Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a perfect example of "the less we know the more we fear." Even the way Stevenson tells the story, oblique and second-handed, it is what isn't said, what's left to our imaginations, that really incites our fear.
And to compound the nature of this fear, we must look within ourselves to find the monster. Ask yourself, "To what lengths could I go, would I go, if I could get away with it entirely, no one else the wiser, no retribution, just pure freedom to exercise my hidden, dangerous self?"
Darkness truly is the ally of evil, the litmus for moral character.
While reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, I was continually reminded of the consequences of repression. Written in the Victorian era, this thought is certainly not a new one. But, what about today, with our loosely held social norms and minimal expectations? How much does repression play in our going off the deep end, unleashing our inner monster?
Think not?
Ask the wife who walks away from a seemingly perfect marriage. Ask the straight A college student who dumps his textbooks only to work a string of meaningless menial jobs. Ask the priest who hangs up his vestments and clothes himself in lay-life. All three of these examples have one common thread. Their abandonment had less to do with others than it did with their own inner struggle.
And although these questions are worthy of pondering, dissecting, discussing, there are plenty far more distinguished and educated than I to task the matter.
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, to me, is really a fantastic bogey tale. The creepy cabinet. The secret potions. The dark streets. The sinister buildings. The secret letters and confessions.
I looked up this creepy cabinet Stevenson writes about and interestingly enough, the cabinet itself comes from his childhood bedroom (where else are bogey tales born?). It was made by a famous cabinet maker whose life closely resembled that of our esteemed Dr. Jekyll. Hmmm...
Stevenson even explains that the idea for the story came from a dream, his dream, when he was an adult. Hmmm...
Dreams, fears, childhood imaginations. Hmmm...
Upon reading about the creepy cabinet, it didn't take long for me to recall a certain floor grate in my childhood bedroom. Dark, dusty, it always troubled me. Just like the space beneath my bed, the darkness at the end of the hall, the shadows outside my window. And although I was probably only four or five at the time, I can still recall the pure, white-knuckle fear.
Yet, while childhood haunts are no light matter, we do grow up, look back with a kind of wistful gaze. This retrospect lightens the matter, engages the reader without horrifying, and adds a sense of security to the urgency to turn the page.
And turn the pages you will. The faster the better.
Like any great bogey tale, the end is best attained at full throttle.
If you could write your own bogey tale, what would you write? What childhood fears revisit your dreams, pull at your sensibilities, unleash your inner monster? Can you remember? Do you remember? Should you remember?