It's always the be-spectacled ones
Taking classes in the Gothic is interesting. It helps, of course, that it’s taught by Amusing Professor (my pseudonyms could use some work, perhaps), who, despite being brilliant in her field, screams and drops things a lot. (Example: when fast-forwarding a DVD, she went past the scene she needed, screamed and dropped the remote control. Last semester she knocked a lectern over, screamed and jumped backwards.)
However, by far the most useful aspect of this course is that I’m learning who I need to fear. I was informed last week that, contrary to my expectations, one should not fear athletic men in their mid-twenties. Of course they won’t hurt you. It’s the fat, balding, middle-aged men in spectacles who you should suspect (regardless of the fact that being fat and middle-aged, they’d probably find it difficult to hurt you anyway). Or rather, in the words of one member of the class, ‘You don’t suspect the good-looking ones, do you? But the fat, balding, middle-aged ones with glasses, when you see them you do suspect them, don’t you?’ Well, maybe it’s just me, but I really don’t suspect them. I tend to find their Prufrock-like appearance either endearing or amusing, depending on my mood. The ones I suspect, actually, tend to be the ones shuffling around dressed in white tracksuits, although those figures don’t pop up in contemporary Gothic novels or films too frequently. Possibly this is because they’re far too obvious as potential killers; for maximum impact, it should be someone you don’t expect, surely?