One of these was Thomas Harris’s The Silence of the Lambs (1988). After the film adaptation scooped five Oscars in 1991, the deviant genius became the villain of choice for gothic films and novels. For a time, the violent merging of the crime thriller with the “body horror” of 1980s cinema ensured that the genre was dominated by such characters. Usually (though not always) men with high IQs, elevated artistic taste and ingenious ways of torturing and killing their fellow human beings, Hannibal Lecter and his ilk became modern icons.
In the wake of such influences, crime novels (and films) got bloodier and horror novels grew longer. John Connolly’s first novel, EveryDeadThing (1999), for example, spent 470 pages documenting the murderous activities of a serial killer who mutilated his victims in the style of Renaissance anatomical drawings.
In recent years however, there has been a reaction against these excesses. So-called “quiet horror” has become increasingly popular on both sides of the Atlantic. Perhaps taking its name from a 1965 collection of short stories by Stanley Ellin, which was literally called “quiet horror”, this is a genre that prizes suspense and subtlety over graphic bodily violence.
The novelist Selena Chambers characterises quiet horror as exploring “the unexplained, the suppressed, the supernal [otherworldly], the material, the cosmic, and the secular … everything we cannot see, or verbalise and fail to feel concretely”. As she implies, suggestion is crucial.
Readers need to be patient and imaginative, sensitive to the nuances and implications of language and willing to respond to spooky ambiguities rather than being startled by jump scares or “gross out” imagery.
Slasher movies usually treat their characters as no more than fodder for the next brutal killing. Quiet horror, by contrast, takes character development far more seriously and imbues its stories with greater psychological depth. This in turn can enhance readers’ involvement. Put simply, those who dislike “splatter fiction” are more likely to care what happens to a well-rounded, sympathetic character than a stereotypical US teenager about to be put under a steam hammer.
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For the full article by Dr Nick Freeman visit the Conversation.