Klasik gotske književnosti je onaj od koga je sve na neki način krenulo. Točnije, možda će mlađim čitaocima, ako se odluče da ga pročitaju, "Otrantski zamak" delovati pomalo naivno. Zbog toga je poželjno prethodno se upoznati sa istorijom gotske književnosti i tako spoznati nemerljivi značaj koji ovo delo ima. "Otrantski zamak" je napisano još davne 1764. godine. A tek smo pre 2 godine dočekali da bude preveden i objavljen po prvi put na srpski jezik. Prevod je radila moja draga prijateljica Milena Dasukidis, a delo je izašlo u izdanju izdavačke kuće Mali Nemo. Ovaj roman je zaslužan da bude pročitan. Za sve one koji uživaju u klasicima, vredi imati ga u svojoj biblioteci. Takođe, možete pronaći više o ovom delu na sledećim linkovima: http://www.malinemo.rs/knjige.php?bib... i http://www.dobra-knjiga.com/Home.asp?....

Oh, the 18th century Romanticism! It has truly brought a plethora of things. There is an abundance of poetry, a unique mixture of both novels and verse within one literary body, grotesque short stories, and of course, gothic novels.

Reading this novel, to say the least, is quite an experience. Indeed, it pioneers numerous gothic elements. There is a magnificent old family castle with a multitude of secret passages. There is a prophecy of St. Nicholas that foretells the fall of the current owners. A huge helmet mysteriously falls from the sky, murdering the sole heir.

It only becomes more outrageous from that point on. Written in a tone that I can't help but perceive as humorous, especially with all the sudden plot twists that reveal who is whose long lost son or daughter. Walpole has constructed a rather interesting story. However, it will disappoint you if you are seeking a deeper meaning.

From Manfred chasing Isabelle through his castle with the intention of raping her to a specter of his ancestor sliding off the wall, the women fainting at the mention of something gruesome, giant parts of armor blocking servants from traversing the castle to the return of the rightful heir and Manfred's abdication and retreat, this novel has a simple, and at times, a rather silly plot full of elements that are now clichéd.

An average modern reader of “The Castle of Otranto” is driven by sheer curiosity to witness the beginnings of the gothic genre and how it evolved from there, rather than in search of quality. I recommend lowering your expectations and keeping them at that level.

Read this only if you are interested in the book's literary significance for the Gothic genre, not because of the quality — it will disappoint you. Review to come.

Good old Horace Walpole. Just like any other literary figure, historians are fussing over the "is he or isn't he" details. But here's the thing, why isn't anyone delving into his rather strange obsession with Gothic castles? His goal was quite明确: "I am going to build a little Gothic castle at Strawberry Hill." And he even asked his friends for any fragments of old painted glass, armour, or anything else that might add to the authenticity. And so, Strawberry Hill was born, the baby Castle of Otranto.

Otranto (the book) emerged from that hazy time when novels, while attempting to pass themselves off as somewhat non-fiction, were using plots and dialogue that would make the writers of "Perfect Strangers" fanfic cringe (heaven forbid such a thing actually exists). Naturally, I have a soft spot for it.

It begins with a prince getting crushed by a giant helmet that seemingly fell from the sky (yes, really). This leads his father to pursue his betrothed, arguing with a priest about whether it would be acceptable to divorce his wife to marry this girl who is only 2/5th of his age and looks almost exactly like his daughter. Then, dismembered giant limbs start showing up around the castle. A woman and a man declare their love for each other for a full 20 minutes on a castle parapet during a storm while the hero is off fighting some battle. There's also some rather crappy poetry thrown in here and there to break up the action, along with a healthy dose of the occult. OCCULT! LUSTING!

It's all kinds of hilarious.

I'm truly glad that I chose to disregard the negative reviews here on Goodreads.

As it turns out, I thoroughly enjoyed this little novel.

First published way back in 1764, "The Castle of Otranto" holds the significant reputation of being regarded as the very first Gothic novel.

