A Danse Macabre just means dancing to the Ghostbusters theme
Why do you want to make up horrible things where there is so much real horror in the world?
The answer seems to be that we make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.
Stephen King, Danse Macabre
(Author’s note – this is a link heavy essay. Links to King books will take you to other essays, film titles will take you to trailers, TV and comic titles to Wikipedia pages, and audio titles to relevant pages for those interested in finding out more.)
King’s eleventh book overall (though eighth discounting the still unknown identity of Bachman at this point) sees King taking on the small task of trying to sum up the state of the horror genre across a multitude of mediums as he sees it over the last thirty years. It is his first nonfiction work, and one of the first ways that a King fan could get to know the non-narrative voice of King.
When I first started reading King, mostly by coincidence it seems, I chose the books that had introductions to them. So, very quickly, I became acquainted with the Constant Reader motif and King addressing the reader as an old friend. Even now, rereading his classic books like The Shining or Carrie, they feature more recent introductions that give them context. What’s interesting to note from the perspective of today is how those definitely would not have appeared before. The only book published at this point that had an introduction was Night Shift – all the rest appeared later. In some ways, modern editions of Firestarter (at least at this point in my reading) give a closer feel for how those books originally appeared because there is no introduction there. Even the Bachman books, though lacking individual introductions, have the opening essay where King explains why he published as Bachman. King had by this point written articles and appeared on talk shows (he recycles some of those articles for material in this book in fact), but this was really only the second time King appeared in print as Stevie King shooting the shit, not Stephen King, director of the Grand Guignol.
It is interesting from the perspective of our forty years later where this is placed in horror history: right at the brink of the 80s horror boom. Halloween had been released, and King describes it in glowing terms, yet the first two Friday 13th films have seen release and nary a mention. The Age of the Slasher was just getting rolling at this point, and King had done an extraordinary amount of work in setting up a mainstream acceptance of horror over the next decade. There’s still Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead films to come, Clive Barker has yet to be the future of horror – there’s so much huge exciting horror to come, just over the horizon, that one of the most interesting things about reading Danse Macabre now shows us is the state of horror at that time before it all changed. The way King describes it, it is rich and vibrant but only just beginning to break into the mainstream.
Danse Macabre is all about revealing the goofy nerd behind the curtain. In some ways, the marvel of the book is appreciating the sheer breadth of King’s horror knowledge as it stood in 1981. The list of films whizzes by at an extraordinary rate, and the index of book suggestions is staggering. King probably reads more in a month than I do in a year, and more in a year than I do in five. He is a voracious consumer of culture, but what is all the more remarkable about this is that this knowledge is shared freely, openly and happily. There’s no gatekeeping here. He’s just an excited goofy nerd who loves talking about spooky things.
How well does he succeed in that pursuit? Well, quite effectively. To give a quick overall view of the book, he is at his most interesting when he’s discussing the mechanics of the horror story in the early stages of the book, mixed in with elements of autobiography. I have some quibbles regarding taste (unbelievably, he doesn’t like Wes Craven, Dario Argento’s Suspiria or The Rocky Horror Picture Show! (or at least didn’t by 1981)), but overall he’s not wrong. His clear love is discussing horror books, which feels the most indulgent section. In fairness, it is his bread and butter, but the depth he discusses and analyses those ten books is not given to radio, film or television (and comic books are oft mentioned, never discussed).
If there is a criticism of the book, it is that it is too casual to be taken entirely too seriously. For someone not enamoured with horror, this is not the introduction you need to get into it (though his list of twenty films mid-text, or the indexed list of film and books are better). And for the deep horror fan, the discussion of the mechanics is interesting, but everyone will feel short changed by what King chooses to give time to versus what he skips lightly over. There will inevitably disappointment (seriously, Suspiria is a classic). Of course, the intention of the book is to be informal, an opening to a deeper discussion about horror (much like this blog is an opener for discussion about King himself), so in that sense to criticise it for what it doesn’t do is like criticising a chicken’s swimming abilities. But some are worth mentioning at least
Firstly, it is a very American perspective. King is not picky, and the Hammer Horror films of the 60s and 70s get a mention (including confirming my suspicion that he knew of Nigel Kneale by naming Quatermass by name in the book), and a couple British horror writers get their time, but this is very US-focused. Again, it wouldn’t be fair to criticise him for what he doesn’t include. The Ring started the import of a slew of Asian horror in the mid-noughts and turned attention to horror in non-English speaking regions, and nowadays horror fans are happy to get their fix in whatever language it arrives in, so long as it’s spooky. Culture from abroad, especially if it wasn’t in English, just wouldn’t enter into America’s mainstream, so King can be excused here. Just don’t go in expecting to read about La Cabina (whole film available at that link), for example.
