OGOM at the IGA 2026: AI and fairy glamour, shadows, doubles, Dorian Gray, changelings

From Bride of Frankenstein, dir. by James Whale (1935)
From Bride of Frankenstein, dir. by James Whale (1935)

We are delighted that five members of OGOM have had papers accepted for ‘Gothic Selves/Artificial Others’, the 18th Biennial Conference of the International Gothic Association, to be held at the University of Hull in July.

We’re very grateful to the IGA, who have also been very supportive of OGOM in the past, such as with funding for events like our recent Sea Changes conference, and have long-listed our recent collection on John Polidori for the Justin D. Edwards Prize for Best Edited Collection). We have many friends in the IGA and have collaborated with members and been inspired by them.

This is a great opportunity for us to present our various strands of research into the encounters of Gothic, folklore, the fantastic and enchantment that our postgraduates and more established members of the Project are pursuing. In keeping with the conference theme, you will see that we are engaging in different ways with the challenge of AI, articulating ways in which Gothic and fantastic texts, narratives of Faerie glamour and enchantment, of doubling, shadowing and replacement, might subvert the reification and dehumanisation that AI threatens. All of these papers indicate how an ethical Gothic can emerge out of this path of research.

We hope you will find, as we do, that the proposals complement each other neatly and show the coherence of OGOM as a project. We hope, too, you will come to hear our presentations and engage in dialogue with us.

We thought it might be of interest to share the abstracts for the papers each of us are presenting at the conference, so here they are:

Shabnam Ahsan, ‘Fairy glamour and deepfakes: An AI-critical reading of Flora Annie Steel’s “The Son of Seven Mothers” and “Princess Aubergine”’

Warwick Gable, 'Princess Aubergine' (1912)
Warwick Gable, ‘Princess Aubergine’ (1912)

Gothic fairy tales and folklore contain numerous references to the deception of humans by supernatural beings, through the magical alteration of their perceptions: vampires make themselves appear more attractive to their victims; fairies in English and Celtic folklore seduce humans by appearing as beautiful men and women, or offering food that seems tempting but is  rotten or poisonous in reality; and in Indian folklore, supernatural entities lure human beings into relationships by bewitching their senses and feelings. These all usually have dark consequences.

Generative AI now has the potential to wield similar power over our perception of reality, with hyper-realistic deepfakes manipulating political and other narratives, and blurring the lines between illusion and truth. While airbrushing and filters have existed for some time, the increasing seamlessness of AI-generated images coupled with voice-cloning has implications for humanity’s ability to distinguish reality from fiction, making it easier to deceive public opinion and simultaneously drive people to seek unrealistic beauty standards.

This paper draws on the ideas of Marina Warner on beauty in fairy tales, and Toni Morrison on the internalisation of colonial beauty standards, to perform an AI-critical reading of Flora Annie Steel’s retelling of the Indian fairy tales ‘The Son of Seven Mothers’ and ‘Princess Aubergine’ (1884). This paper argues that the pursuit of artificial or unnatural beauty in fairy tales directly and indirectly turns humans into a less-than-human version of themselves, ultimately leading to self-destruction and a breakdown of social relationships.

Sam George, ‘Dark sides: Runaway reflections, sentient shades, and lost souls’

George Cruikshank, 'I perceived him loosening my shadow', from Chamisso, Peter Schlemihl (1861)
George Cruikshank, ‘I perceived him loosening my shadow’, from Chamisso, Peter Schlemihl (1861)

In the twenty first century the threat of AI to our humanity is analogous to losing one’s shadow or soul. Nineteenth-century folklore warns of this detachment. J. G. Frazer records the lore of the shadow in The Golden Bough in 1890, at a time when Bram Stoker, J. M. Barrie and Oscar Wilde were writing. We learn, for example, that the villager ‘often regards his shadow or reflection as his soul, or at all events as a vital part of himself, and as such it is [. . .] a source of danger to him [. . .] if it is detached from him entirely (as he believes that it may be) he will die’.

This paper lays bare the ritualistic and magical beliefs that inform late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century shadow lore. It journeys into the shadowy worlds of Peter Schlemihl in Adelbert von Chamisso’s tale, the protagonist of Hans Andersen’s ‘The Shadow’, Dracula, and Peter Pan, who, on being detached from their shadows, have themselves become shades. Peter Schlemihl sells his shadow with terrifying consequences; Dracula the undead casts no shadow; Peter Pan loses his shadow, and most disturbing of all, Hans Andersen’s scholar is put to death, not by his enemies, but by his own shadow.

I demonstrate how this gothic motif of lost and stolen shadows uncannily mirrors the dehumanising effect of AI in the present. Will losing our shadows to AI (there is no human imprint), render us similarly displaced and in existential crisis?

