Sterrestel

Gothic fiction is a genre that combines both horror and romance, two of my most favorite things. I’m currently trying to write a novel with gothic energy, but I realized, I didn’t actually know what a gothic novel entailed outside of social commentary and dark aesthetic, and what separated it from plain horror. After doing some research, here are the common elements you’ll find in a gothic novel.

The main character behind as a nice, decent person, but must ultimately face the monster within them. Gothic characters tend to be representative of own desires to go buck wild feral and release a “darkness” within. A prime example of this is Henry Jekyll from Jekyll and Hyde.

Gothic literature is about transformation, an element that is not necessary when writing straight horror.

In Gothic literature, the past haunts the present. Whether that’s a dark act or memory for the protagonist, or an actual literal ghost, there is always some form of a past the MC would rather forget.

Romance in goth lit is tragic or bittersweet. Also, general romanticism levels are through the roof. Nearing melodrama.

The drama of despair drives goth lit; violence and blood drives horror.

Heightened, almost melodramatic emotions.

A gloomy, decaying, or abandoned setting with an atmosphere of mystery and suspense. An old decaying mansion or estate is a popular location in goth lit.

Often features a prophecy, legend, or omen.

Often features supernatural or otherwise unexplainable events.

YOU DO IT ON ONE OF THESE! OBVIOUSLY!!!

and that brown end? the hard bit? pencil sharpener. or sharpened with a blade. are you following me? now, attach six of those to a harpy.

My gut response to the description is that it feels bad. However, something I am willing to admit is that it's very evocative of the shape of the claws. Bananas are known for being particularly curvy, and I think an emphasis on the curve of a bird's talon can be a good extra flair as opposed to a plain "claws shot toward me."

The problem is that any added sense of vivid danger from emphasizing the curve of the claws is lost in the comparison. Bananas are notoriously not sharp, and are in fact very easily squished (even by accident).

The sentence tries to amend that failing in the imagery by specifying the bananas are "sharpened," but that's a) a confusing image because no one does that and b) undermines the sense of danger even more than if it were just "claws like bananas," because most would imagine the process of "sharpening" a banana to turn it to mush (as nicely demonstrated by @transastronautistic in zir addition).

(photos from their attempt at sharpening a banana (and no, the attempt on the frozen banana wasn't much better, even if it wasn't mush))

If we wanted to make a comparison that emphasized the curvature of the talons without diminishing the sense of danger, perhaps we could go for something like a sickle. It's sharp, strong, and has an even more distinct curve than a banana.

HOWEVER.

"Like sharpened bananas" isn't inherently an unusable description. Depending on the context and what the author is trying to achieve, it could very much work.

I'm assuming this is for the sequel to Apparently, Sir Cameron Needs to Die, which is a very funny book that often derives its humor from overly drawn out or absurd descriptions.

(All the chapter titles are like this, and it's not just funny, it also pays off in a cool way later in the book)

The oxymoronic nature of "sharpened bananas" lends itself well to this tone, along with how it characterizes the POV that is producing this out of place imagery. I don't know the context of this scene, but if it's a largely comedic one with little sense of danger, being narrated by a character who is either so food or sex obsessed that their descriptions are hijacked by bananas even in danger, then this descriptor works! It's descriptive of the claws and especially the POV character, with the added benefit of being a very memorable and funny line.

However, if this is supposed to be a scene where you want the reader to be genuinely concerned for the well being of the POV character, then I don't think it works. The contradictory imagery immediately takes the reader out of the scene, because they have to stop their reading flow to understand what the claws are even supposed to look like, and keeping up momentum is really important to pacing action scenes.

Two days until they get to erid

Grace: Hey Rock can you help me w- is that a shirt?? Why are you wearing a shirt???

Imagine, after decades of your world becoming colder and colder, you are saved. A single Eridian, the only one of twenty three to survive, arrives in an alien ship, accompanied by a creature you can barely conceive.

Everything about the alien is so loud, hinges formed from tissue thumping and stretching in constant movement, even while unconscious. Completely organic, reliant of oxygen and hydrogen. Instead of a protective carapace, it regrows its damaged tissues. It has senses you do not, and technology so unlike your own, both able to utilise a force you have never heard of. The same force that killed almost your entire mission team. Highly adaptable, able to teach itself how to fly its ship in under a week, able to become fluent in the engineer's dialect in less than four years.

And if Erid's best engineer is correct (and there's no reason it wouldn't be), this creature not only managed to breed a predator of the warmth-taker to survive in various atmospheres, including Threeworld's, but also turned around to provide aid when it discovered that the predator could escape xenonite.

And you think: Surely, this creature which protects itself without a carapace, which sleeps so lightly and knows so much and learns so quickly, which saved two planets at the cost of ever returning to its thrum, surely, a creature so extraordinary must have a name to match

And you think: Perhaps it is strength, Mountain-Base or Lonsdaleite-Carapace. Perhaps it is intellect, Diamond-Claw or Lockpick-Mind. Perhaps it is courage, Song-Through-Silence or Path-Carver

And you think: None of these names hold the true weight of what this creature is to them. How do you describe something like that, which aids without expectation of anything in return, which risks its own life for the sake of a species it cannot touch, which performs miracles simply because it was asked.

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

I mean full-on khaki-shorts-wearing, traversing-wilderness-with-nothin'-but-a-machete Adrian who yoinks snakes outta trees and pets swamp puppies and will unflinchingly dig around in elephant faeces for signs of a rare parasitic tapeworm if needed.

Oh, humans eat socially? No problem, Adrian has observed many many animals eat. Did you know that an obscure species of small underground dirt creature from the north side of Erid also eats socially? Adrian can give you a not-so-short presentation on them.

Oh, the human has no external carapace and so its internal sounds are absurdly loud, wet and off-putting? No problem, Adrian was just conducting an expedition last month researching the incredible eridian animal, the Wet Loud Worm from the south-east region of Wet Loud Wormland. They're desensitised, it's fine.

Oh, Grace leaks often from many orifices and it can be a bit of a learning curve to get used to? No problem for Adrian, see Wet Loud Worm paragraph again!