No, I said Gothic, not Goth. While I tend to wear a lot of black T-shirts, that really not my scene. I must admit, though, that the young lady in the picture I downloaded at random from the internet is quite fetching. Click to enlarge.
No, not those Goths, either, although they are much more my scene than the previous goth.
Read my lips. I said goth-ic. Goth. ic.
You know the novels from the late 1700s and early 1800s, not the romance subgenre popular in the 70s where every book cover had a beautiful young woman with great hair fleeing a creepy edifice in the background, usually one that had a single light in a tower window. I swear, when I was a kid, you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting one of those books. Uh,,,not I swung cats or anything.
What I’m talking about is a style of early novel filled with menace, usually something supernatural, and all kinds of trouble for the protagonists. They were the late Eighteenth Century version of pulps. Continue reading