Horror as escape?
Today there are riots across America because last week, a man was killed on camera by a police officer. Real hurt, destruction, and paranoia are afoot. So you might not feel a need to add fictional horrors.
Today’s story is set in 1969-1971. Imagine living then, and what must have been the daily psychic burden of an era that faced not only riots, but the Manson cult, the Zodiac Killer, and many assassinations. (Photo of Manson by Bettmann, Getty Archives.)
Ten weeks ago, though, I thought horror would make the perfect escape from our troubles. At first, the coronavirus felt like a personal ordeal. It affected the world, but for most of us it played out quietly in our heads and in our homes, as we each tucked away to ride it out. Ultimately, the story even had its positive dimension, because by isolating, we were saving lives — the way a werewolf tells his friends to lock him in the basement until the full moon passes, to protect the village.
Now, tragically, our troubles are out of the basement, stalking the nation. So do we have any use for fictional monsters? All I can say is, they exist because real ones exist. This week it is hard to believe we will overcome them. They are powerful and stealthy. I don’t think retreating into fantasy is a way to beat them. But I do think fiction can help us reflect on reality. Obliquely, anyway.
Where Fred Hampton died, December 1969. (Photo by James OLeary, Chicago Tribune.)
As a slight example, today’s story, “The Land Is a Black Mass,” is not remotely about 2020. It is about one fictional man, Micah Hogue, half a century ago. But as I wrote it (weeks ago), my question about Hogue became “What does he place his faith in, and if he loses that faith, what rushes in to take its place?” Right now, similar questions are in front of us in real life. So let’s admit that horror is not always a perfect escape. Sometimes it anticipates reality. Because monsters do exist, and they do want you afraid.
