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The House of Fear
Leonora Carrington, an artist of the Surrealist Movement, here joins fiction with autobiography in a collection of work including accounts of her life before and after she met Max Ernst as well as short stories, a novella and original artwork.
216 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1938
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About the author
Leonora Carrington
71 books932 followersLeonora Carrington was an English-born Mexican artist, surrealist painter, and novelist. She lived most of her adult life in Mexico City, and was one of the last surviving participants in the Surrealist movement of the 1930s. Carrington was also a founding member of the Women’s Liberation Movement in Mexico during the 1970s.
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December 1, 2021
"I didn't have time to be anyone's muse... I was too busy rebelling against my family and learning to be an artist.”
I include this Leonora Carrington quote to emphasize, both in her life and her art, Leonora was forever an extreme rebel with the habit of refusing the world she was born into.
In addition to her rebellious nature, forever the outsider, the weirdness of Leonora's fiction is most understandable when we consider Leonora was held captive for months in a Spanish mental hospital and subjected to cruelty and torture, forced to take injections of Cardiazol and undergo electroshock therapy (ECT).
Regarding art, the Surrealists held the most appeal for Leonora, beginning when she first saw a surreal painting in Paris at the age of ten. Then there was that time when she ran away with Max Ernst. History intervened but Leonora eventually made her escape to Mexico and herself became a renowned Surrealist painter.
I mention this since Surrealism is famous for its symbolism. Turning to Leonora's writing, one could attempt to decipher the symbolism, that is, say what this or that stands for. Other than mentioning that horses symbolize freedom and independence for Leonora, I will not do this. Leonora told an interviewer not to be too intellectual when it comes to her paintings. Better to simply look at her work and ask yourself how it makes you feel. I think the same thing can be said for her stories.
Keeping this in mind, here goes for the pair I've chosen to make the focus of my review. And since Leonora acknowledges all of her stories contain a good bit of autobiography, I'll refer to the unnamed narrator as Leonora.
HOUSE OF FEAR
While taking a midday walk, Leonora meets a horse who stops her. The horse tells Leonora to come with him, there's something he wishes to show her. I myself picture the author as rebellious Leonora in Surrealland.
Leonora tells him she doesn't have the time but follows him anyway. They come to a door and the horse knocks with his left hoof. Drat! I wish I had a dream with a talking horse but, alas, for me its humans all the way.
The door opens, the two go in and can see a number of creatures in ecclesiastical dress. They tell Leonora, “Do go upstairs. There you'll see our beautiful inland floor. It is completely made of turquoise, and the tiles are stuck together with gold.” I especially enjoy all the bizarre dialogue in the story since it makes me feel as if I entered a dream – and words spoken in a dream are always key.
Leonora beckons the horse to lead the way. They both go up enormously high steps (picture this assent in your mind's eye – now that would make a great Surreal painting!) and behold all the dazzling turquoise tiles fitted together with gold covering the floor of this enormous, empty room. The horse tells her, “Well, you see, I'm really bored by this job. I only do it for the money. I don't really belong to these surroundings. I'll show you, next time there's a party.” I love how the horse admits he's only doing it for the money – like so many in our workaday world: as Marx would say, the horse is “alienated from the end of production,” in other words, he doesn't like his job; he's only chasing a paycheck.
Leonora recognizes this is no ordinary horse; matter of fact, she feels she should get to know him better and lets him know she likes him and will certainly come to his party.
Oh, that party – the far reaches of Surrealism and the hyperweird, complete with music and dancing. I'll conclude with Leonora back at home thinking about her highly unusual, artistic life prior to going to the party with her new friend:
“After the meal I smoked a cigarette and mused on the luxury it would be to go out, instead of talking to myself and boring myself to death with the same endless stories I'm forever telling myself. I am a very boring person, despite my enormous intelligence and distinguished appearance, and nobody knows this better than I. I've often told myself that if only I were given the opportunity, I'd perhaps become the centre of intellectual society. But by dint of talking to myself so much, I tend to repeat the same things all the time. But what can you expect? I'm a recluse.”
UNCLE SAM CARRINGTON
Poor Leonora! Her poor mother must bear the tremendous suffering of not only having Uncle Sam Carrington living in her house and forever laughing hysterically at the full moon but there's Aunt Edgeworth who also laughs hysterically at sunset. Absolutely terrible, after all, her mother has a certain social reputation to maintain. Meanwhile, Leonora wonders how she can deliver her family from such disgrace.
This counts as one of my favorites, a tale containing elements of charm and Mad Hatter madness.
And off she goes one evening, eight-year-old Leonora with her pot of jam and fishing hook to see what wonders she can work. She loses her way in a forest and comes upon two cabbages engaging in a fight to the death. “Never mind, Leonora thinks, “it's only a nightmare.” But then she remembers that she never went to bed that night. “How awful!”
But there's good news. A horse approaches and asks Leonora if she's looking for something. In the role of Alice in Wonderland (sort of), Leonora explains the quagmire. The horse, in turn, tells her he knows of two ladies who can deal with such matters, two ladies who live in a house surrounded by wild plants and underclothes.
Fast forward to Leonora climbing on the back of the horse and watching as these two ladies in their garden work out the solution to her problem: “the Misses Cunningham-Jones, each armed with a huge whip, were whipping the vegetables on all sides, shouting, “One's got to suffer to go to Heaven. Those who do not wear corsets will never get there.”
