Unearthing Gothic Literature Part 5, Split Personalities & Masking the Dark Side

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Gothic fiction features some perfect examples of split personalities and doubles, but what is their significance in the genre?

Dichotomy of lust and virtue

Dorian Gray is a man living a criminal and immoral existence indulging in London drug dens and orgies whilst also attempting to be perceived as a model of society. The two parts of his personality are in conflict with one another. Desire versus moral standing. In Victorian society there was a belief that immoral criminal acts were only performed by the low classes and thus Dorian inhabits and closes the divide between the upper and lower classes.

Picture of Dorian Gray exhibits a subtle example of the conflict between righteous living and repressed desires. Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson is the more obvious choice of text. Mr Hyde is seen trampling a young girl to death which he then holds his alter ego, Mr Jekyll, responsible. Hyde was an interesting choice of names for the villain who hides within the respectable gentleman Jekyll.

Such works could be said to demonstrate need of an outlet for sexual behaviour in a hypocritical 19^th Century society that considered itself pure.

Gothic texts also encompass shape shifting human/ beast transformations to represent the savage desires within us. Human by day, beast by night!

Snail

Snail

made self-sufficiency an art,

carrying his home

wherever he goes.

He is slow,

so that  taken  into consideration

he can stop for the night

in his own trailer.

Earthy brown for camouflage

he blends in easily

peeping out his antennae

exposing only the smallest part to see.

A hungry  song thrush

is  on a fence.

Beady eyes

look all around

ready to swoop down

smash the snail on his anville

and leave an empty shell.

Shoot the birds

Curse the birds! their chorus shrill

that signal  beyond my window sill

an upturned piano with broken keys

a morning concerto for anarchy.

Savour the darkness

the quietness of night

with blackness of velvet

shut out the light.

Stop the clocks

rewind the hours

that herald  the sun

and open the flowers.

Close the curtains,

dissemble the day

and here in darkness

forever I’ll stay.

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Lighthouse

Lighthouse,

battered by winds,

worn by  tides.

Many a great storm you have seen,

which makes my little knowledge of the sea

seem insignificant

Somehow.

When the storm clouds gather

I am afraid

But you are never far.

My coastguard,

preventer of darkness,

passage of light.

Constant as constellations.

My North Star.

Through all the nights,

of my life here

You have never dimmed.

Reaper

Cold his breath, and stale

The Reaper stooping low,

‘High executioner standing o’er my bed

‘tis not my time to go.’

‘’Tis not thee that I come for,’ he said sarcastically,

caressed the blade and motioned

to the sleeper next to me.

The moon was up and in its light

all forms looked deathly white.

‘Be thee not so daring, Death

To enter here this night.

‘Take thy scythe and sickly stench…’

I rose up with a shout,

‘find some other corn to cut.

This sand has not run out.’

I turned back to my slumber

The Reaper watching me

as if unsatisfied at missed opportunity.

Once more he lifted up the blade

to make intentions clear

but laughter at a half- remembered joke

fell upon his ear.

The sleeper grinning from the dream,

The Reaper looking on

about him pulled his rancid cloak

and then alone was gone.