Jane Gill, ‘Doubles and monstrous AI in Ernst Raupach’s “Wake Not the Dead” (1823)’

Robert Seymour, Legends of Terror! (1826)
Robert Seymour, Legends of Terror! (1826)

In Ernst Raupach’s short story ‘Wake Not the Dead (1823)’, doubling functions as a mechanism of the uncanny in Freud’s sense. This is also the case for contemporary AI avatars. Each produces anxiety not by transgressing the human form, but by repeating it too closely, transforming the double from a symbolic defence against loss into a destabilizing  figure that collapses distinctions between self and other, life and mechanism, and ethical responsibility and technological control. In Raupach’s short story, Walter, driven by grief and guilt, uses forbidden knowledge to resurrect his deceased wife, Brunhilda. Although she returns physically intact, her presence is uncanny and increasingly hostile, revealing that resurrection produces not restoration but a distorted double.

Freud’s concept of the uncanny locates horror not in radical difference but in distorted familiarity. He describes the double as an early psychic safeguard against death, re-emerging as a threat to the integrity of the self. Gothic literature repeatedly stages this transformation, most notably in narratives of artificial creation and resurrection, where imitation replaces continuity and resemblance substitutes for identity. This paper argues that Raupach’s ‘Wake Not the Dead’ dramatises the uncanny consequences of doubling through figures that replicate human presence while remaining ontologically unstable. Contemporary AI avatars intensify this dynamic by producing simulations of human behaviour that lack both consciousness and mortality, extending Freud’s theory into a technological context. Raupach’s story suggests that the uncanny arises not from the presence of the nonhuman, but from the misrecognition of repetition as life, a confusion that destabilises subjectivity and exposes the ethical limits of creation.

Rebecca Greef, ‘The profile picture of Dorian Gray: The dual nature of individual online presence and anonymity’

Ivan Albright, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1943-44)
Ivan Albright, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1943-44)

Oscar Wilde and Robert Louis Stevenson created novels that examined the duality of a person, where good and evil were at least visibly separated. Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray saw the eponymous Dorian bargain his soul to remain young and beautiful forever, with the evidence of his true nature confined to a portrait. Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde split human nature into two distinct people so that the publicly respectable Dr Jekyll could give in to his curiosity for debauchery and violence.

In the digital world, it is truly possible to hide away behind a picture and commit whatever atrocities you want beyond the barrier of a screen or keyboard. Moral responsibility in the online sphere can be removed from the conventions of everyday human interaction, leading some people to act maliciously knowing that they can remain anonymous and beyond retribution. From Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan to posthumanism, the relationship between a person and their actions helps to define what it means to be human. For Hobbes, personal culpability and responsibility were important, but he saw flexibility and allowed for ‘sovereigns’ to overcome individual laws for the sake of society.

This paper will seek to explore the dual nature of the online and offline person, with reference to the boundaries of shifting societal expectations of interactions. In the world of AI and anonymity, what is permissible, and what remains unacceptable – destined to be disguised by a picture that cannot be hidden in the attic.

Bill Hughes, ‘Emancipating artefacts: Gothic enchantment and authentic consciousness in two contemporary changeling novels’

John Anster Fitzgerald, Fairies in a Bird's Nest (c. 1860)
John Anster Fitzgerald, Fairies in a Bird’s Nest (c. 1860)

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was conceived amidst discussions about ‘whether man was to be thought merely an instrument’, wrote John Polidori. Frankenstein is a warning, among other things, about how to treat autonomous others, and a critique of the kind of science that objectifies and extracts from both human beings and nature (of which AI is the quintessence).

In folklore, the changeling is an intrusion of otherness into human life that is uncanny and threatening. It mimics the human life it replaces, invoking Gothic horror, just as Frankenstein’s creature does. In this paper, however, I look at two contemporary changeling fictions from the perspective of Gothic as enchantment and not merely horror. ‘Enchantment’ is richly polysemic; it may mean the loss of autonomy through enthrallment to another; conversely, an enchanted world may be a utopian alternative to a world enchained by a disenchanted instrumentalism.

In Frances Hardinge’s Cuckoo Song, the changeling Not-Triss is an artefact, but she is able to transcend her artificial nature through an authentic consciousness. It is her enchanted aura that differentiates her from the thing-like and frees her to become a fully moral subject. In H. G. Parry’s A Far Better Thing, Sydney Carton, the human who is doubled, frees himself from Faerie thraldom to realise his autonomy. Yet Faerie is also a realm of enchantment, manifest in the beauty of the changeling replacements. Both protagonists escape their thing-like state through a non-deterministic intelligence, motivated by enchantment. Enchantment is both terror and wonder, enslavement and emancipation; it founds subjectivity and inspires a critique of mechanical reason.

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IGA BOOK PRIZES

We are excited to announce that OGOM’s latest book, The Legacy of John Polidori: The Romantic Vampire and Its Progeny, has been nominated for an IGA book prize. It is out in paperback in June!

Congratulations to our publisher, Manchester University Press @GothicMUP, who have six nominees on their list!

