Leroux's novel is filled with biblical refences. The most common theme is Erik as a fallen angel and Christine as the element of his redemption. Erik is looked upon as a creature of the underworld and there are references to such throughout the text. For example, Christine's mention of Charon, the ferryman to the underworld in the chapter Apollo's Lyre and Erik referring to the tributary of the Seine as Lake Avernus (a reference to Lake Averne, which symbolically is an entrance to the underworld) There are lots of mythological themes relating to Orpheus and his journey to the underworld echoed in that Christine was taken into the 'underworld of Paris' against her will much like Eurydice was. (Look up the myth of Orpheus and you will find the similarities) Also, the Siren was a huge mythological theme with many different representations both referring to Orpheus and Freudian thought.

The symbolism of religion is echoed in the final scene where they weep together. If you look closely at their position it is similar to the pieta scene by Michelangelo of the Mother Mary cradling the dying Christ to her breast.

Early on Leroux mentions La Sorelli and her use of Saint Andrew's cross to bless herself and warn off evil spirits. St. Andrew was one of the twelve Apostles killed on a cross tipped sideways in the shape of an X.

The Tower of Babel is mentioned in Apollo's Lyre. Genesis: 11: 1-9

Leroux's uses the Dies Irae, which is the stave of music in Erik's bedchamber. This is the Catholic Requiem for the dead translated a "Day of Wrath"

The Kyrie Eleison is also a religious reference.

In Apollo's Lyre, Christine mentions that Erik began to sing 'Come and believe in me. They that believe in me will live again. Walk! Those who believe in me will not know death.' This is in the Gospel According to St. John 11: 25. Lazarus is also reference in Leroux's novel and in the bible as well.

One of the bigger biblical themes he uses is the "scorpion and grasshopper." Translated from the French, the original word was sauterelle or grande sauterelle which means locust. If you look to Revelation 9:1-3 (Revelation of St. John the Devine) there is a passage mentioning scorpions and grasshoppers and a "fallen angel (here, Erik) Leroux used this in his study for the novel-in my opinion. I don't know that for fact since I can't really sit down for a class of cognac with the man...

"Pride when there is a real superiority of mind..... Pride will always be under good regulation." ~Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

Christine was a woman in limbo and trapped between worlds. What woman does not like the allure of the bad boy? The dangerous world of the underground where she can be rescued time and again by some knight in shining armor? Such is much more adventurous than leaving your card in a salver and hoping the mistress gave you the time of day.

In between the classes in Leroux's novel, between the aristocracy and the underground, is where I might place Christine. I can see her here-a part of the bourgeoisie--a class that was in limbo between the middle class and the nobility with image the be all and end all. I always found Christine to be a social ladder climber-one interested in furthering her career and one who knew for all the wealth Raoul could provide her (if she got around the scandal) it was that man of the underground that could fine tune her career.

The bourgeoisie wanted the privilege of the aristocracy but also wanted freedom from their power and rule. Fashion was all-important as were outing to salons and the opera. They had to flaunt their status wherever they could and desired to be noticed from restaurants to long strolls in visible gardens and boulevards. They mimicked whatever was in style at the time and placed etiquette first to mirror the noble image they wanted to obtain.

Perfect place for Christine if you ask me… Stay safe in an upwardly mobile class while keeping an eye on her nobleman and furthering her career with Erik. If she landed the nobleman she would have ultimately obtained what all bourgeoisie desired, and if she scored Erik, she had her tutor and the ability to still wander in a society that she could obtain-while being a gem of Paris. Image-was everything. For in Leroux's if it wasn't, where would the conflict be?

Our black-masked Phantom is a rather dark character, physically and mentally. Various colors are used in different ways throughout Phantom of the Opera. What's the symbolism behind them? The primary colors I see in various versions are black, white, pink, red and yellow.

People associate color with two things, natural and psychological reactions.

Everyone knows what black means. Naturally we associate black with night and darkness. Psychologically black is the evil color the color of villains in old westerns, the color of Death and bad omens. Black expresses the unknown and the underworld where daylight does not reach... just like in Leroux and Erik's lair. Black can represent bad luck or misfortune. One can't argue that black is prevalent in Phantom. Leroux lets the reader know how steeped in death Erik is and at one point writes that people shouted as Erik walked past: There goes the Grim Reaper. We see Erik in his black mask and funeral clothing depicting him as a shadowy figure and the anti-hero. Black in conjunction with Erik is a color to instill suspicion, fear and mistrust.

White we naturally see as light. Psychologically it evokes purity, cleanliness and a soul passing to heaven. White becomes our hero-unscathed and perfect. In Webber's version of Phantom Raoul dashes off in a white shirt upon a white horse to save the Maiden in distress-a blatant cliché if I ever saw one. In Leroux, Raoul wears the white domino, showing the reader not his heroism, but his innocence and sexual naivety. Erik and Christine are the ones wearing the manipulative and menacing black…

Red draws our mind toward many things, love, passion, blood, infatuation. Basically red symbolizes strong emotions such as excitement, strength, danger, and aggression. I love the use of infatuation here in terms of Leroux as Erik was driven by this emotion-not truly love. We lean toward passion as it relates to death in the original novel. Think of Erik as the Red Death and the red brocade fabric surrounding his coffin and the stave of the Dies Irae. These things connected to Death make us discontent and passionate. In Webber we see it mostly in terms of passion and love. Think of all those red roses Erik leaves…

Yellow we naturally associate with heat, sun etc. Psychologically, like with green, we lean toward gold and wealth. It can symbolize optimism and idealism verses dishonesty, cowardice, deceit, illness, and hazard. In Phantom, yellow can be seen as the 'other' color; the color that represents the outside world of Erik and one that makes him an outcast among nobles. His yellow skin is associated with oriental themes prevalent during Leroux's time making Erik and outcast among a 'normal' population.