Oh, my, do you hear echoes of Leonora despising polite society and being expelled from more than one Catholic school for her rebelliousness? However, unlike Leonora's girlhood, in this tale she gives us a happy ending. Storytelling to the rescue!
The House of Fear also includes Down Below, Leonora's unforgettable account of going insane and her eventual recovery. I'll be writing a separate review for Down Below.
Leonora Carrington, 1917-2011
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March 25, 2025THE DEBUTANT
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
O ponto alto desta coletânea é sem dúvida o texto que abre um pequeníssimo conjunto de contos de fadas autobiográficos que têm tanto de Leonora que são, por si só, verdadeiras obras-primas.
Escrito em 1937/8 (como todos os demais), A debutante é um texto com um título autoexplicativo sobre uma jovem em idade de debutar que se recusa ir ao baile dado em sua honra. A solução: vestir uma hiena do zoo como se fosse ela própria, deixá-la ir ao baile em seu lugar e ficar em casa a ler (claro, até nisso é Leonora até ao tutano).
E a coisa até que corre mais ou menos bem:
In my room I brought out the dress I was to wear that evening. It was a little long, and the hyena found it difficult to walk in my high-heeled shoes. I found some gloves to hide her hands, which were too hairy to look like mine. By the time the sun was shining into my room, she was able to make her way around the room several times, walking more or less upright.
Por fim, falta só tratar um último pormenor:
The greatest difficulty was to find a way of disguising the hyena’s face. We spent hours and hours looking for a way, but she always rejected my suggestions. At last she said, “I think I’ve found the answer. Have you got a maid?” “Yes,” I said, puzzled. “There you are then. Ring for your maid, and when she comes in we’ll pounce upon her and tear off her face. I’ll wear her face tonight instead of mine.”
Espantosamente, esta é uma hiena bastante bem parecida (agora que adotou a cara da criada) e civilizada. Ninguém no baile dá por nada até ao derradeiro final. Infelizmente para a debutante, como que quebrando o feitiço, a mãe irrompe casa adentro a meio da noite para a chocante revelação:
“We’d just sat down at the table,” she said, “when that thing sitting in your place got up and shouted, ‘So I smell a bit strong, what? Well, I don’t eat cakes!’ Whereupon it tore off its face and ate it. And with one great bound, it disappeared through the window.”
Numa evidente renúncia das convenções sociais, a debutante rebela-se (daí a forma da hiena - animal que sempre acompanha Leonora Carrington espiritualmente). Nessa duplicidade poder-se-á ler, claro, uma metamorfose espiritual, ou uma metamorfose física, até. Mas, com Carrington, nunca nada é o que parece. A ser assim, uma hiena talvez represente uma necessidade mais visceral de autocontrolo ou uma necessidade física de violência para conseguir independência. Ou talvez a hiena que nos parece metafórica seja só uma hiena que vai a um baile usando o rosto da sua presa...
Quem sou eu para julgar?
THE OVAL LADY
⭐⭐⭐⭐
É também de rebelião que trata o conto The oval lady no qual uma jovem burguesa (que mais tarde se transforma num cavalo) se encontra em greve de fome contra a tirania de um pai sem imaginação:
“I don’t drink, I don’t eat. It’s a protest against my father, the bastard.”
Habitando num mundo onde seres animados e inanimados se confundem, onde as formas são aquelas próprias dos sonhos - e do feminino, sem ângulos retos - uma jovem recusa crescer mesmo que para isso tenha de enfrentar o poder patriarcal.
Mais autobiográfico do que isto, só inventado.
THE ROYAL SUMMONS
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Uma loucura dessas - a luta contra o poder instituído - é também o mote para The royal summons, um divertido conto sobre um sorteio para destituir (e, consequentemente, matar) a rainha louca de uma terra onde os ciprestes exercem a ordem.
Decidir isto ao ritmo de um jogo de damas não é nada demais...
The queen called me to her office. She was watering the flowers woven in the carpet.
A MAN IN LOVE
⭐⭐⭐
Assassinatos à parte, também aqui há histórias de amor. Mais concretamente, a história de amor de um simples merceeiro. Que nessa história de amor haja uma mulher morta cujo calor corporal ainda consegue chocar os ovos do galinheiro, é mero pormenor:
Walking down a narrow street one evening, I stole a melon. The fruit seller, who was lurking behind his fruit, caught me by the arm. “Miss, I’ve been waiting for a chance like this for forty years. For forty years I’ve hidden behind this pile of oranges in the hope that somebody might pinch some fruit. And the reason for that is this: I want to talk, I want to tell my story. If you don’t listen, I’ll hand you over to the police.”
UNCLE SAM CARRINGTON
⭐⭐⭐⭐
E já que falamos em ovos, isso leva-nos até ao tio Sam (prometo que já lá chego, ao tio e aos ovos - mais ou menos) e a duas míticas senhoras a quem a jovem protagonista de Uncle Sam Carrington recorre para terminar com o fastio de sua mãe (a quem a pancada do tio Sam - que tem a mania de rir à gargalhada em noites de lua cheia - já começa a incomodar).