Five monographs were nominated for the Alan Lloyd Smith prize, and eight essay collections were nominated for the Justin D. Edwards prize, with many books receiving multiple nominations. The resulting longlists are as follows:

Longlist for the Allan Lloyd Smith Prize for Best Monograph 2026:

  • Dale Townshend, Matthew Gregory Lewis: The Gothic and Romantic Literary Culture (University of Wales Press, 2024)
  • Emma McEvoy, The Music of the Gothic, 1789-1820 (Cambridge University Press, 2024)
  • Rebecca Wynne-Walsh, New Basque Gothic (Manchester University Press, 2025)
  • David Ashford, A Book of Monsters: Promethean Horror in Modern Literature and Culture (Manchester University Press, 2024)
  • Joana Jacob Ramalho, Memory and the Gothic Aesthetic in Film (Palgrave Macmillan, 2025)

Longlist for the Justin D. Edwards Prize for Best Edited Collection 2026

  • Nick Groom and William Hughes, eds., The Vampire: An Edinburgh Companion (Edinburgh University Press, 2025)
  • Andrew Smith, ed., The Victorian Ghost Story: An Edinburgh Companion (Edinburgh University Press, 2025)
  • Robert Edgar, Lauren Stephenson and John Marland, eds., Horrifying Children: Hauntology and the Legacy of Children’s Television (Bloomsbury, 2024)
  • John Whatley, ed., The Gothic in Times of Crisis (Manchester University Press, 2025)
  • Carol Davidson, ed., Gothic Dreams and Nightmares (Manchester University Press, 2024)
  • Barbara Chamberlin, Julia Round, and Kom Kunyosying, eds., Horror and Comics (University of Wales Press, 2025)
  • Sam George and Bill Hughes, eds., The Legacy of John Polidori: The Romantic Vampire and its Progeny (Manchester University Press, 2024)
  • Ruth Heholt and Jo Parsons, eds., Ghosts and the Gothic (Manchester University Press, 2025)

All nominations will be assessed by a panel of past winners and presidents of the IGA. The Chair for the prize panels is Joseph Crawford. The Secretary for the prize is Alexia Ainsworth. A shortlist will be published on the IGA website by the middle of July. The prizes will be presented (or, if a winning author is not present, announced) during the conference which, this year, is hosted at the University of Hull, July 28-31 2026.

Congratulations to all nominees and especially to all our wonderful contributors!

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Jürgen Habermas (1929–2026): Dialogue, rationality and humanity

The Bluestockings. Richard Samulel, Portraits in the Characters of the Muses in the Temple of Apollo (1778)
The Bluestockings. Richard Samulel, Portraits in the Characters of the Muses in the Temple of Apollo (1778); National Portrait Gallery, London

Human beings are ineluctably social, and every action they perform that is social, including the transformation of nature so they can live, is coordinated through language. Our lives rest upon our faculty for dialogue, for reaching agreement on what is true, and a fundamental assumption that we are speaking to one another in good faith.

Habermas with students at the University of Frankfurt in 1969
Habermas with students at the University of Frankfurt in 1969

This is really what lies at the core of the philosophy of Jürgen Habermas, who has just died at the age of 96. Habermas before his death was, I think, the greatest living philosopher and one of the most important thinkers from the second half of the twentieth-century until now. He was certainly one of the most erudite, drawing on a deep acquaintance with continental philosophy (particularly the Frankfurt School, of which he is considered the second generation), but also forging links with the analytical tradition of the Anglophone world. He was particularly indebted to the speech-act theory of Austin and Searle. His interests ranged from sociology through psychology, anthropology, linguistic, jurisprudence, and religion.

Some of his earliest writing was inspired by the horror of Nazism and the refusal of some Germans to adequately acknowledge it. He mounted a fierce attack on Heidegger’s complicity with the Nazis and on German right-wing historians who minimised the uniqueness of the Holocaust. But it is The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (1962) that he is probably best known for to English speakers, an account of how the growth of literary criticism in the eighteenth century is connected to the formation of a space of debate and critique in opposition to the State. This space, the public sphere, would degenerate as mass media became commodified. He has been much misunderstood here; the public sphere was more a regulative ideal that was never fully realised, and Habermas was aware that it excluded the working class, women, and minority groups.

His later work generalises that ideal as a universal and essential foundation of human society, which of necessity presupposes a communicative rationality. There is an ‘ideal speech situation’ of informed, uncoerced, and unconstrained dialogue. But this can be subject to various kinds of distortions, from unconscious and systematic self-deception to deliberate, strategic manipulation. In the magnum opus that is the culmination of a series of books that develop this theme, The Theory of Communicative Action (1981) he shows how what he calls (drawing on phenomenology) the ‘lifeworld’, our everyday lived experience, can become ‘colonised’ by autonomous systems of power and money.

David Hume, Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, 2nd edn (1779)
David Hume, Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, 2nd edn (1779)

My doctoral thesis was on the eighteenth-century dialogue (as a literary genre in the manner of Plato), a genre that flourished in that period. I was trying (not as successfully as I would like) to show how the formation of the English novel at that time was modulated by the dialogue form and often incorporated it, and how these dialogues themselves were novelised in ways that enriched them as literary artefacts. I relied on Habermas’s notion of communicative reason considerably, so I do feel a personal sense of loss.[1]

However, I do think there are flaws in Habermas’s thought. I find unsatisfying his shift away from Marxism and the incorporation of systems theory, and the subsequent political stances that this led to. The aesthetic dimension is very undeveloped and the poetic, polysemous aspect of language neglected in favour of the purely communicational. I was hugely disappointed by his recent public intervention on Palestine (I think there are complex reasons for this, both personal and cultural, and one Iraqi scholar has pointed out how completely at odds these remarks are with Habermas’s own universalist philosophy).