Pink… Webber shoved that down our throats! (The flowers in the dressing room, all of Christine's pink dresses, etc) Pink is automatically associated with girls, though it was used for boys for centuries. Pink is the color of innocence, good health and good life. Think of the term 'tickled pink' and the hue brought to faces when we laugh or blush. It is symbolic of sexual innocence, something Webber wanted to drive forth in the theme of Christine v. Erik, as well as 'pure love'.

Throughout history, the idea of Death pursuing a woman has been played out in literature, (Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera,) art, (paintings by the likes of Schiele 1915, Munch 1894, Grien 1517,) and music (Schubert's String Quartet No. 4 Der Tod und das Mädchen.)

The idea dates back centuries. Death and the Maiden is rooted in old mythological themes such as the abduction of Persephone and her life with Hades etc. By 15th century Germany, Death became a generalized theme in many works of art. More and more it pulled on the aspect of sexuality and we start to see traces of Der Tod's trademark eroticism. Death becomes sexualized in his pursuit. Prior to this, Death was just seen dancing with Maidens. Now he is scene engaging in actual intercourse.

A theme in many of the images was that life is short as is the beauty of a woman-an idea that has transcended the sexual overtone of the myth today. One element that Death is usually not without is his trademark violin. I have yet to figure out why Death elects to play the instrument, but through the years it has become synonymous with seduction.

Gaston Leroux's original novel was filled with themes of Death and the Maiden. We have an anti-hero in Erik who is portrayed as a 'living corpse' His face is so horribly deformed it takes on the image of a death's head skull. Christine Daaé describes Erik/Death quite well:

Raoul, you have seen death's heads, when they have been dried and withered by the centuries, and, perhaps, if you were not the victim of a nightmare, you saw his death's head at Perros. And then you saw Red Death stalking about at the last masked ball. But all those death's heads were motionless and their dumb horror was not alive. But imagine, if you can, Red Death's mask suddenly coming to life in order to express, with the four black holes of its eyes, its nose, and its mouth, the extreme anger, the mighty fury of a demon; AND NOT A RAY OF LIGHT FROM THE SOCKETS, for, as I learned later, you can not see his blazing eyes except in the dark…

Following his face, Erik's body is thin, his hands cold. Like Death in these legends he has an overly seductive quality. (Leroux manifests this element in his voice and musical genius.) In Daaé we have the perfect Maiden image-beautiful, young and desirable. I won't say virginal because the reader will have to pass their own judgment. Historically she might have been, but not all women her age were.

Death is prevalent throughout the novel and is most obvious in Leroux's in his use of the violin (beyond Erik's visage). This is the instrument of choice for Leroux-and it was not an accident. With Christine's deceased father (being a brilliant violinist) and Erik being the manifestation of her father back from the dead, the violin is used to seductively connect Christine to Erik. The Resurrection of Lazarus is played by Erik when he and Christine meet in the Perros graveyard. Christine is thrown into rapture by the sound of Erik's music much like the Maidens in myth and legend. Here, Raoul describes the scene:

I saw Mlle. Daae lift her eyes to the sky and stretch out her arms as though in ecstasy. I was wondering what the reason could be when I myself raised my head and everything within me seemed drawn toward the invisible, which was playing the most perfect music…

Death is further echoed in the novel in various subtle ways. Erik elects to sleep in a coffin reminding him that eternity is only a moment away. (This parallel's Death and the Maiden's historical theme that life is short). The stave of the Dies Irae is hung on the wall of his bed chamber. The Dies Irae being the "Day of Wrath "the poem describing the judgment of souls before the throne of God… those unsaved are cast into eternal flames. It is used in requiem masses.

Leroux was a passionate researcher and I can't help but wonder if he was influenced by music that carries the Death and Maiden them. Mentioned above, Schubert's quartet done in 1817 nails the push and pull between the primary characters in Leroux's novel.

Here, the lyrics:

Pass by! O pass my by! Away, wild mask of death! I am still young! Oh why destroy me with your breath? Give me your hand, you lovely tender child. I am your friend and bring no harm. Have courage. See, I am not wild. Now go to sleep upon my arm…

All this research is why I elected to keep the underlying theme of Death and the Maiden in my works. There is a reason that violin is on my cover...

As I pop one of my favorite snack foods into my mouth (olives for you curious folk) I roll my eyes at an individual (who shall remain nameless) and his goading of my lack of researching vibes. The topic of the article, at least the first part, La Petite Mort, is his doing the second what popped into my head after I read it.

La Petite Mort is French for "the little death." It refers to the refractory period following sexual orgasm. Refractory periods also are sometimes defined as the point following orgasm during which a man cannot achieve an erection. Which leads me to the second half of this topic, Erik the Masterful Virgin. I have touched on several genres of Phantom and the role of sex and sexuality. I've discussed Erik and my views on his virginity or lack thereof. I argue the question of whether or not Erik was sexually versed-which I say yes he was, though I hold to the belief that he was a virgin. I point out things in my defense here:

Erik was 50 years old at least. In reality, which all authors need to draw from whether they want to or not, a 50 year old male does at some point in his life become sexually versed. Maybe not through the actual act of sex, but through a term we call puberty. Erik would have gone through it in some way shape or form and we already know Leroux created him in part as a sexual being. In my eyes Erik would have had physical longings for the gratification that comes from sex, however I doubt he would have engaged in the actual act with Christine.

That being said you can draw your own images of what Erik might have done.

Many works that expand Phantom, especially in the fan-fiction world, tend to portray him as a virgin yet at the same time someone who is amazingly well-versed in the act when accomplished, enough to know exactly how to make a woman moan in the throes of orgasm. Why? Frankly it is easier to write. As an author of historicals I have written a lot of virgin sex scenes and it is way more fun to have characters rocking a brougham then trying to figure things out. However, in my opinion, making a man a sudden sex master when elements of his past point otherwise is unrealistic. For one thing it takes a few tries for anyone to figure out the pleasure points of sex. No one is a master over night… I my article on sex and sexuality I cited this:

Creating a realistic character also means invoking realistic responses. Erik was a living corpse, he stank, and was hideously deformed in face and body. He was also insane. These elements in such a time period would have made him unattainable. So was he a virgin? I say yes, but not clueless on how to woo or gratify a woman (or man) for that matter. I cite Leroux's mention of Erik's past travels and the cultures he was involved in. He was versed in many traditions and I believe he had more than just casual contact with women. However ultimately being able to gratify himself sexually with a woman was out of the question due to his curse. (Kay was the one who created him to be a recluse, using servants to attend to him while he lived in the opera house. Leroux clearly states he took to his own needs and was not as reclusive as many books portray.)