This distinction brought its author, Walpole, a great amount of well-deserved success.

To me, it leans more towards being a romance than anything else.

The overly dramatic personalities of a few of the characters were actually quite comedic in nature.

It was far better than I had initially expected, and I firmly believe it was well worth the time I dedicated to reading it.

It's a classic that has stood the test of time and continues to offer readers an engaging and unique experience.

Whether you're a fan of Gothic literature or simply looking for something different to read, "The Castle of Otranto" is definitely worth a look.

By today’s standards, The Castle of Otranto is a rather ridiculous piece of melodrama. However, when it was first published, it was like a bombshell.

It had the ability to shock and amaze its earliest readers. They were innocent and unaccustomed to horror, so it was completely captivating for them. This is similar to early cinema. Audiences were excited by silent movie car chases and action scenes. But if we watch them today, they seem uninteresting and laughable. Truly great literature is timeless. Frankenstein will always be brilliant, as will Dracula and Jane Eyre. Unfortunately, The Castle of Otranto is far from being great literature. It is too firmly rooted in its era to be considered effective, and structurally, it is quite bad.

There is no proper setup or beginning, but again, Walpole is not entirely to blame as the novel was still very new at that time. Austen had not yet emerged to give it structure and meaning. On the first page, we are introduced to the characters, their lineages, and personalities. On the second page, one character is crushed by an otherworldly floating helmet. It seems that Walpole doesn't quite know how to pace the story. Instead, he has ideas that he can't wait to blurt out at the first opportunity, without first creating a sense of character.

Although I found myself cringing at the plot, laughing at the overdone horror moments, and yawning at the resolution, it would be wrong of me to overlook the book's place in the history of horror literature. It was the very first horror novel, and effectively, it inspired other more talented writers to create better works. They took Walpole's themes and ideas and refined them. For those interested in tracing the development of the horror genre, this is definitely an interesting read.

The best way to approach this book is as an academic curiosity, a piece of writing that holds a lot of historical significance, but ultimately, it isn't that great to begin with.

We are all reptiles, miserable, sinful creatures. It is piety alone that can distinguish us from the dust whence we sprung, and whither we must return.

The Goodreads reviews of this pioneer work are like a caravan of groans. How sophisticated we've become with our forensics and our shape-shifting (very-meta) protagonists. I may shudder and say, "whoa," and allow the blush to fade from our consternation. Otranto is ridiculous, sure, but it is damn charming.

Anyone who has ever encountered a contrivance or laughable twist in the Bard or even Nabokov knows that the car which killed Charlotte Haze dented our credulity. I say onward with the GIANT HELMET! What lurks beneath is but prophesy and paternity.

Walpole's book offers little in terms of fear. The pacing and revelation are no more haunting than a production of Hamlet. However, the notion of it being a "found" medieval text gives it sufficient distance to unnerve our sense of legacy. It makes us question the authenticity and the true nature of the stories that have been passed down through the ages.

Perhaps we should look at Otranto not as a work that is meant to terrify us, but as a curiosity that challenges our modern sensibilities and makes us appreciate the evolution of literature.

The weather has taken a turn for the worse.

The beating rain is pounding on my humble abode.

So, I find solace in reading, specifically the first gothic novel.

This novel is set in a castle in the year 1095.

It is filled with monks, knights, and virgins, which the story vividly supplies.

In the book's preface, the author is rather boastful.

He claims to have the utmost confidence in his own talents.

He makes grand claims about his "masterly" depiction, an "elegant" style, and "the beauty of the diction."

However, what I can tell you with the greatest sincerity is that this novel is full of stupid hilarity.

There are no real frights, only a few chills.

Although there are one or two supernatural presences.

If you are searching for scares, you will indeed search in vain.

It would be better to read Walpole in a humorous vein.

