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Whether we admit it or not, we’re fascinated by evil. Dark fantasies, morbid curiosities, Schadenfreude: As conventional wisdom has it, these are the symptoms of our wicked side, and we succumb to them at our own peril. But we’re still compelled to look whenever we pass a grisly accident on the highway, and there’s no slaking our thirst for gory entertainments like horror movies and police procedurals. What makes these spectacles so irresistible?
In Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck, the scholar Eric G. Wilson sets out to discover the source of our attraction to the caustic, drawing on the findings of biologists, sociologists, psychologists, anthropologists, philosophers, theologians, and artists. A professor of English literature and a lifelong student of the macabre, Wilson believes there’s something nourishing in darkness. “To repress death is to lose the feeling of life,” he writes. “A closeness to death discloses our most fertile energies.”
His examples are legion, and startling in their diversity. Citing everything from elephant graveyards and Susan Sontag’s On Photography to the Tiger Woods sex scandal and Steel Magnolias, Wilson finds heartening truths wherever he confronts death. In Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck, the perverse is never far from the sublime. The result is a powerful and delightfully provocative defense of what it means to be human—for better and for worse.
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Wilson, a professor of English literature and author of Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy (2008), certainly has an unusual way of looking at things. Admitting his own fascination for the macabre and the tragic, he asks why we, as a society, are drawn to things that you’d think should repel us. Why do we have morbid curiosity, and what does that say about us? Exploring the question through consideration of a variety of phenomena—our fascination with the 9/11 footage of the towers coming down, our enjoyment of other people’s failures, our fondness for Hollywood tearjerkers and horror flicks, the popularity of serial killers, real and fictional—he develops the theme that we need this element of ourselves, that it’s essential to us. In essence, he argues that we need darkness in order to understand light. Not, perhaps, a blindingly original theme, but Wilson explores it with zeal and a great deal of wit. It’s hard, as one reads this fascinating book, not to see quite a bit of ourselves. --David Pitt
Review
“Eric G. Wilson’s smart, probing new book . . . sets out to explain what lies beneath our collective fascination with death and suffering . . . Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck isn’t some holier-than-thou polemic out to cure us of our dark leanings . . . Instead, it simply aims to help readers gain ‘a fulfilling response to two of life’s greatest, most pressing and persistent questions. What is the meaning of suffering? What is the significance of death? . . . The book’s slim, peripatetic chapters cover an awful lot of erudite territory, as Wilson draws ideas and research from a delightful grab bag of academics, artists and thinkers. Aristotle, Freud, Kant, Goya and Hardy all make appearances, alongside an assortment of sociopaths and serial murderers.” —John Wilwol, NPR.org
“Wilson is provocative, entertaining and above all honest.” —Chris Tucker, The Dallas Morning News
“A leisurely, light-footed overview of our cultural obsession with doom, gloom, and gore.” —Josh Rothman, The Boston Globe
“Compelling . . . Wilson keeps hearing a voice within that tells him to ‘look.’ He follows this instinct, energized by the idea that his thoughtful connoisseurship of the world’s darkness is good--noble, even. Wilson draws on philosophers, poets, psychologists, filmmakers and more to build a case that ‘an eager, open-minded interest in the macabre’ provides ‘a special invitation to think about life’s meanings’ . . . Wilson’s guidance is personal, engaging, and convincing . . . The book offers heaps of terribly tantalizing topics.” —Chris Jozefowicz, Rue Morgue
“Mixing anecdotes, arguments and his own quirky persona, the author of Against Happiness delivers a provocative meditation on morbid curiosity and the pleasure of seeing others suffer.” —The Times-Picayune (New Orleans)
“Wilson explores [his theme] with zeal and a great deal of wit. It’s hard, as one reads this fascinating book, not to see quite a bit of ourselves.” —David Pitt, Booklist
“[Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck] reassures: enjoying grotesque, horrible, frightening images is a natural impulse. From fairy tales to crime dramas, they hit us where we are most human.” —Kate Tuttle, The Boston Globe
“Ruminations of an exceptionally intelligent academic on why people—himself among the guilty parties—seem to search out and enjoy instances of human pain and suffering . . . [Wilson] does a thorough job of examining the people who can’t look away.” —Nona Nelson, The Roanoke Times