Phantom of the Opera lends itself to an erotic bend. Simply look at Gale's Unmasqued: An Erotic Novel of The Phantom of the Opera. The dark sensuality of Erik and his realm lends the story a feel of sensuality. I hold true to my ideas of Erik being a madman and in that many aspects of his life would be affected. Could he be a lover? Sure. Would he be a stable one? A grand provider? At times perhaps at others, no. Depending on his state of mind and what was winning out man or madman.

As to what Erik's refractory period might have been…how the hell would I know? Certainly not as long as Philippe de Chagny's…

Raoul is in no way immune to the topic when it comes to La Petite Mort…

Certainly Erik the Masterful Virgin is a topic many speak on in the Phantom of the Opera fandom. Yet what of Raoul? Often ideas float out there that while Raoul is a lover, he is not as good as a lover as Erik. Is this another means to push Christine into the arms of Erik? Every woman loves a good lover. Sex is vital to the foundation of any healthy relationship. It is something all humans crave. Mind you, having many women in your bed does not make you a good lover--it is all in how you learn to respond to the like and dislikes of a woman.

Exactly how well could Erik respond if you look at him from a Leroux standpoint and his needs to control and possess. This--dealing with the madman mind. Looking at the standpoint from Webber's movie, where he just drips sex appeal from his hand movements to his open ruffled shirt, the idea is far easier to embrace.

Erik may have an inbred sense of sensuality in both versions, but that might not make him the better lover. Consider the time period. Here we have a creature of the underground, shunned by society. Not even his money would forward him in the social rings. Raoul on the other hand was considered handsome, however a bit 'feminine' in feature, and he certainly did have the money and title to back himself.

Leroux paints Raoul as a innocent sort of chap. Reared by his Aunts and sisters with a brother (who he paints as familiar with the salons though he favors Sorelli) that could have been potentially absentee for much of Raoul's young life. Historically there would have been conflicts etc that the nobility would have been involved in. I Whether or not his title, money, position and looks makes him the better lover is up to the author of a story and the reader's perceptions. The power of sex and sexuality in fiction is not just with one character... but two.

We call it sexual tension between the hero and heroine.

In Leroux the tension between Erik and Christine seemed rooted in false pretenses and fear--from her POV. Look at the Apollo's Lyre chapter and you will see that clearly come out. Leroux did not by any means include sexual tension in his novel, such was not the focus of the book, yet the avenue for a sexual element was more prevalent in the fairytale themes seen between Raoul and Christine. Sexual tension can be strong or subtle. It is all in how you learn how to craft it and then how you use it.

Just ask Philippe de Chagny.

Here, the final installment of La Petite Mort with a twist that, believe it or not, is very popular in the fandom.

When a work is in the public domain as Leroux's Phantom is, artists and writers have liberty to use it to their creative bend. Google the term "Phantom fan fiction" and any number of sites will pop up. Beyond themes of Erik the Masterful Virgin and Raoul and floppy fop in bed, a third element of sexuality arises.

Slash.

What is slash? This is an element of fan fiction that depicts romantic or sexual relationships between characters of the same-sex. Why is Phantom of the Opera so popular for this? Common pairings are Erik and Raoul or Erik and The Persian.

Look at the time period again folks! This is ripe for this sort of fiction! In the 19th century across Europe homosexuality was taboo. Homosexual activity was vehemently condemned. Slavery was abolished in the UK in 1833. The 1836 law reform revoked the death penalty for crimes such as rape, but left it intact if a man was caught engaging in sexual activity with another man. The death penalty was abolished with the prison reform in 1861 and the punishment for homosexuality replaced by life imprisonment.

The Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885 was set forth to reform the prisons and reduce prostitution. In it, it defined measures against sodomy. An offender convicted could receive ten years for homosexual "gross indecency," with two years of hard labor.

Recall Oscar Wilde? He went to prison because of this.

Perchance it is not the nature of Phantom of the Opera itself that lends writers the creativity to explore homosexuality in their pairings, but a combination of this and the time period itself. Built in conflict! You love a man, but to have man is to be put to death. It is perfect, and kudos to those who attempt to tackle this theme in any work of 19th century fiction.

I think the allure of pairing Erik with Raoul is the class difference and in Erik with The Persian the erotic twist of cultures. The range of writing for this is huge. My interest in this twist came from a beautifully written work of fan fiction that still remains one of my favorites: Mirror in the Palm of Your Hand. With the author's permission here is the link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2913401/1/A _Mirror_in_the_Palm_of_Your_Hand

I am no expert in this department yet I know the market for LGBT (lesbian, gay, bi and trans-gender) fiction in the romance industry. It is huge. The Romance Writers of America just approved a new chapter devoted to this www.rainbowromancewriters.comand for more information one can visit the Erotica Reader and Writers Association at http://www.erotica-readers.com If this is something that interests you, you might like to follow the blog Turn the Key: http://lgreysonlarocque.blogspot.com/

I'd read it. Yet... don't mess with Philippe. He's mine.

When she raises her arms and leans forward to begin a pirouette, accenting thereby the outline of her bosom, and causing the hips of this delicious woman to sway, she appears to be in a tableau so lascivious that it could drive a man to blow his brains out.

Now that is one powerful chic. And naturally she is Philippe de Chagny's. The reader never gets to see much of Sorelli in Leroux's Phantom. I have only written of her in my works once and ultimately cut her scene. She is also one of those characters that Leroux uses to forward his plot and then drops her out of it completely.