I had come across the name Horace Walpole before, but I had never delved into his life or explored any of his works until I picked up this particular book. This led to my keen interest in the introduction, which provided some insights into Walpole himself. He seemed like a rather fascinating character. Consider these lines from a letter he penned to a friend, as quoted in the introduction: “I am sensible of having more follies and weaknesses and fewer real good qualities than most men. I sometimes reflect on this, though, I own, too seldom. I always want to begin acting like a man, and a sensible one, which I think I might be if I would.”

In the preface to the first edition, which was also reproduced in the edition I read on Project Gutenberg, Walpole is explaining how he (allegedly) discovered the manuscript of The Castle Of Otranto and translated it from the Italian. However, he then remarks, “Yet I am not blind to my author’s defects.” This statement made me chuckle, and perhaps my reading about Walpole was partly responsible for my inability to read this book without laughing.

Not to mention the portrait of Walpole on the GR author page https://www.goodreads.com/author/show.... That expression is that of a witty clown if I ever saw one. I'm eagerly anticipating reading his letters, as they are said to be highly entertaining.

But getting back to The Castle. Chapter 1 is so intense and action-packed, with a flurry of astonishing events unfolding one after another in rapid succession. It's a challenge to read quickly enough to keep pace with Walpole's vivid imagination. There are giant helmets, mysterious prophecies, a peasant boy who conveniently appears at the perfect moment, a truly wicked man named Manfred, and so many princesses that I often found myself unsure which one Walpole was referring to at any given time. It was all wonderful and had me laughing out loud. I must admit that I think Abbott and Costello would have had a great time making a movie based on this book. For some reason, I thought of them quite often while reading.

I eventually attempted to react more appropriately, wondering if I was somehow disrespecting the spirit of our author by laughing at what might very well have been intended as a serious work. But then I took another look at his face in that portrait, and I couldn't help but laugh some more. I truly believe that friend Walpole would understand.

In 1764, the English writer Horace Walpole (son of the Prime Minister of England, sir Robert Walpole), desiring to combine the erotic equestrian stories of the past with the contemporary literary trend of realism, wrote The Castle of Otranto. This book is now considered the cornerstone of Gothic literature. It should be noted that the subtitle of the book in the first English editions was "A Gothic Story". By no means coincidentally, then, every element that was later characterized as the dominant motif of the Gothic story genre is present here: mystery, the supernatural, ghosts, Gothic architecture, castles, hidden passages, death, madness, darkness, seven-sealed mysteries, curses, and also romanticism. On the other hand, there are clear, inherent weaknesses, both in the narrative and in the plot of the work.

However, again, a (such) classic text of fantastic literature, such as The Castle of Otranto, is sought primarily for the shine of mystery and the charm of the strange, as Makis Panorios correctly points out in his introductory note, or, at least, to confirm (again) how true it is what the great British playwright once asserted through the mouth of Hamlet: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

I truly liked one particular sentence from The Castle of Otranto.

In the midst of the tyrant Manfred's extremely long and drawn-out soliloquy, which he delivered to a huge retinue of knights and other attendants that a rival nobleman had dispatched to pay a visit, we encounter this captivating line: "The knights gazed on each other, wondering where this would end."

This sentence vividly描绘s the atmosphere of uncertainty and anticipation among the knights. They are left in a state of confusion and speculation as they witness Manfred's passionate outpouring.

The simple act of the knights gazing at each other implies a silent communication, a shared sense of unease. It makes the reader wonder what Manfred's next move will be and how this encounter will ultimately unfold.

This sentence serves as a powerful moment in the story, adding depth and tension to the scene.

This great-great-granddaddy of Gothics truly deserves the 5-star treatment from me.

When it was penned in 1764, a significant era was unfolding. The French and Indian War had just come to an end, and the British Parliament had just passed the Stamp Act, which was part of a long series of abuses that would ultimately lead to America's Revolutionary War.

Meanwhile, an eight-year-old Mozart was set to give a private concert to British royalty, something far superior to what Charles III could obtain for his recent coronation. Additionally, the British East India Company was strengthening its colonial rule in Southeast Asia.

