The 97th book of 2024 is truly a remarkable piece. It is a Shakespearean melodrama that features a giant knight, taking the reader on a thrilling journey through a world of castles, heirs, ghosts, and skeletons. Considered the first gothic novel, it showcases all the roots that would later develop in this genre. In fact, it is a pivotal novella that changed, or perhaps even invented, the gothic genre.

Walpole is said to have been inspired by seeing a "gigantic hand in armour" in his own home, Strawberry Hill House, which led to the creation of The Castle of Otranto. I have always been intrigued by writers who are able to translate their dreams and nightmares into words. Harald Voetmann, a Danish writer, is currently working on a trilogy that was conceived during a single nightmare in Italy. This raises the question of what lies within our subconscious and what happens when we write it down. Do we validate it, release it, or overcome it?

The influence of this novella can be seen in the works of many great writers such as Shelley, Poe, du Maurier, Radcliffe, and Lewis. They all owe a debt to the pioneering efforts of Walpole and the birth of the gothic genre.

And so, after having relished several fascinating articles about it (most recently this review by writer and critic Ted Gioa) and after referring to it extensively in a blog post of my own (without ever having actually read it), I finally completed Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto.

When considered in isolation, this slender novel is, to be honest, underwhelming, especially for modern readers. It is a faux-medieval tale of chivalric heroism and supernatural happenings in a dark Italian castle. Its convoluted plot is at best unconvincing and at worst bordering on the incomprehensible. The characters are disappointingly one-dimensional, and the dialogue is overly melodramatic. The otherworldly elements are so blatant that they come across as grotesque (the novel begins with Conrad, the heir of a noble family, being crushed under a giant plumed helmet that appears out of thin air), and the novel’s deliberately humorous streak destroys any chance of us experiencing spine-tingling fear, just as surely as the “fearful casque” mangles Conrad’s body.

Yet, this 1764 novel merits respect as (probably) the first Gothic novel, the unlikely originator of a genre that would give birth to such undeniable masterpieces as, among countless others, Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The Gothic is a genre that still thrives in modern horror and weird fiction, and its influence extends far beyond the boundaries of literature.

Seen in this light, The Castle of Otranto begins to disclose merits that might not be immediately apparent. The preoccupation with the supernatural, the over-the-top dramatic language, and the neo-medievalisms were remarkable and innovative at the time when the novel was written. What might now seem like “trite clichés” (crumbling castles, subterranean passages, chivalric ideals) would only become “Gothic tropes” after other authors followed in Walpole’s footsteps. The uneasy blend of horror and humour was a peculiarly English characteristic with roots in Chaucer and Shakespeare. And, beneath the novel’s self-indulgent trappings, there was also an element of radical social criticism – the heads of the family come across as abusive, scheming, and manipulative; the female characters are not as submissive as (18th century) society might have desired (Isabella is promised in marriage to the weak Conrad but openly admires other more handsome knights; Princess Matilda, also pressured into marriage, resists these suggestions and first contemplates taking the veil and then falls in love with a travelling peasant).

Walpole’s novel might, in our era, be entertaining for all the wrong reasons, but one cannot dispute its incredibly far-reaching cultural impact.

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Golly, that was really great fun. The plot and the extremely exaggerated language in The Castle of Otranto make it just absurd enough to keep the comedy right at the forefront of the stage. It's more like Monty Python or Mervyn Peake rather than Nora Roberts. The scene where the young prince is squashed by a giant helmet in the first few pages remains one of the funniest in all of literature.

Many writers have attempted, unsuccessfully, to copy or satirize The Castle of Otranto. What Horace Walpole did that these lesser writers missed was to provide a good story written in plain, yet elegant, vernacular. Literary authors, for reasons that I don't completely understand, often tend to write in a language that is archaic for their own era. When this is done poorly, as it is in most of today's popular "historical" novels, there is nothing worse.

Walpole, except when he is being deliberately over the top, adheres to what I would guess is the ordinary spoken English of his time, which is very close to ours. “Ye” and “thee” only appear when formal speech requires it, or when the elderly priest is speaking. “Not”, “get” and “do” have their modern positions in the sentence.

MANFRED. “Ye behold in me a man disgusted with the world: the loss of my son has weaned me from earthly cares. Power and greatness have no longer any charms in my eyes. I wished to transmit the sceptre I had received from my ancestors with honour to my son -- but that is over! Life itself is so indifferent to me, that I accepted your defiance with joy.” -- The Castle of Otranto, Horace Walpole (1764)

Apparently, early reviewers loved the work until they discovered that the preface claiming that The Castle of Otranto was a translation from an 11th or 12th century Italian manuscript was just as fictional as the story itself. Then they hated it. That is the second funniest scene in literary history.