In the original novel Leroux paints Philippe as a well established bachelor familiar with the lust and vices of his class. Naturally like the clichéd captain of the football team hooking up with the head cheerleader, Philippe would be seen on the arm of the darling of the Garnier's stage. The Foyer de la Danse would have easily been a second kingdom to him and it was here Leroux wrote that Philippe introduced Raoul to various performers. There is a bit of a contradiction here in Leroux with Philippe's character being so opposed to Raoul's love for a diva. Leroux wrote Philippe was "on intimate terms" with La Sorelli and went on to say this:

Well what of it? Was it a crime for such a bachelor gentleman with plenty of time on his hands--especially after his sisters had married--to spend an hour or so after dinner in the company of a dancer who, though she was not what one would call terribly witty, had, nevertheless, the prettiest eyes in the world? And to that there are places to which a true Parisian of the count's rank must show himself. In that era such place was the dancers' lounge at the Opera.

So was Philippe just keeping to his rank and doing right by society, or did he truly adore something in La Sorelli? Did he expect Raoul to do the same and not fall in love? It is clear to me that Philippe did have a big heart judging by his tenderness in holding Sorelli's gators because she 'had no mother to do so.

Yet the reader never gets to dive into this affair. Sorelli was one of those characters the left me wondering what her point was. A common rule in fiction is if the character was not to be useful throughout the plot--don't bother naming it. Yet Leroux broke this rule all over the place naming everyone from the choirmaster to the stable hands. Sorelli was not needed to establish Philippe as popular with the ladies. That was easily done with back story. I think she was set up as a springboard. Someone to launch the legend of the Phantom, to parallel Christine in her role to Raoul (and in that Raoul to Philippe) and to launch that very important element of superstition. The woman was armed with a dagger for Pete's sake! If that didn't tell the reader something about the tone of this I don't know what would.

Leroux said it all La Sorelli was very superstitious. Her character was created to bring urgency to his opening line "The Opera Ghost really existed." After all Sorelli "had been the first to believe in ghosts generally and in the Phantom of the Opera in particular..."

I adore Leroux's Madame Giry. I had a wonderful time expanding her in Madrigal yet I have never given much thought to her daughter, Meg. She was one of those unusual characters in Leroux used to forward the action when the need be. Noting at all like Webber's curly-haired version, Leroux's Meg seemed as socially awkward and unattractive as Erik.

Little dark eyed Giry, with the jet-black hair and swarthy complexion-that poor little skin stretched over those poor little bones-added, "If it is the Phantom, he's awfully ugly."

Leroux also describes her as a dried little prune. How he paints Giry in the body of the book is vastly different from its opening where he goes out of his way in gratitude for her-then the Baroness Castelo-Barbesac. So why the switch? Why paint her in one light yet thank her in another? If this someone you admire on any level-which such gratitude states-would you depict her as so? Was it merely a case of the author using terms to paint a picture as he saw Giry in the past? It is a level of duplicity. Emotions and regard can change so I suppose it did here, but more so it is another element in Leroux's novel that echoes the central theme of reality vs. illusion. In the body of the text we see a real portrayal-a journalistic, fact-finding approach to a character, but come the end this character changes just like all the rest did. Meg Giry was transformed by the Phantom as well…

When the author first introduces us to Meg as the Baroness he tells us that he would "relive these moments of love and pure horror in close detail…" The irony here is how reliable were the details that Meg Giry could provide? Seen only in the beginning of Leroux's novel she was not a major player. She introduced the Phantom and the themes of illusion vs. reality and then we see little of her. It was Webber who made Meg more of a confidant to Christine in the musical and certainly in the 2004 movie.

What Meg could provide to the Phantom story was more illusion. She lived like the rest of the ballet students under a cloak of superstition and, being the daughter or Madame Giry, we can deduce she was not a stranger to tall tales as a child. Madame Giry is not exactly the brightest crayon in the box. She may be the most stubborn and the one favored above all, but she was in my opinion a bit daft. Loyal servant though she was. From what we read of Meg's role in the book perhaps she provided the author with more real elements of the pure horror aspect of the tale then the love. Maybe that is why we see more of Meg in that unusual light of a dried little prune with the skin stretched over those poor little bones than in the light of a baroness living a gracious life. What life-style matches love, and what matches pure horror? Would the details of Erik being horrific and the superstition of it all have been more believable if they came out of a young Meg Giry who was pretty and adored by all?

Meg is an interesting little thing. Erik had plans for her: 1885, Meg Giry, Empress… after all.

If you love Meg's character I encourage you to visit this great little corner of the web: www.freewebs.com/little-meg/

Paris is as important to Phantom of the Opera as the Phantom is himself. But merely because it is set in France does not make the Phantom French…

I have, through the years, been labeled a traitor for views of Erik's nationality. Leroux says Erik was born in Rouen which would make him technically French. However Leroux does not give us a parental bloodline in so far as I have found. He makes mention of Erik's mother and father, but beyond a snippet of information about trades, locations and attitudes toward their monstrous son the reader knows nothing.

What the reader does know is Leroux loved cultural politics and was adept at crafting German villains. We cannot deny in the original novel that Erik did play the role of the villain (anti-hero if you want to go down that road).

The name Erik is of Germanic origin and Leroux even hints to this. During her captivity Christine asks if the name of Erik does not point to Scandinavian origin. Erik doen't reply to that directly beyond saying he is a man with no heritage and no country. He took his name "par hasard" or at great risk. (Which indicates to me that this might not be his actual name or another form of detaching himself from elements of his persona he does not care to deal with) The choice of wine is Tokay which "he himself brought from the cellars of Koensingburg," further hinting Leroux's route with this element of his novel.

