The Power of Prophecy in Fiction

Mitchell, played by Aiden Turner

For the last eight weeks, I have been gripped (like much of Britain) by the unfolding mysteries, dilemmas and gutwrenching emotional decisions of BBC drama Being Human.  This third series has revolved largely around the complete and utter character assassination of core figure Mitchell, who has been driven to the edge of madness by a prophecy uttered in the first episode.  He's going to die at the hands (or claws) of a werewolf.  Not something that most of us would be too worried about, but of course our dear friend Mitchell happens to share a house with two such creatures.  The phrase "a werewolf-shaped bullet" has appeared, like a coda or the words of a Greek chorus, in every subsequent instalment, and has reduced a much-loved character into a manic, paranoid and ultimately violent wreck.

 

The prophecy, in a genre such as fantasy, science fiction or horror, is as delicious a plot device as a fingerprint, smoking gun or any other such clue that might turn up in a work of crime fiction.  But writers have to know how to use it effectively.  Joss Whedon employs the conceit a number of times in Buffy The Vampire Slayer. 

 

The First Slayer

 

In the fifth season, Buffy is told by the spirit of the First Slayer that "death is your gift".  Buffy misunderstands this, thinking that her destiny lies in being a killer.  Finally, she realises that her gift to the world is her own death, as it is only through self-sacrifice that she can save her family and friends.  This second death is used to highlight the growth of the character (Buffy also died briefly in the first series), showing the heroine embrace death in order to protect her loved ones, in direct contrast to the frightened teenage girl she had once been.  Whedon's use of prophecy in this instance not only propels the plot, but also provides much-needed emotional closure during what was initially thought to be a series finale.

 

The crack in the wall (and the universe)

The writers of Doctor Who also employ prophecy and symbols as an ongoing motif in the show's mythology.  The ubiquitous phrase "bad wolf" hangs over the Doctor and Rose for much of the first series before they discover its true meaning, while Amy Pond is mystified when the crack from her bedroom wall keeps appearing all over the universe.  Being a show about time travel, both of these mysteries are somewhat circular - Amy and Rose are eventually revealed to be at the centre of their respective symbols.

 

In Stephen King's The Shining, young Danny chants "redrum" over and over throughout the novel, until finally the word is reflected in the mirror, revealing his potential fate: murder.  In her debut novel The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger provides the reader with images of danger, taken out of chronological order, to create a sense of impending doom for time traveler Henry.

 

A glimpse of the future, devoid of context or explanation, can drive a character mad as they struggle to piece the puzzle together.  It also fills the viewer/reader with an immediate need for answers, something which makes it the ideal plot device to churn out time and time again in serialised storytelling, as it guarantees people will tune in next week or buy the next issue/instalment.

 

Some more cryptic themes that baffled and beguiled me in TV, film and literature:

 

"Every prophet in his house." Carnivale

(I gave up after the first season so never discovered the meaning of this.)

 

"Save the cheerleader, save the world." Heroes

(Not as cryptic as the others, referred to Claire's role in a future disaster.)

 

"From beneath you it devours." Buffy

(A reference to the hellmouth, but also to the potential for evil just under the surface of every human being.)

 

"He will knock four times." Doctor Who

(A foreshadowing of the Time Lord's death and regeneration in a new body.)

 

Seth and Apryl's dreams in Apartment 16 by Adam Nevill.

 

The words of warning uttered by various trusted but mysterious figures, and almost never heeded by the protagonist, in a million suspense novels (Dick Halloran in The Shining, Silas in The Graveyard Book).

 

Just about everything in any given David Lynch film. I'm thinking specifically of the blue box and key, and the implications of "silencio" in Mulholland Drive.

 

What I love most about the role of omens and portents in the world of fiction is how it encourages the reader/viewer to use their imaginations and come up with theories or explanations of their own.  The blogosphere has been rife with ideas about which werewolf will be the one to take down Mitchell in this Sunday's final episode of Being Human.  Among fans, prophecy promotes discussion.  Among writers, it offers an off-the-wall manner in which to grab your reader and not let them go until the prediction is either foiled or fulfilled.

 

"Silencio"

Book Review: Apartment 16 by Adam Nevill

Some books you love.  Some books you hate.  And then, there are some books that you struggle with.  For me, Adam Nevill's Apartment 16, a tale of otherworldly suspense, began as a joy, then became a labour to finish.  And here's why:

 

The story is told from two perspectives; that of Seth, the nightwatchman at Barrington House, and Apryl, the girl just off the plane from America, here in London to claim her late aunt's estate.  The opening is promising, with both narrators providing a compelling account of their experiences in Barrington House - Apryl discovers that her aunt banished all picture frames and mirrors from her walls, while Seth is at first drawn to, and then obsessed by the sounds coming from behind the door of the abandoned Apartment 16.

 

Then events move from the sinister to the more explicitly unnerving.  Seth is approached by a young boy who nobody else can see, who seems to know a lot about Seth's life and the apartment.  Apryl becomes convinced somebody is watching her while she sleeps, and decides to research the history of the building.

 

Without giving too much of the plot away, the second half of the novel is almost unbearably tense as the author slowly reveals layer upon layer of detail.  The former occupant of the apartment was a troubled genius, the building may or may not house an ancient consciousness, and both Apryl and Seth are more constantly plagued by horrific, Lovecraftian visions.

 

Minor Spoilers Ahead!

 

My main problem with this novel (apart from the occasionally clunky dialogue on Apryl's part) is the denouement.  I had begun the story rooting for all of the characters, only to find that one of them has been transformed into a villain.  Also, following the climactic scenes in Apartment 16, I was left with the feeling that nothing had been resolved.  This could well be Adam Nevill's plan, either setting the scene for a sequel or simply leaving the reader with a bleak sense of terror, as good has not triumphed over evil, but merely retreated.

 

This is definitely a book for lovers of the horror genre, with several moments of genuine suspense and mostly excellent prose that never descends into hokum or cliche.  Its city setting, and often depressing depictions of central London as an urban hell, ground the story in reality and make it all the more affecting.

 

I'll give this one 4 out of 5, as I really liked Nevill's writing style, but felt that he made too obvious an effort to get the reader to empathise with Apryl, when Seth was by far the more interesting character.

Teaser Tuesday (15th Feb 2011)

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB ofShould Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

My teaser:

Seth gritted his teeth and felt the comforting glow of anger replace his fear and panic.  Soon, a great molten power coursed through his every limb.

- From page 98 of "Apartment 16" by Adam Nevill.