and with remarkable directness and condensation". Both in Laura’s narrative and in the intermediaries who frame this tale and deliver it to us, we are shown male authority figures, modes of understanding the world, and social structures that can save us or have already saved us from a monster like Carmilla. It’s perhaps hard to accept their assurances though.
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From RTÉ Radio 1's Arena, Dr Jarlath Killeen, lecturer in Victorian literature at Trinity College discusses the origins of the vampire in gothic literature
Tomasz Sawczuk at University of Bialystok has stated that such moments where fictional documents challenge each other reveal the difficulty of ascertaining objective truth. Such moments relocate "the narrative authority from the author to the reader". We are therefore given an important role here where we must confront the subjective information we are presented with. We might ask who we can trust.
Should we accept Laura’s narrative and accept that the worldviews and social structures she and the reader have been offered are inadequate? Should we disregard such subversive elements of her narrative, perhaps at our own peril? And those questions bring up larger concerns: what worldviews, political institutions, authority figures, and other social structures do we wish to latch onto in order to attempt to understand the world around us, where vampires are said to be a threat. Alternately, we might ask what frameworks must be discarded by virtue of being unable to protect both us and vulnerable people like Laura. Above all, when we receive a report of an abject horror, how should we respond?
Read more: All you ever wanted to know about vampires
In light of the horrific testimonies we receive daily from Palestine or reports of environmental collapse that insistently tap us on our collective shoulders, such an immersive fictional experience is perhaps profoundly useful. Le Fanu’s texts, such as "Carmilla", ask us to consider our response to reports that the social structures of which we are a part may not be adequately protecting us, or may be contributing to the harm of vulnerable people. Those means we have been given, by authoritative figures and institutions, to understand and act on the world may be inadequate in light of such events.
A story like "Carmilla", written as real-documentary reporting and imparting that sense of authentic engagement with second-hand horrors, might allow us to encounter such concerns in a safe, if visceral, fictional mode. When we put down the text, we might then be better prepared to engage in the far more terrifying task of confronting reports of horrors in our world.
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The views expressed here are those of the author and do not represent or reflect the views of RTÉ