Leroux's most famous villain was German. The Phantom of the Opera is not his most beloved work. That honor belongs to his series with about Paris reporter/detective Joseph Rouletabille and his nemesis the villain Ballmeyer--an extremely German character. Ballmeyer and Erik display frightening similarities: murder, hidden passages, tricks, an obsession with genius and disguise…

Much in Leroux's novel echoed the anti -Germanic sentiment that was still prevalent in Paris at the time he wrote the book. Leroux chose the Opera Garnier which was in itself a setting that, for many years, was anti-Germanic. The Paris Opera House did not host a German opera until 1890. Leroux uses comic relief in Phantom by stating M. Richard is the "sole person who has any comprehension of Wagner..." (Wagner being a German composer)

Leroux goes further into rooting Erik as a Germanic and portrays France's anti German sentiment in the novel as a whole. Leroux's Phantom was gleaned in part from the character Svengali, an Austrian Jew from George Du Maurier's novel Trilby who captures the love of an opera singer by transfixing her and molding her into a work of public musical admiration.

Overall Leroux wanted to create Erik as the outsider among proud Frenchmen in the same way he wanted a parallel between Raoul as the sexless virgin yet obvious leading male. (He had Raoul in the role of the "hero" yet creates in him a youthful feminine quality.) Leroux wanted to craft Erik as the nationless character while still having him a recognizable villain. Beyond German sentiments, Leroux uses other elements of nationality to create Erik. The novel was written at a time when Oriental thought was popular-echoed in the Persian, certain décor, even Erik as the Moor of Venice with his black mask and his "yellow skin".

Who is to say what nationality Erik was? This element of Leroux is why I chose to have very German characters in my series.

It is my way of tipping my hat to the brilliance of Leroux.

I will come out and just say it: Gerald Butler can sing--to a certain degree. (For those of you who do not know the film, the above clip is not Butler singing... it is the German dub. Read on and you will know why I tossed that up there.)

There was an invisible character in Leroux's novel and that was the role of The Voice. There are numerous translations of Leroux's text and throughout them all Erik is described as having a lovely voice, an angelic voice, etc. Madame Giry describes it as "--a voice so kind, so welcoming, that I almost stopped being afraid."

The reader knows one thing for certain: Erik can sing. His voice is a powerful instrument. Christine often refers to him as merely 'The Voice' in addition to Angel of Music. In order to train an opera singer he had to know his way around a set of pipes, but Erik's use of his voice goes deeper.

In every continuation of the story this element seems to be universal-praise be to canon. I use Erik's voice as an extension of his existing character. It was beauty that was immediately evident. Like the voices in a true madrigal, where performers are trained so they seem to be laughing, sighing, crying or in pain as they sing, Erik's voice is used to portray a wide range of emotions and talents whether that be the ability to seduce or to instill fear. The Voice had a role in the novel as bold contradiction to Erik's physical and psychological makeup. Step back, close your eyes and you might never know you were taking to a person as monstrous as him.

In the novel Christine never answers Raoul's question as to if Erik were handsome, would she she still love him [Raoul]. If Christine never removed that mask and kept alive the illusion it created, punctuated by the sound of Erik's voice, perhaps she might have stayed. In a previous article I mentioned the devotion of those experiencing captor bonding--often the affection is so deeply anchored they look beyond the danger.

However, in Webber's 2004 movie we have a whole other ball game. I was let down by Butler's voice. Butler matched the look and idea Webber was going for in crafting a more romantic film. Butler's voice had a raw appeal that met Webber's need for a 'rock and roll' feel and I cannot deny when Butler growls out 'What raging fire floods the soul' that my eyebrows didn't lift. But for the role of Erik the voice has to be a flawless extension of his personality and I did not get that with the movie. The voice seemed a separate part of Butler (and in turn the phantom). It simply did not mesh for me...

...unless I listen to it in German (Hence the YouTube link above) Then you have a win/win situation for the 2004 film. Above is just the title song from the German dub, which Uwe Kröger did for Webber's film. You get the sexy phantom (if that is what you seek in the story) paired with an actor who is also a trained singer. Uwe Kröger nailed Webber's need for the 'rock and roller' more than Butler did in my humble opinion.

However I still remain behind Gaston Leroux and his views of the story. Don't get me started on Kröger's role as Death vs. Mate Kamara's portrayal in Elisabeth. I already have fans wanting to lynch me for my views on Webber's vocal choices--I dare not say out loud that Mate wins… Slap a mask on this guy and do it all over again.

This man is a reason why I have all these damn stories rolling around in my head. His voice just sparks the old muse...

Anyone who failed to touch the horseshoe was in danger of becoming prey to the occult power that, from cellars to the rafters, had taken possession of the building.

How many tourists at the Opera Garnier do you think go looking for that thing?

Leroux uses superstition very early on in Phantom starting with that horseshoe in the first chapter. In the opening pages of his novel he paints the opera house as riddled with believers and unbelievers. The horseshoe is just one element to ward off evil spirits--or in this case as the reader will learn, Erik.

The symbol of the Saint Andrew's Cross is used, which La Sorelli makes in the shape of an 'X' over a wooden ring on the third finger of her left hand. In the bible St. Andrew was one of the Twelve Apostles and crucified on this type of cross.

Then we have that evil eye used by the dancers upon mention of The Persian. Hand in hand again we see Erik at a parallel level with The Persian. Perhaps The Daroga's association with Erik made him a creature of the underground too, or perhaps he merely stood out in the social avenues he milled about in. The book mentions that no-one knows much about him... he is simply seen in the opera. Much like Erik himself.

Gabriel the choirmaster makes it a point to touch his keys whenever the Persian is mentioned. Keys were considered a powerful force to ward off evil spirits.

Right from the start Leroux paints this story as a darker sort of mystery. The popular romance idea for it I believe was created by more modern society and Webber's take on the story. He removed many of the core elements to create his famous love triangle. In an interview he said the core of the book was a romance.

I tend to disagree. As defined by the Romance Writers of America (and yes I know Leroux was French but this is universal to the genre) a romance must have two elements:

A Central Love Story: The main plot centers around two individuals falling in love and struggling to make the relationship work. A writer can include as many subplots as he/she wants as long as the love story is the main focus of the novel. I do not think Erik and Christine's love story was the main focus of the plot in Leroux's original novel. There were little sub-plots in Leroux's novel most of the story focused on Erik.

