Henry Farrell
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
So I finally stumbled upon the novel that inspired Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? I’d been looking for it when I was doing my MA, and behold! They have now re-released it.
Written by Henry Farrell, the movie follows the book without deviation. In fact, I was a little disappointed that there wasn’t more in the book than they were able to put in the movie. Normally I’m all about the book version. Was it over-excitement? I’d waited five years to stumble upon a copy of the book after the movie made me swoon and go ka-thump in my heart for dear old Jane the creepy ex-child star.
I enjoyed that the publishers put a few of Farrell’s short stories at the end of the book, including the short story that Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte was based on.
It’s been a couple months since I read this book, and unfortunately, it never gave me dreams in the middle of the night and hasn’t popped up in my subconscious with a niggling little memory. So I’m setting it aside for now with my other cult fictions to see how it holds up. Has it been forever eclipsed by the movie version? A cult fiction takes its test when you go back to read it later, so although it didn’t give me that thrill in the pit of my stomach that told me I was going to be reading it again, I think I will. Just to see. Will you stand up to time, Mr. Farrell?
Robert Bloch
Psycho
A RANDOM ASIDE: Bloch is also author of a random episode of Thriller that was on last night. About Jack the Ripper and the possibility of the ritual killings keeping him alive and unaging for decades at a time. The end of the episode seemed… kind of rushed. And I was a little offended by the treatment of the “bohemian” personality. But at the same time, I loved that those artists had a place they could go to be creative where at least other artists wouldn’t make fun of them (although the police certainly didn’t watch their tongues).
~So I also read Psycho recently. The thing is, I have never seen the movie. But I had this immense feeling of deja vu the entire time I was reading the book. The story is such a part of our culture that even if you have never seen the core classics, you won’t escape them.
Reading Pyscho was possibly a little more interesting, textually, than Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, or it could be that I had not seen the movie, and so was not over-anticipating everything. In fact, I had a little faux pas. In my head, I had put the shower scene from The Shining into Psycho, and so while I was reading, I was anticipating Here’s Johnny! And the whole time I was like, Who thought that creepy old Jack Nicholson was a dead ringer for Norman Bates????
Quite possibly, the suspense was just up one notch from Baby Jane, at this point.
Re-readable? Sure. But I almost feel that, knowing more about Edward Gein’s real history, there is more to the story than we were getting. It’s probably the thing that I love to hate about Phantom of the Opera. It’s a mystery. The detective sets out to solve a crime. We follow clues. It becomes a little underwhelming because if you’re following clues, you’re in the land of science, and so you are not in the speculative land of an actual thriller.
William March
The Bad Seed
The only thing I knew about The Bad Seed going into the book was that the child was a naughty-pants.
Thanks to the fact that this story and its movie have not crept into our subconscious minds the way the other two stories have, I actually enjoyed the reading experience more on a suspenseful level. Like the other two, there was a technique employed that you’re going to have every writing teacher of the modern era screaming and pulling at their hair, but when you’re creating drama, it’s actually a useful technique: omniscient narrators capable of seeing into the heads of multiple people and telling you where they stand. That has become a taboo in writing classes nowadays, a taboo that always made me go hmmm, simply because you pull out a lot of classic books that have stood the test of time, and you’re going to find omniscient narrators every which way. Including up.
March also chose to pull out 70s psychobabble of the type that had been so du jour. Although some reviewers panned his idea of the inheritable genetics of personality traits, the thing is that March picked his stance, for the story, and he stuck with it. So go with it. Don’t try to debunk his “science” because the thing is that it’s a story.
There were enough twists that I was properly impressed, not having expected anything much to come of the mother, Christine, who was a self-described wet blanket type. She knew she wasn’t up to the task in front of her.
I was suitably impressed by March’s portrayal of Rhoda, the darling little girl who was born of a bad seed. Nicely played! I have often been intrigued with the cute character being naughty, like in the anime Dai Mahou Touge (Magical Witch Punie-Chan). I didn’t have a lot of hope for this eight-year-old to actually be evil and be able to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. But she had a few lovely creepy techniques of cute to slay anyone.
The psychobabble could have been overwhelming, but I love the historical aspects March brought in to Christine’s search for an answer later on.
On first reading, I knew we were going to end up with at least one victim, and the nice thing was, I was completely wrong about who I suspected was going to get it.
Re-readability? Highest of the three.
night,
dawn
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