Bem ao estilo de Alice no País das Maravilhas, numa história onde duas couves se envolvem num confronto físico (a chamada couve a murro - os ovos não entram nesta história, mas vá, estão no grupo dos acompanhamentos), as duas simpáticas velhotas que resolvem problemas familiares, fustigam vegetais até à rendição. O objetivo: sacrificarem-se pela felicidade das pessoas. Faz perfeito sentido.
“Young lady,” she said, offering me a Louis Quinze chair, “does your family descend from our dear departed Duke of Wellington? Or from Sir Walter Scott, that noble aristocrat of pure literature?” I felt a bit embarrassed. There were no aristocrats in my family. She saw my hesitation and said with the most charming smile, “My dear child, you must realize that here we deal only with the affairs of the oldest and most noble families of England.”(...)
I continued, confused, “there is a table on which, we are told, a duchess forgot her lorgnette in 1700.” “In that case,” one of the ladies said, “we can perhaps settle the matter”.
THE HOUSE OF FEAR
⭐⭐⭐
Menos sentido fará The house of fear, conto que dá nome à coletânea, e que termina numa aura de suspense e mistério. Basta dizer que lá pelo meio há animais vestidos de clérigos (o que vale sempre a pena), uma festa exuberante num salão de pavimento turquesa com juntas a ouro, e uma personagem cujas reminiscências, do mais banal possível, nos mostram que não é preciso perceber o que está a acontecer: o importante é estar lá para participar. Ou qualquer coisa desse género.
After the meal I smoked a cigarette and mused on the luxury it would be to go out, instead of talking to myself and boring myself to death with the same endless stories I'm forever telling myself. I am a very boring person,(...)talking to myself so much, I tend to repeat the same things all the time. But what can you expect? I'm a recluse.
No final disto tudo, a autora sai-se esplendidamente bem a pintar imagens com palavras. Precoces na criação da sua própria mitologia, estes contos são evidentes peças-chave para entender a artista que é Leonora Carrington. A mulher, essa, permanece o mistério que sempre quis ser.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
O ponto alto desta coletânea é sem dúvida o texto que abre um pequeníssimo conjunto de contos de fadas autobiográficos que têm tanto de Leonora que são, por si só, verdadeiras obras-primas.
Escrito em 1937/8 (como todos os demais), A debutante é um texto com um título autoexplicativo sobre uma jovem em idade de debutar que se recusa ir ao baile dado em sua honra. A solução: vestir uma hiena do zoo como se fosse ela própria, deixá-la ir ao baile em seu lugar e ficar em casa a ler (claro, até nisso é Leonora até ao tutano).
E a coisa até que corre mais ou menos bem:
In my room I brought out the dress I was to wear that evening. It was a little long, and the hyena found it difficult to walk in my high-heeled shoes. I found some gloves to hide her hands, which were too hairy to look like mine. By the time the sun was shining into my room, she was able to make her way around the room several times, walking more or less upright.
Por fim, falta só tratar um último pormenor:
The greatest difficulty was to find a way of disguising the hyena’s face. We spent hours and hours looking for a way, but she always rejected my suggestions. At last she said, “I think I’ve found the answer. Have you got a maid?” “Yes,” I said, puzzled. “There you are then. Ring for your maid, and when she comes in we’ll pounce upon her and tear off her face. I’ll wear her face tonight instead of mine.”
Espantosamente, esta é uma hiena bastante bem parecida (agora que adotou a cara da criada) e civilizada. Ninguém no baile dá por nada até ao derradeiro final. Infelizmente para a debutante, como que quebrando o feitiço, a mãe irrompe casa adentro a meio da noite para a chocante revelação:
“We’d just sat down at the table,” she said, “when that thing sitting in your place got up and shouted, ‘So I smell a bit strong, what? Well, I don’t eat cakes!’ Whereupon it tore off its face and ate it. And with one great bound, it disappeared through the window.”
Numa evidente renúncia das convenções sociais, a debutante rebela-se (daí a forma da hiena - animal que sempre acompanha Leonora Carrington espiritualmente). Nessa duplicidade poder-se-á ler, claro, uma metamorfose espiritual, ou uma metamorfose física, até. Mas, com Carrington, nunca nada é o que parece. A ser assim, uma hiena talvez represente uma necessidade mais visceral de autocontrolo ou uma necessidade física de violência para conseguir independência. Ou talvez a hiena que nos parece metafórica seja só uma hiena que vai a um baile usando o rosto da sua presa...
Quem sou eu para julgar?
THE OVAL LADY
⭐⭐⭐⭐
É também de rebelião que trata o conto The oval lady no qual uma jovem burguesa (que mais tarde se transforma num cavalo) se encontra em greve de fome contra a tirania de um pai sem imaginação:
“I don’t drink, I don’t eat. It’s a protest against my father, the bastard.”
Habitando num mundo onde seres animados e inanimados se confundem, onde as formas são aquelas próprias dos sonhos - e do feminino, sem ângulos retos - uma jovem recusa crescer mesmo que para isso tenha de enfrentar o poder patriarcal.
Mais autobiográfico do que isto, só inventado.
THE ROYAL SUMMONS
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Uma loucura dessas - a luta contra o poder instituído - é também o mote para The royal summons, um divertido conto sobre um sorteio para destituir (e, consequentemente, matar) a rainha louca de uma terra onde os ciprestes exercem a ordem.
