The boundary between the animal and the human has long been unstable, especially since the Victorian period. Where the boundary is drawn between human and animal is itself an expression of political power and dominance, and the ‘animal’ can at once express the deepest fears and greatest aspirations of a society’ (Victorian Animal Dreams, 4).
‘The animal, like the ghost or good or evil spirit with which it is often associated, has been a manifestation of the uncanny’ (Timothy Clark, 185).
In the mid nineteenth-century Charles Darwin published his theories of evolution. And as Deborah Denenholz Morse and Martin A. Danahay suggest, ‘The effect of Darwin’s ideas was both to make the human more animal and the animal more human, destabilizing boundaries in both directions’ (Victorian Animal Dreams, 2). Nineteenth-century fiction quickly picked up on the idea of the ‘animal within’ with texts like R.L. Stevenson’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and H. G. Wells’s The Island of Doctor Moreau. In these novels the fear explored was of an unruly, defiant, degenerate and entirely amoral animality lying (mostly) dormant within all of us. This was our animal-other associated with the id: passions, appetites and capable of a complete disregard for all taboos and any restraint. As Cyndy Hendershot states, this ‘animal within’ ‘threatened to usurp masculine rationality and return man to a state of irrational chaos’ (The Animal Within, 97). This however, relates the animal to the human in a very specific, anthropocentric way. Non-humans and humans have other sorts of encounters too, and even before Darwin humans have often had an uneasy relationship with animals. Rats, horses, dogs, cats, birds and other beasts have, as Donna Haraway puts it a way of ‘looking back’ at us (When Species Meet,19).
Animals of all sorts have an entirely different and separate life to humans and in fiction this often morphs into Gothic horror. In these cases it is not about the ‘animal within’ but rather the animal ‘with-out’; Other and entirely incomprehensible. These non-human, uncanny creatures know things we do not, and they see us in a way it is impossible for us to see ourselves. We have other sorts of encounters with animals too: we eat animals, imbibing their being in a largely non-ritualistic, but possibly still magical way; and on occasion, animals eat us. From plague-carrying rats, to ‘filthy’ fleas, black dogs and killer bunnies, animals of all sorts invade our imaginations, live with us (invited or not) in our homes, and insinuate themselves into our lives. The mere presence of a cat can make a home uncanny. An encounter with a dog on a deserted road at night can disconcert. The sight of a rat creeping down an alley carries all sorts of connotations as does a cluster of fat, black flies at the window of a deserted house. To date though, there is little written about animals and the Gothic, although they pervade our fictions, imaginations and sometimes our nightmares.
This collection is intended to look at all sorts of animals in relation to the Gothic: beasts, birds, sea-creatures, insects and domestic animals. We are not looking for transformative animals – no werewolves this time – rather we want essays on fictions about actual animals that explore their relation to the Gothic; their importance and prominence within the Gothic. We invite abstracts for essays that cover all animal/bird/insect/fish life forms, from all periods (from the early Modern to the present), and within different types of media – novels, poetry, short stories, films and games.
Topics may include (but are not bound by):
Rats (plague and death)
Dogs (black and otherwise)
Killer bunnies
Uncanny cats
Alien sea creatures
Horses
Bulls
Cows (perhaps with long teeth)
Killer frogs
Beetles, flies, ants, spiders
Worms
Birds
Snakes and toads
Whales/Dolphins
Animals as marginalised and oppressed
Animals in peril
Animal and human intimacies and the breaking of taboos
Exotic animals/animals in colonial regions (Africa, Australia, Canada, the Caribbean, India)
Demonic animals
Dangerous animals (rabid dogs, venomous snakes, wolves)
Invasive animals
Animals and disease
Domestic animals
Uncanny animals
Animals connected to supernatural beings (Satanic goats, vampire bats)
Witchcraft and familiar spirits/animal guides
Rural versus urban animals
Sixth sense and psychic energy
Please send 500 word abstracts and a short bio note by 1 November 2017 to: Dr Ruth Heholt (ruth.heholt@falmouth.ac.uk) and Dr Melissa Edmundson (me.makala@gmail.com). Deadline for submissions November 1st, 2017. The collection is intended for the Palgrave MacMillan ‘Studies in Animals and Literature’ series. Completed essays must be submitted by 1 July 2018.
