Topic #22: Read a collection of stories by a woman
Book: The Bloody Chamber, by Angela Carter
Published by Victor Gollancz Ltd (1979)
“I shall take two huge handfuls of his rustling hair as he lies half dreaming, half waking, and wind them into ropes, very softly, so he will not wake up, and, softly, with hands as gentle as rain, I shall strangle him with them.”
The pattern is simple. There is a woman and there is a man, and when they collide, the world becomes something much stranger, a dream come true, half nightmare, half fantasy. In her short-story collection, The Bloody Chamber, Angela Carter retells several classic fairy tales, some more than once, and invents a couple of her own, all of them gravitating toward an obsession: sex, and the power it has, both in concept and in action, over human beings.
The ten stories in The Bloody Chamber vary in quality from astoundingly beautiful to fairly forgettable. The eponymous “Bluebeard” retelling, “The Bloody Chamber”, is the highlight of the collection, followed by strong entries such as “Lady of the House of Love” (a variant on “Sleeping Beauty” involving vampires) and “Wolf Alice” (an original story about a feral girl slowly gaining her humanity for the first time). On the other hand, “The Snow Child” is obtuse to the point of virtual unintelligibility, and “The Werewolf” seems strangely irrelevant to the spirit of the other nine stories. Fortunately, while the weakest, these are also the two shortest stories in the collection. Carter rounds out her offering with two versions of “Beauty and the Beast,” the eerie “Erl-King” and a retelling of “Little Red Riding Hood” and “Puss-in-Boots.”
The Bloody Chamber opens with Carter’s version of “Bluebeard,” and it is in this story that her unique, dreamlike voice is most effective. For those who don’t know the story, a young woman marries a fabulously wealthy old widower, only to find that her new husband may be hiding a terrible secret that threatens to claim her life, just as it claimed the lives of his previous wives. Carter describes her unnamed protagonist’s extravagant, new home with equally extravagant prose. Everything that the woman sees combines with what it seems to be. The ruby choker she wears is a bleeding wound in her throat. A hall of mirrors is an army of identical hers, all equally her husband’s bride. Speech is often reported without quotation marks, muddling the distinction between what is said and what is seen. The tale is written in the past tense, but is sometimes written as though it is being lived through at that very moment. The topic shifts strangely from paragraph to paragraph, a certain vagueness hanging over the story like a dream where whatever the dreamer is not paying attention to is subtly shifting and changing. The effect is haunting.
The dreamlike quality that Carter establishes in the opening story continues in those that follow, becoming more or less prominent depending on the story. The cat narrator of “Puss-in-Boots,” for instance, doesn’t have much of an inclination toward metaphor, making it (ironically) feel a bit more grounded in reality than most of the others. On the other hand, “The Erl-King” takes the effect further, describing the story of a woman’s seduction and imprisonment by a strange man who lives in the woods through such tangled metaphor that it’s difficult to know precisely what happens in the story. If a less talented author had written The Bloody Chamber, I might have advised readers who prefer a story to have an easily traceable plot to skip this collection, but I hesitate to do so in this case. Truthfully, these stories are much easier to follow than they sound, the emotional content of the symbolism often supporting the general meaning of a story even when the details are vague.
Despite the craftsmanship on display in individual stories, The Bloody Chamber feels redundant as a collection. Over half of the book consists of stories about monstrous and sexually-threatening men imprisoning helpless young women, but Carter is only able to capture the full horror of this scenario in her eponymous story. By comparison to “The Bloody Chamber,” other attempts to convey this dynamic through retellings of “Beauty and the Beast” or “Little Red Riding Hood” feel half-hearted and unnecessary. The monsters of these stories are less monstrous, and their power over the lead characters is less threatening, but rather than giving these stories their own identities, this fact only makes them seem like less engaging versions of the “The Bloody Chamber.” The stories are far from identical, but they rely on the same psychosexual core with a gradually reducing effect as the collection advances
Although self-sabotaging as a collection, I still have to acknowledge the stories themselves. Even the worst story in the The Bloody Chamber is worth reading, and the best stories it has to offer are classics I’ll return to in the future, even if I never read this collection in its entirety again.