Decidir isto ao ritmo de um jogo de damas não é nada demais...
The queen called me to her office. She was watering the flowers woven in the carpet.
A MAN IN LOVE
⭐⭐⭐
Assassinatos à parte, também aqui há histórias de amor. Mais concretamente, a história de amor de um simples merceeiro. Que nessa história de amor haja uma mulher morta cujo calor corporal ainda consegue chocar os ovos do galinheiro, é mero pormenor:
Walking down a narrow street one evening, I stole a melon. The fruit seller, who was lurking behind his fruit, caught me by the arm. “Miss, I’ve been waiting for a chance like this for forty years. For forty years I’ve hidden behind this pile of oranges in the hope that somebody might pinch some fruit. And the reason for that is this: I want to talk, I want to tell my story. If you don’t listen, I’ll hand you over to the police.”
UNCLE SAM CARRINGTON
⭐⭐⭐⭐
E já que falamos em ovos, isso leva-nos até ao tio Sam (prometo que já lá chego, ao tio e aos ovos - mais ou menos) e a duas míticas senhoras a quem a jovem protagonista de Uncle Sam Carrington recorre para terminar com o fastio de sua mãe (a quem a pancada do tio Sam - que tem a mania de rir à gargalhada em noites de lua cheia - já começa a incomodar).
Bem ao estilo de Alice no País das Maravilhas, numa história onde duas couves se envolvem num confronto físico (a chamada couve a murro - os ovos não entram nesta história, mas vá, estão no grupo dos acompanhamentos), as duas simpáticas velhotas que resolvem problemas familiares, fustigam vegetais até à rendição. O objetivo: sacrificarem-se pela felicidade das pessoas. Faz perfeito sentido.
“Young lady,” she said, offering me a Louis Quinze chair, “does your family descend from our dear departed Duke of Wellington? Or from Sir Walter Scott, that noble aristocrat of pure literature?” I felt a bit embarrassed. There were no aristocrats in my family. She saw my hesitation and said with the most charming smile, “My dear child, you must realize that here we deal only with the affairs of the oldest and most noble families of England.”(...)
I continued, confused, “there is a table on which, we are told, a duchess forgot her lorgnette in 1700.” “In that case,” one of the ladies said, “we can perhaps settle the matter”.
THE HOUSE OF FEAR
⭐⭐⭐
Menos sentido fará The house of fear, conto que dá nome à coletânea, e que termina numa aura de suspense e mistério. Basta dizer que lá pelo meio há animais vestidos de clérigos (o que vale sempre a pena), uma festa exuberante num salão de pavimento turquesa com juntas a ouro, e uma personagem cujas reminiscências, do mais banal possível, nos mostram que não é preciso perceber o que está a acontecer: o importante é estar lá para participar. Ou qualquer coisa desse género.
After the meal I smoked a cigarette and mused on the luxury it would be to go out, instead of talking to myself and boring myself to death with the same endless stories I'm forever telling myself. I am a very boring person,(...)talking to myself so much, I tend to repeat the same things all the time. But what can you expect? I'm a recluse.
No final disto tudo, a autora sai-se esplendidamente bem a pintar imagens com palavras. Precoces na criação da sua própria mitologia, estes contos são evidentes peças-chave para entender a artista que é Leonora Carrington. A mulher, essa, permanece o mistério que sempre quis ser.
September 5, 2011
A couple months ago, I was captivated by surrealist Leonora Carrington's bizarre geriatric adventure novel The Hearing Trumpet. Following up with the help of the Brooklyn Library's mysterious Central Storage, I tracked down this excellent volume, collecting a number of works from much earlier in Carrington's career -- from when she was just twenty years old, having run off to France with Max Ernst in the shadow of WWII.
Surrealist writing can be, even to the sympathetic, a little hit or miss. There's really only so much automatic poetry anyone can consume, I would suspect. De Chirico is a fantastic painter, but his novel Hebdomeros is a somewhat interminably meandering philosophic mess (or else I need to re-read). Listening to other peoples' dreams can be mind-numbing. However, as with The Hearing Trumpet, Carrington's fiction here is neither random nor meandering nor boring, but direct, engaging, and concise. Her tales possess the full uncanny unexpectedness of dreams, but maintains also their portentousness and peculiar sense (at the time at least) of internal logic. Her words, whether written in English or translated from French, are erudite and unornamented. Which is to say that wild and strange as these may be, they avoid some familiar pitfalls of surrealist writing.
I'll summarize the contents, since I had no idea what exactly would be in here before I got my hands on it:
Introduction by Marina Warner, who also translated the formerly French bits. I learned that part of Carrington's expulsion from convent school was due to her demonic ambidextrousness and tendency to amuse herself by writing backwards with her left hand. I have no problem believing that she was also a typical rebellious teen, but it's amazing to think that such nonsense was a part of the case against her. Also some handy analysis of the texts in light of her autobiographical details.
"The House of Fear". 1937-38. A brief, strange account of a mysterious summons, perhaps that of Carrington to join the surrealists. Originally a pamphlet, in French, with an introduction and accompanying collages (all preserved here) by Max Ernst, to whom she was "the Bride of the Wind".
