Ghost Stories
My favorite horror story isn't actually that scary at all
May 1816 was not a good time to go on vacation to Lake Geneva. The previous year, a massive volcanic eruption in Indonesia had upended life in many parts of the globe — killing at least 100,000 people and clouding the air with soot for months to come.
Even as far away as Switzerland, the air was thick with ash that cast a (literal) dark cloud over everything in sight.
So 18-year-old Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin probably didn’t want to go Lake Geneva in the first place that weekend in May. She had a four-month old baby and had recently been disowned by her family, for one thing. Plus, the weather was shit. And the pretense behind the trip itself was somewhat suspect. Her stepsister, Claire, had convinced Mary and her new husband (a poet named Percy) to make the trek to Lake Geneva because she was trying to get back with her boyfriend (the groundbreaking poet and notorious womanizer Lord Byron — who was also kind of a dick, tbh).
Of course, Claire had failed to alert Byron that the group was coming to his rental on Lake Geneva. So he — and his doctor, John Polidari, who was staying with him at the mansion known as Villa Diodati — were likely none too pleased to find the crew waiting at their doorstep that spring.
Alas, they made the best of it, even as the terrible weather persisted and forced the whole lot of them inside the mansion for the duration of the trip. The group as a whole argued a lot that weekend (and I think in general Mary sat around rolling her eyes at the terrible men with whom she was stuck inside).
But they did come up with a unique way to entertain themselves.
Remember, this was 1816. Bingeing a show on Apple TV+ wasn’t an option. So Mary, Claire, Percy, Byron and John took the alternate route — each retreating to their respective quarters to write ghost stories before gathering together to exchange them.
I can only imagine some sort of lightning struck Villa Diodati one of those nights. That sparks flew, and the volcanic ash settled around the home in just the right way so that every single person in that house was inspired to write the scariest damn story they could think of. Because they all did. They created absolute masterpieces. All over the course of one weird, wild weekend.
Byron, true to form, wrote a canon of poems called The Prisoner of Chillon (now well revered if not a little bit boring).
John, the doctor friend, wrote a story called The Vampyre, which would go on to become the first published “modern” vampire story, paving the way for an entire genre and inspiring the creation of another very famous blood-sucking monster: Dracula.
And 18-year-old Mary — freshly a mom, freshly disowned, tagging along with her stepsister and by all accounts fending off advances from Dr. John all weekend — wrote Frankenstein.
I’m not sure why I find myself so fascinated with that story. Well, maybe because when I was 18, I discovered kickboxing while Mary discovered a monster that revolutionized the entire literary landscape. Or maybe because I think that weekend at Villa Diodati could (and should!) be turned into a wonderful movie (a podcast, at least!)
But also because it’s just such a great backstory to one of the most familiar pieces of literature ever — all these important, wealthy men gather to brag about what good writers they are and it’s the 18-year-old new mom who ultimately steals their thunder? Touché, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley.
But is it really any wonder that women tell the best horror stories?
PS. Mary’s little story was ultimately turned into a book, published in 1818 and has lived many lives since. Oh — also! — she and her stepsister outlived everyone else on that trip by a solid 20 years.
I have talked about my love of dates before and it really knows no bounds. These are great. The packaging, the taste, the whole bit.
Sam Gilliam, the famed abstract painter and groundbreaker who covered galleries with his stunning floor-to-ceiling, hand-dyed fabrics, died this week at the age of 88. His works were huge in scale so they had this sort of all-enveloping quality.
I am a big claw clip kind of girl. I wear one when I wash my face, apply my skincare, go to the pool and just sit around working or painting. This one, by Machete, has really upped my game. It’s still just as easy as the ones I buy from Target but it’s actually cute. So if I wear it to the grocery store and see someone I know I’m not completely embarrassed.
I just became acquainted with this shimmer oil which is ideal to slather on your shoulders when you’re wearing a tank top and want to look subtly glowy but not, like, I just got 20 pieces of jewelry for $5 at Claire’s and then bought this glitter gel at Wet Seal glowy. It’s not sparkly. It’s not greasy. It’s not bronzey. (Bonus: it actually does moisturize.)
Nancy Meyers creates perfect dream worlds on the big screen (do people still say “big screen” if we watch everything on our phones) — so is anyone surprised that she lives in one, too?
“Candy” Bars.
Here’s a really easy non-recipe to get you through the holiday weekend.
You’ll need:
A dozen dates
1 T. maple syrup
1/4 C. peanut or almond butter
3 T. melted chocolate (just stir 3 T. chocolate chips with a little bit of coconut oil, olive oil, vegetable oil…whatever oily thing you have on hand and heat in the microwave at 10-second increments until it melts)
Salt, to taste
Mix together the maple syrup and peanut or almond butter.
Slice the dates open (like an envelope, so not all the way through) to remove the pit and create a little pocket.
Stuff each date with a spoonful of the maple-almond butter mixture.
Roll each date in the melted chocolate and place on a baking sheet.
Once they are all stuffed and covered in chocolate, sprinkle on some sea salt (Maldon salt is great for this) and freeze for 15 minutes.
Enjoy.
Recommended reading/listening:
I am obsessed with pop culture. I want to know everything that’s going on (generally, five minutes before it happens) and I don’t like feeling ignorant about world events. The Freakonomics podcast helps to breaks down headlines so that anyone can understand them. The latest episode delved into NFTs — are they scams? Are they….anything? What is a Bored Ape and how does one become kidnapped?
The Stanley Cup was accidentally delivered to a random Denver couple’s home.
Welp. It sure seems like the entire Basquiat exhibit at the Orlando Museum of Art was comprised of a bunch of fakes.
Trumpet the Bloodhound competed in his first dog show ever in January. A few months later, he won Westminster. (The Mary Shelley of his time, that one.)
And I’ll leave you with this….
Check out the Dr. Who episode about that haunted weekend. It's delightfully spooky