Thomas Rowlandson, Breaking up of the Bluestocking Club (1815)
Thomas Rowlandson, Breaking up of the Bluestocking Club (1815)

Yet Habermas’s central thesis is of crucial importance, especially in an era where the very idea of truth is under attack, where rational debate seems impossible and where it is demonstrably blocked and distorted by the corporate ownership of channels of communication. Where, too, many people as well as being deliberately and systematically manipulated seem sunk in astonishing depths of self-deception.

In an age of growing unreason, Habermas’s defence of the Enlightenment as ‘an unfinished project’ preserves some of the radicalism of the Frankfurt School and their conviction that, despite the narrowing of reason to the purely instrumental, only reason can unfold the human capacity to create a better world. His humanist stance and meticulous arguments against anti-humanist strands of contemporary thinking when billionaire posthumanists seize hold of information and communication and neoliberalism aims to reify and dehumanise everything, is inspiring.

In a time of polarisation and the intensified atomisation that social media fosters, and amidst debates about free speech, Habermas’s regulative ‘ideal speech situation’ reminds us of our authentic dialogic capacity. The core argument that consciousness is social, linguistic, and intersubjective is a crucial counterpoint to the rise of AI; Habermas constantly reminds us what it is to be truly human.

And how, you may ask, does Habermas fit in with the OGOM Project? His focus on the systematic distortion of communication between people may cast light on how Gothic texts dramatise manipulative villainy and extreme dislocations of rationality. His discourse ethics, which places much emphasis on the recognition of the Other, can help theorise the notion of an ethical Gothic that we are pursuing. Gothic literature has had an ambivalent relationship with the Enlightenment since its inception, and Habermas was one of that project’s most ardent and subtle defenders, so his thinking can illuminate that relationship more acutely. But perhaps it is in the gaps in Habermas’s thought, gaps that the very rigour of his thought reveal, that we turn to in order to see ways of re-enchantment that resist the instrumental reason of disenchantment that Habermas, following Weber, analysed so meticulously. And by turning to other thinkers in dialogue with Habermas (such as his mentor Adorno and Paul Ricoeur), we hope to sketch a way of reading that discloses how Gothic and fantastic modes conjure up an unsettling glamour that ignites an emancipatory ethics.


[1] My essay on Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, ‘Jane Austen’s Conversational Pragmatics: Rational Evaluation and Strategic Action in Sense and Sensibility is an example of my approach if anyone is interested. I wanted to revisit this critically for a conference on Austen at 250 years, for I now think there is more of a dialectical underside to Austen’s Enlightenment rationalism than I recognised; my missing this corresponds to a gap in Habermas’s aesthetics, I think. (Ill health prevented me from presenting the paper, sadly.)

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Literature Research Seminar 20 May 1.30-2.30

The UH Literature Research Seminar series is back after a short hiatus. We have changed the format slightly, so we have a mixture of current research papers and invited speakers and we’ve transitioned to Microsoft Teams as the University of Hertfordshire no longer supports Zoom. The slot has remained the same, once a month on Wednesdays, 1.30-2.30. These talks are open to all and are free to attend. The speaker normally presents for around 30-40 mins and then takes questions from attendees (either in the chat or live to camera). Its a friendly and supportive forum that is inclusive of ECRS and Research Students. Join me for one of these new sessions on Wednesday 20 May at 1.30 on Teams. I look forward to any questions or comments.

Speaker: Sam George, Associate Professor of Research, University of Hertfordshire  

Title: ‘The Luck of the Ningyo: Japanese human-fish Yokai and the rise of the fake museum mermaid’ 

Abstract: This paper will explore the representation of the Ningyo or Japanese human fish Yokai; a creature of genderless hybridity that functions as both a prophecy beast and a Mer Monster. I will chart its fascinating history, from the earliest sightings in folk tales and chronicles of Japan, to its manifestation in new media in the present.  I argue that Ningyo were made monstrous through Japan’s interactions with the West when mummified or dried specimens were sold to Europeans for show in the nineteenth century. Descriptions of these mummified or desiccated mermaid creations are decidedly gothic and bring the Ningyo within the realms of the weird and the eerie. In Japan, however, they are sacred objects, inviting good fortune and acting as amulets in Buddhist or Shinto shrines, where they have lain preserved for centuries.

Microsoft Teams Event 20 May, 1.30-2.30. BST.

Join: https://teams.microsoft.com/meet/3848941421568?p=SEZ3GWstBsnqdIMFrn

Meeting ID: 384 894 142 156 8

Passcode: LA6q5DH9

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Lights, Camera, Ghosts: On the trail of the first ever film version of Wuthering Heights.

