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2006, Ages 16 and Up
Gather round and I’ll tell you the tale of an average boy’s search for identity and love as he grows up among carnival oddities.
(5/1/26)
Gather round and I’ll tell you the tale of an average boy’s search for identity and love as he grows up among carnival oddities.
(5/1/26)
In the time since reading and studying Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, I’ve pondered the common assumption that Alice represents the normal while the talking animals and bizarre figures represent the abnormal. This makes sense, certainly, but I also see another angle to it. We’ve all heard of characters being ostracized by others for their “unnatural” looks: The Ugly Duckling, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, John Merrick from David Lynch’s The Elephant Man, Quasimodo from Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Auggie Pullman from R. J. Palacio’s Wonder, to name a few. But not so much the other way around, have we? Is the one we would deem normal truly normal if no one else around him looks as he does? What happens when the so-called non-humans outnumber the so-called human? Does the human then become the real outsider? The one, dare I say, less than human?
From giants and dwarves to the limbless, bearded, and everything in between, Colonel Kingston’s Faeryland resort in 1890’s Maryland is home to all manner of “freaks,” those who use their physical disabilities and highly unusual appearances to entertain spectators the country over. All except Abel Dandy. The perfectly formed son of a legless father and an armless mother, he has lived among such individuals his whole seventeen years and delights in their uniqueness and perseverance both on stage and off. Yet neither the familial affection of the performers nor his devilish skill with the throwing knife can change the disheartening fact that he has no amazing abnormality of his own worthy of an audience. But everything changes when an antique ring adorned with a turquoise stone scarab beetle begins to haunt him with strangely familiar dreams of a beautiful and mysterious Ancient Egyptian girl. Spurred on by these and other visions of fortune and adventure, Abel sets out in search of her and another show that will accept him and his talents, only to find himself in the dubious employ of Dr. Mink’s Traveling Monster Menagerie. Witnessing the sinister proprietor’s cruel treatment of the exploited adults and kidnapped children advertised as his “monsters,” Abel has little time to find his ghostly lover in the waking world and save his new fantastic friends from Dr. Mink before his normalcy becomes a dangerous liability.
Freaks marks a stylistic departure from Klause’s previous work in several ways. It’s her first story to:
a) be told in first-person as opposed to third person limited
b) not have a female lead
c) take place in the distant past instead modern times or the far future
d) feature a comparatively minimal number of supernatural elements
While her first three novels--The Silver Kiss, Alien Secrets, and Blood and Chocolate—revolve around vampires, extraterrestrials, and werewolves respectively, all the “creatures” here are medically and biologically plausible. Some of the most memorable include Apollo, “The Dog Boy,” Abel’s annoyingly naïve, adorably mischievous, and completely hairy twelve-year-old best friend; Mr. Ginger, “The Two-Headed Man,” who carries himself with more dignity than his protruding half-formed twin would suggest; Miss Lightfoot, “The Alligator Girl,” stylish and maternal in equal measure despite her unusually dry, scaly skin; and Minnie, a little girl with an enlarged head and an eerie talent for prophesy. According to an excerpt from Klause’s Author’s Note:
“The people in my story are imaginary, but their physical differences are inspired by those of people who really lived, and many characters are composites of people I came across in photographs and accounts. One of my original inspirations was Tod Browning’s classic movie Freaks, which came out in 1932 and which I first encountered as a college student. One of the reasons I loved the movie so much when I was a teenager was that it treated with respect the people considered freaks by the ‘normal’ world. There were many times I felt like an outsider myself, so I identified with the human oddities in the film. In the 1960s the media called the type of people I hung out with ‘hippies.’ Less-than-kind people called us ‘freaks,’ but we took on that title of Freak and wore it proudly. I use that title for this book in the same spirit and also to pay tribute to Tod Browning, who endured much criticism and censorship for his attempt to show that even those who look much different still have the same feelings we all do.” (Pg 329-330)
The story also continues a trend Klause began in Blood and Chocolate—one that I am very happy for. While The Silver Kiss is a tragic tale of terminal illness and loss and Alien Secrets is an exciting sci-fi romp for children, Freaks isn’t afraid to give older readers the same steamy PG-13 romance that made me fall for Blood’s lupine lovers:
“I set to unwrapping her fingers, but my hands trembled, for if I slipped, I might touch her in a personal place—a place I imagined to be no longer arid as the desert, but as hot and moist as the Nile Delta. I bit my lip. I fumbled. Sweat beaded on my brow. When I pulled the tube of fabric from the final finger, she took my hand with a strength I didn’t expect and pressed it close to what I had carefully avoided. I flooded with warmth.
