A long post, but I hope you'll bear with me.

This story freaked me out. In fact, I'm reminded of the first line Vincent Bugliosi wrote in his book Helter-Skelter, but I think it's a fitting description for Joyce Carol Oates' short story as well: "The story in which you are about to read will scare the hell out of you."

In this fascinating collection of critical essays, Joyce Carol Oates' famous short story Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been, is discussed, argued and analyzed. If you've not read it, I highly recommend you do. I didn't realize I had read it years ago until a new-to-me blogger at Adventures in Borkdom reviewed it for the RIP Challenge, and it got me thinking about it. It was with a Twitter conversation from Nicole at Linus's Blanket that finally pushed me over the edge to download it.

I only intended to read the story, but I was soon swept up in this collection. The story itself is both brilliant in its subtlety and disturbing in its content. While there is no gore or slash, in my opinion it bests all of those typical fright night stories and films with quiet hints and allusions to what might happen. As one essayist, Larry Rubin writes:

For instance, Walter Sullivan praises her skill by noting 'horror resides in the transformation of what we know best, the intimate and comfortable details of our lives made suddenly threatening.' Although he does not identify it as such, Sullivan's comment aptly describes a classic instance of a grotesque intrusion: a familiar world suddenly appears alien.

It seems to be what Oates does best: Take our comfortable world and shift it to reflect the view back like a mirror. Everything seems to be the same, but something is a little bit off.

The Story

It's the early 1960s and Connie is fifteen-years-old. The prettier of the two daughters in the family, her mother doesn't approve of the precocious Connie, always looking at herself in the mirror. She's pretty sure her mother prefers her, though, over her older sister June, who works at the library and still lives at home.

Sunday begins like any other day since they don't go to church, but with a boring barbecue to attend with her family, Connie decides to stay home, wash her hair and laze around her room, thinking of romance and boys and listening to rock and roll. With her family away and Connie alone in the house, it becomes a dreamy afternoon. Things take quite a different turn, however, when a car pulls up the driveway driven by a man she walked past the prior evening at the drive-in.

His name is Arnold Friend and there's something about him that doesn't seem right. Stepping out of the gold-painted car awkwardly, he looks older but claims to be around her age. It looks like he's wearing make-up but forgot to finish putting it on his neck, so the stark contrast appears as though he's wearing a mask. The passenger in the car never acknowledges her and only continues to listen to the same young rock and roll music she has on in the house, but when she takes a closer look from the kitchen screen door, even he is different. In fact, he has the face of a "forty-year-old baby," which is extremely unnerving. Arnold stands by the car, propping himself up or holds the door, as though if he didn't, he might fall. His boots stick out at odd angles, which hint at the possibility of rags stuffed into them so he can stand on it to appear taller.

Arnold Friend wants Connie to get into the car and go for a drive with him. While initially exciting for Connie, it becomes obvious of his more violent intentions as the conversation continues. Instead, Connie stays behind her screen door, but he makes it clear he will never come inside. He casually explains that she will make the choice to come outside eventually, and when she does, she will come to him. He'll teach her about love, he says. It sounds different to Connie, though, and she doesn't like it, the air thick with fear and impending violence, nowhere near the romantic dreams she had before he arrived. She knows it's all wrong, that the way he stands and the fact that he's got make-up on is all a disguise. There is a far more disturbing element to Arnold Friend underneath it all and Connie is afraid. He is dangerous and she knows that she shouldn't leave the house.

Initial Thoughts

In all of the scary horror stories, this one struck me as one of the more frightening. I think it's because at only approximately twenty pages or so, its terror comes across in what is not said. There is an uneasy, uncomfortable atmosphere set with Arnold Friend's casual conversation, and incredible suspense was building as my fear for Connie grew. I was begging her to not leave the house, to not get into Arnold Friend's car.

I intended to only read the short story but the critical essays were fascinating. They evaluate and analyze feminism, Connie's innocence, the symbolism of Arnold Friend, and rock and roll music. They provide more insight into the relevance of religious values and the slippery slope between good and evil. There is even the argument, which I tend to also believe, suggesting Arnold Friend may even be Satan, embodied in this frightening man who wears his disguise of make-up and can't quite seem to stand in his boots just right because they very well could be the hooves of the Devil.

Joyce Carol Oates, if nothing else, is a master of horror and fright, but contrary to the Halloween and Friday the 13th movies, Oates is a sophisticated storyteller, drawing images of paralyzing fear with the agonizing ache of growing up into a very scary adult world. I highly recommend this and encourage you to read and re-read it.

I listened to the audiobook version of A Fair Maiden by Joyce Carol Oates and wasn't the biggest fan of it. Now, I'm reconsidering going back and listening again, or reading it, since I've found that Introductions and Afterwords, along with critical essays of a book give me much more insight and I end up appreciating a story even more. After reading the various thoughts from other writers on Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been, I'm thinking A Fair Maiden may be worth another go.

Where did the story come from?