I’m finishing the editing of a manuscript for McFarland that explores aspects of fantastic fan cultures in relation to the sacred. I am waiting for one more chapter to be submitted and then the manuscript goes off for peer review. In addition to editing and writing he Introduction I am contributing a chapter that contrasts fantastic fan conventions and transformational festivals. The latter are those like Burning Man (on which I wrote my graduate thesis) and Faerieworlds, weekend societies that people participate in as a means of personal and spiritual transformation. In my chapter I argue that the use of mythos and ritual (in one example by way of costuming and cosplay) in both conventions and festivals makes for an overlap and that the sacred is literally in play at both.
Previously I’ve shared Robert J. Sawyer’s 
“WAR” completes great “APES” trilogy
The final film in the APES reboot trilogy, War for the Planet of the Apes, has been well received by audiences, fans, and critics alike. As a result, a lot has been written on the film that covers a lot of ground by way of commentary. I’ve written quite a bit about various aspects of the Apes films as an almost lifelong fan going back to my childhood, and in light of the volume of material available on War online, I’ll simply share a few impressions after watching this great film.
To begin the acting was top-notch. Woody Harrelson gives a good performance as the human villain, and like many have noted already, Andy Serkis is wonderful as Caesar. I join the chorus of calls for those who want to see performance-capture added as a category for consideration by the Academy Awards. Serkis’ performance is very moving, and with that coupled with the ability of technology to capture facial expressions, the viewer forgets that one is watching a non-human animal, which makes it easy to get caught up in the story and empathize with the apes against one’s own species.
The visuals are also amazing. From the wooded home of the apes who flee like refugees, to the human military camps, the cinematography in this science fiction film rivals that of any standard drama. At one point I caught myself mesmerized by a scene with a waterfall, simply because of the beauty of the imagery in connection with the developing story.
Like it’s trilogy predecessors, War includes elements that connect it to the five films in the original franchise. This makes for a great time Easter egg hunting, and provides a nice sense of nostalgia for older fans. In addition, it also makes for an interesting bit of storytelling as the script writers work to make seemingly natural connections between the updated story and the films of the late 1960s and 1970s. In War viewers will find many nods to the original film of 1968, but also to Beneath the Planet of the Apes with the use of “Alpha and Omega.”
Previously I’ve written on religion in the Apes franchise, and it surfaces in War as well. The Colonel wears a cross, and has a cross and Bible in his quarters, even while engaging in atrocities against apes as well as his fellow humans. In one scene after speaking to his troops he finishes his audience with them by making the sign of the cross in the air, mimicking a priestly blessing on the people, which is connected to his conception of his military action as a holy war.
Then there’s the social commentary. In our age characterized by deep political and religious divisions, at times involving violence and even genocide, War, as well as Rise, speak well to this situation. Human beings are incredibly tribal creatures, and we tend toward inter-group as well as intra-group conflict with very little provocation. This is accompanied by hatred toward others, the desire for revenge, all of which puts empathy and forgiveness in short supply. One of the best elements of War is the way in which it takes audiences on Caesar’s journey for his soul, picking up where Rise left off with the death of Koba who was consumed by hatred of humans and a desire for revenge. Caesar seemingly wants to pursue a different path, but tragic personal circumstances make him wrestle with his own demons of vengeance in this film. For viewers able to connect the dots self-critically from [to current events, whether the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the legal battle over Middle Eastern refugees, or the fate of war-torn Syria, War provides plenty of material to help us look carefully in the mirror at human nature.
Director Matt Reeves has said in an interview that he’s interested in one more film in the Apes series, one that helps bring this prequel trilogy up to the point of the 1968 film. Given his successes in handling of the Apes mythology, I hope for at least one more film.