This book is a good read, despite already knowing the basic plot -- as I believe everyone does who has ever heard of it (the title rather gives it away, too). March builds his narrative cleverly and precisely. He opens the story by focusing upon a single family and their social circle, in a small American town, and then narrows the focus down little by little, finally isolating his two main characters completely -- in a social and psychological sense -- so that the reader's anxiety is held taut, through to the end. This is emotionally confining enough to feel absolutely claustrophobic, as we end up feeling as cornered as our protagonist, and as abjectly despairing -- then again, perhaps I over-identified with the mother character. That is entirely possible, judging by how I ended up only sort-of finishing the book (more on that later).The main characters are an increasingly distressed mother named Christine Breedlove, and her cunning and monstrous offspring, Rhoda. There is a small and superb ensemble cast in the book, including a somewhat batty but well-meaning middle-aged friend and her brother (the Breedloves) who live in the same apartment building as the Penmarks, and several other acquaintances who play greater and lesser roles in the story. Unlike some reviewers, I did not find the Monica Breedlove character annoying. I think that she is a kind of caricature of herself, but some people are like that. Monica is a wealthy, unmarried matron with plenty of money and too much time on her hands, who discovers psychoanalytic theory -- which was just becoming popular in the US back then -- and grabs onto it with the zeal of a freshly-born-again Christian. She is evangelical, over-the-top, and slightly absurd, providing much-needed levity to an otherwise completely unfunny tale. For, even though it's a product of its particular time and place -- which all good books are -- the story tells a truth that is still true, though controversial: that some children are born "bad" -- or, at least dangerously flawed in ways that have potentially devastating repercussions for others -- and that not all psychopathology is the result of abusive or negligent parenting, interpersonal violence, or other traumatic life experiences. This is something we would all like to believe is true: that psychopaths are made, not born; because then, it's a problem we can learn to avoid or repair. But in fact, sometimes murderers just happen, even in the nicest of families.March does a fine job of plucking apart the sticky strands of Christine's complicated web of feelings about her only child. Christine's much-loved husband is working overseas, so she is left to fret and despair and worry all on her own. She has friends, but they do not see what she sees in her daughter. And what mother wants to admit to not loving her child blindly and boundlessly? What mother can bear to admit that she knows, in the deepest chambers of her heart, that her child is a killer? And then, there's the ugly genetic component to face up to, for as Christine researches her own family history, she comes to understand that Rhoda has not come by her particular brand of psychopathic malevolence randomly: she has sprouted from bad seed. It is fascinating to read how Christine wrestles with herself over what she must do or not do: what her duties are to her daughter, and to other people. This is not clear cut, because mixed in with the dread and horror is an instinctive need to protect her own offspring. In Rhoda's brilliant calculating brain, the temperature waivers killingly between ice-cold, where empathy and compassion and a whole host of other attachment feelings should be, and hell-hot, where thoughts such as "I don't have to win ALL THE TIME" should be. Christine understands this, but also understands that Rhoda has not chosen to be this way, and that she is still a child, who must be protected.While children as sources of all-things-evil are not so shocking nowadays, I can imagine this would have been a stunning read back in the 1950s, when it first came out. There were fewer child psychopaths back then, one supposes, or at least fewer with access to weapons as they have now. Rhoda had to be cleverer than young killers of today, as she did not have guns at her disposal.Okay, now here's what really happened between this book and me, and what I meant by over-identifying with Christine: I could not bear to read one whole important section of text -- several pages -- leading up to and including the climax. The whole big finish, in fact, I skipped. I still haven't read it.I had not seen the film in so many decades that I could not remember how it ends (in fact, I still do not remember), so I am not sure if it's the same as the book. But I could feel March's intentions for the denouement long before he got there. It was all foreshadowed with the same kind of chilling clarity with which he allows us to see through Rhoda's eyes, so that we know there is only one way it can end. And I just couldn't bear to read the dialogue that I imagined would take place in the final scene between mother and child. It upset me, viscerally. Maybe I am just a sook these days. I read the final two pages, just to make sure that what happens is indeed what seemed inevitable, and yes, no surprises there. But I wish there had been.
