Ghosts, Werewolves, and Vampires, Oh My!

Vampires. Once they were monsters and predators, and now crushes and lovers? If Bram Stoker could see us now, in lieu of the Twilight franchise...

But let's back up here.

When I first read Interview With the Vampire, it came as a part of a long list of vampire and supernatural themed novels I'd been reading in high school in my own time. Before Interview, there was The Silver Kiss, Blood and Chocolate, Vamped, Bluebloods, Meg Cabot's The Mediator series, and yes, the infamous Twilight. One right after the other, I was reading these supernatural teen love stories. Definitely not the best writing specimens (with the exception of Vamped), so why was I so hooked? What made me so drawn to these types of stories, like a moth to a flame?

Perhaps it was the idea of having something or someone extraordinary----or rather, as a teen, BEING extraordinary. Every teen wants to feel special. Thanks to teen angst, media, home life, you name it---most of them don't. There's a feeling of isolation, of weirdness, of being the "other," and worrying about acceptance. Enter the mythos of the vampire, or really any supernatural creature. Taking on unfamiliar mutated traits, forced to do horrific acts as part of their nature, and forced into self-isolation form the norm---honestly, not much different than the internal struggles of your average teen.

The monster in question, be it a vampire, a ghost, or a werewolf, that's not the true focus. The books are less about those superpowers, the violence and danger, or the complications of having a supernatural lover; but more about relationships, and just teenage life, as a whole. Each of those books is really an exaggerated picture with just higher stakes. These books are about the risks we take in loving one another, dealing with changes to ourselves and other, and being thrown into the blurred morality of the adult world.

So why did I read them? Perhaps it was my way of understanding a world that felt tumultuous at the time. Like exaggerate parables. Or maybe they gave me something I could compare with my own boring life in my search for meaning. Hah, or maybe it was just a part of being an art kid, to want that escapism. Or maybe, it was like a form of passive rebellion. I saw characters defy expectation, and as an honor student who never skipped school, partied, or snuck out; I suppose I wanted to do the same. Because with strict Catholic parents, it was definitely better to live vicariously, then get grounded til' kingdom come.

The Kwaidan

With almost-realistic psychoanalytical twists, Asian Horror has always been something that both fascinates me and scares me off. I love the concepts behind Japanese folklore, especially the demons, since they aren't really bad, but simply a part of the mortal world. Ghosts are strange unstoppable forces of nature. Meeting one almost seems to be a product of complete luck most of the time; ordinary folks can end up in horrible situations, just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing exemplifies this like the Kwaidan, a collection of stories about ghosts, spirits, and strange occurrences by Lafcadio Hearn.

Reading stories from the Kwaidan was one of the strangest experiences I've had yet. I felt like I never really knew what was going to happen next, and the endings varied from happy to grotesque---while some stories hardly had resolved endings at all. And the spirits themselves seemed to vary greatly, in the sense that they were anywhere from good, bad, to undefinable---whereas most western scary stories only contain evil spirits. While some left me laughing at the ending (the faceless people), others baffled me, or left me just plain creeped out. The early story of the monk who plays for an undead court of spirits, fetched every night by the voice of a warrior---that story struck me as genius, while the imagery of the man's head bleeding from his missing ears was grotesque. After watching Yuki-Onna from the film Kwaidan in class, I actually went through and watched the entire film in my own time.

Speaking of Yuki-Onna---I have something of a love-hate relationship with those female Japanese ghosts dressed in all white, with long dark hair known as the "Yurei." They've always both terrified and fascinated me, ever since I first heard of Ju-on, or The Grudge. While I'll never see that film (I have a HUGE aversion to just the imagery of Yurei), I once read an article about the mythos of those specific spirits in which the author talked about the Yurei as an embodiment of the Japanese male's fear of the vengeful woman. It's fascinating to think about where and why these stories originated, before they were collected in works such as the Kwaidan---facts that for many of them, may even now remain a mystery.

From Hobbiton to Mount Doom

Dwarves, Elves, Orcs, Hobbits, Ents, and even a Smeagol---you name it, and J.R.R. Tolkein has written about it. Unbelievably comprehensive, the Lord of the Rings trilogy and prequels are truly works of art. Forging the ins and outs of every culture, language, rivalry, war, and landscape; the fantasy epic is a totally immersive experience. Reading one requires the reader delve into the world entirely, falling into step with the sleepy norm of Hobbiton only to be whisked away to dangerous caves crawling with terrifying creatures.

With such a detailed world and immersive journey, it's no wonder that epic fantasy novels such as these really become a brilliant method of escapism. With huge epics like Lord of the Rings and A Song of Ice and Fire, the material is almost endless. We are presented with this world, full of fantastical elements, unbelievable landscapes, and rich or bloody histories and it's nearly like traveling to a different country; all within the confines of several hundred pages. From my own experiences with epic fantasies these are the books you have to make time for, much like any addicting television series.