An Emotionally-Satisfying and Optimistic Ending: In a romance, the lovers who risk and struggle for each other and their relationship are rewarded with emotional justice and unconditional love. In Leroux' Phantom no one knows what happens to Raoul and Christine as they are never heard from again, and Leroux writes that Erik dies... hardly optimistic.

Leroux was a mystery writer and a lover of the macabre. He states this in many interviews. Many will argue that Phantom is a romance and many write it as such. MADRIGAL and The Madrigals are under the historical fiction imprint of my house and in interviews and at signings it is billed as historical fiction with strong romantic elements. That to me accurately describes this book: strong romantic elements, but not romance.

In a book riddled with symbolism of the dark underground, murder, kidnapping, captor bonding and superstition right from the start it reads to me as more as a light horror, and from day one that is what I felt of it. In my research and studies of Leroux I came to the strong romantic element conclusion--as did my house.

And millions of fans worldwide. And millions more disagree. Tis the glory of Leroux.

As for a book with my dear old Philippe de Chagny... you will need to discover for yourself what he adds to this tale....

The passive-aggressive personality… quite a volatile cocktail and one often misunderstood. Outwardly passive-aggressives can appear congenial-yet lurking beneath the surface is a sort of quiet anger, a fear of rejection and a need to control.

Looking into Phantom of the Opera, did Erik portray these traits? Anger is not only throwing fits and yelling. For some it is a means of self-preservation registering anger as seeming to act oblivious to everything and doing subtle things to manifest their pain. They quietly rebel. Not desiring to be invalidated, they have low confidence and trust issues. They draw upon unpleasant past experiences that kept them guarded toward any and all with different opinions. These are primary traits to fend off rejection. The way to protect this fragile ego: Control-at all costs. Relationships are not a dynamic blending of personalities rather a competition. Win or lose?

Passive aggressives tend to foster chaos-they thrive on it. They may agree to do something then twist it around many ways to work out to their favor…. Operate so slowly they frustrate the heck out of the competition.

They tend to victimize themselves instead of owning up to their own misdeeds. One may wonder if Erik really understood the right from wrong in a lot of his actions. They make excuses as a way of withholding love and affection to keep power over another. Erik did this I find in the manner the he told Christine that she could never love another. If she did she would never hear the Angel of Music again. Erik could not come out and merely state his affections to her, to do so would be to face rejection and lost his control.

The passive-aggressive is a master at the ambiguities. One may not understand totally what this personality type says. Erik certainly was a master at twisting his words and playing the role of the trickster. Even his manner of referring to himself in third person makes one question if he really knows and understands himself.Many passive-aggressive also pity themselves and often sulk. In Leroux I saw many times when Erik had tempter tantrums and Leroux writes him as "poor unhappy Erik." Finally they have a fear of being alone and this fear also fosters a need to command and control. They can be uncertain of autonomy and fight their needs for dependency by controlling their environment.

I can see element of this in Erik but not as ardently as I see the elements of captor bonding in Christine.

Just something I was thinking on and had to do a brain dump. Erik is, to say the least, complex.

There is a reason throughout The Madrigals as to why readers will find that I refer to Erik's home beneath the opera house as "part tomb, part womb." The role of the maternal has a strong pull in Leroux's novel, coming out in various elements throughout the book. Each primary character, Erik, Christine and Raoul lost this vital parent. Some see Erik's affections for Christine on romantic level but what of a deeper level that ties it to the realm of the mother in Erik's life?

The Louis-Philippe room designed and left for Christine was all Erik had of his mother and it was here he brings Christine. Directly into the realm, or womb, he lost. It was in this room that Christine kisses Erik's forehead and holds him to her breast much like a mother would a crying a baby. (We see his posture of that of a man situated just below her head, looking up so to catch her tears.)The breasts of a woman are often seen as the nurturing part of mother to child. We see Erik break down over Christine's restorative tears. The scene between Erik and Christine as the turning point of Erik's "madness" is a true juxtaposition between maternal longings verses the object love that he longs for as the "man" outside of the "madman".

Christine likewise sees Erik as a paternal figure in her life. Erik is a walking corpse. With his Death's head he was a living manifestation of how her dead father really was at the time of her contact with Erik. He was a surrogate for her lifted right out of the grave, and cloaked in the fanciful illusion of the Angel of Music so not make the grim reality quite so gruesome. Erik was someone sent to her directly from her dead father. He plays the violin in Perros just like her father did-even electing the Resurrection of Lazarus as the music he uses. Erik and old Daaé are further paralleled by Erik's life traveling in various fairs with his manager just as Christine had travelled from fair to fair with her father. All this pull toward Erik representing an element of Christine's father, while building a relationship that is seen by the reader as affectionate love, can be viewed as a vein of incest. Christine is lifted to ecstasy by Erik's violin--by the man she was bonded to on many levels--and he in turn is enraptured when he recounts to the Persian how he held her: "my poor miserable mother never desired that I embrace her…"

The longing for Christine to represent elements lost to Erik in his mother is as strong as the need for Erik to represent a "living" element of her dead father-the irony being how "dead" Erik was among the living.

How one views the relationship between Erik and Christine all depend on how each character is individually viewed. For this reader, who leans toward Erik as a genuine walking corpse among the living and a man hidden between the madman, I see their love not on a level of healthy affection but based in a deep mother/father sort of way... something that rolls unhealthily between physical love and parental love.

There was one voice of common sense in Phantom of the Opera, and frankly one of the few characters with a level head-The Persian. While scandals are abounding and bumbling managers are trying to run a theater under the nose of a 'ghost', while box keepers are doing the services of a madman and vicomtes are shooting at cats, and while a comte is accused of kidnapping-only the Persian keeps the affair in perspective with a level head.

When things get heated in the story it is he who reels everyone back in. Leroux goes out of his way to inform the reader of the deep brotherly affection between Raoul and Philippe. Raoul ardently looks up to Philippe and, in all his immaturity, buys into the gossip that Comte Philippe abducted Christine in order to prevent Raoul from marrying. It is the Persian who points out the obvious:

"I don't know whether it's possible, but there are various techniques for abduction and, Comte Philippe, so far as I know, had never worked at witchcraft." (And mind you folks that sentence sparked a hell of a lot of questions for me but on that I will say no more…)

Upon hearing this Raoul is instantly knocked back in his suspicions.

