I read Human Remains by Clive Barker so long ago I’d
forgotten everything about the story except that the protagonist was gay and a prostitute.
This was so not the sort of story my family would have approved of me reading,
and I remember it being in one of the many books that I secretly removed the
cover and then replaced it with a cover from The Baby Sitters Club (not like I
was reading those anyway). I did this with so many of my favorite books and
read them so often that my grandparents got me a monthly subscription, and I
had tons of Baby Sitter’s books lining the front of the bookshelves that…I
never bothered to so much as crack open.
Unless I was doing a book cover vivisection, of course.
To me, Human Remains was written in a much cleaner and
intimate way than the other two Barker selections we read this term. It wasn’t
nearly as raw and dirty as the other two, but still has a very free and lyrical
quality to it. Just like in the last two, Barker head hops a bit, but I am sure
most readers would find this a good deal less jarring than it was in Rawhead—it
was accomplished much more smoothly.
Unlike the other two selections, and despite the main
character of Human Remains being a bit preoccupied with beauty and ageing, I
found him to be really sympathetic and likable. I really think he finds so much
about himself as failed and unaccomplished, and he clings to the one thing he
has as long as he has it—his looks. I can relate to that in a lot of ways, the
feelings of inadequacy and having a very limited skill set of any value (not to
mention a serious ticking clock on how long I’ll be able to make use of it).
The “monster” itself I found incredibly adorable. I know
that probably wasn’t the intention, and rather the author was probably just
going for sympathetic, but I really felt for the thing. All it wanted was to
live, and really, anything that can take so much glee in the ability to yawn
and pass gas comes across as very childlike and…adorable. I found myself sort
of rooting for it, hoping it would achieve real life outside of simple
imitation. If this was contingent on Gavin losing his life, I would have been
more conflicted.
I don’t think it was made very clear (at least not to me)
that only one or the other could live. At times it seemed like the monster was
sapping the spirit and very life essence from Gavin, and other times it just
seemed the creature was forming independently. Still, I could see where the “horror”
in the story presents itself. It’s sort of a “Single White Female” issue, the
idea of something becoming you, and maybe even a better version of you. In the
end, Gavin’s monster at least seemed more human than he himself could ever be.
3 comments:
The doppelganger was sympathetic, and I was drawn in the story, but I must admit I tired a little from another sex-related story. I too liked the monster's infatuation with flatulation.
I love your description of Barker's writing as free and lyrical. He does have an engaging writing style that makes for ease of reading.
I agree that I felt myself rooting for the monster of the story. I was glad he achieved the "soul" in the end. I also agree that Barker writes amazing prose.
As for Gavin, I didn't care about him and I felt there was just not a lot going on. He was a pretty flat as a character. Gavin might have undergone a change in the end, but overall I felt no connection or sympathy. In fact, I didn't like him or hate him. I felt nothing which I found interesting since I thought one of the story's themes could have been that the ability to sympathize is one of the things that makes us human.
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