Another thing I think is fair to criticise is the lack of comic book history. This is especially galling, as King does refer to EC Comics throughout, and in a year or so will be part of Creepshow, a loving tribute to EC. Mainstream horror comics had mostly died a death thanks to the Comics Code Authority, but it would be worth talking about nonetheless. There are ways superhero comics are tinged with horror, like the body horror of the Fantastic Four’s Thing or characters like Morbius the Living Vampire. In this time, comics still published anthology tales like DC’s House of Secrets (which saw the introduction of Swamp Thing co-created by future King collaborator Bernie Wrightson) or Tales of the Unexpected. Horror was very much alive in comics, if a little off the beaten path. Again, the problem is that King probably wasn’t aware of these to write about them and this is his take on the genre and the mediums therein. If there was an element of culture considered lower than horror at this point, it surely was comics. Horror comics had it even worse.
What is more unforgivable is his treatment of television. I understand that at this point, American television was generally crap. King rightly points out that the Golden Age of Television is defined by about seven shows, the rest rightly forgotten the moment after broadcast. What is unforgivable is the way he practically dismisses the entire medium as a workmanlike factory, without craft or substance. He praises the shows that he believes transcend the medium (The Outer Limits, Thriller (not MJ – though this blog will talk about him in time) and almost reluctantly Rod Serling and The Twilight Zone), but doesn’t recognise the unique opportunities that television offers. King isn’t set on this particular mindset: here, he dismisses Kolchak: The Night Stalker, and yet later ends up writing an episode of The X-Files. It seems to me that King’s failure is to see television horror working at its best only as an anthology show, where the weekly Monster of the Week is to be defeated. But he doesn’t recognise where horror could work in a more sustained storytelling method like The X-Files, The Walking Dead or Kingdom, or extended anthology shows that tell a single story like The Terror. True, it seems like modern television itself is only beginning to realise the potential for horror on the small screen, and audience for it is hard to get. But Twin Peaks or the baffling continued existence of American Horror Story shows there is audience. Just, adjust your expectations, adapt to the medium.
One final thing about the different mediums King discusses. Though he does not give the time to comics, I am very glad he still gave time over to radio. As he notes in it, radio horror (and indeed, probably radio drama in general) had died a death that King was around to witness (or rather listen). The UK has a thriving radio drama scene, but in America that had gone. What’s interesting to note is that nowadays, with podcasts, there is a litany of great original horror podcasting out there, showing that there is life in auditory mediums yet. Things like Archive 81 or Welcome to Night Vale show the variety the medium can achieve, and the BBC has a nice line in horror too, such as the recent Battersea Poltergeist, Uncanny or literally anything off of this list (I’m particularly fond of The Lovecraft Investigations myself). Any modern discussion of horror would have to bring that into discussion, and see it as part of a tradition of radio.
But the most interesting aspect that King talks about, and perhaps should have been the focus of the book rather than the cultural overview he gives, is about the mechanics of horror. He breaks the effects of horror down into three parts:
- Terror – knowing something is behind the knocking door
- Horror – seeing the something behind the door
- Revulsion – getting squirted at by the something behind the door
Hard to argue with those. I would perhaps argue that his description of Terror would better be labelled Dread, but again, I quibble. There is very little to argue here, but it is a wonderful way of breaking down horror and making it inclusive of all types from the sublime dread of Rosemary’s Baby to the gross out revulsion of Tarantula. King welcomes one and all to his horror cabal and in his view, even better if things mix it up a bit (the terror of climbing the stairs; the horror at seeing Regan possessed; the revulsion of pea soup-vomit). It’s hard to think of many other genres that are so clear and laser-focused on their emotional impact of the reader (maybe Comedy and Romance are similar in that sense).
The other breakdown I want to discuss is King’s Tarot of Terror. He breaks horror monsters down to four archetypes and what they represent:
- The Vampire – representing fear of man as a monster, cannibalism, sex, etc.