After reading this classic novel, my after thoughts were "Rhoda is a little SHE-DEVIL!!! Well I can't blame the kid since it is in her nature to KILL!" My perspective towards classic horrors had suddenly turned into a new view after I read "Bad Seed". I never knew how the classics can keep such great suspense towards the audience around the 1950s until now. When I first got the book, I didn't find it compelling to read, but page by page, every scene became such an interest. I became engaged within the text that I forget I live in the modern time of 2015 and I admit, my imagination for this book had turned everything black and white. I am really glad I did not watch the movie of this vintage novel.In my opinion, I think having a child being the murderous killer is a great villain to display within a horror-theme story because it is the very last person people would ever expect. Rhoda is what I call a symbolism of the "unexpected" with a cute, innocent features that can contain pure evil within. Who can blame Rhoda for being such a genius murderer, she is only a child and "always" get what she wants. I really wished the mother of Rhoda, Christine Penmark, could have told anyone about Rhoda's BAD SEED. She could have kept it a secret and told everything to her good friend, Mrs. Breedlove, or better yet, she could have called her husband. But due to Christine's self-consciousness, it did kept her character real. A real mother wouldn't do anything to harm her child. At the end of the book, I found Christine's final actions extremely brave.One page at a time, I had finally reached the end of this glorious book until "BANG!"...it was done. "That's it!" my mind kept repeating over and over again as I checked through the last couple of pages of the book. The issue wasn't the utterly disappointment, it was the extreme sense of being horrified in the last chapter of the novel. The did a miraculous work within her writing as she brings in a true emotional sense of fear and suspense for her readers feeling the goosebumps forming throughout their arms to their shoulders and feeling a bit anxious until the very end. It feels like March was going to give his readers a heart attack in every chapter. Even though the book was finished, I feel like Rhoda Penmark is out there hiding. She may be a fictional character that was born and lived around the 1950s, but it sure does feel like I am being watch by her as I closed my book. *silent scream
What do You think about The Bad Seed (2005)?
Funny how your brain builds up strange images of the characters when you read. For me, Rhoda was...How does that work? Well, I suppose there was something doll-like about Rhoda. She has to be one of the scariest book villains ever. Another reason to give children a wide berth (as if I needed one). This was a very scary book - the evil twin of We Need To Talk About Kevin. Only Christine, Rhoda's mum, never did talk about Rhoda. To anyone. And it did not end well, people! I could've lived without the 'nature vs nurture' issue and the 'discovery', that sought to explain Rhoda - I don't think the story needed it; it could stand up without explaining Rhoda's nature. However, there is a lot of psychology and sociology woven into the book - interesting in its own right - and I guess you could say its part of what the book's about. A really creepy read...
—M
Nature or nurture? I have always heard references to the "Bad Seed" and caught the gist of the term. Now that I have read the book, I am a little more creeped out but also find William March a bit more sophisticated in his story telling than I anticipated for the horror genre. March pulls the reader along with just the right amount of suspense and if you are a parent, well, you may not look at your own little precious the same way again. Oh, kids will be kids, right? I mean, my daughter wasn't really going to KILL her baby cousin, she was just jealous and I'm not even... well, read the book and you may find that it is pretty timely. And thoughtful.
—Heather Fineisen
The Bad Seed must have been a terrifying read back in the less cynical 1950's when it was published. Even today, parts of William March's story of little Rhoda Penmark have a chilling effect on the reader, perhaps even more then if the story had been more graphic in nature.March's prose is spare, which works well in highlighting the turmoil and tension created by the story of a child born bad.The narrative isn't from the child herself, but from her mother Christine, who slowly uncovers her own demons along the way. I like that Christine tells the story of the bad seed. I think it helps to get into the mind of a mother who is both protective as well as disgusted with her own flesh and blood. In reading the book, I sometimes felt as though I was as creeped out with Christine's passivity as Rhoda's active malignancy - which is worse?This is not a full on horror novel, but it is horrifying. The simple structure and subtle menace throughout make this a book worth reading when you're in the mood for thinking about the human mind and how it can be warped through either nature or nurture. I think March's book makes a case for both.For books of a similar vein, I'd also recommend The Collector by John Fowles.Longfellow says it best:There was a little girl, Who had a little curl, Right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good, She was very good indeed, But when she was bad she was horrid.*Thanks to my GR friend Margaret for bringing this to my attention :)
—Hannah