The oval lady and other stories. 1937-38. Along with "House of Fear", these seem to define Carrington's oeuvre at age 20, beautiful nonsense with a surprising amount of discernible sense behind it. Mingled on each page, the mundane and fanciful, brutal and absurd. Delivered with a remarkable, casual matter-of-fact voice, that oddly invites belief. As with its predecessor, Ernst matches these quite effectively with collages.
Little Francis. Novella, 1937-38. A very strange re-casting of a real episode: Carrington's sense of abandonment when Ernst left her in Provence to return to his wife in Paris. Strangely, she removes sex from the equation by replacing herself with a young boy who is taken on vacation by an uncle, instead of the uncle's own daughter. Much vivid rendering of the French countryside and its people, ruins and local mythology, leading into a frenzy of bizarrity rivaling the later parts of The Hearing Trumpet.
Down Below. 1943. A very lucid account of the process of going insane and subsequent recovery. Carrington recounts her experiences with a precision entirely at odds with the hallucinatory and theologically-grandiose place she imagined for herself in the universe. The tone and voice are entirely different from the fictionalized, pre-breakdown stories, chillingly exacting.
Surrealist writing can be, even to the sympathetic, a little hit or miss. There's really only so much automatic poetry anyone can consume, I would suspect. De Chirico is a fantastic painter, but his novel Hebdomeros is a somewhat interminably meandering philosophic mess (or else I need to re-read). Listening to other peoples' dreams can be mind-numbing. However, as with The Hearing Trumpet, Carrington's fiction here is neither random nor meandering nor boring, but direct, engaging, and concise. Her tales possess the full uncanny unexpectedness of dreams, but maintains also their portentousness and peculiar sense (at the time at least) of internal logic. Her words, whether written in English or translated from French, are erudite and unornamented. Which is to say that wild and strange as these may be, they avoid some familiar pitfalls of surrealist writing.
I'll summarize the contents, since I had no idea what exactly would be in here before I got my hands on it:
Introduction by Marina Warner, who also translated the formerly French bits. I learned that part of Carrington's expulsion from convent school was due to her demonic ambidextrousness and tendency to amuse herself by writing backwards with her left hand. I have no problem believing that she was also a typical rebellious teen, but it's amazing to think that such nonsense was a part of the case against her. Also some handy analysis of the texts in light of her autobiographical details.
"The House of Fear". 1937-38. A brief, strange account of a mysterious summons, perhaps that of Carrington to join the surrealists. Originally a pamphlet, in French, with an introduction and accompanying collages (all preserved here) by Max Ernst, to whom she was "the Bride of the Wind".
The oval lady and other stories. 1937-38. Along with "House of Fear", these seem to define Carrington's oeuvre at age 20, beautiful nonsense with a surprising amount of discernible sense behind it. Mingled on each page, the mundane and fanciful, brutal and absurd. Delivered with a remarkable, casual matter-of-fact voice, that oddly invites belief. As with its predecessor, Ernst matches these quite effectively with collages.
Little Francis. Novella, 1937-38. A very strange re-casting of a real episode: Carrington's sense of abandonment when Ernst left her in Provence to return to his wife in Paris. Strangely, she removes sex from the equation by replacing herself with a young boy who is taken on vacation by an uncle, instead of the uncle's own daughter. Much vivid rendering of the French countryside and its people, ruins and local mythology, leading into a frenzy of bizarrity rivaling the later parts of The Hearing Trumpet.
Down Below. 1943. A very lucid account of the process of going insane and subsequent recovery. Carrington recounts her experiences with a precision entirely at odds with the hallucinatory and theologically-grandiose place she imagined for herself in the universe. The tone and voice are entirely different from the fictionalized, pre-breakdown stories, chillingly exacting.
February 29, 2024
I have spent much of 2020-2021 re-reading books that I either remember not understanding that much of, or have forgotten the actual content of.
One book halfways between those categories is "The House of Fear", a short story collection by surrealist multi-artist and occultist Leonora Carrington. What I do remember is enjoying reading prose with the same unique atmosphere and aesthetic as her paintings: Dark and disturbing yet colourful and oddly invigorating, complex yet somehow naïve, a fairy tale-like feel without any clear references to existing fairy tales, and an overall mythological sensibility despite the symbolism involved being difficult to pin down on one extant mythology. It is an extremely specific aesthetic and atmosphere that I have seen few other even attempt, the closest point of comparison being Carrington's contemporary Remedios Varo.
The actual content of the texts found within, however, I completely forgot about with a couple exceptions. So I gave "House of Fear" a re-read. Something I found interesting upon re-read was how many of the short stories involve adolescent girls who arrive at a mansion where they become servants to demonic or monstrous noblewomen whom they have to impress by solving a series of challenges. There are clear shades of "Alice in Wonderland", as well as the popular interpretation among Western occultists (most famously Aleister Crowley) of Lewis Carroll's novel as an allegory for the Kabbalah's path of inititation. Where each new denizen of Wonderland whom Alice encounters represents a new Sephirah (manifestation of the divine) and our heroine's solution to the challenges posed by them involving mastering the specific powers of the human mind also described by the respective Sephiroth. (it might be notable that the ancient Greek/Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche follows a similar narrative) "House of Fear" strikes me as an deliberate attempt at evoking similar themes except the symbolism involved is not bound to one particular religious tradition.