“[Wilson is] fluent and comfortable, whether he is poking for clues in the bewildering complexity of Edmund Burke’s sublime, as experienced in the stomach-dropping irresistibilty of, say, a tornado; the Jungian shadow, that archive of everything we hate about ourselves, those destructive crazes and unadmitted tendencies without recognition of which we would not be whole; or the simple, malicious pleasure of another’s misfortunes.” —Peter Lewis, The Barnes & Noble Review
“Invoking everything from horror movies and television news footage of the Sept. 11 attacks to Dante’s tormented verse and Goya’s paintings of cannibals, Wilson makes a strong case that humans are natural-born rubberneckers . . . A hybrid of memoir, journalim and theory, [Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck] investigates what this impulse tells us about ourselves and how it might inspire constructive reactions like compassion . . . Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck necessarily deals with a host of grim subjects, yet there are also instances of unqualified beauty.” —Kevin Canfield, Star-Tribune (Minneapolis)
“In the teeming ranks of the American Professoriat, you could argue that Eric G. Wilson is among those most palpably needed by the world at large . . . Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck is a personal book that touches on ‘death tourism,’ Hannibal Lecter, Maurice Sendak, Tipper Gore, Francisco Goya, serial killers (a handwritten note by Jeffrey Dahmer can fetch $1,700, he cheerfully informs us), Tiger Woods sex scandals, and Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, all embedded in an Alexandrian library of literary allusions that can be encompassed in less than 200 pages.” —Jeff Simon, Buffalo News
Eric G. Wilson is the Thomas H. Pritchard Professor of English at Wake Forest University, where he teaches British and American Romanticism, film and literature, and creative nonfiction. Wilson has recently turned his academic training into a major new trade title, EVERYONE LOVES A GOOD TRAIN WRECK: WHY WE CAN'T LOOK AWAY (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2012), a mixture of memoir, journalism, scholarship, and cultural analysis that explores the origins, functions, and values of morbid curiosity. The book was recommended as one of the top books of the spring of 2012 by Oprah magazine, Details magazine, and Amazon.com; and it was positively reviewed in several publications, including NPR.com, The Atlanta Journal Constitution, The Minneapolis Star Tribune, The Dallas Morning News, the New Orleans Times Picayune, The Buffalo News, Booklist, Books and Culture, and Rue Morgue. Excerpts or adaptations have been published in Salon, The Christian Century, and Psychology Today, and the book has been featured in several radio venues. Wilson also achieved success with a 2008 scholarly-trade title, called AGAINST HAPPINESS: IN PRAISE OF MELANCHOLY (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux). The book, an L.A. Times best seller, was featured on NBC's Today Show, UNC TV's Bookwatch, NPR's All Things Considered and Talk of the Nation, as well as in Newsweek, the Chicago Tribune, the L.A. Times, and the New York Times. Against Happiness was also favorably reviewed in The Wall Street Journal, Booklist, Bookforum, the Globe and Mail, the Minneapolis Star Tribune, Playboy.com, Publisher's Weekly, the Raleigh News and Observer, the Christian Century, The Missouri Review, and the European Romantic Review. Excerpts have appeared in The Longman Reader, The Chronicle of Higher Education, and the L.A. Times, and the book has been translated into French, German, Italian, Spanish, Dutch, Croatian, Korean, Chinese, and Portuguese. Wilson has also published a memoir, THE MERCY OF ETERNITY: A MEMOIR OF DEPRESSION AND GRACE (Northwestern University Press). His creative nonfiction has appeared in The Virginia Quarterly Review, the Georgia Review, and r.kv.r.y. Wilson continues to produce more traditionally scholarly works, such as his recent MY BUSINESS IS TO CREATE: BLAKE'S INFINITE WRITING (University of Iowa Press). His other academic books include THE STRANGE WORLD OF DAVID LYNCH (Continuum, 2007); SECRET CINEMA: GNOSTIC VISION IN FILM (Continuum, 2006); THE MELANCHOLY ANDROID: ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SACRED MACHINES (State University of New York Press, 2006); COLERIDGE'S MELANCHOLIA (University Press of Florida, 2004); THE SPIRITUAL HISTORY OF ICE (Palgrave Macmillan); ROMANTIC TURBULENCE (Palgrave Macmillan, 2000); and EMERSON'S SUBLIME SCIENCE (Palgrave Macmillan, 1999). These studies, along with his numerous articles on cinematic and literary subjects, have garnered Wilson several awards, including a fellowship at the National Humanities Center in Research Triangle Park, N.C. and the university-wide prize for excellence in research at Wake Forest University. Wilson is currently at work on two scholarly-trade titles: Keep It Fake: The Art of Being a Real Phony (under contract with Farrar, Straus, and Giroux) and How to Make a Soul: The Wisdom of John Keats.