I find it rather challenging to assess The Castle of Otranto in isolation. This is because I constantly link the text to its significance and history as one of the pioneers of its genre. In a sense, I'll confess that I might be overly lenient. After all, Horace Walpole was venturing into a literary aesthetic that hadn't fully solidified yet.

To be honest, I wasn't as engrossed in it as I typically am with Gothic fiction. It seemed like a pale imitation of a Shakespearean tragedy, with almost every aspect diluted. I'm uncertain if it was deliberately comical, but I couldn't help but laugh out loud at certain points. The tensions were sky-high, every character inhabited a realm of melodrama, and they were all responding to extremely strange intrigues. Not to mention that the characters, although delightfully theatrical, were one-dimensional.

Overall, I did like it, but I probably wouldn't go back to it unless I needed to revisit the origins of Gothic literature. However, I will say that there is one line that will stay with me always:

"He was persuaded he could know no happiness but in the society of one with whom he could forever indulge the melancholy that had taken possession of his soul."

This line beautifully captures a certain emotional state that is both profound and relatable. It speaks to the idea that sometimes, we find solace and a sense of belonging in the company of those who understand and share our inner turmoil. It's a line that lingers in the mind and makes us reflect on our own relationships and the role that melancholy can play in them.

Despite its flaws, The Castle of Otranto holds a special place in literary history. It paved the way for future generations of Gothic writers and introduced many of the themes and motifs that have become synonymous with the genre. It may not be a perfect work, but it is a significant one, and it continues to be studied and enjoyed by readers today.

To be honest, I initially thought I was engrossed in an adventure novel. The story was filled with fun and melodrama, which kept me hooked until the very end. However, the ending had a significant impact on my overall perception of the book.

After checking Wikipedia, I was quite surprised to learn that this book is actually a Gothic novel. I can understand how people in the 18th century might have found the actions and the main villain truly horrific. But in the 21st century, the novel has a certain campy feel to it.

I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about the book. I may give it another read to see if my rating changes. The writing, while not spectacular, does have its own charm. Overall, I'm glad to have read Walpole's work and experienced this unique piece of literature.

Horace Walpole's 1764 Castle of Otranto is widely regarded as the first Gothic novel, which gives it great significance from a historical perspective.

If you have a penchant for Gothic literature, like I do, you'll find it truly captivating. The image of virgins fleeing evil men in drafty castles while wearing their nightgowns is both thrilling and evocative.

This book indeed contains such elements, along with the rather strange occurrence of enormous helmets falling from the sky and crushing dudes. I'm still undecided as to whether that's a tragic or somewhat comical way to meet one's end.

From a literary standpoint, it's of average quality. It features numerous plot twists in the old-fashioned "everyone's related" style. The writing is competent, and while it's not dull, it does border on the goofy side.

At just 125 pages, it leans more towards being a novella, so you might as well give it a read. It offers a unique glimpse into the early days of the Gothic genre and is sure to provide some entertainment, if not profound literary enlightenment.

I'm truly glad that this particular piece was short. It's interesting to note its value as a forerunner of the Gothic genre, a genre that I have a great love for. However, I must admit that I definitely find the more modern Gothic works far more enjoyable. Even the ones from the 19th century have their charm. They were written at a time when the novel format had become more developed, and the characters had a greater depth to them. In contrast, this one felt like reading a very melodramatic play. To me, it seemed more like a farce. But still, I did make an effort to imagine being spooked by the cursed happenings described within it. It's always fascinating to explore different works within a genre and see how they have evolved over time.

Prince Manfred of Otranto in medieval Italy is eagerly anticipating the wedding of his only son Conrad. In those tumultuous times, the family name had to be carried on.

Petty men vied for glory against their peers, and Italian politics demanded that noblemen have sons to inherit their vast lands and wealth. Conrad, though only fifteen and rather sickly, was at the center of it all. Manfred's family consisted of his son Conrad, his daughter Matilda, three years older than Conrad and a pious wife named Hippolita. Isabella, the intended but reluctant bride, was a noblewoman and the daughter of Frederick, who was fighting in the Holy Land. Manfred's claim to the estate of Otranto was challenged by Frederick (in fact, Frederick had a better claim).

Rumors circulated that poor Frederick had been killed, which gladdened Manfred's heart. However, Isabella had been kidnapped and was being forced to marry Conrad. This was the first Gothic novel, written in 1764 by Horace Walpole, 4th Earl of Orford. Naturally, very strange events occurred. For example, a giant helmet inexplicably appeared out of nowhere and crushed the unlucky Conrad to death, seemingly from the high and not-so-empty sky. A youth informed the Prince that it resembled the helmet of a statue from the nearby church, which was indeed the case. The distraught father suspected witchcraft and immediately arrested Theodore, a young man whose life was in danger of being cut short in more ways than one.