Something else that I did not pay attention to on first reading, but which struck me as important this time, was how often horses and horse-related symbolism appear in Carrington's short stories. The specific context Carrington in which uses horses is that of them functioning as messengers between the profane and sacred spheres of existence - the same role that horses play in so many mythologies. (see Odin's mount Sleipnir for one example) I found it interesting that I could at last pin down the cultural basis for the symbolism Carrington uses, but doing that requires the reader to actively engage with more esoteric meanings beyond the surface and look for symbolism scattered across different frames of reference. Which is the same type of challenges that Carrington's heroines go through in the short stories found within, making them allegories for the audience's attempts to find coherent meaning in them.
In addition to the short stories, "House of Fear" also includes quite a bit of autobiographical information as well as memoirs about particularly disturbing episodes in Carrington's life. This reveals that many of recurring themes and motifs in her artwork and stories are taken directly from her own life, which Carrington throughout her career used as a stepping stone for tapping into deeper more universal concerns about finding meaning in the cosmos and developing a functional relationship with the numinous. Which is not always a pleasant process, as this book demonstrates all too well.
People with an interest in less well known surrealist artists and authors, or just the intersection of Western occultism with classic literature, would do wisely to pick this up.
One book halfways between those categories is "The House of Fear", a short story collection by surrealist multi-artist and occultist Leonora Carrington. What I do remember is enjoying reading prose with the same unique atmosphere and aesthetic as her paintings: Dark and disturbing yet colourful and oddly invigorating, complex yet somehow naïve, a fairy tale-like feel without any clear references to existing fairy tales, and an overall mythological sensibility despite the symbolism involved being difficult to pin down on one extant mythology. It is an extremely specific aesthetic and atmosphere that I have seen few other even attempt, the closest point of comparison being Carrington's contemporary Remedios Varo.
The actual content of the texts found within, however, I completely forgot about with a couple exceptions. So I gave "House of Fear" a re-read. Something I found interesting upon re-read was how many of the short stories involve adolescent girls who arrive at a mansion where they become servants to demonic or monstrous noblewomen whom they have to impress by solving a series of challenges. There are clear shades of "Alice in Wonderland", as well as the popular interpretation among Western occultists (most famously Aleister Crowley) of Lewis Carroll's novel as an allegory for the Kabbalah's path of inititation. Where each new denizen of Wonderland whom Alice encounters represents a new Sephirah (manifestation of the divine) and our heroine's solution to the challenges posed by them involving mastering the specific powers of the human mind also described by the respective Sephiroth. (it might be notable that the ancient Greek/Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche follows a similar narrative) "House of Fear" strikes me as an deliberate attempt at evoking similar themes except the symbolism involved is not bound to one particular religious tradition.
Something else that I did not pay attention to on first reading, but which struck me as important this time, was how often horses and horse-related symbolism appear in Carrington's short stories. The specific context Carrington in which uses horses is that of them functioning as messengers between the profane and sacred spheres of existence - the same role that horses play in so many mythologies. (see Odin's mount Sleipnir for one example) I found it interesting that I could at last pin down the cultural basis for the symbolism Carrington uses, but doing that requires the reader to actively engage with more esoteric meanings beyond the surface and look for symbolism scattered across different frames of reference. Which is the same type of challenges that Carrington's heroines go through in the short stories found within, making them allegories for the audience's attempts to find coherent meaning in them.
In addition to the short stories, "House of Fear" also includes quite a bit of autobiographical information as well as memoirs about particularly disturbing episodes in Carrington's life. This reveals that many of recurring themes and motifs in her artwork and stories are taken directly from her own life, which Carrington throughout her career used as a stepping stone for tapping into deeper more universal concerns about finding meaning in the cosmos and developing a functional relationship with the numinous. Which is not always a pleasant process, as this book demonstrates all too well.
People with an interest in less well known surrealist artists and authors, or just the intersection of Western occultism with classic literature, would do wisely to pick this up.
January 5, 2016
Reality is malleable. One can call a piece of writing fiction or not. The significance of that label remains wavery. There are many ways to write, many ways to tear apart the strands of a woven life and weave them once again into new cloth. The question remains for the reader how important it is to single out the threads and examine them, to restore them in one’s mind to their original fabric. Throughout the history of literature, it has certainly been important to a great many people. Leonora Carrington likely remained unconcerned. Her journey was a strange and at times horrifying one. It’s worth taking some time to read about her life. Her writing overflows with rich imagery, convoluted plots (if any), absurd humor, the number seven, and a lot of talking horses. Reading her is both wondrously fun and sometimes upsetting. And if one chooses to puzzle over decoding the imagery, unlocking the various interpretations, then that can also be rewarding in its own way. It adds another vibrant layer to stories already rippling with a full spectrum of unexpected colors.
Full review here.
July 31, 2025
Absolutely incredible! I love Leonora Carrington. This book contains some of her stories plus an autobiographical account of her life with Max Ernst and her life while she was institutionalized. Very rich and wonderfully constructed collection!
November 13, 2023
"I saw the reflection of the moon in the water, but was horrified to see there was no moon in the sky: the moon had been drowned in the water."
April 14, 2018
De cómo escribir para exorcizar tus propios demonios y convertirlo en una forma de salir de la caída a la locura....