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest, as long as I am living! You said I killed you – haunt me then….I believe – I know, that ghosts have wandered on this earth. Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you!” (Heathcliff on the death of Catherine, Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights, 1847)

Last week I went on a gothic pilgrimage to East Riddlesden Hall in Keighley, West Yorkshire. This gothic pile, which dates back to the seventeenth century, has appeared in no less than three screen adaptations of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. The Hall’s contrasting features, with romantic Rose Windows set in darkened Yorkshire stone, make it the perfect setting for Bronte’s obsessional love-beyond-the-grave story.  

Remarkably, the Hall was saved from demolition in 1937. It has in its archive a copy of the screenplay of the first ever film version of Wuthering Heights from Ideal Films Ltd in 1920. Perusing the typewritten script by Eliot Stannard, with annotations by the director A.V. Bramble, felt very special, a standout research moment. The level of detail is fascinating to Bronte scholars as it describes every scene and costume change that is important to this re-telling. You can read something of the description of Heathcliff in the photo of the script below. He is ‘capable of intense loves and hatreds’; ‘coarse’, ‘rough’ and ‘uncultivated’, ‘he is physically and temperamentally three times more manly than Edgar Linton’.

This 1920 film has sadly been lost to the ravages of time but the script was miraculously recovered in 2014. The archive also has the cinema programme which accompanied the original release of the film, with photos of its filming locations. This too is an important part of the legacy of the novel and its adaptations.

To date, there have been over 35 film and television adaptations of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. Since the first silent version in 1920, the story has continually been adapted with major films appearing in 1939, 1970, 1992, 2011 and 2026. The most iconic of these is the 1939 version starring Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberson.

Notable other twentieth-century adaptations include the 1970 film starring Timothy Dalton, and the 1992 version starring Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche. In the twenty-first century we’ve had the 2009 Tom Hardy film and the 2011 version directed by Andrea Arnold. There have been interesting world adaptations too, from Abismos de Pasión (1954, Mexico), to Dil Diya Dard Liya (1966, India), and Hurlevent (1985, France). Wuthering Heights has inspired countless retellings, with each director shaping the story in their own way, from intense tales of revenge to sweeping unconventional romances, culminating in today’s adaptation directed by Emerald Fennell and starring Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi. The overt eroticism of this manifestation of the novel and the film’s obvious and intentional anachronisms have made it this year’s most divisive film. (Bill posted on Valentine’s Day about the controversy, about the romance elements in the novel and films, and about faithfulness in adaptations.)

In light of this, it’s fascinating to be able to come full circle and to return again to this spirited yet faithful 1920 script. Through this I have experienced the ideas behind the first ever adaptation of the gothic romance between Cathy and Heathcliff. East Riddlesden Hall has similarly evolved over time; like our approach to the novel, it has endured many changes and manifestations.

All photos are my own. With thanks to the Bronte Parsonage Museum who have worked tirelessly to preserve and share the literary legacy of the Bronte sisters.

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The Undying Allure of the Stage Vampire: Cynthia Erivo’s Dracula

Cynthia Erivo’s performance in Dracula is currently inspiring a lot of debate in the media due to its gender flipped agenda (round up of reviews here). Cynthia plays both The Count and his female victims. The production, adapted and directed by Kip Williams, is aiming to show that Stoker’s bloodsucking vampire is created by desire and the force of psychic repression. It’s showing at The Noel Coward Theatre until May 2026.  I was interviewed for the Theatre Programme by journalist Marianka Swain. This feature, available to all theatre goers, can be found here as a PDF entitled The Undying Allure of the Vampire.

Interestingly, the first successful dramatization of Dracula adapted by Hamilton Deane premiered at the Grand Theatre in Derby in 1924 (twelve years after Stoker’s death). At this time, all plays intended for performance had to be examined and approved and given a licence. Deane had to submit his play to the Lord Chamberlain’s office in order to get it licensed. Dracula’s attack on Mina was censored (and Lucy is dead before the start of the action). Also, the censor prohibited the audience from seeing the vampire in the lady’s boudoir or viewing the staking of Dracula. Theatre goers saw the arm movements and then a cloak was drawn over the vampire’s features. Despite this, attendees fainted during this scene and Deane saw the potential for publicity, employing a nurse in uniform to walk nightly down the aisles!

In the twentieth century, Liz Lochhead’s adaptation released the repressed sexuality of Stoker’s novel for theatre audiences, much like the current production. Lucy Beckoned Dracula as her love and his attack on her parodied the marriage night as he wrapped a bridal veil around her naked form and stained the veil and bed with blood from her neck. At the end of the play, both Harker and Lucy are forced to reflect on their attraction to the vampire.

Kip Williams’s new production is also attempting a queering of the vampire through Cynthia’s portrayal of the Count. The novel itself is striking in its contexts; it is linked through 1888 London to the violence of the Jack the Ripper murders, the Wilde Trial in 1895 and also, the coining of the term ‘psychoanalysis’ by Freud in 1896. The Wilde Trial could be seen as a kind of return of the repressed for Stoker during the years he was writing the novel. The first five chapters have been read as a nightmarish meeting between Harker and Dracula, fictionalised projections of Stoker and Wilde. Stoker, some believe, had rejuvenated Wilde in the specific form of the vampire. At this time, sexologist Edward Carpenter had termed homosexuality ‘The intermediate sex’, inhabiting a no man’s land, like the vampire, who is neither alive or dead. If we are to go with this reading of the novel, it makes sense to think of the vampire representing not Wilde himself, but the fears, desires, repressions and punishments that Wilde’s name came to evoke in 1895-7 when Stoker was writing the novel. Dracula spends much of the novel as a hunted man, trying to escape his coffin/prison. You can see Dracula as a dreamlike projection of Wilde’s traumatic trial. The secrets necessary to a vampire’s life becoming ominous emblems of the vampire’s otherness and outsiderness.

