October is here, and with it comes one of my favorite times of the year. I'm talking, of course, about spooky season. It's the perfect excuse to binge all the horror reads I haven't made it to during the rest of the year—not that I need an excuse!
I thought I'd kick off the season with a horror classic, Robert Bloch's Psycho. Alfred Hitchcock's film adaptation is a classic in its own right, but despite watching it every year, I'd never actually read the book that started it all. That, combined with reading Leah Rowan's brilliant reimagining Marion earlier this year, finally gave me the push I needed. It was time to see how Norman Bates and the Bates Motel first came to life on the page.
You know the plot. The book's been around for more than sixty years, and it all happens pretty much the way I expected it to. If you've seen the movie, much of this will feel very familiar. There are a few differences here and there, with Norman himself being the most notable. He's an obese, middle-aged man here, quite different from the thin, unassuming figure Anthony Perkins portrays in the film. We also get a bit more insight into Norman's past and the childhood trauma that helped shape him. But beyond that, I knew most of the beats before they happened.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention one aspect of Psycho that hasn't aged well. Bloch connects Norman's cross-dressing with the horror of his character, treating it as another indication that there's something wrong with him. As a gay man, that kind of othering of people who don't conform to traditional ideas about gender or sexuality is hard for me to overlook. I know the book was written in 1959, when attitudes were very different, but it's still an uncomfortable element to encounter today.
So, you're probably wondering, what did I actually think of the book?
It's hard to say. Psycho didn't really feel like horror to me, at least not as I'd classify the genre today. And because I already knew every major turn before it happened on the page, I didn't experience the shocks that a reader encountering this story for the first time might have. What I could appreciate was finally reading the novel that became such an important part of horror history.
But appreciating its importance and loving the experience of reading it are two different things. I'm glad I finally read Psycho, especially after all these years of watching Hitchcock's adaptation, but I can't say I'd urge everyone else to rush out and do the same. For me, Psycho was ultimately more interesting as a piece of horror history than as a book I actually enjoyed reading. And I think I'm okay with that.
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