After reading and enjoying Eric G. Wilson's Against Happiness, I was pleased to see his latest offering, Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck. With much of the same scrutiny and informed insight, Wilson lifts the veil and illuminates the darker forces that shadow the human condition. What we often assume to be abnormal, taboo, or insensitive in our attractions or curiosities, Wilson claims instead to be affirming. Clearly it's a tough argument. But the book covers a great deal of territory - from cinema and the news media to 'celebrity' criminals to horrific public spectacles - to posit a convincing, if not a sometimes unsettling, argument. What I appreciate the most are the various angles he uses to support his ideas, borrowing from psychology, mythology, literature, etc. All in all, its a great read, deeply insightful, exhaustive in its coverage, and highly persuasive. I highly recommend the book.
And, now meet your guide: author Eric G. Wilson, whose book _Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck_ takes us on an illuminating voyage deep into our dark side. He explores the innate morbid curiosity found within all of us (yes, all of us!), and shows how our dark side might not be so dark after all. His book supports his core belief that: "the morbid offers illuminations brighter than the sun...Darker emotional states--doubt, confusion, alienation, despair--inspire a deeper and more durable experience of the sacred than contentment does." (p. 163)
Each of the 50 bite-sized, yet content-rich, chapters delve into an aspect of morbid curiosity, which Eric defines as "an eager, open-minded interest in the macabre--disease or destruction or death--as a special invitation to think about life's meanings...a spiritual yearning, a hunger to penetrate the most profound mysteries of existence." (pp. 126, 186)
Our morbid curiosity is what brings us to the dark side. Gory horror films, the literary genre of tragedy, the misfortunes of others, flirtations with death, the increasingly popular dark tourism industry, our fascinations with serial killers--we just can't seem to get enough. Eric unearths the factors fueling this fascination with the macabre, including: it allows us to better empathize with the pain of others; it helps us build morale; it inspires ecstasy; it helps us become psychologically whole and integrate our psyche's destructive powers into our bright reason; it reminds us of our imperfections and cuts through the delusions of what's real vs. unattainable (i.e.... a world that needs to be perpetually happy and bursting with butterflies and happy faces); it serves as a catalyst for purgation and catharsis for aggression; it allows for the incorporation of the shadow; it offers us a sense of community; it helps us find meaning in suffering and contemplate life's mysteries of love and death; and ultimately, it opens us to truth, good, and the beautiful.
He also extends his exploration of the dark side to fathom his own personal struggle with bipolar disorder and the unexpected wisdom of depression: "Stripped of its dark powers, the disorder has emerged as more than an affliction. I can see it now as an indispensable energy in the shaping of my identity...my productive sensibilities, my love of contemplation, my honesty about life's troubles, my willingness to endure confusion and discover solutions...The morbidity of sorrow--not cultivated sorrow, but that which comes inevitably--is often a productive sluggishness, a time when the soul slows down, too weary to go on, and takes stock of where it's been and where it's going. During these gloomy pauses, we often discover parts of ourselves we never knew we possessed, talents that, properly activated, enrich our lives." (pp. 170, 172)
So, lead your morbid curiosity this way to discover the light underlying the darkness. But, be prepared, once you start reading, it'll be hard to look away.Read more ›
I found the title enticing and a glimpse of a few pages piqued my interest. Not surprising since the book explores the nature of our morbid curiosities, I found myself increasingly curious about what lurid subject lurked on the next few pages, and continued reading to find out. By the end I really enjoyed the book's structure and quick pacing of anecdotes, memoir, allusions and speculation. I especially found Wilson's comments on the tantalizing nature of celebrity culture insightful and well thought out. This book definitely takes you off the beaten path for a provocative and entertaining read.
I liked reading it and found it interesting. Each chapter had a tale to tell about and that is what seemed to make the book and easy read. Not all of the stories were as exciting, but I did enjoy it. My favorite section was on Joe Coleman and some of the information about him.
Eric Wilson's Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck is a book of exceptional - even surprising - depth and importance. My only (small) criticism lies with the book's title, which belies its nuance. Coupled with Wilson's penchant for staccato-short sentences packed within bite-sized chapters, one might be led to assume that Train Wreck is a book that sensationalizes what we all know to be humanity's tendency to gravitate toward the morbid; an opportunistic reworking of the mass media's decades-long addiction to hyped-up, dumbed-down, violence-based "news" (ideally filmed), set to the score of Glenn Frey's 1982 hit, Dirty Laundry. Nothing could be further from the truth. Wilson's book may be an easy read, but it is not a simple one, at least for the thoughtful reader.
