Intro to the Uncanny Unit 3: The Uncanniness of Grief

the uncanniness of grief

This week, we’re reading about grief. “Grief horror” has been a popular trope in the last decade of so-called “Elevated horror” films, but it has always permeated the genre. Here are a few classic and contemporary picks (as well as a few non-horror-ish options).

Primary reading:

Pet Sematary by Stephen King – As I’ll explore in my essay tomorrow, everyone knows the story of the pet sematary. But the real horror of the novel isn’t just the fact that reanimated corpses come out of the ground, or even that they come back wrong; it’s the unsettling fact of how far characters will go in their grief, despite their logical instincts.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield – If you want a take on the grief over a loved one coming back wrong that isn’t outright scary like Pet Sematary, Julia Armfield’s literary novel is a beautiful, devastating choice. Miri’s wife Leah returns from a deep-sea research mission, but life doesn’t return to normal. So often, grief stories revolve around someone who has died or otherwise been lost, but this novel is particularly tragic because Miri is forced to grieve someone who is, technically, still there.

The Haunting of Hill House (dir. Mike Flanagan) – Both the original Shirley Jackson novel and Flanagan’s 2018 adaptation could easily fit on this list, but I’ve chosen to highlight the miniseries – in part because Jackson’s novel will get a mention next week, and in part because Flanagan’s version not only captures the tragic themes of the book but also features some of the most startling jump scares I’ve ever encountered. There’s one that I guarantee will make you scream.

The Babadook (dir. Jennifer Kent) – Perhaps the movie that kicked off the current popularity of “grief as horror / horror as grief” movies, The Babadook follows a woman and her child as they confront a monster in their home that may be a physical manifestation of their grief. While some horror fans may be growing weary of grief metaphors by this stage, the film is a cult classic for a reason.

Secondary reading:

Beloved by Toni Morrison – In the venn diagram of Great American Novels and horror books, Beloved fits in the middle, although not necessarily neatly. This brutal, powerful novel has elements of the horror genre, but it’s the depiction of trauma and grief that will really leave you feeling shaken, and it’s an intense and essential read for its writing style and the strength of its themes.

Next to Normal (stage musical) – A non-horror take on the “haunted by your grief” storyline, this 2008 rock musical left me reeling the first time I saw it. I know for some folks, musicals are their own sort of horror, but it’s a brilliant story about the way grief manifests and distorts itself from the known feeling of love into something more unsettling and uncanny.

Bring Her Back (dir. Danny & Michael Philippou) – If you think the lengths to which Louis Creed went to bring back his child were too far, they don’t hold a candle to the events of Bring Her Back. There are so many layers of grief in this film, and so many layers of horror. It’s incredibly gruesome and probably the most disturbing film on this whole curriculum, so viewer beware, but it’s also an intensely devastating depiction of grief, desperation, and an inability to let go.

In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado – Machado’s memoir about an abusive relationship takes many forms; each chapter is a different literary trope or style. The Dream House as choose-your-own-adventure, as unreliable narrator, as epiphany, as sci-fi thriller. The dream house is haunted by the ghost of the relationship and the scars it left. It’s not a horror book per se, but it’s the sort of story that will leave you feeling unsettled for a long time afterward.

Doppelgangers, Doubles, and the Uncanny Valley: The Stepford Wives by Ira Levin

Doppelgangers, Doubles, and the Uncanny Valley

One requirement of the uncanny is that it cannot be entirely removed from our realm of experience. Cosmic and existential horror are not uncanny, because they force us to reckon with things beyond our comprehension. The uncanny relies on the abjection of familiarity, something that feels as though we should be able to understand it, but which has an element we cannot recognise. 

Imagine a funhouse mirror, or better yet, imagine an Instagram filter. You’re looking at your own reflection, a face you know better than any other, but it is distorted. You can still recognise yourself, but it’s not you, not quite.