Other apparitions were witnessed by the servants in the castle, some so strange that they seemed almost unreal. Frustrated, Manfred came up with an odd and quite irrational idea - to divorce his wife and marry Isabella. Then a bad omen occurred when the portrait of Manfred's grandfather floated from the wall and settled on the floor, terrifying the unnerved Prince. Isabella seized this great opportunity to flee. Descending into the underground vault of the castle in the creepy darkness, with an unknown threat closing in, she made her way alone with a lamp through the eerie passageway. She was understandably very scared. Who wouldn't be? Hearing weird noises, she wondered if Manfred was chasing her. Then the lamp's candle went out. What could Isabella do? This scene has been replicated countless times over the centuries and still retains its effectiveness. It offers a primitive yet enjoyable romp into a world that, sadly, never was but still should have been.

No, no e assolutamente no!

The Castle of Otranto is the prototype of the Gothic genre, but if I had started reading from this one, I'm afraid I would have relegated it to the dustbin of oblivion.

But let's go step by step: the novel has a writing style that seems like a caricature. It's true that we're talking about a book written over 250 years ago, but that means it has aged a lot and very poorly. Then there's the story: at the beginning, it didn't grab me much. I couldn't follow it. It seemed to me that the adventures proceeded in a confused way. I couldn't understand what who was doing and why they had arrived at a certain point. Fortunately, halfway through, the story became more engaging and understandable, only to then fall back into a forcibly contorted and chaotic ending. If we then add a succession of characters bordering on the ridiculous and without the slightest dignity for their own person (especially the women), here I am served this disappointing and prolix novel!

The Otranto Observer:

Prince Gets Squashed by Giant Airborne Helmet! Full News on Page Six!

Lord of Otranto Says - "Sorry, the Castle Ain't Mine!"

FULL Interview with Covergirl Isabella - "He was Never the One for Me!"

Love Advice from Star-Struck Pair! Theodore and Matilda Tell All - How YOU Can Find True Love in Just Ten Seconds!

Jerome and Hippolita's 'Faithful's Corner': Why Entering a Monastery's the Only Way to Go!

The Commoner's Chronicle: Bianca and her Fellows Tell Why THEY'RE the Ones Who Saved Otranto!

Phew. Sorry. With a novel like Otranto, it's hard not to inject a little sarcasm into the reviewing of the book. In honour of Horace Walpole - father of Gothic fiction - I'm going to write this review with as many dashes - and breaks - as I possibly can.

It's not difficult to see why Otranto is still an important book today. As a novel, it marks the beginning of a new form of popular fiction - the Gothic - which would never quite die down. Its ancestors are alive and well today - Just look at the shelves of any YA section in any bookstore in the world.

So. It's an important book. It's pretty famous, too. Added to that, it's short, at a measly 100-or-so pages. It's a quick read, even if a little challenging.

Primarily, it's challenging because of the way it's written - kind of like this - with speech - bless old Horace Walpole - not even graced with a new line each time it presents itself. This leads to the disturbing technical difficulty of the text blending into one huge hunk. You really have to concentrate on your reading - or you find yourself drifting off. Everything happens rather quickly, so you might find that by the time you tune in, five different things have happened and you've completely lost the thread of the plot.

And what is the plot? Well, it's fairly simple. The son of Manfred, lord of Otranto, is killed on his wedding day to Isabella, by the aforementioned magical flying helmet. Manfred, who now needs a male heir, decides - oh, that most blackhearted of villains! - that he's going to divorce his wife Hippolita and marry Isabella. As a Gothic villain, I would have expected him to try and kill Hippolita, so I guess Manfred gets points for good behaviour.

And there's romance; a love triangle, between Theodore, Matilda - daughter of Manfred - and Isabella. Theodore, the dashing young hero, speaks surprisingly well for a man who was a slave on a pirate ship for most of his youth. But that's pirates for you.

Because the book is so short, there's very little time to develop the characters. Walpole seems to sit on the fence about Manfred in particular. The women characters are simple and boring, as in most Gothic fiction - they exist simply as victims. Take Hippolita - "It is not ours to make election for ourselves; heaven, our fathers, and our husbands, must decide for us." (Otranto, Chapter IV) But Manfred could potentially be seen as a bit more complex. One moment he's hurrying around trying to divorce his wife - "I desired you once before, said Manfred angrily, not to name that woman; from this hour she must be a stranger to you, as she must be to me... too long has she cursed me by her unfruitfulness..." (Otranto, Chapter I) - but Walpole rushes to assure us that he's not all bad - he has a tender heart, we're told, which is not unsusceptible to goodness. Then he goes around trying to stab his would-be daughter-in-law (because, of course, the way to solve any problem is to stab the pretty woman. That'll make everything better) and ends up killing his daughter.