- The Werewolf – interior, hidden evil, the quiet man in the apartment above.
- The Thing Without Name – monstrous, unstoppable forces of evil.
- The Ghost – our history and past, unseen malevolent yet subtle forces
He toys with adding a fifth, The Ghoul, but decides against it, thinking that zombies fall better into a mixture of The Vampire and The Thing Without Name. And as much as I want to disagree with King, thinking that horror monsters/villains can’t just be boiled down to four archetypes, or mixes… He’s generally right. Even more modern horror creatures can be put into those categories: Slenderman is a Thing Without Name, Samara is both Ghost and Thing Without Name, Hannibal Lector is a Vampire…
However, perhaps one missing idea is that of The Witch. More emblematic of folk horror (though not all folk horror – The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is Thing Without Name, Vampire and Werewolf rather than Witch), the Witch has seen a resurgence I feel in recent years, with perhaps the most important text of note being Robert Eggers’ excellent The VVitch. Other examples could also include Hereditary, The Lighthouse, A Field in England and The Wicker Man; characters like Victor Frankenstein, Dr Herbert West (Herbert West – Reanimator and it’s film adaptation) or Frank Cotton in Hellraiser. In these stories we have a character who torments another with the access they have to forbidden knowledge, sometimes through their own power but also as conduit through which other monsters of King’s tarot can appear. A tarot of The Witch could also be classified as a Wizard, Crypt Keeper, or in more recent versions a Mad Scientist, but a Witch ties into the longer history of horror like King’s tarot above (how many werewolf stories have there been recently? Now how many good ones?), and also does a good job of addressing the gender imbalance. Women can be monsters too!
It can be malleable. Someone like Van Helsing, Father Merrin in The Exorcist or the Warrens in The Conjuring series are good witches, and it doesn’t apply to those who accidentally stumble upon the secret knowledge (compare the scientists in The Thing who didn’t intend to find alien life versus Victor Frankenstein who very much seeks and uses his forbidden knowledge). Sometimes the Witch is dispensed with entirely to be replaced with forbidden knowledge kept hidden in a book, usually the Necronomicon. But as a role within the framework of horror stories, I think it would be good one to induct into the pantheon. Besides, a deck of cards with only four cards isn’t much of a deck!
The final aspect is that King also does a very good job of explaining the fascination people have with horror. I have seen and read and come up with my own reasons for my enjoyment of horror. I think the mistake people make when trying to explain why they like it is that there are lots of reasons why someone likes horror, and there is no one definitive reason. The enjoyment I get from reading It is different to that than watching a horror film like The Evil Dead II or even compared to Hereditary. But King’s reasoning is good, and if you tell people what Stephen King thinks about it with his analysis, I think that would convince most.
For those early sections of analysis alone, it is worth reading. From a historical view, it gives a fascinating, man on the ground perspective of horror from a very interesting point in the genre’s history. It is by no means exhaustive, nor does it try to be. Few works could be (though Jess Nevins attempts so for literature in the 20th century at least, and Mark Gatiss’ documentary series on horror films is equally fun to Danse Macabre), especially for a genre as diverse as horror. It is dated, sure, but underrated. In understanding King critically, this is a key text to get and understand what he wants to achieve. But in a more real sense, think of this book less like a treatise or historical document, but more a case of sitting by the fire with good music and a friend to shoot the shit about ghosts and monsters.
Observations and Connections
It’s nonfiction, so no connections really. King does mention his own books published by this point, and I think part of the reason we haven’t got a newer invitation to the Danse Macabre is King would have to undoubtedly talk about his contribution and impact to horror fiction, which I think he would feel would be too onanistic, and politely decline an invite
There a couple references that place this in history however. In discussion of a film called Donovan’s Brain, he mentions the phrase, ‘He thrusts his fist against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.’ This will come back later in It. He also obliquely references a fiction book he is writing at the time involving a lot of research into funeral practices that I suspect is Pet Sematary. He also briefly mentions Survivor Type, as well as a brief summary, having been written four years prior (circa ’76), but still unpublished at this point – no one wanted it!
Finally, I have an older copy of Danse Macabre. I am aware editions published after 2010 have a new essay by King where he reflects on horror at that point. Don’t have it, can’t comment, maybe when we get there I’ll cover it then.
UP NEXT: We meet the baddest dog in a familiar town in Cujo.
Deeper Thoughts for the Horror Inclined 