“‘Free my wrists,’ she whispered, and let me go.
I sawed at the bonds in a slipshod hurry and tried not to think of the tightness in my loins.
[. . .] She leaned her head back and made a throaty sound like a purr. I knew that movement, I knew that sound, and my body responded so fiercely that I had to bite back a moan. I bent and kissed her by the ear, and she uttered something guttural and encouraging in a language I didn’t know.
[. . .]
[. . .] I went to her as her slave and knelt at her side, and she wound her arms about my neck. I lifted her out of the trough and onto my lap. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she drew me to her and captured my lips with hers. My tongue explored and found no resistance, and I took her mouth as mine. She tasted of exotic nectars and smelled of spices. I wanted to dissolve and be a part of her.” (Pg. 267-70)
As I touched on before, a unique aspect of this novel is the paradox of how Abel’s social interactions paint him as “other.” Through a voice of mature self-reflection mixed with youthful restlessness, we see both his resentment of the aversion with which he is treated by the very townsfolk he resembles due to living in Faeryland, and his pain of the performers’ teasing as it drives home how he can no more relate to them than he can with ordinary people.
“Outside the post office two young ladies dawdled. [. . .] I tipped my cap as I passed them, but they cut me dead. My heart fell, although I could have predicted that would happen. It was useless to search for a sweetheart in Smithville. They all knew where I came from. I lived with the freaks and was a common charlatan, and probably degenerate into the bargain.
[. . .]
When I came back out with the packages, two young men had joined the girls. Although I hardly came close to them, the young men reached for the arms of the girls as if to move them of out of harm’s way. A worm of anger squiggled in my gut. They didn’t even know me. I called out a cheery ‘Good afternoon.’ I would make them work hard to ignore me. The bicycle girl nodded, and her girlfriend elbowed her. The boys scowled. One of them spit casually in my direction, his eyes bright with anger. I wished I left well enough alone.” (Pg. 14-15)
[. . .]
“I sat and fiddled with my ring as I waited for my family to finish their meal, examining them from under lowered eyelids. I loved my parents, but now I saw them as the boys in town did, strange and distorted. Perhaps it frightened the townies even more that they couldn’t see what my difference was, although they were sure I had one. If I went out into the world, would young ladies think me handsome when they didn’t have the image of my mother and father in their eyes? The surge of yearning I felt for this made me uncomfortable—hot and prickly with betrayal.
[. . .]
I was too deep in thought to pay much mind to the chuckles I heard on the way out, but as I passed the table of Gladys Dibble, the Pixie Queen, and her fairy court, a raucous voice burst into song.
‘He flies through the air with the greatest of ease. The naked young man on the flying trapeze . . .’
Archie sat between Betty and Dolly like a fly on a bun, singing at the top of his lungs. Archie, all the time ready to take a poke at me because I was so ordinary. The other diners clapped time as they laughed, and Baby Betty blew me a kiss. Did they all think me a joke? Underneath their affection was there pity for the normal boy who would never quite belong? Or was there a streak of resentment under their teasing?
I strode from the room, gazing straight ahead. I wanted to keep going, to march right out of the house. (Pg. 28-30)
Now, Abel is more than aware of the prejudice faced by human oddities, yet his awareness is not as cut-and-dry as believes. Through the characters Mr. Northstar—a black man—and Lillie—a prostitute—he sadly comes to realize just how nuanced prejudice can be. People of color and those in the oldest profession in the world, two of history’s most persecuted demographics, may have a comparatively easier time showing themselves in public, but in the eyes of many, there is disturbingly little difference between such minorities and stereotypically monstrous carnival freaks due to literal skin-deep reasons:
“[. . .] ‘Did you find any news of your boy in town?’ I asked as I walked him down to his cart.
