Replacements: genre study

Fear of loneliness, fear of the unknown, fear of darkness, fear of nature. These are a few of the themes found in good examples of Gothic fiction. Bring it all together, give it a pinch of thought, and let it simmer for a while. What you have to feast on is a giant, bubbly, piping-hot bowl full of death. Yes, that is a very extreme and blunt way of putting it. But can't you see it? I can--in one way or another the one thread connecting these stories (indeed, all horror/goth stories) is the mystery of death. Some stories we read focused on what appeared to be a somewhat dreamy and inquisitive look into death, such as Shirley Jackson's "The Lovely House" and the Twin Peaks episodes. However, even though they were at times whimsical in dealing with death and the dark unknown, there was still an ominous atmosphere.
My theory can be split up in a number of different ways when referencing the Gothic genre. Closest to the fear of dying is the fear of loneliness, which was explored in Lovecraft's "The Outsider", as well as in Gilman's "The Yellow Wallpaper" and Anderson's "Death in the Woods". And in "The Icebound Hothouse", our main character is overwhelmed with the desire to be inside that hothouse. For whatever reason he carries on about, it boils down to a matter of his desire to escape from the cold, to enter where it is warm and alive. And once he is there among the flowers, the porcelain husk of a beautiful woman (once warm and alive, but now dead-cold-alone) crashes down, destroying his warmth and once again bringing the cold and snow into his life. And of course we all remember where the story goes from there. Not very pretty. Or alive. Being lonely and feeling abandoned could quite possibly be what death is like.
Poe's "The Black Cat", which I will get to again later, depicts how one man handles death. Does his urge to hurt the cat indicate that he is curious about death? Or perhaps life is what he wants to learn about. Or he could also be a heartbroken and psychotic drunk. I believe his alcohol-eroded mental stability brings him to somehow investigate death and pain. In a strangely opposite perspective, I see the main character in Oates's "The Temple" as feeling a caring love and tenderness towards the dead. She feels the bones she discovers must be respected. And, in the end, it is the lifeless bones that cure her loneliness. Interesting...the lonely bones and the lonely woman brought together show how in a way death has brought them solace.
Which leads me to Tuttle's "Replacements". When this semester began, I had no idea where my eager imagination and desire for learning would take me. The last thing I expected, however, was to find myself wrapping up my Gothic Lit class by talking about the importance marital strife had in relation to it. Beginning with King's "Children of the Corn" and continuing with Carver's "Little Things", Gilman's "The Yellow Wallpaper", Cheever's "The Enormous Radio", Bradbury's "The Veldt" (erosion of the family more than of a marriage with that one), and finally Tuttle's "Replacements", the simple drama of a couple fighting and falling out of love has become a central theme in many of the gothic stories we have read. And what happens when a couple separates? Two more very hurt and lonely people begin to wander the planet, shaking off whatever kind of wreckage has stuck to their skin and clothes. Which again connects to how close loneliness must feel to death. And unfortunately, as the darkness of solitude relates to death, so does the darkness and intimidating density of a mysterious forest relate to being lost and alone. Emotionally, anyway.
These thoughts leave me to wonder if our true fear isn't death or the darkness, but the possible (eventual?) natural erosion of love. That is the essence of being deserted and left in the shadows. I wonder if it is right to think that in the end we all die alone?

I have been staring at this screen for what seems like hours. I honestly can not think of anything else to add. I end my blog entry with that question.