50 of 53 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Sensational, April 30, 2006
This review is from: The Monk (Dover Thrift Editions) (Paperback)
Almost as entertaining as reading gothic fiction is reading
the introductions. Someone is *paying* these
academics, but they act as if they've been forced to
become circus geeks, biting the heads off chickens
for booze. You wonder if they signed their real name
to the article. The editor of "The Oxford Book of
Gothic Fiction" explains that, yes, gothic has a
particular meaning with regard to art and
architecture, but Horace Walpole didn't know that, and
used it to mean creepy and medieval, and she's
horribly embarrassed to have to call it "Gothic"
fiction for the next ten pages. She also tells you
that if you have a historical interest in this
fiction, you should start from page one, but if you
want to read GOOD literature, start on page 245 (i.e., with
Edgar Allen Poe). You wonder what the publisher thought of that advice.
Even worse is the author of the preface of the Dover edition
of "The Monk" by Matthew Gregory Lewis, who says right out in
the first paragraph that this is a terrible book ("It may
be admitted at once that this erst belauded romance has
little claim to perpetuation on its own merits."), and then
spends the entire preface suggesting other gothic
novels you'd be better off reading, although he really thinks
they're all a waste of your time. He works himself up
into such a high dudgeon, you can practically feel the
spittle hitting your face.
I don't know what he's talking about. "The Monk" is
one of the most splendid books I've read in a long time. It
has everything you'd want: A crumbling Abbey with a
monastery and a convent connected by a series of
vaults and caverns that contain mouldering skeletons,
the ghost of "the bleeding nun" who appears every 5
years at the stroke of midnight, a screech owl in the
cemetary, a pregnant nun, the Spanish Inquisition, a
naked woman cavorting with a bird, highwaymen, a
sadistic Prioress, a lustful Abbot, dead babies,
hollow statues, a mob riot and lynching, sleeping
potions and spells, and cameo appearances by the
Wandering Jew and Lucifer. The plot concerns an
innocent young virgin whose mother.... oh, never mind:
you'll never keep the plot straight anyway, not to
mention which one is Don Lorenzo and which is Don
Raymond. It's the nonstop action that will hook you.
It's amazing that the plot *can* zip along, given
that, at any given moment, at least one character is
near death because of convulsions brought on by terror
or love. It makes you wonder about the economy of
midieval Spain, if 1 in 10 people was bedridden at any
given time.
Did I mention the sex scenes? They're doozies! When
the lustful Abbott is holding a vigil at the bedside
of a woman pretending to be a monk who is dying of a
centipede bite, except the centipede didn't bite her,
it bit the abbott (never mind), the woman shakes off
delirium long enough to seduce the Abbott! At least,
I think she did. The writing gets vague at points,
since Lewis can't bring himself to mention female
body parts, instead using the word "charms" as a
blanket noun in sentences like "Through a
disarrangement of the bed covers, he could witness her
charms" or "thus he could disport himself upon his
mistress's charms". I'm not sure I'll ever be able to
use the word "charm" again, much less eat "Lucky
Charms".
Perhaps this is only worth reading for its historical
importance, or perhaps it's a lot of fun: I advise skipping
the insulting prologue by a professor who clearly
wishes he was a fraction as famous as M.G. Lewis
became by writing this book at the age of 19 in ten
weeks in 1795.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
The Gothic novel continues to take shape., October 21, 2009
This review is from: The Monk (Dover Thrift Editions) (Paperback)
The lurid and the intellectual collide in "The Monk", Matthew Lewis' classic late-18th century Gothic novel that alighted a storm of controversy on its release and seems in many ways surprisingly modern today (unlike many such past controversial works, it retains some of its salaciousness today). This is one of my favourite novels, and has a lot to recommend to the 21st century reader. Spoilers for the ending follow.
It really isn't possible to fully understand "The Monk" unless you grasp the nature of the development of the early Gothic novel, and in particular the success of Ann Radcliffe's "The Mysteries of Udolpho". Radcliffe's work (considerably larger than "The Monk") was a huge hit on its release, famous for its heroine investigating the seemingly supernatural forces permeating her life, as well as hinted-at illicit relations and other skulduggery. Lewis was, like most readers, enraptured as he read it. However, he expressed extreme disappointment with "Udolpho"'s conclusion, where Radcliffe went on at length to show contrived logical explanations for everything, and to tamp down all of the previously-suggested immoralities. Radcliffe was aiming to make the novel (and the genre) more 'respectable', but Lewis thought the whole thing was a copout, and resolved to Radcliffe's story better.
The result is a story that embraces wholeheartedly all those things (and more) that Radcliffe was content to hint at: murder, incest, Satanism, and the pervasive supernatural. The story focuses on the gradual corruption of the title character, a monk named Ambrosio who is reputed to be the holiest member of a particular Spanish monastery. In particular, he becomes fascinated by a young woman named Antonia, who is perhaps the distilled essence of the virgin martyr figure. Meanwhile, other characters find themselves investigating the goings-on in a neighbouring nunnery, and ghosts and the Wandering Jew put in appearances. The chilling final pages will have readers torn between pity and satisfaction.
At the same time, one must understand that Lewis's literary goals do not run exclusively to the trashy. He uses the story to advance a number of ideas about institutions, as well as moral values. At the core of the story is a scathing critique of the ideas behind monasteries and clerical celibacy, as he argues that people who attempt to so thoroughly hide away from temptation do not have genuine virtue. We see this with Ambrosio, who quickly descends into depravity when the opportunity materializes. The nunnery likewise turns out to be ruled by a cruel and inhuman clutch of fanatics, and though the truth ultimately will out, it is only through an extraordinary outside intervention. Lewis also takes aim at ideas of female virtue, when take to extremes. Antonia is not just an innocent virgin, she is unnaturally innocent, to the point of having no survival skills. Ultimately, she dies because of this. Meanwhile, another female character has a child out of wedlock (while a nun!), and is given a happy ending, a daring decision by the standards of the times.
Very much a novel worth reading.
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