Included in this collection is the original Life magazine article that piqued Oates' interest and served as the idea for the characters. Oates read only part of it because she wanted the story to not be encumbered by the true events of the case.

The article featured Charles "Smitty" Schmid of Tucson, Arizona, nicknamed by the Life article as the "Pied Piper of Tucson." Like Oates' character Arnold Friend, Schmid drove a wild gold-painted car and was a short man of 5'3" who stuffed his boots with cans and rags to give the impression he was much taller. Odd though he may be, according to the Life magazine article he still managed to generate a following of younger teenagers. Everyone knew he was different, but no one ever really complained about him. When it was uncovered that he had murdered three young women, it was not a revelation to the Tucson youth. In fact, they knew about it but no one wanted to be the one to turn him in, or make a big deal about it. While shocking that murder seemed to be more acceptable than tattling, it provided insight into the life of a kid at that time, struggling with acceptance of their peers, not ever wanting to "rock the boat." Of course, I'm not an expert on the psychological or sociological reasons why people do what they do, but being accepted by your peers is always a recurring motivating factor for every generation. Kids never want to stand out as the snitch, even though it's the right thing to do.

His victims were only teenagers: Alleen Rowe, Gretchen and Wendy Fritz. They are much more important to remember as they never had a chance to live out their lives.

Schmid was subsequently convicted of the murder of the three young women and was incarcerated up until his death by fellow inmates in the 1970s. He was apparently stabbed more than forty times and it took him twenty days to die.

Smooth Talk

Smooth Talk, Image Source

As I mentioned earlier, I read this years ago, and for some reason forgot about it until I started reading it last night. I also now recall the film adaptation, Smooth Talk, starring Treat Williams and Laura Dern. I don't remember everything but I do know that it was sufficiently disturbing, and I most especially remember Laura Dern perfectly representing Connie's contradictory sultry side and innocence. Treat Williams was oddly charming but frightening. Unfortunately, that's all I can say about the film since it's been probably more than fifteen years since I watched it. I'll need to rent that one soon.

About the Author

With over fifty novels to her name, Joyce Carol Oates is an American writer and winner of the National Book Award for Them (1969), and nominated for the Pulitzer prize for three novels: Black Water (1992), What I Lived For (1994), and Blonde (2000). She has been a Professor at Princeton University since 1978.

Click here to visit the author on her website.

My final review for the RIP Challenge. You can read more reviews from participants by clicking here.

The 1998 film What Dreams May Come starring Robin Williams, Annabella Sciorra, and Cuba Gooding, Jr. was one I enjoyed, but it was the cinematography that I loved the most. The images were so beautiful that it has become a film I've watched more than once. When I learned it was based on a book originally released in 1977, I figured I would download it. After I did more research, it was interesting to find the author was previously a horror writer and, at the time, was trying to separate himself from the genre.

In the book, Robert has a visitor at his door, who delivers a large envelope. In this, Robert finds a manuscript written by his brother Chris. Immediately dubious at the authenticity since Chris has passed away, the woman at the door explains that she spent the last six months writing down Chris' words and after reassuring him that she understands it might be unbelievable, it is, in fact, true. She leaves quickly, never giving her name or a way to contact her.

It is Chris' journey following death that is explained, in minute detail of his initial stumbles as a spirit who didn't  understand what happened. He doesn't grasp how he can be at his own funeral, or lay down next to his weeping wife, since he believes he's not dead. When it becomes too confusing and exhausting, he eventually cries for help. It's answered by Albert, a guide who begins to educate Chris on where he now is, and what he must do in order to achieve fulfillment in this afterlife. Albert brings him to Summerland and while it's not quite the heaven one might expect as there aren't any angels or harps, it instead is a sweeping landscape of beauty and nature, where colors are at their purest, and everything emits its own natural energy vibration that is pleasing to hear. The sky has no sun, yet is bright and clear; the rushing water in the lake is cool and refreshing, yet hands and clothes remain dry. It's a peacefulness that Chris has never experienced before. And I'll admit that when a dog begins to run toward him, a dog he and his wife Ann had in their earthly lives but had to put to sleep because of illness, I got a little choked up.

Chris, though, is still tethered to earth through his wife's despair and pain at his loss. Her grief ultimately keeps him connected, and he can't move on. It's when she commits a final act that determines her own fate, that Chris must travel to the deepest realms to save her soul.

What happens after we die?
I'm sure I'm not the only one who wonders what happens after death. Although several sources were used to build the foundation of the experience of death and the afterlife in What Dreams May Come, the book doesn't claim to be anything more than a story, and it's a pretty entertaining one. Bogged down by descriptions at times, but still good.

Surprisingly, I was not all that interested in the love between Chris and Ann, even though it's important to the story and I appreciated it in the film. In the book, though, I cared more about this particular version of life after death. I was fascinated by the idea that hell was a result of people limited by their minds in the afterlife. If they could only bring themselves out of the negativity they were surrounded by, and the despair and darkness, then they also could be in Summerland. Everywhere they looked, though, they were in a land with others who were also drowning in misery, so these poor souls couldn't conceive of anything more than sadness, hatred, and pain and were mired in this existence.

