Who would be your literary murderer?
29 Oct 2015
We really don’t need to remind you that it’s Halloween on Saturday, so instead let’s get really creepy and morbid in honour of this most unholy of holidays and talk about how we might be killed, executed, slain, massacred, murdered, wiped out or in some such way essentially expired by characters in literature. No, really. We challenged the Hodder team to think about the most likely way they might meet their end if they were a character in literature themselves.
Corleone o Corleone
My literary killer is a bit of a cheat as you could argue it’s two people – Don Vito Corleone or Michael Corleone – but I’m ignoring that and saying that the Godfather is my would-be killer. After careful (and long deliberation) my choice has really come out of glamour and the sheer range of possibilities – I could be shot, hanged, have my head cut off and left in someone’s bed, or even be blown up in a car. Whatever the method, chances are I wouldn’t be entering the pearly gates peacefully, but in a blaze of Mafioso glory and wearing a well fitted Italian suit.
– Ross (Marketing)
It's a secret . . .
My literary murders would most likely be the inimitable Henry Winter & co from The Secret History. This would partly be okay with me, because before bumping me off they would have first accepted me into their elite circle of uber cool, uber intelligent academics. After spending a few glorious weekends with the chaps in Francis’s country manor, they would most likely have got annoyed with me for being really bad at Ancient Greek, owning zero pairs of pince-nez and generally bringing the group charisma level down several notches. Eventually this would persuade them to think up an elaborate plot to kill me (a fateful horse riding accident perhaps?) but really, whose idea was it to let me in the group in the first place?
– Abby (Editorial)
The Scottish one
My literary murderer is one of the thespian kind. Also the Scottish kind. And the always-listens-to-his-wife kind. Yes, it’s the tragic Shakespearian Scot, Macbeth. In the play, Macbeth and his wife decide to murder the king for power, and it would be for similar reasons that they would turn on me. Being a member of Hodder Art is an enviable position – you get to see stunning covers develop, work with talented designers, illustrators and artists, and spend a lot of your time surrounded by such beauty that Lady Macbeth would be nagging at her husband non-stop to kill me. Of course, Macbeth would be so full of guilt at what he had done just to get his hands on some Pantone references and Spot UV guides that he would start a bloodbath with the rest of the department. One that would end with him dying at the hand of a scalpel. Tragic? Most definitely.
– Bridie (Art)
I can see it now: it’s the final battle. The Great Hall is crumbling, windows shattered, curses flying everywhere. I’m duelling one of the fiercest, and maddest, Death Eaters around, Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s taunting me, forcing me to dodge her spells whilst I watch my friends fall around me. Looking over her shoulder I see fellow DA members in trouble – I fire Stupefy at the Death Eater scum, but am hit in the back by a killing curse by Dolohov. Cowardly move, that.
– Aimee (Marketing)
Jaws of Death
After pondering this for a morbidly long amount of time, I have concluded that my demise would most likely be at the hands of, or rather ‘jaws’ of, a famous literary (and movie star) monster. Remember how long it took to go back in the water after Steven Spielberg realised Peter Benchley’s most infamous and terrifying nemesis on the big screen? (Really showing my age now.) Even now I can’t go snorkelling or diving without hearing the rhythmic ‘Durn durn. Durn durn. Durn durn durn durn durn durn durn…’ and so on strike up as I stare off into the unknowable blue. I’ve had an odd fascination with sharks since watching the movie, and having the wits scared out of me, when I was little. Creeping around the house snapping lights on in fear that Jaws was going to spring out at me at any moment… Kids are weird. Yet I learned to dive and proceeded to go in search of sharks at every opportunity, and cage diving with Great Whites is the top of my bucket list. So if I was to be gobbled up by Jaws, the giant man-eating brute, wouldn’t that be just a little bit ironic?
– Amy (Marketing)