Leonora, que ya había tenido el coraje de reivindicarse como artista en un mundo en que las mujeres solo podían aspirar a ser musas de los artistas del genero masculino,nos cuenta en tan solo 43 páginas,5 terribles días del verano del 43,con una magnífica prosa surrealista y haciendo gala de un valor increíble al reconstruir ese infierno.
Para mi,ha sido el punto de partida para querer saberlo todo (y más)sobre esta mujer.
Leonora, que ya había tenido el coraje de reivindicarse como artista en un mundo en que las mujeres solo podían aspirar a ser musas de los artistas del genero masculino,nos cuenta en tan solo 43 páginas,5 terribles días del verano del 43,con una magnífica prosa surrealista y haciendo gala de un valor increíble al reconstruir ese infierno.
Para mi,ha sido el punto de partida para querer saberlo todo (y más)sobre esta mujer.
July 6, 2013
Un libro increíble de la surrealista inglesa Leonora Carrington. Al leerlo sentí cierta familiaridad con los textos de Lewis Carroll, si tuviese que compararlos diría que Carrington tiene un toque más macabro y cruel, pero igualmente mágico.
May 26, 2011
Adios, estimada
que le vaya bien.
Gracias
x
que le vaya bien.
Gracias
x
January 13, 2021
Cuentos favoritos: “La dama oval”, “La debutante” y “La orden real”. Últimamente me han aparecido cuentos de Carrington en antologías de fantasía y weird que he comprado y eso me recordó que desde hace mucho quería leerla. Este libro está conformado por seis cuentos y dos novelas cortas. Amé los relatos. Son autoficciones fantásticas en las que la autora habita un mundo similar al nuestro, pero que sigue la lógica de los cuentos de hadas con todo y animales que hablan; piensen en los relatos de Angela Carter, pero con Carrington como protagonista. Las novelas cortas me gustaron menos. La primera, “El pequeño Francis” es una novela autobiográfica sobre el triángulo amoroso entre Carrington, Max Ernst y Peggy Guggenheim. Mantiene lo fantástico de los cuentos, pero con un tono que me recordó a las películas de Jodorowsky, de quien no soy fan. La otra novela corta, “Memorias de abajo”, es un recuento de su estadía en el manicomio, pero escrita como si sí hubiera estado loca... No sé si no estaba en el humor para leer esto, pero ese recurso me desconectó de la narración. Not my cup of tea... I guess...En todo caso, lo recomiendo ampliamente
April 27, 2018
Está loquísimo!
April 21, 2019
Te amo Leonora. Sueño con conocer tus multiversos.
January 4, 2013
Defino este libro como enteramente surrealista, lleno de simbolismos y una parte autobiográfica conmovedora.
Mientras lo leí recordé muchas de las cosas que se relatan en "Leonora" de Elena Poniatowska. Sobre todo en los cuentos que relata, ya que los personajes y los escenarios en la campiña francesa hacen referencia a sucesos y personas con las que Leonora Carrington y Max Ernst interactuaron.
La obra se divide en dos: Una serie de cuentos y la parte autobiográfica de Leonora Carrington cuando estuvo internada en el sanatorio en Santander, España. Para ser sincera disfrute más interprentando los cuentos y el simbolismo. Me gustó mucho la alusión a las bicicletas en el cuento de "El pequeño Francis", ya que ella disfrutaba mucho de ir en bicicleta con Max Ernst.
Me gustó por la interpretación simbólica que Carrington hace de su propia vida, pero su estilo y narrativa no se me hace extraordinario. Seguramente se debe a que no es exactamente el estilo que generalmente me gusta leer. En efecto es muy surrealista, pero no por ello incoherente. Al contrario, dentro de todas las fantasías que crea tiene una lógica uniforma de los relatos.
No lo amé y no estoy segura que lo recomendaría, pero me gustó leerlo porque la vida de Leonora Carrington me parece interesantísima.
Mientras lo leí recordé muchas de las cosas que se relatan en "Leonora" de Elena Poniatowska. Sobre todo en los cuentos que relata, ya que los personajes y los escenarios en la campiña francesa hacen referencia a sucesos y personas con las que Leonora Carrington y Max Ernst interactuaron.
La obra se divide en dos: Una serie de cuentos y la parte autobiográfica de Leonora Carrington cuando estuvo internada en el sanatorio en Santander, España. Para ser sincera disfrute más interprentando los cuentos y el simbolismo. Me gustó mucho la alusión a las bicicletas en el cuento de "El pequeño Francis", ya que ella disfrutaba mucho de ir en bicicleta con Max Ernst.
Me gustó por la interpretación simbólica que Carrington hace de su propia vida, pero su estilo y narrativa no se me hace extraordinario. Seguramente se debe a que no es exactamente el estilo que generalmente me gusta leer. En efecto es muy surrealista, pero no por ello incoherente. Al contrario, dentro de todas las fantasías que crea tiene una lógica uniforma de los relatos.
No lo amé y no estoy segura que lo recomendaría, pero me gustó leerlo porque la vida de Leonora Carrington me parece interesantísima.
August 28, 2024
Wonderful stuff. This collection prepared 1987 in consultation with Leonora and published 1988. Leonora is a fascinating personality. You can find a short documentary on her and some interviews on YouTube.
January 5, 2012
A fitting first book for 2012. Carrington is going to be a permanent obsession.
