When I’ve talked in the past about crime fiction or films to university students, I’ve learned that it’s sometimes a mistake to expect that they will have heard of names which are bread-and-butter to me, so I now tell them who some famous names were. But that cautious filling-in could lead me into a risky area: talking down to my audience. And it’s something I’ve learned to avoid. Case in point? The literary lunch I did at Scarborough a couple of years ago, built around my books British Crime Film and The Rough Guide to Crime Fiction. As the wine flowed, I quickly realised that the diners present – a very lively crowd – knew exactly who and what I was talking about most of the time, which in fact made the whole thing much more fun — like a conversation over dinner with friends, in fact. But can I assume a similar knowledge of the field at this year’s lunch in April, which centres on my new book British Gothic Cinema? Whatever most people think of horror films, they’ve usually seen one or two — and are certainly familiar with the great (and menacing) stars of the genre, from Boris Karloff to Christopher Lee, and from Vincent Price to Peter Cushing. So I’m hoping that I can keep these giants at the centre of my chat (while not forgetting current things in the field of blood-chilling). But should I try to avoid too much gruesome content as people are tucking into their beef Wellington?
Whether or not I avoid grisly detail, I might use a tactic that’s standard for me in the crime field: personal anecdotes from actors and directors I’ve met; I have not quite so many personal stories in the horror genre (certainly fewer than in the crime field), but I’ve still acquired a few choice ones.
I have one luxury this time: I can breathe more easily now that the book is well on its way. Most writers would tell you that they are nervous for those first few reviews, but the first two that have appeared for British Gothic Cinema were upbeat. The Times described it as ‘a celebration of the U.K.’s horror film industry… Forshaw traces the genre from the 40s through such films as Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Witchfinder General, 28 days Later and Kill List. Vampires, werewolves and spectres abound. And of course there’s the rise of the Hammer Studios from the coffin of obscurity’; the strapline read: ‘Ketchup with your popcorn; Roger Lewis applauds a red-blooded history of British horror film’.
The Express said:
‘As usual the British are being very bad at honouring their truly great men, so hats off to Barry Forshaw, who in British Gothic Cinema describes what we are in fact best at, which isn’t men riding camels against desert sunsets… but circuses of horror, houses that dripped blood, and beasts in cellars. The scary moments still carry a charge in the 21st century,’ we are assured. The secret of the box office success was sex. If ever a frigid Victorian bluestocking found herself in a cardboard Carpathian castle, in no time at all she’d become ‘a sexually voracious monster usually played by Ingrid Pitt. Generous displays of female cleavage were essential, as were topless serving wenches and interpolations of sadomasochism. This being the era of cheap package holidays, the films are almost warnings about why the British oughtn’t to travel abroad as they’ll only meet a sinister, possibly enjoyable, fate.
‘As the chief characteristic of Gothic cinema is the eroticism, the melding of kissing and biting — ultimately the proximity of love and death — Forshaw traces the roots of the genre back to 19th century poems and novels with their fondness for graveyards, gibbets, torture chambers and women in white lost in storms.’
I’ve just got to make sure that I can spread a little of the goodwill of those reviews among those I meet at the Scarborough lit lunch – and keep the bloodshed down to modest levels…
Barry’s British Gothic lunch is on 26 April:
http://www.booksbythebeach.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/Books_By_The-Beach_Brochure_FINAL.pdf
