Alex read and liked Velcro Putnam's review of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde:

"Here's the plot, you all know it: a man, by arcane means, becomes another man. Now, here's the argument of the book: suspense comes from not knowing what questions to ask, not merely ignorance of their answers. Stevenson makes this technical argume...more Here's the plot, you all know it: a man, by arcane means, becomes another man. Now, here's the argument of the book: suspense comes from not knowing what questions to ask, not merely ignorance of their answers. Stevenson makes this technical argument by means of POV placement, interior monologues, and placement in time. He doesn't start the book by showing you Dr. Jekyll as he concocts his transformative substance and then becomes Mr. Hyde, as I had assumed he would. Instead, he begins with a secondary character's story-within-a-story, where we learn of the horrific personage that is Mr. Hyde.

In these enfolded aspects, the book most closely resembles Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (the original novel, not the movie): readers encounter the thick of the plot by abstruse means that initially entice and perhaps bewilder before revealing secrets that the first readers might not have even suspected were there. How wonderfully terrifying it must've been to read about Frankenstein's creation, before ever hearing about the monster? Similarly, Stevenson starts us off with a story from a somber lawyer, lending this tale a detective-mystery aspect that may have also taken slight inspiration from Poe. Critical abrogation of Poe's murder mysteries may have had time to slack off by the time Stevenson reached New York in the 1880s.

This POV positing may be no surprise to those who have seen Jekyll and Hyde movies (I haven't), but Stevenson here is making a case for narrative fiction. His claims on us as readers have more to do with indirection and guile than indiscretion and gusto. We know that something's a bit off about this Hyde character, but we're not supposed to know exactly what. The more cinematic aspects of King's The Dark Half hold more sway on our sense of encroaching terror - we know exactly what has gone bad, and we're waiting to see just how bad it's going to get. Stevenson's aesthetic appeal to our capacity to be astounded lies not just in his imagery, dialogue, or plot, but also in the discrete manner with which he presents us this material.(less) "