In the novel, the construction of monstrosity is often analogous to sexual desire; this is the theme that this current production is developing. Erivo is showcasing a queering of the vampire for twenty-first-century audiences and a feminist retelling. The staking of Lucy is a fatal correction of her dangerous transgressions and violation of gender codes. It’s her fiancé Arthur who drives the stake in.

For me the most disturbing scene in the novel is not the staking of Lucy but Dracula’s attack on Mina, ‘God’s own woman’. Dracula forces Mina to drink from a wound in his chest; he has opened a vein with his sharp nails, forcing her face down on his chest ‘like a child forcing a kitten’s nose into a saucer of milk’. Her night dress is smeared with blood. Despite the lack of censorship in today’s theatre, I have never seen an adaptation of Dracula that has ever done justice to the terror this scene evokes in the novel.    

The staging of the vampire has a fascinating history, and this current production is a reminder of it and also the fact that theatrical vampires before Dracula have always been overlooked. If you go to see this production, it might inspire you to find out about earlier vampire theatricals. My essay, ‘Phantasmagoria: Polidori’s The Vampyre from theatricals to vampire- slaying kits’ is in our book on The Legacy of John Polidori : The Romantic Vampire and Its Progeny. It’s out in paperback in June!

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CFPs and Events: Monsters, Victorians, Osgood Perkins, Cottingley Fairies, fairy tales, folklore

CFP: Monster Media Conference 2026

University of Edinburgh, 18-19 June 2026 (in person and on line)

Deadline: 15 March 2026

This conference aims to explore the relationship between monsters and the media in which they are portrayed, and the way monsters and monster theory can help us better understand media itself.

CFP: Our Victorians, Ourselves: Rethinking Victorian Texts & Contexts

Undergraduate and Graduate Student Victorian Association (UGSVA), 28 April 2026 (on line)

Deadline: 31 March 2026

this conference asks: what do the Victorians mean to students today, and what can we gain from continuing to engage with these nineteenth-century texts? We invite undergraduate and graduate students to answer that question for us by sharing their work on Victorian themes and narratives that still speak to us today.

CFP: Osgood Perkins and 21st-century Horror

Edited collection.

Deadline: 31 March 2026

Osgood Perkins is emerging as one of the most significant directors of horror in the 21st century. [ . .] This proposed collection of essays will explore Perkins’ corpus of horror films (so far). I’m looking for at least one contribution on each of his films as well as essays that make larger thematic, aesthetic, philosophical, political claims across multiple films.

The Long View: Deep Fakes – Seeing is Believing

Radio talk, BBC Radio 4. Dr Merrick Burrow in conversation on the Cottingley Fairies.

Dr Burrow was a keynote speaker at our 2021 Ill met by moonlight conference on Gothic Faerie and is a contributor to our forthcoming book on the theme, Gothic Encounters with the Enchantment and the Fairy Realm in Literature and Culture.

The number of deepfakes shared online rose from around half a million in 2023 to eight million by 2025. While much of this material is seen as humorous or satirical, deepfakes are increasingly used for scams, misinformation, and political manipulation, exploiting a long-standing human weakness: our tendency to trust what we can see. The Long View explores a striking historical parallel — the Cottingley Fairies affair of 1917–1921.

Leaping Hare – Tales in the Tiles

An archaeology and storytelling workshop. Todmorden Folklore Centre, 7 Mar 2026, 18:00 – 20:00

Join Leaping Hare on a journey through time to the Medieval Malvern Priory, explore the stories from the Priory’s handmade tiles. In this workshop you can create your own story and make your own Malvern tile! All materials will be provided.

Fairy Tales, Papua New Guinea, an Idiosyncratic Approach

Viktor Wynd, The Folklore Society, 10 March 2026, 7 pm to 8:30 pm GMT (on line)

Viktor Wynd will discuss his idiosyncratic approach to performing and understanding fairy tales, his obsession with Papua New Guinea, the world’s second largest island, home to over 800 different peoples – each with their own rich cultural traditions – a country he has visited for a month or so every year for past decade. The lecture will end with a performance of a few of his favourite tales collected on the Sepik and in The Trobriand Islands featuring the moon, menstruation, man eating pigs, giant octopus and the spirit world.

Lily-of-the-valley Customs: a Window on France

Cozette Griffin-Kremer, The Folklore Society, 5 May 2026, 7 pm to 8:30 pm GMT+1

There is a wealth of customs associated with the lily-of-the-valley (Convallaria majalis L.) in France and this can only be a sampling that runs from the iconic plant’s botanical being, on to how it is associated with bringing good luck, and hence, with some of the famous people who have used the muguet to construct their own legends.