Want to read
June 17, 2012Great artist and writer, and the first thing the description can say about her is that she’s Max Ernst’s lover? Progressive…
November 14, 2016
was told these were must-read ravings - maybe - can't recommend with full throat, though there's some delightfully fucked up stuff in it
January 21, 2022
A reread. I'm particularly fond of "The Debutante."
October 4, 2024
Este libro autobiográfico nos narra la bajada, la caída vertiginosa de la autora, cuando durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial y en una situación que la rebasa por completo, pierde la cordura. La narración es directa y desenfrenada y nos lleva de la mano a un lugar donde pocos queremos estar, pero con la seguridad de ser solo testigos del hecho, bien seguros desde la barrera. Sin embargo Leonora, a quien después de una relación lector-autor tan íntima no podemos llamar de otra forma, nos deja vivir a través de su relato la experiencia.
Escrito de manera compulsiva durante una larga noche, es un relato que atrapa y sorprende. Casi tan surrealista como el cuento que viene acompañándolo en esta edición.
Escrito de manera compulsiva durante una larga noche, es un relato que atrapa y sorprende. Casi tan surrealista como el cuento que viene acompañándolo en esta edición.
October 4, 2024
Este libro autobiográfico nos narra la bajada, la caída vertiginosa de la autora, cuando durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial y en una situación que la rebasa por completo, pierde la cordura. La narración es directa y desenfrenada y nos lleva de la mano a un lugar donde pocos queremos estar, pero con la seguridad de ser solo testigos del hecho, bien seguros desde la barrera. Sin embargo Leonora, a quien después de una relación lector-autor tan íntima no podemos llamar de otra forma, nos deja vivir a través de su relato la experiencia.
Escrito de manera compulsiva durante una larga noche, es un relato que atrapa y sorprende. Casi tan surrealista como el cuento que viene acompañándolo en esta edición.
Escrito de manera compulsiva durante una larga noche, es un relato que atrapa y sorprende. Casi tan surrealista como el cuento que viene acompañándolo en esta edición.
October 16, 2024
I have always loved surreal stuff, be it in movies, paintings etc. In literature, though, it's just recently that I got acquainted with this form of art. Short story collections usually comes with a few "disposable" ones, but I really loved every one of the stories present in House of Fear. Of course, some I loved more than others, but all of them left a very strong impression in me. It makes me sad to know that Carrington's literary body of work is not extense, but what I've seen so far places her among my favorite writers.
January 22, 2018
Creo que el surrealismo y yo no nos llevamos muy bien al menos no en litertura, de los primeros solo me gusto uno, pero cabe destacar que me gusto mucho pero no se si fue por lo macabro y oscuro y que tenía que ver con mi animal favorito, y después disfrute la parte autobiografica de cuando estuvo internada en un sanatorio mental... eso si me hizo, decir varias veces ¿Qué?, reir, la mayor parte del tiempo me quede confundida y eso se disfruta a mares ...
September 21, 2019
Carrington's longer works feel somewhat indulgent and flabby compared to her much tighter short fiction. Had to let this one fall to the wayside. (However, it is worth a look at for the brilliant foreword if for nothing else)
2.5/5
2.5/5
December 24, 2022
Los cuentos van en la onda de los surrealistas, con historias parecidas a las primeras de Vian o algunas de Gómez de la Serna.
https://liblit.com/leonora-carrington...
https://liblit.com/leonora-carrington...
December 13, 2021
Leonora muestra pequeños relatos donde la realidad se funde con la fantasía y lo bizarro. Cuentos de hadas con un aire tenebroso, simplemente fantásticos. Es impresionante como el ambiente que se marca en su obra pictórica pueda transmitirse al mundo de las palabras.
October 28, 2016
Una obra de arte exquisita. Es uno de los libros que más confundida me han dejado, algunas veces era doloroso leer, otras ocasiones era divertido, otras era molesto, en fin, una infinidad de cosas me hacía pensar y sentir este libro. Cada palabra, cada oración de Leonora fueron como un espejo donde yo me reflejaba, fue como un intenso viaje por mi interior.
A todo aquel que no lo ha leído, léalo :)
A todo aquel que no lo ha leído, léalo :)
January 2, 2013
¿En qué momento suplantamos la fe en el surrealismo por la confianza en un racionalismo abstracto?
Estos cuentos son una reivindicación contundente del poder que tiene el mundo onírico sobre lo que solemos llamar realidad. En su escritura, Carrigton sólo se preocupa por conectar con sus miedos, sus deseos y recuerdos, invitando al lector a un disfrute estético profundamente voyerista.
Estos cuentos son una reivindicación contundente del poder que tiene el mundo onírico sobre lo que solemos llamar realidad. En su escritura, Carrigton sólo se preocupa por conectar con sus miedos, sus deseos y recuerdos, invitando al lector a un disfrute estético profundamente voyerista.
November 6, 2012
Less fantastical (but not much) than The Hearing Trumpet, Carrington is able to write of madness and vulnerability in a strangely straightforward way. Beautifully instinctive, her surrealistic images are solidly rooted in real emotion. There is such strength in her weakness.
November 30, 2007
This book is a biographical account of the authors experience wile confined in a rest house after a nervous breakdown. Mindblowing...
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