Did you ever read any of the gothic classics when you were too young to really appreciate them? I have no idea if either of these books were formative in any way, as all I really remember about either is intensely disliking the experience of reading them; its possible my later adoration of everything gothic developed independently (thanks largely to the Sisters of Mercy, and, later, Byron), but I suppose it’s equally possible they slithered down into my developing psyche, laying gothic snares for tween and teen me to stumble into.
The first gothic novel I ever read was The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. I did not enjoy the experience, which I think everyone could have predicted given I was about seven, but I was also stubborn enough I was determined to get all the way through it anyway. I distinctly remember my grandmother saying “Are you sure?” and trying to gently inform me it would be nothing whatsoever like the (I think Disney?) cartoon riffing on it that we’d just watched and which had inspired me to ask, but again, seven year old me was stubborn. (This was also how I ended up reading Animal Farm the next year, which definitely was a formative experience for little me). I genuinely remember nothing of the actual contents of the novel, just an all pervading sense of darkness and my own deep frustration — which I think may actually be an appropriate response to it after all. I do have a very clear memory of the cover, and reading it aloud in the back seat of my grandparents car though. I think I should probably try reading it again now that I’ve typed all this out, but I’ll have to get through my inner seven year old’s protests first.
The next one was Frankenstein. I was eleven and had just watched a film adaptation with my grandmother. Once again we did the are you sure dance but she supported my reading development and got me a copy anyway. Once again I did not enjoy myself, though I suspect my dislike of the experience was because I actually got the point of the novel (instead of just being a small child) this time, and wasn’t quite ready for that level of anger and misery in my reading matter. I liked fantasy novels a lot at that age and wanted there to be a nice, straightforward, happy ending. Given the movie we’d just watched had been a pretty faithful adaptation, at least to the spirit of the novel, and I’d found it thoroughly depressing I don’t know what I was expecting. Probably something more fun, in line with my parents Hammer Horror collection, but in fairness, my grandmother did tell me it wouldn’t be.
Which leads me into an embarrassing confession. At time of writing I still haven’t finished reading Dracula. Have you ever absorbed so much information about a book or a film that you just kind of forget you haven’t actually read or watched it? Yes, that was me and Dracula. In fairness to myself my Dad has a thing about Dracula film adaptations and one of my best friends has a deep and powerful obsession with the book, so I think I just spent so much time listening to the two of them talk about it that it just started to feel like I’d read it too. Then last year I realised I actually hadn’t. My wife and I are planning to read it out loud together, which is why I still haven’t read it yet, because we have a tbr pile to get through first. Still I’m considering shuffling the pile so it comes out near the top.
Are there gothic novels you read when you were way too young to appreciate them (or possibly came away scarred from the experience)? What about books you passively absorbed so much about you forgot you hadn’t read them yourself? I’d genuinely love to know. (I can’t be the only one).
Gothic Auntie 