Body Shocks is an anthology of body horror. Much horror fiction is about is about damage to the body, so how is body horror different? What exactly is body horror?
The first use of the term was by Phillip Brophy in his 1983 article “Horrality: The Textuality of the Contemporary Horror Film.” It referred to a movie subgenre that emerged in the mid-70s, most notably exemplified by David Cronenberg’s Shivers and Rabid and Dario Argento’s Deep Red. However, the theme itself has existed in text at least since Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, and has been a part of the SF/horror subgenre. “The Fly” by George Langelaan, “Who Goes There” by John W. Campbell, (also known by its movie versions The Thing), and “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” by Harlan Ellison are all examples.
Body horror has long had a strong presence in Japan. Shinya Tsukamoto’s film Tetsuo: The Iron Man, and Katsuhiro Otomo’s anime classic Akira blend body horror with cyberpunk. Junji Ito’s Uzumaki and Hitoshi Iwaaki’s Parasyte are standout manga series within the subgenre.
Gabino Iglesias provided a succinct definition of body horror in a review he wrote for the LitReactor website in 2017: “Body horror, a subgenre of horror that is also called biological horror or organic horror, refers to stories . . . in which the horror comes from or is based on the human body.” Or, as defined by the Collins Dictionary in 2012, “in which the horror is principally derived from the unnatural graphic transformation, degeneration or destruction of the physical body.”
It might be the most disturbing type of horror because it deals with the intimacy of the body’s integrity being breached by intentional mutilation, accidental infestations by parasites, invasion by alien forces, degeneration, transformation, grotesquery, and pain. As Jack Halberstam, Professor of Gender Studies at Columbia University writes, body horror represents “[the] body as a locus of fear.”
Of course, women have a uniquely intimate relationship with body horror, given that we bleed monthly for so much of our lives. Notable is Stephen King’s Carrie. During her first experience of menstruation, not only is Carrie White terrified of this betrayal by her body, she’s abused by the other girls in the locker room for her ignorance of this very ordinary rite of passage.
Plastic surgery can create profound horror of the uncanny valley type, as people attempt to change their bodies and faces in ways nature never intended. Implants can transform a plethora of body parts, including breasts, calves, cheeks and lips. Botox—aka the botulinum toxin—is injected into the flesh to paralyze the skin and erase wrinkles. Some people, like the infamous Bride of Wildenstein, embrace surgical transformation so deeply they end up inspiring fear and revulsion in others.
Voluntary body modifications have been practiced throughout history and across a range of cultures. Scarification and tattooing were—and still are—used by indigenous peoples to celebrate rites of passage, indicate tribal membership and strengthen the relationship to the spirit world.
Contemporary artist Fakir Musafar (the father of the Modern Primitive Movement) had his body suspended by hooks that pierced his skin, and practiced extreme corseting. Performance artist Stelarc also practiced body suspension, while Yann Brennyak, whose face sports dermal implants, has developed a new, gory technique for tattooing. These voluntary transformations—some taken to horrifying extremes—are presented to the world as art.
Is it body horror to be transformed against your will? Greek Mythology is filled with tales of hapless mortals changed into everything from birds and stones to horses and trees by the capricious gods. Cursed by envious Athena, Medusa was remade into a Gorgon with writhing snakes for hair. The sailors who served Odysseus were mutated into wild pigs by Circe, a scene that brings to mind the bone-cracking, jaw breaking man-to-beast transformation in John Landis’s An American Werewolf in London.
The stories I’ve chosen to represent this subgenre of horror cover a wide range in time and subject matter. The oldest story included, “Tissue Ablation and Variant Regeneration: A Case Report,” author/physician Michael Blumlein’s first published story, came out in the British magazine Interzone in 1984. It’s overtly political, expressing Blumlein’s anger and outrage at the Reagan administration. It’s only been reprinted a few times and as far as I can tell, has never appeared in an American anthology (it was also in Blumlein’s collection, The Brains of Rats).
Fashion of course, has always been guilty of promoting horrific modifications to female bodies, including foot binding, neck lengthening, the use of corsets and especially the encouragement of eating disorders. So it’s only natural to include a couple of stories about the extremes of fashion and transformation for the sake of beauty at any cost. Christopher Fowler’s “The Look” and Genevieve Valentine’s “La beauté sans vertu” each take a jaundiced view of the fashion industry.
Who isn’t afraid of going to the dentist? The helplessness of sitting back in the chair, tethered down by equipment, the blind trust to allow a stranger to poke around in one’s mouth with sharp objects . . . unsettling, to say the least. And if that poking is not consensual? Even worse. I’ve read several stories over the years about terrible things to do with teeth (including “On Edge” by Christopher Fowler—already represented here by his fashion monstrosity) but Terry Dowling’s “Toother” is one of the most unnerving.
The stories presented here run the gamut of body horror: from back alley eyeball mods to corpse possession, fungal infestations to skinless women. Science fiction, dark fantasy, good old-fashioned horror—all present and accounted for. Not for the squeamish or faint of heart, but oh, so cathartic. A bit like picking at a healing scab; we know it should be left alone, but it’s just so satisfying to peel back those layers and see what’s hiding underneath.
Enjoy.