"Manfred, whose spirits were inflamed, and whom Isabella had driven from her on his urging his passion with too little reserve... Provoked... and enraged at her father [Frederic], he hastened secretly to the great church... the tyrant, drawing his dagger... plung[ed] it over her shoulder... -Ah me, I am slain! cried Matilda sinking... -Stop... cried Matilda; it is my father! Manfred, waking as from a trance, beat his breast... and endeavoured to recover his dagger from Theodore to dispatch himself.

...Matilda, resigning herself to her fate... she begged the assistants to comfort her father. I took thee for Isabella [cried Manfred]; but heaven directed my bloody hand to the heart of my child!"

(Otranto, Chapter V)

Oh, no. How embarrassing. Looks quite exciting, doesn't it? I must admit that bit was, though I wanted to slap Matilda for being a wet blanket. Then Manfred rushes to assure us, himself, that he's not really a bad guy; "My ancestor was really the evil one!" he cries, conveniently pinning the blame on a guy who can't refute his arguments on account of being dead:

"I would draw a veil over my ancestor's crimes-but it is in vain: Alfonso died by poison... I pay the price of usurpation for all!"

(Otranto, Chapter V)

Oh. Poor Manfred. But don't worry! Be jolly! Both his kids are dead, but that's OK, because he goes into a monastery with his wife and lives happily ever after. After a surprise appearance from a cloaked skeleton - the one bit in the book where I sat up and said, 'This is going to get good!' - Frederic is told - "Remember the wood of Joppa!" Ah, Joppa. I remember it well. Stopped by this apparition from doing something hasty - like trying to marry the gorgeous Matilda, for instance, that sinful dog! - it leaves, never to grace us with its presence again. We never really do find out what happened in Joppa. But religious conversion brightens that oh-so-jolly ending. Order and balance are restored! Tyrants are reformed! Lovers united! (Except for Matilda, poor dear, on account of having been stabbed in the heart by Daddy)

All jokes aside, though, Otranto is an interesting read. It's easy to see why Walpole enjoyed writing it so much. Like many Gothic texts (think Mary Shelley's Frankenstein) it originated in a dream. "The work grew on my hands," Walpole said, "and I grew fond of it... I was so engrossed with my tale... I completed [it] in less than two months..." (Letter to the Rev. William Cole) In 'blending two types of romance: the old and the new' Walpole pioneered a popular genre which has as yet refused to die down. It really is a landmark in popular literature, and a triumph for the Gothic elements of storytelling over the seriousness of Enlightenment writers. Three cheers for our boy Horace!

For years, I have wanted to read this work, and finally, I have read it.

As I had expected, in this gothic story full of mysterious secrets, the thing that I liked most was that the author did not overlook the strong sides of the characters.

There is neither all bad nor all good. The bad can be in the good. The narration is quite engaging.

What I have read about the author adds a little to the impact of the work.

This gothic story takes the reader on a thrilling journey through a world of mystery and intrigue. The characters are complex and multi-faceted, with both their strengths and weaknesses on display.

The author's writing style is captivating, drawing the reader in and keeping them hooked until the very end.

Overall, it was a great reading experience that I would highly recommend to others.

What an utterly bizarre book! I could end the review right there. There’s very little I can truly add to this, but I’ll give it a shot anyway.

The Castle of Otranto will always be a historically important work. To say that it has made a lasting impression on literature would be an understatement. It is cited as the first Gothic novel. If one did not know that, they would most likely consider it a cliché storm. It acts as something of a Gothic tropes greatest hits list. There are haunted castles that hold people in rather than keep people out. There is an insane aristocrat, pure hearted damsels in distress, raging against the heavens, a curse that is bound to come true. And all of it is supposed to be a translation of a monk’s story. The only shock is that, though it does take place mostly at night, there isn’t a constant thunderstorm.

Of course the book can’t be blamed for its clichés. After all, being the first, it pretty much invented them (though there are a few obvious nods to Shakespeare throughout). I will say though, that it is without a doubt the most bizarre start to any Gothic that I've read. The plot is set up by a giant helmet crushing a young man on the day of his wedding. I repeat, a giant helmet.

I can’t honestly say that I think that this is a great novel, but it is entertaining for all of its bizarreness. Historically its influence cannot be doubted. And though I would not recommend it to everyone, it is a must read for fans of the Gothics. The Castle of Otranto receives 3 out of 5 stars, and a hesitant recommendation.