In Which We Do What We Do When We Do It For the Children And Them Alone

How I Got This Way

by ALEX CARNEVALE

As I got older, I learned some tough stuff about the world. For instance, that there was no Jack in the Box on the east coast. I still don't get that.

And once I was able to be a little more choosy about my own reading, all these saccharine kids' books really led me in a differnt direction. Here's where I ended up:

Big Friendly Author?5. Danny the Champion of the World, Roald Dahl

Dahl was an admitted anti-Semite, making it all the more inappropriate that my parents permitted me to read his books. Many of his books have outrageous Jewish stereotypes, and I'm sure this one is no different (it's not kind to Gypsies either), but at the time, it was a simple story of revenge and wonder, plus the nature element. It's the best of his books and it's not particularly close, although the Henry Sugar novella always will hold a steely place in my heart.

4. Incident at Hawk's Hill, Allan Eckert

For a kid's book, this was some pretty dark shit. This was the assigned reading in Mr. Z's sixth grade class. Mr. Z himself was a psychotic local Republican who somehow was permitted to teach children reading. In hindsight, this book was wholly inappropriate, as were his frequent stories about how he once had a leg cast as a kid and he kept shoving food down there and he got maggots. I've carried that with me long enough.

 

3. Books of Blood, Clive Barker

After a bad experience in 1994 when I had to run into my mother's arms because Jurassic Park was way too real for me, I realized I had to toughen up. Fortunately or unfortunately, I decided to toughen up on the greatest series of horror stories ever written. Barker's a native Englishman perhaps most familiar for the Hellraiser series. He's a capable novelist--Weaveworld and The Damnation Game are both enjoyable for what they are--but Books of Blood, which brought Barker onto the scene as a master of the genre, blows anything he ever did after BOB away. This stuff is still scary to me today, and it's flat out fun to read. It's probably available as a dollar paperback at any decent used bookstore.

     

2. Speaker for the Dead, Orson Scott Card

The first book in the series, the universally acclaimed Ender's Game, is the ultimate kid's science fiction book in that it's wonderful throughout, but once you know the end, it's friggin' pointless. South Park parodied Ender's Game with an episode that had Kenny playing the PSP against Satan's Army. Having delivered one decent book that gained a massive audience, Orson Scott Card--whose politics leave something to be desired--had it in him to write one more great book before resigning himself to a lifetime of mediocrity.

That book is Speaker for the Dead. The two books have very little to do with each other besides the same central character. SFTD holds up quite well--it's a philosophical intrigue that even young people can digest, and the mystery behind everything is fun and enjoyable to grasp. In many way it reminds me of Joe Haldeman's far superior All My Sins Remembered (one of the greatest science fiction novels ever written) and any comparison to Haldeman is high praise from me.

1. Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling

I didn't read Harry Potter when I was very young. The first Potter came out in 1997 (I was 14), and it wasn't very good. It had some great world building and plenty of memorable characters, not much of a plot. The Potters are hardly my favorite children's books, but they are wonderful, and since they're going to be far and away the first real influential books of this century it's worth thinking about what they might be doing for our culture and whether or not they're actually bad or good.

People who don't read Harry Potter irritate me. If something is going to hold this kind of thrall over young people, who are digesting 600 page novels as if they were Pop Tarts, I'd say it's pretty important to get your hands on a copy.

In short, if you really care about reading, and what the future of prose literature might be, you have to have read this.

Like I said, the first one's just world-building. The second one has some high notes. The third one, adapted into another terrible Alfonso Cuaron film that looked great, was the best up to that point. Goblet of Fire topped it with its massive set pieces and violence. The Order of the Phoenix was Rowling going a bit crazy with exposition and a tedious final scene, with plenty of more adult fun in between.

one could hardly call such a thing beautyThe next one was a better effort than the Order, but churning them out at such speed hasn't helped the quality, though Rowling's improved at plot tremendously as she's moved along.

A.S. Byatt, a marvelously talented writer in her own right, penned the strongest possible repudiation of Rowling, although like most criticism of institutions, it was rendered pointless. The book is "cliched"-- thanks, we didn't catch that.