I also was more curious about the image of a house of rest, almost like a hospital in Summerland in which those who died by an act of violence or a lingering illness recuperated. Only when they acknowledged that they had passed on and could accept that they were able to now live without pain, could they really begin their new life. An interesting thought that new residents of Summerland still clung to their earthly existence, even if it was wracked with pain.

It's a good story and I enjoyed several aspects of it, but I found that I did get a little overwhelmed with so many of the descriptions of the love between Chris and Ann. It's pivotal to the story, but the flashbacks to moments in their life and expressions of devotion became tedious. In one defining moment towards the end, I was shocked at how many pages it was taking to fully express their connection. So, I quickly read those sections, to get to the ones that interested me more.

The book is a nice way to spend a couple of afternoons, though, and those who are interested in this version of an afterlife, or who struggle with what might be next, might like to spend some time reading this. Ultimately, I do recommend the film instead of the book simply because the images alone are brought to life much more. In my opinion, it was a story meant more for the eyes.

The movie follows the same story to a certain extent as the book. Even though several characters were changed, I could understand why it was done. It's the stunning visual imagery that I've always enjoyed, and here are a few pictures to give you an idea.

All Images from Blu-Ray.Com

All Images from Blu-Ray.Com

All Images from Blu-Ray.Com

(This review will contain a few spoilers for those who haven't read the book or viewed the film. I will denote these sections with an asterisk *).

Oh, dear. Movies. They can never quite adapt a book to the big screen just right. They always skimp on the important stuff.

Because this was the Swedish version, and I have enjoyed their films considerably, I was confident that combined with the book's story, it was going to be a fright night beyond compare. The long and short of it, though? It was good. Not great. Not knock your socks off fantastic. Nowhere near as gory as the book. It was just... decent.

A few weeks ago, I read Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist and loved it. LOVED it. Read it in a couple days and looked over my shoulder every few minutes when I was alone and the house was quiet. When my dog and cat perked up at absolutely nothing in a corner, I was a wee bit nervous.

Here's the premise: A young girl is a vampire and lives with an older man who assists her blood diet by helping to kill people. She's about twelve-years-old (for a long time, of course) and befriends the next door neighbor, Oskar, who is always bullied. They develop the friendship that each of them sorely need and have been lacking their whole lives.

But the young girl is a vampire and she's brutal. She smells, she looks horrific when she kills, and innocent people do die when she needs to feed. No glitter and sparkle here.

To be clear, the book could occasionally approach troubling subjects in a a quieter and more thoughtful way. Bullies, feeling alone and isolated within your family, child abuse, murder, etc., etc. It didn't always deal with the vampire world, but the primary story was that Oskar's new friend led a horrible life and yet somehow she and Oksar had a lot in common.

We all know that the movie version of a book is never quite up to par, but sometimes, you just hold out hope that it will be. My hopes, however, were dashed and I was particularly upset with one aspect that only those who have read the book would know: *The older man the vampire lives with is a disgusting filthy abuser of children in the book, but in the movie, there is no mention of how horrible this person is. I struggled with accepting this difference and I do realize I should separate the two differing mediums as individual creative outlets of one story, but I was challenged in accepting this change in character. I could not look kindly upon this man, although I tried to separate it. Not to mention, this character goes through multiple scenes of gore and fright which are separate from this awful aspect that were completely horrifying, and for a film that was supposed to be classified as horror, it didn't tap into really any of these spine-tingling moments.

Oh, and the bullies? In the book, they were brutal but had a back story. In the film, they were less in brutality with no explanations so it's difficult to understand why a brother of one of the bullies shows up to deliver to Oskar what he feels is appropriate justice. It doesn't make sense. It's pretty clear in the book why he's there, but if you haven't read it, you have to create a reason for why he is there.

The film missed out on another valuable and enriching story with a boy named Tommy who also feels alone in his life, with his friends, and with family. His mother is dating a fairly annoying police officer who is investigating the crimes of horrific death that the vampire and the man she's living with are perpetrating. This storyline is significant to the conclusion, yet Tommy doesn't exist in the movie.

*And the scene when the cats attack Virginia? Oh, my goodness, the special effects were lacking.*

And here's the main thing. It's just a really, really quiet film. There's a lot of deep silence, meaningful looks at corners of a room, but the blood-curdling and truly frightening moments of the book are either wiped out in the film version, or they are included only to occasionally draw quiet reflection over...being a vampire. The true conflicts that the regular child and adult deal with are missed out on in the film It's just...quiet.

It was good, not great. Maybe I should rephrase and instead determine that, in my honest opinion, it was just all right.

For those who haven't read the book, you might like it, but don't expect a lot of stuff to happen. It's quiet. For those who have read the book, you probably won't like it.

This is my first selection for the RIP Challenge Peril of the Screen. You can read more RIP reviews from other participants by clicking here.