Wilson's approach is exhaustive, with the proviso that, when the subject is death, the possibilities for exploration are endless. It is also intensely personal, honest and creative. He is a writer of impressive insight, yet that thoughtfulness comes coupled with an almost endearing willingness to question his own motives (seen in his interaction with Joyce Carol Oates, particularly), the accuracy and completeness of his thesis: That there is something far more meaningful and vital than is implied by an attraction to mortality and death that is commonly viewed as being inherent, thoughtless, or the sign of a defective character (despite the irony that these tendencies reside in so many of us). These self-doubting detours, however, do not weaken Wilson's argument; they only serve to make it broader, more comprehensive....
If there is one central thought that kept occurring to me as I read Train Wreck, it is this: What a wonderful wellspring of conversation this book could be, were companions on hand, willing and able to delve deeply into the myriad tunnels in which such a conversation would inevitably lead. In fewer than 200 pages, Wilson takes the reader on journeys that, in retrospect, are astonishingly diverse. Yet they are largely products of his own interests, reflections of his personal journey, moored to his particular areas of expertise (English professor, father, spouse...). What the book evokes in the reader, however, are a constant stream of complementary thoughts and remembrances, jarred loose from their sometimes well-protected hiding places by Wilson's rhetoric. Here are a few of my own:
This past winter, I was fortunate enough to spend a week in Paris with my fiancée. As is my tendency when traveling any distance, I immediately began sifting through guidebooks in an effort to identify the one that best matched our (at least my) approach to travel. One evening while reading, I came across a sidebar reference to one Franz "The Birdman" Reichelt, a character linked with Paris' rich past, but of whom I had hitherto been ignorant. It seems Mr. Reichelt had, in 1912, jumped from the Eiffel Tower in a dramatic and - as it turned out - horribly misguided attempt to fly, wearing a winged, flying squirrel-esque suit. We would be in Paris on the 100th anniversary of his death. What I found truly fascinating and disturbing about Reichelt's story was that his plummet was filmed; two cameras recorded the event, one on the platform where he stood for nearly a minute, clearly gathering the nerve to jump, the other on the ground below, where a vast crowd had gathered to watch.
I watched the video numerous times, sent it along to friends. To state the obvious, it captured a man's death, which thankfully is not something I see every day. The fact that the film was a century old distanced me from the reality of what happened, on one level, but also gave this singular event an anchored, chronological permanence that might have been lost had I experienced it as part of the non-stop swirl of daily news that inundates us today. Paris, this most beautiful of cities, of Light, of Love, of Art. But also one of the world's great stages for public death; Reichelt's offering was but one small scene in a two millennia long performance of executions and other forms of institutionalized murder or acts of suicide that the city's inhabitants (and, I guess, me) have embraced as one of their most enduring forms of public entertainment. How fascinating and weird is that?
Poet and farmer Wendell Berry in A Man Walking and Singing, addresses death (and life) in, to me, the most poignant and meaningful of ways. Berry writes:
Who is it? speaking to me of death's beauty.
I think it is my own black angel, as near me as my flesh. I am never divided from his darkness, his face the black mask of my face. My eyes live in his black eye-holes. On his black wings I rise to sing.
...
But the man so forcefully walking, say where he goes, say what he hears and what he sees and what he knows to cause him to stride so merrily.
...
To his death? Yes.
He walks and sings to his death.
And winter will equal spring.
And for the lovers, even while they kiss, even though it is spring, the day ends.
But to the sound of his passing he sings. It is a kind of triumph that he grieves - thinking of the white lilacs in bloom, profuse, fragrant, white in excess of all seasonal need,
and of the mockingbird's crooked arrogant notes, hooking him to the sky as though no flight or dying could equal him at his momentary song.
Finally, interviewed by Vanity Fair in 2005, reclusive writer Cormac McCarthy said the following:
"Most people don't ever see anyone die. It used to be if you grew up in a family you saw everybody die. They died in their bed at home with everyone gathered around. Death is the major issue in the world. For you, for me, for all of us. It just is. To not be able to talk about it is very odd."
McCarthy went on to state that it simply was not possible to take seriously a writer who did not address death. Wilson has nothing to fear on that account.Read more ›
