Dissecting Hannibal Lecter, edited by Benjamin Szumskyj, is an erudite collection of scholarly essays, largely penned by academics and predominantly concerned with the moral status of American author Thomas Harris’ two most enduring characters, Dr Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling, and their place in the gothic tradition. The book differs slightly from the usual biographies of famous literary/cinematic characters in that the editor chooses to focus entirely on the written narrative, probably a wise choice as there is already a pantheon of literature focusing on the films.
There are only five books in the entire literary oeuvre of Thomas Harris, and four of these are centred upon Dr Hannibal Lecter, one of the iconic figures of contemporary horror fiction. Via the various narratives in Szumskyj’s collection, we can trace Dr Lecter’s journey across the subsequent four novels from distant inhuman monster to flawed and redeemable human being. The way in which Harris achieves this transition, or "transmutation" as Charles Gramlich refers to it in his Afterword, is the subject of heated debate throughout the text. Some writers, such as Robert H. Waugh and S. T. Joshi, dismiss Lecter’s transubstantiation as a cheap literary trope, while others, including Philip L. Simpson, Ali S. Karim, and the editor himself, come down strongly in favour of the author and his characters.
Perhaps one of the great strengths of Harris’ Lecter tetralogy is that it evokes the eternal debate about the nature of good and evil. The strength of his writing is that it forces us as readers to question our own belief systems when we consider the moral stance eventually adopted by Hannibal Lecter and his would-be protégé, Clarice Starling.
Lecter himself is an enigma in that he manages to flutter adroitly between the binaries of good and evil. As Peter Messant suggests in his chapter "Liminality and the Gothic", within the scope of the novels, Lecter bridges the gap between monstrous and civilized, nature and culture, the raw and the cooked (quite often, literally, in the latter instance). Lecter is, by turns, sophisticated, charming, and erudite, as well as murderously violent and barbaric, a real Jeckyll and Hyde figure as several of the essayists attest.
Looking at some of the essays contained in this collection, it is possible to surmise that many readers are drawn to Lecter because he is what might be termed a thinking person’s serial killer. While he still commits acts of terrible barbarity and ferocity, he nevertheless does them with a certain panache, style, and grace. On at least one occasion, his kill is posited as a deliberate re-enactment of a historical event. In his essay, "Hannibal at the Lectern", a play on words alluding to the intellectual status of the subject in itself, John Goodrich likens Lecter to a series of other "… intelligent, even demonic, genius serial killers." (p.37)
This is an important element in the characterisation of Lecter. If he were a mere enraged butcher with no forethought to his murderous actions, it is unlikely he would hold the interest of the learned reader for very long. As it stands, Lecter’s former role as a psychiatrist affords him an innate understanding of the type of people who commit murder, as well as those who hunt them, and it allows him to assume a god-like position between the two and play cat and mouse with them. Most significantly, as Goodrich explores in depth in his piece, in The Silence of the Lambs, it allows Lecter to begin his slowly played out seduction of Clarice Starling. The effect is two-fold, as Lecter seduces Starling by the force of his intellect, so Harris seduces his readers by drawing attention to the gradual revelation of the modus operandi of Lecter. This is a very clever ploy, especially considering that Lecter is for the majority of the text a captive figure who comments on the actions of an active, if much less skilled and therefore less interesting serial killer, Jame Gumb a.k.a Buffalo Bill.
Paul L. Simpson continues the discussion of the burgeoning relationship between Lecter and Starling in his essay, "Gothic Romance and Killer Couples in Black Sunday and Hannibal". Simpson comes down firmly in the author’s corner in arguing that the symbolic marriage between Lecter and Starling as killer couple, conjugated by a mutual act of cannibalism in the book (but not the film), is in fact, true to the gothic tradition of the outsider couple.
