Lolita Times Poe Times Antonia Banderas

I want to say something about imagination purely as a tool in the art and science of scaring people. 
The idea isn't original with me; I heard it expressed by William F. Nolan at the 1979 World Fantasy 
Convention. Nothing is so frightening as what's behind the closed door, Nolan said. You approach the door in the old, deserted house, and you hear something scratching at it. The audience holds its breath along with the protagonist as she or he (more often she) approaches that door. The protagonist throws it open, and there is a ten-foot-tall bug. The audience screams, but this particular scream has an oddly relieved sound to it. "A bug ten feet tall is pretty horrible," the audience thinks, "but I can deal with a ten-foot-tall bug. I was afraid it might be a hundred feet tall."

~Stephen King, Danse Macabre

First of all, sorry about the abnormally long quote. It refused to be paraphrased without becoming disjointed. 

Aura does the 'Danse Macabre' (the balance of revealing and hiding horrific details) perfectly. There is more mystery in the book than there is substance. Creepy atmospheric tension is built through the book with the amorphous religious prostrations of Señora Consuelo, the burning cats on the roof, and the constant darkness. Felipe falls in love with Aura, of whom he knows nothing but the depth of her eyes. Her past, her character and her attachment to Señora Consuelo are unkown. He does not understand anything. Both Felipe Montero and the reader are kept 'in the dark' about the true nature of Aura and Señora Consuelo until the last page, and even then, many of the mysteries, such as the role of the cats and the mysterious servant are still unsolved.

This is very unsettling, yet the fear of the book is mostly resolved as we learn that Aura is just a younger projection of Señora Consuelo, and Felipe is just a younger projection of the General. Yes, it's messed up that "you're touching her withered breasts when a ray of moonlight shines in and surprises you" (145), but at least the Señora wasn't torturing Aura; holding her in some sort of sadistic relationship. It makes us uneasy to realize that when we thought Felipe was making love to the young, beautiful Aura, he was actually doing it with the toothless and shriveled old lady, but hey, at least nobody has died. Right? The bug could have been a hundred feet tall. With the mystery partially unraveled, the atmosphere retreats from sinister to merely creepily tender, as Felipe discovers that he does truly love Señora Consuelo ("You too love her, you too have come back...") (145). So the end isn't that unsettling, but the rest of the book is, because you don't know what is going to happen.

Another reason the book is so ominous is because it mixes beauty with repulsiveness; this paradox is essential to plot. Even though  Señora Consuelo is hideous enough to drive Felipe away, Aura is beautiful enough to keep him there. The paradox of fear versus hope also adds to the horror; even though there's more than enough spooky stuff going on to make Felipe freak out, make like a banana and split, the prospect of rescuing Aura is enough to make him stay. Felipe is bound to stay in the house, and endure the creepiness and bad omens because of his immense desire for Aura. As Bane said in The Dark Knight Rises, "There can be no true despair without hope." (Not sure that quote is entirely relevant, but I'm listening to The Dark Knight Rises soundtrack, and it sounds pretty badass right now.)

Can I also say that I love this book? It's like Lolita times Poe, times Antonio Banderas.