‘I read an advertisement in the paper for a show of oddities in a town north of here, so that’s where I’m headed. Damn these unnatural exhibitions.’
Mr. Northstar had been nothing but generous, but his words bothered me. In the everyday world my parents would have been confined to the home at best, living on the charity of their parents, having none of the rewards of a normal life, never meeting each other, and seeing only those who either pitied or scorned them. ‘Even oddities deserve to make a living,’ I said.
‘And to live a normal life,’ he agreed. ‘But more than one person has offered to buy my son, as if he were chattel. My family had to struggle for their freedom; I’m not about to sell my son back into slavery.’
‘No, sir,’ I said. His point was clear. (Pg. 108)
[. . .]
“Lillie sometimes blew me a kiss, and I felt a thrill of desire. However, when I thought of how she earned her living, my ardor dimmed. This world did not offer many opportunities to a woman without a man’s support, I told myself. I did not know what choices she’d had in life, if any, and if people of my acquaintance could make their living by exhibiting their bodies, why should I condemn her for making a living with hers. Nevertheless, it made me sad to think of beautiful intimacies cheapened by money.’ (Pg. 115)
Also fascinating is what Klause’s portrayal of differing circus environments says about humanity and life versus survival. The names alone provide a hint of what they stand for. Consider Faeryland: identity crisis aside, Abel knows and loves it as a place of wonder and enchantment, where the performers enjoy interacting and teaching others with their unique skills as well as their looks. Compare that with Dr. Mink’s Traveling Monster Menagerie, whose oddities are billed as little more than grotesque zoo animals or lab specimens, forced to do literally nothing but sit and be gawked at by insensitive rubes in a setting more mausoleum than tent. Thus, when the appalled Abel later sets up a new show for them, they have real acts that empower and help them prove themselves as gifted artists rather than dumb beasts. In doing so, Abel and the reader are reminded that not only can even a perpetual job be fun in the right conditions, but few things are more soul-nourishing than genuine validation for one’s efforts and the simple joy of making others smile:
“The children in the audience loved the dog boy. Some of them set to barking and had to be hushed. Apollo growled back at them, and the girls screamed in delight. I told an outrageous tale about him that featured his great hunting abilities and his preference for raw meat. ‘But his greatest skill is his singing,’ I said to obvious disbelief.
The disbelief faded when Apollo sang the popular song ‘Come Home, Father’ in his angelic voice. The words—those of a child who begs her drunken father to return from the saloon to the bedside of his dying son—caused more than one lady to wipe her eyes. After his song Apollo took my place and became the master of his own little troupe.
Moses [“The Frog Boy”] made the ladies squeal when he popped his eyes. One young woman in the second row obliged him admirably by swooning not twice, but three times. Her beau almost dropped her the last time, he laughed so hard.
[. . .]
In the background Willie [“The Piebald Boy”] sang minstrel ditties onstage. His father would probably find lyrics like ‘Possum fo’ yo’ breakfast’ less than dignified, but the audience loved the boy and I could tell he was enjoying himself too. In fact, there was an especial exuberance to all the children. They were performing because they wanted to, not because they had to, and they liked it.” (Pg. 284-285)
Besides being a masterful addition to the circus-themed fantasy romance genre, Freaks: Alive on the Inside! is a clever twist on the well-worn “ugly outsider” trope. It sheds light on a specific group of people that, even in our medically advanced world, is still as real as it is mysterious. While the narrative borders on the edge of the “ugly good, pretty evil” cliché more than once, this is made up for by how it highlights what many such stories gloss over: just because someone is normal on the outside doesn’t mean they don’t feel lost or alone inside, or that they deserve less love and appreciation than others who face challenges by not being normal. The message may be as old as time, but its relevance can never be overstated: no matter what form we take in this life, it is through sharing our loves and dreams that we truly share our humanity.
CREDITS:
Special thanks to KTWH 99.5 Two Harbors Community Radio. All images, audio, and links belong to their respective owners; no copyright infringement is intended.
All book excerpts are from Freaks: Alive on the Inside! by Annette Curtis Klause (2006 paperback edition; published by Simon Pulse, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division).