Unit 2: Doppelgängers, Doubles, and the Uncanny Valley Reading List

Continue reading “Doppelgangers, Doubles, and the Uncanny Valley: The Stepford Wives by Ira Levin” →

Intro to the Uncanny: A Spooky Seasonal Curriculum

Intro to the Uncanny

Something I’ve been seeing a lot of on social media lately that has really intrigued me is the idea of a “personal curriculum.” In essence, this is like a school syllabus that you create for yourself: you choose a topic, make a reading list, and study it. Maybe I’m just boring and miss college, but I love this idea and decided I wanted to make one. 

It was easy to decide on a theme. A few months ago I reread Stephen King’s Pet Sematary and ended up writing an essay on grief in horror (more on this later), and I decided to delve deeper into a topic that I have actually studied in an academic setting: the unheimlich, or uncanny. 

When I was in college, I took a class on The Literature of Horror, which is where I first encountered Sigmund Freud’s essay, Das Unheimlich. A concept originally philosophized by Ernst Jentsch, Freud explains that the uncanny deals with “that kind of terror which goes back to the long-known.” In other words, that which feels familiar… almost, but isn’t. 

Obviously there is a place for horror that is far outside our sphere of understanding. Cosmic horror and everything influenced by Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos proves that we can and love to be terrorized by beings beyond our comprehension. But often horror does find its most unsettling moments in those things that aren’t quite right. Even when it comes to monsters, many appear to be nearly-human, from vampires to wendigo, fear stemming from the uncanny valley of seeing our own distorted reflections. 

Being already very familiar with horror and the uncanny, I decided that instead of creating a personal curriculum on the topic, I wanted to make one to share. And what better time to share it than Halloween month! Over the next four weeks, I’m going to post a syllabus introducing the uncanny, with recommendations on material to read and watch for each. I’m also going to be sharing an essay on each of my chosen themes within the topic: 

Week one (this post): Introduction to the Uncanny

Week two: Doppelgängers, Doubles, and the Uncanny Valley

Week three: The Uncanny Nature of Grief 

Week four: Uncanny Architecture 

Obviously I’m not expecting anyone to complete this curriculum within a month, as each of my units has multiple book, article, and movie/television recommendations, but if you do decide to delve in I’d love to hear your thoughts! And by the way, don’t worry if you’re not a horror fan — in each unit I’m including some non-horror (or at least less scary) recs as well. 

So, if this post is your introduction to the uncanny, then unit 1 is a primer for what’s to come. Let’s begin: 

Unit 1: Introduction to the Uncanny

Primary reading: 

Das Unheimlich by Sigmund Freud: The foundational text of this curriculum, Freud’s essay is required reading for anyone interested in the uncanny. Freud defines the unhemlich as such: 

The German word “unheimlich” (uncanny) is evidently the opposite of “heimlich” (secret), “heimat” (homely), and “Vertraut” (familiar), leading to the conclusion that something is frightening precisely because it is unknown and unfamiliar. Of course, not everything that is new and unfamiliar is frightening; the relationship is not reversible. One can only say that what is novel easily becomes frightening and uncanny; some novel things are frightening, but certainly not everything. Something else must be added to the new and unfamiliar to make it uncanny.

Secondary reading: 

The Tate on Abject Art – Abject art is a strong companion to the uncanny because it twists normal body parts and bodily functions through a transgressive lens. This is often done with a feminist perspective, because the female body and female bodily functions in particular are often subject to accusations of uncleanliness, impureness, etc (think menstruation or breastfeeding). Because uncanny horror deals with the familiar and normal, twisted into something unknown, and often takes place in the home or domestic sphere, it too often has a feminist element. 

Next week, I’ll be taking a look at Doppelgängers, Doubles, and the Uncanny Valley. Here’s my reading list of recommendations for that unit. I’ll be sharing my reasons for choosing these pieces of media, as well as a closer look at Ira Levin’s 1970s classic The Stepford Wives — and how it’s even more relevant today. 

Unit 2: Doppelgängers, Doubles, and the Uncanny Valley

Primary recommendations:

The Stepford Wives by Ira Levin
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
Us (dir. Jordan Peele)
Companion (dir. Drew Hancock) 

Secondary recommendations:

Doppelgänger: A Trip Into the Mirror World by Naomi Klein 
The Age of Instagram Face by Jia Tolentino for The New Yorker
Black Swan (dir. Darren Aronovsky)
Klara & the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro