A Subtle Approach to Horror

In The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Díaz has an unexpected approach to horror, using fukú and the paranormal as well as alienation to build up a subtle version of it in his novel. When we started the novel, I really didn't understand how I could possibly draw connections to horror. When I think of horror, I think of something grotesque and gory or blood-curdling screams. Fukú doesn't seem to be the type of thing to fall into that category - it seems more fantastical than horrific. However, I now realize that Díaz just took a different approach to horror in this novel; it's more subtle. When we were first introduced to fukú, my initial thoughts were: Really? Does anybody truly believe in this kind of stuff? It's just a belief system, not anything actually proven or credible. Yunior, however, was one step ahead of me and my skepticism: "it's perfectly fine if you don't believe in these 'superstitions.' In fact, it's better than fine - it's perfect. Because no matter what you believe, fukú believes in you" (5). That's not ominous at all. Thinking about it, my family has its fair share of superstitions that we truly believe in: don't wear sapphires or make homemade achaar - you'll definitely get bad luck. We all do our part to make sure no ill will comes upon us. It's a belief system, but belief systems are credible; they're immeasurably strong, sometimes stronger than facts or evidence. So, while Fukú is not something tangible, it is something so powerful that it has an immense hold over its believers. It is an inherent part of the belief systems of everyone in the story, something that is widely accepted. When it is believed by that many people, it becomes credible. Thus, Yunior instills the idea and credibility of fukú in his readers' minds, claiming that "there are a zillion of these fukú stories" (6). Fukú is, essentially, the equivalent of the classic big, scary, monster that wants to eat you. It will come for you and destroy your life and the lives of your future generations, as seen in Beli's family.

I've also been interested in the idea of alienation. I touched on this a bit in my last post, about how Oscar is made out to be kind of grotesque in appearance. Since my last post, I've been thinking a lot about him being likened to a monster physically. Not to be repetitive, but at some points, Yunior mentions that girls would "[shriek] and [call] him gordo asqueroso" or "shudder" as they walked by (23). Girls were quite literally horrified when they saw him and reacted like they saw some kind of heinous beast that wanted tear their skin off. He's been alienated by women for his whole life. I want to take this idea one step further. We can draw connections between horror and Oscar's physical appearance and the alienation that comes from that, but I'm also interested in the effects that Oscar's alienation have on him psychologically and how the reader witnessing this kind of suffering is another kind of horror in itself. Yunior tells us that Oscar's "affection - that gravitational mass of love, fear, longing, desire, and lust that he directed at any and every girl in the vicinity without regard to looks, age, or availability - broke his heart each and every day" (23). Much of our journey with Oscar consists of watching him "[cry] often for his love of some girl or another" (24). We watch him descend into a despair that results in a suicide attempt and this makes me believe that suffering can be considered a kind of horror. I'm reminded of going to the movie theatre to see a horror film and feeling some kind of dismay and unease at being a witness to a character's despair and suffering. My reading of Díaz's novel strongly mimics this experience. There may not be much blood and guts, but I believe it's just a different approach to horror, one that is more subtle and took me a little while to realize. For me, the definition of horror has broadened by reading this novel.