MAIN THEME:
“The Call” - Briand Morrison and Roxann Berglund
https://www.briandmorrison.com/
https://www.facebook.com/BriandMorrisonGuitar/
https://www.youtube.com/user/briandmorrison
From giants and dwarves to the limbless, bearded, and everything in between, Colonel Kingston’s Faeryland resort in 1890’s Maryland is home to all manner of “freaks,” those who use their physical disabilities and highly unusual appearances to entertain spectators the country over. All except Abel Dandy. The perfectly formed son of a legless father and an armless mother, he has lived among such individuals his whole seventeen years and delights in their uniqueness and perseverance both on stage and off. Yet neither the familial affection of the performers nor his devilish skill with the throwing knife can change the disheartening fact that he has no amazing abnormality of his own worthy of an audience. But everything changes when an antique ring adorned with a turquoise stone scarab beetle begins to haunt him with strangely familiar dreams of a beautiful and mysterious Ancient Egyptian girl. Spurred on by these and other visions of fortune and adventure, Abel sets out in search of her and another show that will accept him and his talents, only to find himself in the dubious employ of Dr. Mink’s Traveling Monster Menagerie. Witnessing the sinister proprietor’s cruel treatment of the exploited adults and kidnapped children advertised as his “monsters,” Abel has little time to find his ghostly lover in the waking world and save his new fantastic friends from Dr. Mink before his normalcy becomes a dangerous liability.
Freaks marks a stylistic departure from Klause’s previous work in several ways. It’s her first story to:
a) be told in first-person as opposed to third person limited
b) not have a female lead
c) take place in the distant past instead modern times or the far future
d) feature a comparatively minimal number of supernatural elements
While her first three novels--The Silver Kiss, Alien Secrets, and Blood and Chocolate—revolve around vampires, extraterrestrials, and werewolves respectively, all the “creatures” here are medically and biologically plausible. Some of the most memorable include Apollo, “The Dog Boy,” Abel’s annoyingly naïve, adorably mischievous, and completely hairy twelve-year-old best friend; Mr. Ginger, “The Two-Headed Man,” who carries himself with more dignity than his protruding half-formed twin would suggest; Miss Lightfoot, “The Alligator Girl,” stylish and maternal in equal measure despite her unusually dry, scaly skin; and Minnie, a little girl with an enlarged head and an eerie talent for prophesy. According to an excerpt from Klause’s Author’s Note:
“The people in my story are imaginary, but their physical differences are inspired by those of people who really lived, and many characters are composites of people I came across in photographs and accounts. One of my original inspirations was Tod Browning’s classic movie Freaks, which came out in 1932 and which I first encountered as a college student. One of the reasons I loved the movie so much when I was a teenager was that it treated with respect the people considered freaks by the ‘normal’ world. There were many times I felt like an outsider myself, so I identified with the human oddities in the film. In the 1960s the media called the type of people I hung out with ‘hippies.’ Less-than-kind people called us ‘freaks,’ but we took on that title of Freak and wore it proudly. I use that title for this book in the same spirit and also to pay tribute to Tod Browning, who endured much criticism and censorship for his attempt to show that even those who look much different still have the same feelings we all do.” (Pg 329-330)
The story also continues a trend Klause began in Blood and Chocolate—one that I am very happy for. While The Silver Kiss is a tragic tale of terminal illness and loss and Alien Secrets is an exciting sci-fi romp for children, Freaks isn’t afraid to give older readers the same steamy PG-13 romance that made me fall for Blood’s lupine lovers:
“I set to unwrapping her fingers, but my hands trembled, for if I slipped, I might touch her in a personal place—a place I imagined to be no longer arid as the desert, but as hot and moist as the Nile Delta. I bit my lip. I fumbled. Sweat beaded on my brow. When I pulled the tube of fabric from the final finger, she took my hand with a strength I didn’t expect and pressed it close to what I had carefully avoided. I flooded with warmth.
“‘Free my wrists,’ she whispered, and let me go.
I sawed at the bonds in a slipshod hurry and tried not to think of the tightness in my loins.
