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| The Bad Seed by William March |
| The Bad Seed remains a landmark book that continues to have a strong influence on pop culture. For the purposes of this site, we’re really more concerned with its effects on the horror genre. As is often the case with a story that is successfully adapted into a film, the book can be all but forgotten among genre fans. This is unfortunate in this case, as The Bad Seed is a powerful piece of literature that never seems to gather the accolades from genre enthusiasts that it deserves. From this perspective, people think only of Patty McCormack’s memorable turn in the 1956 film adaptation. On the other end of things, the critical praise for it keeps it from labeled as ‘horror’ by more respectable critics.
The legacy created by William March when he wrote The Bad Seed is undeniable. The most obvious influences though are in the film world with lackluster clones like Mikey and The Good Son released in the early 1990s. To be fair though, those probably owe more to the Mervyn Leroy film than the source novel. The film is effective even if it is lacking somewhat in the climax. There is enough going on in the film that it warrants its own review on this site, which we will be posted shortly. As for the literary counterpart, William March’s the Bad Seed may not be as shocking to current audiences as it was upon its initial publication in 1954, but it still packs a punch. It is always interesting to hold a work up in a clearer light after the hype and shock value have worn off. The Bad Seed is a multi-layered story that’s both chilling and engaging. Many aspects of the story make for excellent discussion topics, and the author’s biographical information is equally as intriguing. First things first though, The Bad Seed concerns the plight of Christine Penmark, a seemingly normal woman who is concerned that her daughter Rhoda might not be completely normal…and by not quite completely normal, I mean a stone cold psychopath. The Penmark family has just relocated and the father figure Kenneth is away on business for some time. This leaves Christine on her own to deal with Rhoda and her homicidal tendencies. As the story opens, Christine is trying to sign Rhoda up in an exclusive ‘progressive’ school. She is able to do so without much trouble when they realize that her father was a respected and well-published journalist in his time. The trouble begins when a young boy in Rhoda’s class wins a medal for improvement in penmanship that she feels she deserved. It isn’t too long before the boy drowns on a school field trip to the wharf and his prized medal is missing. To make matters worse for the Penmark family, Rhoda was the last person to see the boy alive. When Christine finds the medal hidden in Rhoda’s room she struggles to come to terms with her daughter’s potential psychotic behavior amid a myriad of supporting characters. The Fern sisters run the school that Rhoda is initially accepted too, but are wary of having her back after the young boy’s ‘accident’. Old Mrs. Forsythe is The Penmark’s neighbor and frequent babysitter to Rhoda. Monica Breedlove and Reggie Tasker are close friends who become increasingly aware that all is not right with Christine’s behavior of late. Finally there’s Leroy, the groundskeeper who knows that something isn’t right with Rhoda from the very beginning. The additional characters offer some variation for the story and nudge the story along when we’re not dealing with our two principles. The heart and strength of the story though remains the relationship between mother and daughter as the situation becomes increasingly tense. Without going into anything that will spoil the story, some of Rhoda’s nonchalant responses to Christine’s gravely serious questions make the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. As the story progresses Christine becomes increasingly obsessed with researching her child’s abnormal behavior. Under the guise of writing a novel about young criminals she drills Reggie (an accomplished journalist himself) about similar cases and spends a good deal of time at the library finding whatever information is available. She finds out more than she bargained for as she spirals further down the path of self-destruction. At some points here, March’s story is most effective. The passages where Christine is talking with Mrs. Breedlove and having simultaneous interior monologues are masterfully crafted and almost cinematic in nature. The Bad Seed is a page-turner, to be sure. Aside from the rather dark subject matter, it also feels like a book that should be studied in a high school literature class. The 1997 edition of The Bad Seed also features a new introduction from Elaine Showalter. This ten-page introduction serves well as both a tribute to the novel and a starting point for further research on The Bad Seed and March himself. There is a brief historical sketch of the story, documenting the journey from page to stage, and eventually to the silver screen. More interesting though is the biographical sketch of March himself. This really gives the story more depth and subtext, aside from the obvious references to Freud etc. Many of the events and character names take on new meaning when you see that they are, at times, loaded with personal significance. The more obvious ground of the character psychology is also discussed satisfactorily considering the space allotted. Rhoda’s chilling self-sufficiance and complete lack of empathy may not be psychologically accurate, but they do make for great storytelling. In one unforgettable moment, Rhoda is asked if she’d harm a particular person, she states, in such a casual tone she might as well have been talking about the weather, the she wouldn’t because that person doesn’t have anything she wants. Unlike most fictional killers, Rhoda never kills for passion, revenge, hatred, or any of the other common motives. She never feels enough passion about something to let her emotions get the best of her. Instead she kills strictly for possessions or to keep from getting caught. The Bad Seed is an important chiller. In my opinion it’s a prime example of well-crafted horror. Unfortunately, most critics hide well told stories like this behind the BS moniker of thriller. This way people can enjoy the story/movie/whatever, but still take comfort in the knowledge that they’re not lowering themselves to the point of liking ‘horror’. After all, horror is nothing but blood, guts, and boobies anyway! |
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| review by Joe Canistro 08.30.2005 |