The reader does not know why the Persian is so connected to Erik-we are left to assume it is a case of pity. Very little in Leroux's book explores this relationship and we don't know the specifics of what occurred during Erik's stay in Persia to form the Daroga's opinion of him. But the ironically the Persian upon his exile from his country comes to live in the same town as Erik. Again-the reader is left to ponder why. Yet this one simple moves shows to the reader one of the main questions in Leroux's Phantom: Can Erik be loved for himself?

Draw what conclusions you will of this odd relationship. For this reader, discovering that The Perisan returns to Paris and also is well aware of Erik's existence there, speaks of this character being one of the few to view Erik as a man beyond the illusion of a Phantom. He has no fairy tales of Angels of Music to cloud his reality, and no fanciful thoughts of love to launch him into games of make-believe. The Persian is who he is and he sees Erik in a different light then the rest of the characters. He above all knows to be cautious around him yet at the end also shows the deepest amount of compassion. To me this speaks of a character that sees the two sides that create Erik: man and madness.

In Leroux's novel, we have a bunch of overgrown kids running around.

Leroux went out of his way to make it clear to the reader that the relationship between Raoul and Christine was anchored in a childhood connection. Each throughout the book represents the safe and innocent elements of the other's past. Raoul and Christine are the normal in the eyes of those around them and do not pose a threat to the natural order. Their love for one another is playful and childish at time as many young and budding romances are.

What does pose a threat to the natural order of 'childhood' and how it is perceived in Leroux's novel is Erik.

Face it, the guy was at times one overgrown black masked baby.

Erik's inability to interact with the world around him manifests in a regression toward infancy… Leroux describes the notes Erik writes to the managers as a matchstick like scrawl where a child has not learned to connect his letters. The Phantom has a very short fuse often displaying in 'huffing' his breath and 'stomping' his feet, much like a child who cannot get their point across. Christine is aware of Erik's childlike tendencies when she describes him as a 'presumptuous and vain child,' a monster able to create vast illusion. In the books of other Gothic masters many 'monsters' are seen with child-like brains as well--Shelly's monster in Frankenstein, for example and even certain elements of the undead like in Dracula.

In the latter part of the 19th century/early 20th childhood was something that was just coming into its own as an area of study. For centuries children were viewed as second class citizens-property to be dressed like adults and worked like adults. There were strict rules of conduct placed upon them. Upper class children were afforded education, but that did not make their position in the family any higher. Daughters were to learn their place in the family and society from their mothers, and coldness and distance was a characteristic relationship between some fathers and sons in aristocratic families. A manual in 1886 for Well Brought Up Children instructed children thusly: "When you have the honour to be admitted into the salons of your mothers, you must behave yourself in such a manner that they do not regret having accorded you this favour… You will, rightly, not dare present yourself in a salon without your gloves. Provincials are even more rigid observers of the etiquette than we." (Comtesse de Ferry, Les Enfants bein élevés- 1886) Its counterpart, a study of Badly Brought Up Children, instructed the way to be successful in child rearing was to be an authoritarian. "By the exercise of authority, one makes one's sons respectful and men of duty." This book argued that children had one instinct-a fear of being left to suffer.

I ask you this. Did Erik have a fear of being left to suffer? Childhood shapes our adulthood. We as adults make choices in our actions and reactions. Leaving behind past experiences is difficult. We don't know Erik's childhood beyond a limited amount. The reader must fill in the blanks and craft Erik history there in order to help them shape how they feel he works best for them. This goes the same for Raoul and Christine. What would their love have been if we removed the element of the childhood connection from Leroux's novel? Raoul knew he could not make Daaé a vicomtess, though he did so anyway. Did that past connection give him liberties? Did the loss of Christine's father victimize her to the phantom and prod her toward Raoul? Did they all have a fear of being left to suffer? Each one had the loss on some level of a parent...

Leroux did his psychological homework. With all these books floating around the latter part of the 19th century, particularly in France, one can't help but wonder if any of them shaped the pull of childhood crafted in Leroux's novel. There was certain a fear of suffering crafted in the original book! I don't think anyone can argue against that. Surely in Raoul and Christine we see the 'well behaved' child, while in Erik we have image of a poorly brought up one.

Temper, temper Erik... someone should teach him to share.

The real vs. the artificial was a prevalent thread in Leroux's novel and one whose distinction is blurred by Erik. Not only is he a "living" man existing as if her were "dead", but he mixes the social spaces of the world he wants to obtain and the world out of his reach.

Christine first notices this when lured into Erik's realm. Her first introduction is the imitation drawing room:

"In the middle of a salon which seemed to me decorated, adorned, furnished with flowers… with flowers magnificent and stupid because of the silk ribbons which tied them to the baskets, like those which people sell in the boutiques of the boulevards, with flowers too civilized like those which I have been accustomed to receiving in my dressing room after each premiere; in the middle of this very Parisian embalmment stood the black form of a man in a mask…"

Here, Erik creates an environment as he thinks it should be. Flowers that are similar (but not truly like) the ones sold on the Paris streets fill his drawing room. He adds his touches to them by "stupidly" adding silk ribbons --which often was done when presenting flowers to divas by the upper class citizens. He crams the place with them in an attempt to bring life to the world he created as a funeral setting, blending the realm he understands and controls with the realm he wishes to exist in.

Erik states he wants to live like the rest of the world, however caged beneath a mask in a society where he is viewed as a deviant--how can that possibly be done? He states in the book "J'ai invente une masque qui me fait la figure de n'importe qui" Which translates to: "I have invented a mask that makes me the figure of one who is of no consequence." Erik merely wants to blend in. After all, in the original novel he does make mention of rare moments walking the streets and being taunted by the shouts of "there goes the grim reaper." So his desire to walk among men is less of "living like anybody else" as it is of fading into the background to be accepted merely as he is. E

ven the opera itself is a fantastic setting of artificial reality vs. real life. The Opera Garnier was a building of make-believe, where worlds where built and destroyed on a nightly basis. Leroux even describes the roof as a world with "avenues of zinc and lead" as if the boulevards of Paris could continue on the rooftops.