[. . .] She leaned her head back and made a throaty sound like a purr. I knew that movement, I knew that sound, and my body responded so fiercely that I had to bite back a moan. I bent and kissed her by the ear, and she uttered something guttural and encouraging in a language I didn’t know.
[. . .]
[. . .] I went to her as her slave and knelt at her side, and she wound her arms about my neck. I lifted her out of the trough and onto my lap. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she drew me to her and captured my lips with hers. My tongue explored and found no resistance, and I took her mouth as mine. She tasted of exotic nectars and smelled of spices. I wanted to dissolve and be a part of her.” (Pg. 267-70)
As I touched on before, a unique aspect of this novel is the paradox of how Abel’s social interactions paint him as “other.” Through a voice of mature self-reflection mixed with youthful restlessness, we see both his resentment of the aversion with which he is treated by the very townsfolk he resembles due to living in Faeryland, and his pain of the performers’ teasing as it drives home how he can no more relate to them than he can with ordinary people.
“Outside the post office two young ladies dawdled. [. . .] I tipped my cap as I passed them, but they cut me dead. My heart fell, although I could have predicted that would happen. It was useless to search for a sweetheart in Smithville. They all knew where I came from. I lived with the freaks and was a common charlatan, and probably degenerate into the bargain.
[. . .]
When I came back out with the packages, two young men had joined the girls. Although I hardly came close to them, the young men reached for the arms of the girls as if to move them of out of harm’s way. A worm of anger squiggled in my gut. They didn’t even know me. I called out a cheery ‘Good afternoon.’ I would make them work hard to ignore me. The bicycle girl nodded, and her girlfriend elbowed her. The boys scowled. One of them spit casually in my direction, his eyes bright with anger. I wished I left well enough alone.” (Pg. 14-15)
[. . .]
“I sat and fiddled with my ring as I waited for my family to finish their meal, examining them from under lowered eyelids. I loved my parents, but now I saw them as the boys in town did, strange and distorted. Perhaps it frightened the townies even more that they couldn’t see what my difference was, although they were sure I had one. If I went out into the world, would young ladies think me handsome when they didn’t have the image of my mother and father in their eyes? The surge of yearning I felt for this made me uncomfortable—hot and prickly with betrayal.
[. . .]
I was too deep in thought to pay much mind to the chuckles I heard on the way out, but as I passed the table of Gladys Dibble, the Pixie Queen, and her fairy court, a raucous voice burst into song.
‘He flies through the air with the greatest of ease. The naked young man on the flying trapeze . . .’
Archie sat between Betty and Dolly like a fly on a bun, singing at the top of his lungs. Archie, all the time ready to take a poke at me because I was so ordinary. The other diners clapped time as they laughed, and Baby Betty blew me a kiss. Did they all think me a joke? Underneath their affection was there pity for the normal boy who would never quite belong? Or was there a streak of resentment under their teasing?
I strode from the room, gazing straight ahead. I wanted to keep going, to march right out of the house. (Pg. 28-30)
Now, Abel is more than aware of the prejudice faced by human oddities, yet his awareness is not as cut-and-dry as believes. Through the characters Mr. Northstar—a black man—and Lillie—a prostitute—he sadly comes to realize just how nuanced prejudice can be. People of color and those in the oldest profession in the world, two of history’s most persecuted demographics, may have a comparatively easier time showing themselves in public, but in the eyes of many, there is disturbingly little difference between such minorities and stereotypically monstrous carnival freaks due to literal skin-deep reasons:
“[. . .] ‘Did you find any news of your boy in town?’ I asked as I walked him down to his cart.
‘I read an advertisement in the paper for a show of oddities in a town north of here, so that’s where I’m headed. Damn these unnatural exhibitions.’
Mr. Northstar had been nothing but generous, but his words bothered me. In the everyday world my parents would have been confined to the home at best, living on the charity of their parents, having none of the rewards of a normal life, never meeting each other, and seeing only those who either pitied or scorned them. ‘Even oddities deserve to make a living,’ I said.
‘And to live a normal life,’ he agreed. ‘But more than one person has offered to buy my son, as if he were chattel. My family had to struggle for their freedom; I’m not about to sell my son back into slavery.’
