Publication Details

Turcotte, G, Vampiric Decolonization: Fanon, 'Terrorism' and Mudrooroo’s Vampire Trilogy, in Lopenz, A (ed), Postcolonial Whiteness: A Critical Reader on Race and Empire, State University of New York Press, Albany, 2005, 103–118. Original book available here. This copy is a late draft and might contain inconsistencies with the published version.


[Extract] Long before the fact of Australia was ever confirmed by explorers and cartographers it had already been imagined as a grotesque space, a land peopled by monsters.1 The idea of its existence was disputed, was even heretical for a time, and with the advent of the transportation of convicts its darkness seemed confirmed. The Antipodes was a world of reversals, the dark subconscious of Britain. It was, for all intents and purposes, Gothic par excellence, the dungeon of the world. It is perhaps for this reason that the Gothic as a mode has been a consistent presence in Australia since European settlement. Certainly the fact that settlement began in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, during the rise of the Gothic as a sensationalist and resonantly influential form, contributes to its impact on the literatures of Australia. There are other reasons for its appeal. It is certainly possible to argue that the generic qualities of the Gothic mode lend themselves to articulating the colonial experience inasmuch as each emerges out of a condition of deracination and uncertainty, of the familiar transposed into unfamiliar space, and then forcibly ‘naturalised’. It is this very quality which Freud identified as the condition of the uncanny, where the home becomes unhomely—where the heimlich becomes unheimlich—and yet remains sufficiently familiar to disorient and disempower.2 All migrations represent a dislocation of sorts, but Australia posed particularly vexing questions for its European immigrants. Nature, it seemed to many, was out of kilter. To cite the familiar clichés: its trees shed their bark, swans were black rather than white, and the seasons were reversed. And while these features represented a physical perversion, it was widely considered to be metonymic of an attendant spiritual dis/ease. This sense of spiritual malaise is often communicated through the Gothic mode, that is, through a literary form that emphasises the horror, uncertainty and desperation of the human experience, and represents the solitariness of that experience through characters trapped in a hostile environment, or pursued by an unspecified or unidentifiable danger. From its inception the Gothic has dealt with fears and themes that are endemic in the colonial experience: isolation, entrapment, fear of pursuit and fear of the unknown. The Gothic, moreover, is itself a hybrid form—a mode delineated by borrowings and conflations, by fragmentation and incompletion, by a rejection of set values and yet a dependence on establishment. In this sense it is ideal to articulate the colonial condition.