Tessitrici di Fiabe/Weavers of Fairy Tales

The Cambridge University Italian Society and Ars in Fieri – International Theatre Company
Friday, March 13th – 7PM
Saturday, March 14th – 4PM and 7PM
Sunday, March 15th – 2PM

Freely based on Italian fairy tales adapted for the stage by Ludovico Nolfi and Elena Sottilotta, directed by Ludovico Nolfi.

The performance will be in Italian with English captions displayed live.



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Be my Valentine (even while you’re rotting in your grave)

‘Is he a ghoul or a vampire?’ I mused. I had read of such hideous incarnate demons’ (Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights, Ch. 34)

Edmund Dulac, ‘“Come in! Come in”, he sobbed’, from Wuthering Heights (1922)
Edmund Dulac, ‘“Come in! Come in”, he sobbed’, from Wuthering Heights (1922)

Like many others, I suspect, I’ve just started rereading Wuthering Heights. And I’m frequently seeing the admonition that too many of those who love this psychological novel of extreme love, saturated with the Gothic, are simply reading it wrongly. The novel, it is said, is not the classic romantic tale such readers think it is; Heathcliff and Catherine are monsters whose relationship is full of violence, narcissism, and abuse, and not the ideal love between the sexes people mistake it for.

And of course, the passion dramatised in Wuthering Heights really is cruel, selfish, and destructive (and intertwined with notions of class, race, and power). Yet I think we may dismiss the naïve reading too easily. We should ask why so many readers do see the novel as quintessentially romantic, why adaptations such as William Wyler’s 1931 film with Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon unhesitatingly portray it as romance; why we find the dark, brooding Heathcliff and the wild, heedless Catherine sexy and fantasise them as perfect lovers. We should not ignore the pleasures to be found in this romance – for it is a romance – and (with a handful of other narratives) is the basis for a formula that is to be found in countless romantic fictions since. I favour pitting a redemptive reading of the novel as romance fiction against the ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ of Paul Ricoeur, though engaging with it.

Gothic Romance

Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon in Wuthering Heights, dir. by William Wyler (1931)
Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon in Wuthering Heights, dir. by William Wyler (1931)

That narrative of dark and dangerous passion is repeated in the genre known as Gothic Romance, which flourished from (roughly) the 1950s to the 1970s, typified by writers such as Mary Stewart, Victoria Holt, Barbara Michaels, and Madeleine Brent, stemming from Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca (1938) – itself in some ways also a disturbingly unromantic tale. It is still found in the romantic fiction of Mills and Boon, despite their reformulation every decade to adapt to contemporary values: current products from this publisher feature strong-willed heroines with a career who yet still melt finally into the powerful arms of their brooding, even raging lovers. It is found in the recent reincarnations of Gothic Romance as paranormal romance and romantasy, where the metaphorical vampirism of Heathcliff (and his Byronic ancestors) becomes literal and the romance is spiced up by the added danger that the passionate lover’s bite may drain you of your blood; you may be torn to pieces by his wolfish fangs; a wild waltz with him may end with you enchanted and stolen to Faerie. It is notable that the Young Adult vampire romance Twilight (2005) (widely condemned for its representation of romance as acquiescence with patriarchal domination and even abuse) pointedly shows Bella Swan reading Wuthering Heights. The latter novel thus figures as a signifier for the idealised romantic love that Twilight is supposed to embody. (This metafictional device features in other paranormal romances.)

So, Wuthering Heights really is romantic fiction, and a key link in an intertextual chain of writing and rewriting passionate love over a couple of centuries. Reading it thus, placing it within a generic field can, I argue, better reveal the true nature of romantic passion in general – understanding its instinctual dynamics, its modulation by social forces, its dangers and pleasures, and even perhaps its utopian potential. We can observe and immerse ourselves in the play of egotism and the nihilation of the self; the revolt against convention and the submission to oppressive ideologies; asocial irrationality and Gothic enchantment against stifling instrumental reason; freedom and compulsion; Eros and Thanatos. Wuthering Heights is of course more self-aware than many romance novels and allows all these various and contradictory facets to emerge in a play of dangerously intoxicating pleasure. We need to read these fictions and even romance itself with the perspective of Fredric Jameson, holding both the ideological and the utopian aspects together; noting how they may form part of the mechanism of oppression while opening up in the imagination ways of emancipation.

Adaptation

Poster for Heathcliff (1966)
Poster for Heathcliff (1966)

I am of course rereading Wuthering Heights, as I’m sure others are, because of the appearance of Emerald Fennel’s film ‘Wuthering Heights’ (the quotation marks are significant). I’ve not seen the film yet but have seen the wildly diverging reviews and followed the heated debates on social media. I have an uneasy relationship with adaptations of classic texts, especially ones I love (don’t get me started on Jane Austen!). And yet I may be in the wrong. One should be able to detach oneself from the source that is adapted (the ‘hypotext’, in the terminology of Gérard Genette). There can be a scholastic conservatism that resists new interpretations; there can also be a superficial revisionism that has scant respect for the original and glibly discards its complexities. I don’t suspect this new film of the former. The most vivid reworkings avoid both an arid historicism and a facile presentism.

