How to Build a Better Monster

Pig's blood for a pig

I read Stephen King’s Carrie this weekend, and it was a fascinating read for me. It was the earliest example of Stephen King’s work that I’ve read so far, and I thought the whole voice of the novel was entirely different from his later works. Of course there are some similarities in style, but I still found it interesting to compare the style of this novel with King’s other work.

Naturally, my main concern while reading Carrie was King’s portrayal of women. I’ve read my fair share of King novels, but now that I’m looking back (after reading several critical essays as well), I see that King has often had female “monsters” in his novels. It’s easy for a Feminist critic to analyze his work, but I think it would be interesting if there was more work done from a psychoanalytic perspective, focusing specifically on male sexual anxieties. I’m truly beginning to think that his female characters (which often share similar horrifying traits) speak to some kind of preoccupation with or fear he has of the opposite sex. The very fact that he wrote an entire book about menstruation – and the doom it brings – speaks largely of these fears.

In Carrie, menstruation is so closely connected to feelings of horror and disgust. In the shower, when Carrie first receives her period, she is pelted with tampons and sanitary napkins from the girls who are horrified by the display. They scream at Carrie “clean yourself up” and “plug it up,” and they’re mystified about how a 17-year-old girl could not have known about menstruation (King 7). What I find so alarming about this account is not just that the author could be expressing disgust at menstruation, but that he shows women themselves being horrified by their own biology.

Then, the horror of menstruation is reinforced by Carrie’s mother, Margaret White, a religious fanatic who believes that the start of menstruation represents “the Curse of Blood” originally set upon Eve by God (56). Margaret is so convinced that women are evil because of their reproductive capacities that she refrained from having sex with her husband, and once pregnant, almost killed her newborn daughter (218).

And of course, there’s the prank that provokes Carrie’s rage. Chris Hargensen initially asks her boyfriend, Billy Nolan, to help her put Carrie in her place. Billy takes up Chris’ request, but the idea of a prank goes too far when he obtains pig blood and sets it above the prom stage. When Carrie is crowned queen and the blood pours down on her, one can’t help but think of the shower scene and associate the gruesome crowning with menstruation. In my opinion, this image is even more shocking and disgusting in film, where an image is even more confrontational and immediate than words.

But disgusting as it may be, menstruation is also the source of Carrie’s power. The various researchers whose documentations are cited throughout the novel explain that Carrie’s telekinetic abilities emerged due to her period, or due to the traumatic experience that she endured in the shower as a result of her period. Either way, Carrie ultimately becomes powerful when she enters womanhood and the tables turn. Where once Carrie was the butt of every joke, she is now the one laughing as she destroys the town and those around her.

What does Carrie represent? She is portrayed as a figure of abject horror and utter disgust. Throughout the novel, King describes her as being animal-like (“a frog among swans,” “sacrificial goat,” “a patient ox,” “bovinely,” “an ape,” and “cow”) and she is seen as ugly because she does not have the same looks of the girls around her. She dresses conservatively and her body is hidden underneath her clothes. However, when Carrie attends the prom, she wears a form-fitting dress that calls attention to her breasts and curvy waist. It seems that the night Carrie finally embraces her body (and her sexuality), she loses control and causes the destruction of an entire town.

Why is Carrie so terrifying? Is it because of her body, or because her body is so powerful? Although Carrie is described through derogatory terms throughout the novel, I would argue that she is also admired because she does possess so much power. She becomes more horrifying because she wields total control over everyone, and this power to do whatever she wants is what makes her ultimately terrifying.

Additionally, I was very concerned with the violent sexual encounters between men and women within the novel. Chris and Billy Nolan’s “relationship” (if one can call it that) is based solely on sex and violence. Billy, although disgusted with his “pig” of a girlfriend, remains with her. Chris, for some reason, does not leave him, despite his abuse. There is one instance when King describes Chris as laying “passively” beneath her lovers “until it was over” and then reaching climax later by herself “while viewing the incident as a single closed loop of memory” (133). Chris’ passivity and waiting until sex was over hardly seems to account for enjoyment. Yet King describes Chris in a way that suggests she takes pleasure in painful sexual experiences. Is this why she stays with Billy?

Also, Carrie herself was the product of a rape. When Margaret refused the advances of husband, he left the house. He returned several hours later, apparently drunk, and “took” Margaret White. Margaret called it “dirty fucking,” but because of her previous refusal to have sex with her husband, this appears to be rape. What’s worse is that Margaret “liked it” (217). Gee, Stephen. You write female characters with startling authenticity.

Posted by Kate Cielinski at October 31, 2004 5:18 PM