I want you to imagine the laboratory of a mad scientist: the dank, ominous space with thick, sprawling electrical cords littered across the floor, the towering Tesla coils shooting electricity about the room at random, the ambient noise of bubbling chemicals and machinery–the whole vibe. Basically, take whatever stereotypical image you see when I say “Dr. Frankenstein’s Laboratory” and hold it in your mind. Got it? Good. You now have a preview into what it feels like to read Gareth Hinds’s graphic novel adaptation of seven Edgar Allan Poe stories and poems–and trust me, you will be exclaiming “It’s alive!” by the time you conclude the book. In the aptly named anthology, Poe: Stories and Poems, a collection of Poe’s most famous tales is visualized through a series of intricately imaginative illustrations. The images refresh centuries-old narratives that not only immerse the reader into the text, but kidnap their very minds and hold them hostage from start to finish. The visuals left me wondering if telepaths truly do exist, with the thoughtful and precise attention to detail displayed throughout the book. If you thought Poe could not get more graphic, just wait until you see the ravaging gore of the Red Death or the harrowing, sharpened pendulum as it swings above the helpless narrator.

To begin, I must touch on a few masterfully clever details that precede the stories themselves. The cover (because let’s be honest, we all judge books by the cover) is ingeniously designed: an image of a contemplative Poe rests on the front, quill in hand and a soft, candlelit glow illuminating his face; above him hangs elements from the stories you are about to read–a carnival mask, the pendulum, and other macabre tchotchkes–to whet our appetites before starting the main course. After you finish marveling at the cover and crack the book open, you are greeted with a “Poe Checklist” right next to the Table of Contents. The checklist contains a series of symbols that may be displayed on the title page preceding the story. This essentially acts as a content warning and a theme indicator (for all you students “reading” the assigned text the day before the test). So if you are completely new to these stories, this guide will hold your hand through the mania that is the typical Tuesday in any Poe work.

Now let’s get to the good stuff. Seven stories is a lot, so I’ll hit three and leave the rest as a surprise. 

Story one: “The Masque of the Red Death.” Anyone who knows this story is already aware of the visceral carnage that is present throughout this piece, and anyone who does not is about to get a clear idea, real fast. Hinds certainly does not hold back when illustrating the “hideous” and “horror of blood,” nor does he when designing the haunting devil that is the Red Death. This chapter practically glows with color in the beginning, with the elaborate festivities beaming with vibrant hues and characters dancing about without a single care for the contagious, pore-bleeding pestilence that is tearing through the country (remind you of anything?). Once the Red Death enters as a physical character–with a whispy, drab cloak and ghostly, sunken features that, honestly, could put him on the family tree with the Ghost of Christmas Future–to confront Prince Prospero (a.k.a. number one pandemic party boy), the novel quickly abandons its early color palette. A shadow of red coloring bleeds onto the pages, chasing out the vivid hues from the pages before it–a beautiful visual to further the narrative of the Red Death’s overwhelming presence and to put a dramatic period to the piece’s final haunting line: “And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.” Ugh, chills.

The next work is the beautiful “Annabel Lee,” a poem so lyrically gorgeous that it is the reason I purchased the book in the first place. I was most excited for this chapter. I eagerly flipped through the book to read this section first, and I have to say, visually, this is the most disappointing chapter. Don’t get me wrong, the imagery is still lovely, but I find it to be the least accurate of them all. The entire graphic novel, for the most part, keeps its illustrations accurate to the text and time period, but this section diverges from that a bit (unless men from the nineteenth century were wearing striped, “Where’s Waldo?” t-shirts and the women were permitted to wear pants). I had hoped there was going to be an emphasis on Annabel Lee, her lover, and the “wingéd seraphs of heaven,” but that is unfortunately not the case. All three are present, but I find their presence overshadowed by the random inclusion of sea monsters that take up half the page (which, yes, is a reference to one line in the poem, but that’s…one line in the poem). The ending is stunning, though, with a brilliant depiction of the widower’s adornments to Annabel Lee’s tomb, a piece of storytelling only present in the visuals, but it adds so much to this devastating poem.

Now, in classic save-the-best-for-last fashion, I present to you “The Cask of Amontillado.” This piece is most like your typical graphic novel, with two characters actually talking to each other (a rare find in Poe’s work, as he usually has characters talking to their imaginary friends. Or enemies. Or birds) and a more linear approach to storytelling. Now, I am very protective of this story–in a borderline parasocial way–so I was cautious when approaching this chapter. It. Blew. Me. Away. Seeing this story come to life was literally breathtaking. Have you seen those videos of people screaming at the Marvel films in the theater? That was me in my room. Montresor’s vengeful and conniving demeanor just radiates off the page, and Fortunato’s blissful, drunken idiocy stumbles along with it. Once the story moves from the opening carnival to the catacombs, the visuals become even more compelling. I swear the glow from the lantern radiates off the page and fills the room, which only contributes to the terrifying darkness shown on the page that depicts Fortunato’s early tomb. There is also a beautiful emphasis on sound in this chapter, with the clanking of chains, perilous screams, and satisfied laughter written in winding text and echoing from the novel. Oh, and don’t worry if you read this story in middle school and had a bit of trouble with some of the more archaic allusions; the graphic novel includes footnotes throughout this chapter and the others to keep everyone on the same page. Trust me, Hinds is determined to get you an A on that test.

Overall, this novel was a brilliant masterclass in modern adaptation of classic literature. Too often now, the “classics” receive less-than-impressive adaptations that warp the story for a modern audience, completely losing the themes and language that made the novels revolutionary in the first place. Excited readers always seem to let out that inevitable sigh of disappointment before going on to Letterboxd or GoodReads to share their discontent with others. But you will not find that disappointment here. Hinds clung to the original text, letting it both inspire and fuel every decision he made with the illustrations (which you can hear him discuss in the author’s note at the back). It is one of the most satisfying gothic literature-inspired books I have ever had the pleasure to read and truly breathes life into the legacy of Edgar Allan Poe.