Simpson astutely illustrates how the development of the tryst between Lecter and Starling is foreshadowed by Harris in his first novel Black Sunday, in the equally unusual tryst between Michael Lander, a Vietnam veteran, and Dahlia Iyad, a Palestinian terrorist. The synonymous relationships develop by the adoption of the stronger, more cerebral character (Iyad and Lecter) of their initially binary opposed other halves, but as the story progresses, “the Gothic link between romance and danger cuts both ways, endangering not only the Maiden but the Shadow as well.” (p.61).
Thus, the ultimate bond that forms between these unlikely partners is rooted in their outsider status. Simpson makes a valid point in asserting that there is nowhere else for Lecter and Starling to go. To end the novel with the two still diametrically opposed on opposite sides of the law would in effect be a true betrayal of the characters.
This is certainly a feeling shared by the editor himself. Benjamin Szumskyj’s essay "Morbidity of the Soul" similarly focuses on the third book in the Lecter series, Hannibal, and argues that its many critics have missed the author’s intent in carefully constructing the genealogic path of his anti-hero, Lecter, and his paramour, Clarice Starling.
Like Simpson in the earlier chapter, Szumskyj asserts that the metamorphosis of Lecter and Starling and their loving union is inevitable in its adherence to the gothic tradition. Szumskyj even draws our attention to a line in the very first book of the series (Red Dragon, 1981) which he suggests prophecies its conclusion. The line occurs in a piece of dialogue between Lecter and FBI agent Will Graham, “The reason you caught me is that we’re just alike” (p.208) The seemingly inevitable union is further foreshadowed in Silence of the Lambs when Starling willingly submits to Lecter’s will and becomes his pupil.
What is certain is that Harris avoids the stereotype of the hero and villain conforming to their predetermined roles, and as Szumskyj puts it, “… follow the same tired old path walked a hundred times before” (p.210). Yet herein lies the problem for some readers, particularly of the (thus far) concluding book in the series, Hannibal Rising, in which Harris takes us back to Lecter’s formative years and shows us how the young Lecter became a 'monster'.
On a wider scope, what are we to read into Lecter’s 'evil' actions? As the narrative progresses, we eventually arrive at an explanation for Lecter’s murderous disposition, that as an orphaned child in war torn Lithuania, he was forced to witness his slightly elder sister taken away and cannibalized by a group of starving army deserters.
This event has become a point of controversy among Harris’ readership in itself. For some, the revelation is unnecessary and somehow cheapens Lecter’s aura by aligning it to what some people feel is a facile childhood trauma. Whilst for others, it serves to humanise the villain and becomes the turning point of the rehabilitation of Lecter into a sympathetic and ultimately heroic figure. Although this is perhaps an unfair assumption, as the turning of Lecter really begins much earlier when he gradually takes his fellow orphan Starling under his wing and becomes her protector.
To return to my earlier notion, it is the intellectualism of Lecter in conjunction with his love for Starling that makes him appear gradually less of a soulless monster and more a misunderstood hero. I am certain that it is a deliberate ploy by Harris to make Lecter’s crimes seem more acceptable as the series progresses, by making his victims less reputable and thereby guilty of some kind of transgression. On the whole, they are all singularly dislikable characters, and in some ways, deserving of their fate.
While Lecter practises his culinary technique on vile characters like Vladis Grutas, Paul Krendler and Mason Verger, all those who have wronged either himself, his sister, or her surrogate, Clarice Starling, so he only removes from the gene pool the most irredeemable of villains. Thereby, it does seem that Harris is asking us to accept the apotheosis of Lecter into some sort of redeemed figure by engaging our empathy as readers.
In essence, the book takes the key questions phrased by Daniel O’Brien in his Foreword, "How did a fictional cannibalistic serial killer become a popular icon? Why does this character resonate with readers worldwide?" (pp.3-4) and offers the reader point and counter-point, inviting us to make up our own minds.
Szumskyj’s collection offers us many insights into the literary journey undertaken by Thomas Harris, and in this review I have merely followed one of several threads. In this regard, the book is successful in encouraging the Harris fan to delve deeper into the psyche of the novelist and his creations to further explore their place in the pantheon of horror literature.
Guest review by Anthony Ferguson.
Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child, Orion Books, 2009
Angry Dreams