An alternate reality exists in Erik's underground lair, where two rooms are brilliantly contrasted. In Erik' private chambers we see a tomb… a funeral atmosphere with a coffin, the stave of the Dies Irae and black cloth. The room offered to Christine is elegantly appointed with the furniture of Erik's mother and further decorated to match-again--the upper class he strives to associate with. There is a Louis-Philippe commode, a clutter whatnot (complete with collectibles of the day), and fancy linens for his guests. Almost as thought Erik is "playing" at keeping house, he provides Christine with an elegant meal yet further blurs fantasy and reality by not eating. (Why would Death need to eat?)

He rows with her upon his lake (an artificial creation itself) and strolls its shores as if it were the Seine. When bold, he took for walks in the Bois, an area of Paris that, by day, is one reality (filled with family's having picnics and gentleman walking with ladies) but by night ruled by the underground of prostitutes.

The line between the real and the artificial is seen in the use of Erik's voice as well. Erik blurs the line between what he is and isn't in the use of his Voice. He has a masculine voice, that drips with sexuality and control while at the same time confuses his sexuality in that he manipulates the sex of said voice at will. The Siren in this novel is a character the reader is lead to believe is Erik. However in the original French text all the nouns in the section where the Persian is describing Erik as the Siren are referred to in the feminine with a highly womanly charm. This could be a shout out to mythology (which Leroux used heavily) or another blurring of the lines between the real (masculine) and the artificial in Erik (the feminine)

Finally, Erik's alternate reality is evident in the chamber where the Persian and Raoul are trapped. In reality it is a simply a room of mirrors, but under Erik's genius it is a chamber of horrors, where he manipulates the atmosphere to create blazing deserts, even creating incredible tricks to mimic the roar of a lion and buzz of a tsetse fly.

Every setting in Erik's underground is in some way grounded in the fantastic and set up to clash against world "upper world" that he wishes to be a part of.

There are far too many ways to pick apart Leroux., and this one is interesting. Christine as a victim of what is called today the Stockholm Syndrome.

This is the behavior of kidnap victims who, over time, become sympathetic to their captors. In Stockholm, Sweden in 1973 several people were victims of a bank robbery. Over the course of their captivity the victims became sympathetic to their captors and even defended them to the police. Several refused rescue attempts and afterwards would not testify.

Sympathetic identification with a captor is a defense mechanism built from the fear of violence. Such symptoms occur under great duress and several of the defense mechanisms are obvious in Leroux's Christine.

Four things serve as the foundation of this syndrome:

The presence of a perceived threat to one's physical or psychological survival and the belief that the abuser would carry out the threat.

Erik tells Christine that all of Paris will 'hop like a grasshopper' if his demands are not met. He threatens to kill hundreds of people by lighting the powder stores beneath the Opera Garnier. Christine must turn the scorpion as the only way Raoul will be kept safe. She is given no alternative to Erik's wishes. Erik drags Christine by the hair; he yells; he makes her dig at the flesh of his face; he employs the Siren-all physical violence to prove his point.

The presence of a perceived small kindness from the abuser to the victim.

This is the element where a victim identifies with hope. Small gifts are perceived as the captor having a heart, and a victim-under stress-see this as a positive trait.

Erik purchases clothing and provisions for Christine, cooking her meals, setting her up in a well appointed room in his house. He promises to take her out on Sundays, takes her for rides through the Bois, rows upon his lake and promises he would be a "lamb" if she would love him. He binds her to prevent her from harming herself again and then frees her.

Isolation from perspectives other than those of the abuser

Beyond being held hostage for a fortnight, Christine's perceptions of her situation were exactly what Erik wanted them to be. Upon giving her his ring he in essence made her his 'living bride'. Christine blindly believes that this was the case and here she explains her perspective to Raoul: "I am mistress of my own actions Monsieur de Chagny: you have no right to control them and I will beg you to desist henceforth. As to what I have done during the last fortnight, there is only one man in the world who has the right to demand an account of me: my husband!" Her action in this scene is to repeatedly deny Raoul's demands that she reveal the name of the man who gave her the wedding band. Echoing the fear of perceived threats, Erik's story to Christine is that so long as she wears the wedding ring he gave her no harm will come to her. She is to have no earthly lovers but himself-which is indicative of an abuser causing victim to believe the victim will never be left in peace.

This element of the syndrome is also repeated in Christine's belief that Erik is still a being 'of heaven and earth' and is in some way the 'angel of music' promised to her by her father. Erik plays out this role to such a degree she has a difficult time separating illusion from reality so long as it is rooted in Erik's point of view.

Often with this part of the syndrome the victim feels like they are walking on thin ice-in constant fear of saying or doing something that would prompt a violent outburst. Therefore it is best to think, and act like the captor, and do things that would make the captor happy. When Christine strips Erik of his mask we know his violent reaction-but later Christine makes it a point to behave in such a way Erik softens. She claims she can look on his face and see only the 'splendor of his soul.' Her lies allows her more freedoms. The victim often becomes obsessed and preoccupied with the habits of the abuser. Christine from this point of the novel forward knows Erik's habits intimately.

The perceived inability to escape the situation

Bottm line--Christine attempted suicide, or contemplated it while locked away with Erik and agrees to Erik's demands in order to save Raoul.

In perceived romantic relationships-like between Erik and Christine-the controller threatens the victim by saying he will never leave them or permit them another partner. Christine fears throughout the novel that Erik would always be haunting her and even in the film said 'he is always there singing songs in my head.'

In Leroux's novel much of what Christine felt for Erik was rooted in this psychological defense mechanism. It would be a difficult pattern for her to break. No matter what form of love Erik and Christine held for each other its foundation was not built properly and had the potential to tumble to ruin around them in one form or another.