So, this very first of the gothic novels has aged remarkably well. It has aged better than Cher, better than those dudes in Aerosmith, and better than Arnold (you know which one). The plot is simply marvelous - it combines wickedness, the supernatural, and salaciousness all in one.

The author, Horace Walpole, was a clever one. When he published this as a "found story" of mysterious Italian origin under a pen name, he knew exactly what he was doing. What a devious man! I'm certain that all the young ladies gasped and fainted as they read this infamous piece of trash by candlelight and then quickly hid it before their governesses could discover it and discard it like an old comic book.

The plot is truly great: a young heir meets his untimely demise by a giant helmet on his wedding day. To safeguard the dynastic line, the groom's father decides to divorce his wife and marry his son's bride instead. This sets off a chain of events filled with panic, mayhem, and supernatural occurrences.

There's a Friar, the near-beheading of a mysterious good-looking peasant, and a troupe of mysterious Knights who come to the rescue. There's also a giant sword and a statue with a portentous nosebleed. The father's overseas Crusades adventure, two maidens in distress, and gossipy domestics all add an element of levity.

It's all a great deal of fun and games, with plenty of near-misses, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I especially relished the opportunity to learn a bit more about the expectations for gender relations during that time.

The mother, long-suffering and pious, remains ever loyal to her villainous husband. The two young maidens are the epitome of beauty, virtue, and goodness. There's a scene I particularly liked when they are both vying for the affections of the noble peasant Theodore and, out of their goodness, each insists on yielding her claim to her friend.

In the end, Teddy will get to choose the girl of his dreams, the castle will return to its rightful owner, and the ghosts will be appeased. Overall, it's a damn fine first story and well-deserving of all the hype.

Portents and parables. Tainted heritage. Ghouliess and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties.

This was just for fun. I was hoping for something quick and melodramatic. After reading a paragraph, I knew it would fit the bill. However, the quick part sometimes became a little sludgy. The language was at times less than clear. It could be due to the high diction or simple word choice. Or perhaps the ebook edition I read was in need of another round of proofing.

As many a reviewer has stated, this is it, the granddaddy of all Gothic fiction. Ancient catacombs? Check. Spectral spectres? Check. A power-mad "prince" who is not what he seems? Check. In a mere hundred pages, this short novel has it all. All the tropes that would be and are still being mined in the horror and romance genres.

What I didn't expect was how rapidly the plot moved. While the language was sometimes difficult to penetrate, once understood, I found the story progressed very fast. All the action, by my estimation, takes place within a day or two. (I could be wrong on this as there was a lot of starting and stopping in my reading this week.) The only other book I've read that moved this quickly was an old pulp novel by Norvell Page, known for his breakneck pacing. I also didn't anticipate being so engaged with the characters in such a short space. All of the characters came to life, and they were differentiated enough that character tags were unnecessary.

The mood, which is all-important to a Gothic story, was present in abundance. Besides the melodrama, I was eager to experience the titular castle in all its menace. I was looking forward to this aspect in Wuthering Heights, but it left me wanting. However, Otranto did not disappoint.

Portions of the plot reminded me of something from Shakespeare. Some of the developments could be predicted, but some - and this could be because I'm terrible at guessing what will happen next - came as complete surprises. Many aspects of the plot worked together like a puzzle, with all the pieces fitting nicely, but it did not feel as though Walpole contrived things to happen this way. It just felt like crazy life doing what it does best: throwing monkey wrench after monkey wrench. Oh, and if I'm not mistaken, Poe must've borrowed certain elements from this to create his most famous work, "The Fall of the House of Usher." I've done no investigations yet, but certain points were very familiar.

It's been at least ten years since I last read it, but I'm sure Lovecraft's essay Supernatural Horror in Literature has some interesting things to say about this. When I first read it, I thought it would be interesting to check out some of his recommendations. Finally, finally, I'm on the road.

Granddaddy of them all, you were worth the effort.