Posted November 24, 2025 by Diana Fulger
My First Encounter With the Gothic
My First Encounter With the Gothic, by Diana Fulger
I must have been around ten years old when I had my first encounter with what was to become a lifelong passion: the Gothic.
I don’t remember much else of that day other than that it was a cold, dark evening and I was home alone. My parents were working late shifts back then and babysitting was not common for kids of my age in my country of origin. On that fateful evening, a new show was about to premiere on national television, and for some reason, I instantly knew it was going to be a special one. Cuddled up under my warm blanket, lights out, and eyes glued to the flickering screen, I entered a world of sublime mystery.
A misty forest of Douglas fir trees unfolded on the screen, the unforgettable sound of Angelo Badalamenti poured out of the loudspeakers, and the most comforting feeling of awe expanded throughout my entire body: “Fire walk with me!” David Lynch’s Twin Peaks thus set the ground for my everlasting love for the Gothic.
As I grew older, I discovered Gothic poetry and fiction. I remember I used to sit for hours in the public library and devour any poem or short story ever written by Edgar Allan Poe. Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights or Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre became favorites I would get lost in on long summer afternoons. As a teenager, I started writing my own Gothic poetry, at first out of a feeling of personal necessity, then later more intently, as lyrics for rock bands from my hometown. Gothic metal from Paradise Lost or Moonspell became a favorite music genre and my wardrobe slowly turned grey and black.
My years at university opened up new horizons for Gothic literature and cinema. I moved to Germany and majored in British and American Studies. We read Hawthorne, Perkins Gillman, Faulkner and Morrison. The Gothic slowly revealed itself not only as an aesthetic, but also as a platform for exploring social and cultural anxieties. As I finished my PhD and started teaching at university, I knew that the Gothic would have to feature heavily on my course curriculum: US-American Gothic, Southern Gothic, Gothic Cinema, Arctic Gothic. I delve into various aspects of this fascinating mode whenever I get the chance.
Lately, my journey through the Gothic landscape has come full circle, as I explore more and more the intricacies of Gothic film: season one of True Detective, season one of The Terror, or Crimson Peak. And this year has been particularly rewarding, with two exquisite films from my favorite directors: Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu and Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein.
A lot has changed in my life since that fateful evening over three decades ago, but one constancy remains. Whenever I cuddle up under the blanket on my couch, lights out, and press play, that same comforting feeling takes over. Because to me, the Gothic has become much more than a hobby. To me, the Gothic feels like home.