The second part of the novel is rarely taken up in adaptations. There, an alternative model of an undistorted, mutual, more irenic romantic love appears. It is a love that is social and comfortably adapted to the Reality Principle. But it is the first generation of lovers that more readily captures readers’ souls. It is the wild passion in a bleak landscape and the desperate yearning from beyond the grave that inspires Kate Bush’s eponymous song, which ‘misinterprets’ the novel as romance fiction in an inspired manner.

Cinematic adaptations of the novel likewise have made these themes central. The trailers for Wyler’s and Fennel’s film both signal their generic affiliation to romance in almost the same words: ‘The greatest love story of our time . . . or any time!’, proclaims the 1939 trailer, while the 2026 film is ‘Inspired by the greatest love story of all time’. And the motif of eternal love transcending death is one of the devices that modulates the transmutation of the vampire narrative from Gothic horror into paranormal romance. This is suggested even in Tod Browning’s early adaptation of Dracula (1931); one poster for the film announces ‘The story of the strangest passion the world has ever known’, which could just as easily fit Wuthering Heights. But this submerged romantic theme comes fully to the fore in Frances Ford Coppola’s 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula, whose depiction of Count Dracula as tormented lover, grieving his dead love for eternity ‘across oceans of time’ surely echoes Heathcliff (whom Nelly Deans thinks of as ‘ghoul or vampire’). The posters for this film insist that ‘Love never dies’. (The plot device of Mina Harker as Dracula’s reincarnated lover has been employed since in quite a few paranormal romances. Mina reappears, too, ‘After centuries of waiting’, says the trailer, in the new Dracula directed by Luc Besson, which promises to be equally romantic.) 

Wuthering Heights is now almost mythical material – a core myth, in fact, of the genre of romantic fiction (and such associated genres or subgenres as romantasy, paranormal romance, and historical romance). Just as there are many Antigones and countless revisionings of the Faust tale, and as Wuthering Heights itself reworks folklore and other texts, there are many possible avatars of Wuthering Heights (not all sublime; see the 1996 musical with Cliff Richard). (There’s a list here of some of the film and TV adaptations; Jacques Rivette’s Hurlevant (1985) should be there too, along with other non-Anglophone versions mentioned in this article.) I should really watch the new film with the attitude of encountering yet another retelling of a powerful myth of desire, death, and power (and everything else that this fabulous novel contains), and as a distinctive artefact in its own right.

Our research with the Open Graves, Open Minds Project centres upon the transmutation of genres, often including their folkloric and mythical origins. We are fascinated by the notion of Gothic enchantment, where enchantment may be the terrifying enthralment and bondage to an alien power, or an illuminating force that emancipates us by opening up new vistas. The rich ambiguities that give Wuthering Heights its magical power and entrance us with a vision of preternatural romantic love, provide a fine example of such Gothic enchantment.

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Research Funding for PhD students starting in October 2026

OGOM’s first vampire conference 2010

Calling all prospective PhD students; the University of Hertfordshire has a new funding call open for applicants!! These studentships come to us via the AHRC Doctoral Landscape Award scheme, a major new funding scheme from the Arts and Humanities Research Council. We will offer the equivalent of three full-time fully funded PhD studentships each year for the next five years. Whilst applicants can work in any arts and humanities disciplines, we’d strongly encourage applicants for projects on any aspect of the gothic and/or folklore. We have supervisory expertise and capacity in these areas.

The first cohort will start in October 2026, and the deadline for applications is April 10 2026. Do have a look at these awards here and drop us a line if you are thinking of applying and would like any further advice on your proposed topic. This is not an award from OGOM itself but we can offer you a supportive environment from which to develop your project if you are successful and if you have a project that fits our mission statement:

The Open Graves, Open Minds Project began by unearthing depictions of the vampire and the undead in literature, art, and other media, then embraced werewolves (and representations of wolves and wild children), fairies, and other supernatural beings and their worlds. The Project extends to all narratives of the fantastic, the folkloric, and the magical, emphasising that sense of Gothic as enchantment rather than simply horror. Through this, OGOM is articulating an ethical Gothic, cultivating moral agency and creating empathy for the marginalised, monstrous or othered, including the disenchanted natural world.

We are a research group that has supported several PhD students to completion. You can view details of current students here (scroll down to see the Doctoral Student section).

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A message of thanks from the Buffyverse

I just wanted to share this video as it’s not everyday that you receive a personal message from James Marsters, or Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer!! Huge thanks to Daisy Butcher for arranging this. Between joy and surprise, I was speechless! What a memorable and special way of acknowledging the support you have received from me as your PhD supervisor. Bill also gets a mention, representing the importance of the OGOM crew in Daisy’s PhD journey (together with his cat Spike).

Video here: https://www.cameo.com/recipient/697870ddd37ee701617178e4

James Marsters talks openly about the making of Buffy here too, and how it can help people. This will hopefully inspire others on their PhD journey to not give up. Do have a watch; it’s extremely erudite and charming!

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