Byatt's argument:

Ms. Rowling, I think, speaks to an adult generation that hasn't known, and doesn't care about, mystery. They are inhabitants of urban jungles, not of the real wild. They don't have the skills to tell ersatz magic from the real thing, for as children they daily invested the ersatz with what imagination they had.

Similarly, some of Ms. Rowling's adult readers are simply reverting to the child they were when they read the Billy Bunter books, or invested Enid Blyton's pasteboard kids with their own childish desires and hopes. A surprising number of people — including many students of literature — will tell you they haven't really lived in a book since they were children. Sadly, being taught literature often destroys the life of the books. But in the days before dumbing down and cultural studies no one reviewed Enid Blyton or Georgette Heyer — as they do not now review the great Terry Pratchett, whose wit is metaphysical, who creates an energetic and lively secondary world, who has a multifarious genius for strong parody as opposed to derivative manipulation of past motifs, who deals with death with startling originality. Who writes amazing sentences.

It is the substitution of celebrity for heroism that has fed this phenomenon. And it is the leveling effect of cultural studies, which are as interested in hype and popularity as they are in literary merit, which they don't really believe exists. It's fine to compare the Brontës with bodice-rippers. It's become respectable to read and discuss what Roland Barthes called "consumable" books. There is nothing wrong with this, but it has little to do with the shiver of awe we feel looking through Keats's "magic casements, opening on the foam/Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn."

Say what you want about her views, but Byatt's identified the trend here--consumable books not designed to be savored, but to be ingested or plowed through like Lost on DVD. The problem Byatt faces in dissing Rowling is that she has to find something to praise. Terry Pratchett's an even more terrible writer, so that's not gonna help.

The chief benefit of this phenomenon seems to me to be that people are reading, and that it doesn't really matter what. Overall, after taking the interweb into account, it seems that people are reading as much as ever, if not in exactly the same way that the publishing companies would like them to. This is a notable change in world culture, and for us to process what it really means will take some time. For now, who cares what children read? Why bring taste into a discussion that already has babies in it? Babies only know what tastes good.

LULLABIES FOR THE LITTLE ONES

"Butterfly Nets" -- Bishop Allen (mp3)

"Roscoe" - Midlake (mp3)

"Son of a Preacher Man" - Dusty Springfield (mp3)

"96 Tears" - ? and the Mysterians (mp3)

Find some sweet MP3s here.

In Which We Explore Existential Carnival Horror

LIVE NUDE THRILLS

by JOHN DAMER

The Funhouse

Dir. Tobe Hooper

1981

Directed by Tobe Hooper (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre), The Funhouse is an imperfect horror movie.  It’s ten to fifteen minutes too long, and it features a Psycho reference that would make even Brian DePalma groan.  

Yet because it contains there are genuine and troubling ideas, there's enough in The Funhouse to save it from the junk bin. It’s not a movie that just wants to scare you; it wants you to feel horrible about the nature and existence of exploitative entertainment.  It evokes those pre-code Hollywood horror movies (i.e. The Island of Lost Souls or The Black Cat). It demonstrates that fairground carnivals are grimy hellholes that should be avoided at all costs.  

Funhouse is standard for a Horror-film: some young people go somewhere and do something for fun, and then terrible things happen (which is also the basic story of Texas Chainsaw Massacre). The young people in the movie are stock characters of the genre:  there’s the main character Amy (Elizabeth Berridge), aka the Good Girl; the Alpha-Male Hunk Buzz (Cooper Huckabee); the Promiscuous One, Liz* (Largo Woodruff); and the Sycophantic Nerd, Richie (Miles Chapin).

*Guess what happens to her.

The fun activity that these four do is go to a Carnival at night where they (surprise!) hide out in a Funhouse ride and, after witnessing a murder committed by a freakish yet strangely sympathetic ride attendant, find themselves trapped and hunted like animals. (There is also a slight sub-plot of Amy’s younger brother Joey (Shawn Carson) sneaking-out to follow Amy going to the Carnival and getting caught by a harmless carnival hand.)