‘No, sir,’ I said. His point was clear. (Pg. 108)
[. . .]
“Lillie sometimes blew me a kiss, and I felt a thrill of desire. However, when I thought of how she earned her living, my ardor dimmed. This world did not offer many opportunities to a woman without a man’s support, I told myself. I did not know what choices she’d had in life, if any, and if people of my acquaintance could make their living by exhibiting their bodies, why should I condemn her for making a living with hers. Nevertheless, it made me sad to think of beautiful intimacies cheapened by money.’ (Pg. 115)
Also fascinating is what Klause’s portrayal of differing circus environments says about humanity and life versus survival. The names alone provide a hint of what they stand for. Consider Faeryland: identity crisis aside, Abel knows and loves it as a place of wonder and enchantment, where the performers enjoy interacting and teaching others with their unique skills as well as their looks. Compare that with Dr. Mink’s Traveling Monster Menagerie, whose oddities are billed as little more than grotesque zoo animals or lab specimens, forced to do literally nothing but sit and be gawked at by insensitive rubes in a setting more mausoleum than tent. Thus, when the appalled Abel later sets up a new show for them, they have real acts that empower and help them prove themselves as gifted artists rather than dumb beasts. In doing so, Abel and the reader are reminded that not only can even a perpetual job be fun in the right conditions, but few things are more soul-nourishing than genuine validation for one’s efforts and the simple joy of making others smile:
“The children in the audience loved the dog boy. Some of them set to barking and had to be hushed. Apollo growled back at them, and the girls screamed in delight. I told an outrageous tale about him that featured his great hunting abilities and his preference for raw meat. ‘But his greatest skill is his singing,’ I said to obvious disbelief.
The disbelief faded when Apollo sang the popular song ‘Come Home, Father’ in his angelic voice. The words—those of a child who begs her drunken father to return from the saloon to the bedside of his dying son—caused more than one lady to wipe her eyes. After his song Apollo took my place and became the master of his own little troupe.
Moses [“The Frog Boy”] made the ladies squeal when he popped his eyes. One young woman in the second row obliged him admirably by swooning not twice, but three times. Her beau almost dropped her the last time, he laughed so hard.
[. . .]
In the background Willie [“The Piebald Boy”] sang minstrel ditties onstage. His father would probably find lyrics like ‘Possum fo’ yo’ breakfast’ less than dignified, but the audience loved the boy and I could tell he was enjoying himself too. In fact, there was an especial exuberance to all the children. They were performing because they wanted to, not because they had to, and they liked it.” (Pg. 284-285)
Besides being a masterful addition to the circus-themed fantasy romance genre, Freaks: Alive on the Inside! is a clever twist on the well-worn “ugly outsider” trope. It sheds light on a specific group of people that, even in our medically advanced world, is still as real as it is mysterious. While the narrative borders on the edge of the “ugly good, pretty evil” cliché more than once, this is made up for by how it highlights what many such stories gloss over: just because someone is normal on the outside doesn’t mean they don’t feel lost or alone inside, or that they deserve less love and appreciation than others who face challenges by not being normal. The message may be as old as time, but its relevance can never be overstated: no matter what form we take in this life, it is through sharing our loves and dreams that we truly share our humanity.
CREDITS:
Special thanks to KTWH 99.5 Two Harbors Community Radio. All images, audio, and links belong to their respective owners; no copyright infringement is intended.
All book excerpts are from Freaks: Alive on the Inside! by Annette Curtis Klause (2006 paperback edition; published by Simon Pulse, an imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division).
MAIN THEME:
“The Call” - Briand Morrison and Roxann Berglund
https://www.briandmorrison.com/
https://www.facebook.com/BriandMorrisonGuitar/
https://www.youtube.com/user/briandmorrison
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“Exotic” - George Ellsworth
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Annette Curtis Klause on Wikipedia
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Freaks: Alive on the Inside! on Wikipedia
Freaks: Alive on the Inside! on Goodreads
Freaks: Alive on the Inside! at Barnes & Noble
Freaks: Alive on the Inside! on Amazon
Freaks: Alive on the Inside! on eBay
^^ Back to Books, Graphic Novels, and Other Works of Literature
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