The Slow Creep of Monsters

Monsters are a part of our psychological life. In childhood we are afraid of them and as adults we turn our enemies into them (axis of evil, anyone?). Recently, Spike Jonze took on the monsters of childhood in his film Where the Wild Thing Are, based on the North American classic by Maurice Sendack. Although the monsters in the book are initially fearsome, Sendack empowers his little readers when the protagonist Max stares bravely into their yellow eyes, conquers them and becomes the king of the Wild Things.

During the last decade or so, our perception of monsters has gradually shifted. Instead of being something to fear or kill, they are also, in some cases, something we covet, that we want to become. The Twilight Series is a good example of this (though it’s preceded by the Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles, Angel from Buffy and others). Vampires, which are traditionally regarded as disgusting, rotting, flesh-eating villains, are now the dream date of young girls world wide. Instead of seeing them as monsters, cloaked in the bodies of beautiful boys and girls, we see them as not so bad; just a little bit misunderstood.

In a recent book published by Oxford University Press, Stephen Asma examines our history with monsters, chronicling the encounters that have happened across recorded history and delving into their psychology – why we create them and what purpose they serve:

Monsters embody our deepest anxieties and vulnerabilities, Asma argues, but they also symbolize the mysterious and incoherent territory just beyond the safe enclosures of rational thought. Exploring philosophical treatises, theological tracts, newspapers, pamphlets, films, scientific notebooks, and novels, Asma unpacks traditional monster stories for the clues they offer about the inner logic of an era’s fears and fascinations. In doing so, he illuminates the many ways monsters have become repositories for those human qualities that must be repudiated, externalized, and defeated. (source)

I would love to know how the world’s love affair with Twilight fits into this psychology.

Amy Thibodeau

View posts by Amy Thibodeau
Amy Thibodeau is originally from the Canadian Prairies, spent the last few years in one of the world's greatest cities, London, UK and is spending the next year traveling around the world. She is interested in everything, but lately is mostly fixated on art, politics, creative writing, cuddly animals and experimenting with different kinds of photography. You can find her on her personal blog Making Strange, posting to her photography project Lost and Looking, on Twitter @amythibodeau, or working as a freelance content strategist via Contentini.

3 Comments

  1. I’m not sure about Asma, but I think in terms of teenagers, adolescents often feel alienated and outside of social mores, so it’s easy for them to identify with other outsider figures, which monsters most definitely qualify as. The adolecsent body and mind represent a true hothouse of terror for those in posession of them, and fantacising about a secret world where these percieved blights can be considered beautiful and unique probably makes those years far more bearable. And dangerous boys are always attractive to young girls, especially good looking bad boys.

  2. Edward = James Dean for the modern gal.

    It’s funny, I was never really into bad boys but I only need to look at my sister to know that I’m probably an anomaly in that respect.

  3. While F.W. Murnau’s “The Last Laugh” doesn’t portray an obvious monster, as does his other classic “Nosferatu”, he does present us with the fear of loss of self-worth.

    Quoting the movie’s liner notes, this is a “bleak fable of an aging doorman whose happiness crumbles when he is relieved of the duties and uniform which had for years been the foundation of his happiness and pride. The Last Laugh becomes more than the plight of a single doorman but a mournful dramatization and anguish of the universal working class.” The monster is embodied by the hotel manager / boss!

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