There's a prologue in which Joey pulls a prank on Amy while she takes a shower at their family’s house.  In a rage, Amy gets out of the shower, finds Joey taking refuge in a closet, curses him, and promises brutal revenge.  During this flurry of vindictiveness, Joey takes Amy’s picture with a Polaroid camera, which falls to the ground. As Joey scurries away, Amy finds this photo on the ground and picks it up. Seeing her angry face reflected in the picture, Amy is horrified by her sadism.

The camera then pans and zooms into a nearby poster of the iconic image of Frankenstein’s Monster played by Boris Karloff, and then there’s a cut to a TV showing the famous moment in Bride of Frankenstein in which the Bride (Elsa Lanchester) is revealed. A visual linking of cruelty to two iconic images of the Horror genre, this is a reflective moment that can be interpreted as an implicit commentary on how Horror is often consumed.  It posits Horror movie viewing as something that is rooted in sadistic pleasure. 

This associative visual idea signals one of the basic themes of The Funhouse: exploitation, as a means of entertainment, is a dark and twisted practice. (Ironically, this idea does contradict how The Funhouse works on the surface.)  Yet, Amy being shocked at her own likeness signifies another idea that Hooper and many other Horror-directors support:  the Horror Film can be used as a mirror that displays unfortunate yet true aspects of human-nature and existence.

Horrible things are displayed through out The Funhouse.  For instance: I can’t think of any other movie that better renders the sad, seedy world of a traveling carnival.  The movie’s atmosphere is full of skeaze and dread. The carnival worker characters might as well be wearing T-shirts that say ‘dirty carny’.

Many traditions of the Traveling Carnival are each given their own scene.  There’s a Barnyard Entities scene where the four teens see a two-headed cow and a human fetus in a jar (both foreshadow a bizarre reveal that happens later in the movie):

A near-unnecessary Magic-Show scene:

There’s a scene set in the tent of a Fortune Teller of indeterminable Slavic origin:

There’s a scene set in and around the Nudie Booth:

And of course, there’s the ominous and eponymous Funhouse, where father (grizzled ride operator) and son (creepy Monster-masked son) run the show.

And to bolster the scopophilic nature of what The Funhouse is about, throughout the movie are Point-of-View shots that show what characters see as they spy on sex and violence through holes or cracks between floor-boards. 

The Carnival functions as a microcosm for the graceless world of adulthood that a teen like Amy becomes become an autonomous person.  Shown at the beginning, Amy and Joey’s parents are the only ‘clean-cut’ adults in the movie; all of the other adult characters are are threatening, run-down, and depraved in nature.

Also taking into consideration that Amy loses her virginity to Buzz when the teens first hideout in The Funhouse, it becomes clear thatThe Funhouse is also about someone’s (Amy’s) Innocence not so much being lost but being ripped-away from them during one disturbing and violent night.    

Extending off of this, there is a chilling scene late in the movie in which Amy sees her parents retrieving Joey to bring him home after he snuck out.  However, she sees this while trapped in the Funhouse and through one of the rides’ operating industrial fans, and her subsequent cries for help aren’t heard over the noise. If they don’t already, it’s a moment that intends to remind the viewer that he or she will one day no longer have their parents to rely on for any form of support.  This is a sobering, even terrifying fact of growing-up.

The final scene and shot of the movie is similar. The following morning, traumatized Amy emerges from the Funhouse after enduring the terror inflicted by the ride operator and the ride attendant.  Out of her friends, she's the only survivor. 

As the camera cranes up to a bird’s eye view to reveal that the carnival is being torn down, Amy stumbles away. Creepy carnival music comes on the soundtrack, and the movie ends with a fade to black.

As a coda, this final shot is as unsettling and haunting as anything in The Night Of The Hunter

Out of all of Tobe Hooper’s movies, not much else comes close to the classic The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  (And if you’re thinking Poltergeist, then its time for the truth to come out:  it’s obvious that Spielberg at least co-directed that one.)  Nevertheless, because it’s a horror movie that has something interesting and thought-provoking going on beneath its surface, the film indicates that the man isn’t just a one-trick pony as a filmmaker. The Funhouse is Hooper’s near-masterpiece; 

John Damer writes The Blog Of Imagination.

This is his first piece for This Recording.