“‘He’s not a human; he’s an empty space disguised as a human’: Reading John Fowles’ The Collector”
by
Heather J. Macpherson
 My friend Francesca and I were chatting on a Zoom call, catching up on our lives, recent true-crime streaming binges, and so on. She then proceeded to tell me that her college students in one of her true crime courses were going to watch the 1965 psychological thriller The Collector (dir. William Wyler) based on the 1963 novel of the same title by John Fowles. “Have you read it?” she asked. I had not, but, frankly, I’ll read just about anything that she suggests. Upon looking up the book, I quickly learned from various sources, including the back cover of my newly purchased copy, that Fowles’ novel is considered “the first modern psychological thriller.” Below I include brief summaries of Parts 1-4, followed by my thoughts and lasting impressions that are keeping me awake at night.
John Fowles’ The Collector is a character-driven novel written in four parts. Part 1 is a first person  account by Frederick/Freddie Clegg, a local government clerk and a collector of butterflies, showcasing their pinned colorful beauty in glass cases for display. He has lived with his Aunt Annie since the age of two – his father was killed driving drunk, “but [his] Aunt Annie always said it was [his] mother that drove him to drink” (5). A great deal of Freddie’s knowledge of women and the world is procured from his aunt, as well as a history of his own mother who abandoned him after his father’s death as “she only wanted an easy time” (5).
The reader quickly learns of his other hobbies, like obsessively stalking and photographing a young, blonde art student. She is “pretty” with long hair (which he references often, the hair that is), petite, and always smiling. He sees her with friends, sometimes men, but regardless of with whom he spots her he is always jealous. Early in the novel, he wins a substantial sum of money from the “pools” (6-7), his new riches providing grand opportunities: he gives his Aunt a trip; secretly buys a cottage in a secluded area and purchases a white van … see where this is headed?
Soon, he kidnaps the young art student by claiming that he has hit a dog and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows that she will offer to help because he believes that he knows her well. When she does, he knocks her out with chloroform and pulls her into the van. Gagging and binding her, Freddie takes his victim to his secluded new home where he has built an interior room in the basement that is windowless and bolts shut. Once she is captured and placed in this interior space, the novel quickly moves into a constant frenzy of dialogue with limited description that creates an immediacy. Frederick has decorated her ‘cell’ with art books and pictures, art supplies, a small bed, a lamp and clothing, all of which he believes she will like based the on his observations of her.
In Part 2, Fowles shifts the first person perspective over to Miranda, the young art student now held  captive by her “Caliban,” a reference to the son of Sycorax, the witch from William Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Rather than unfold Miranda’s experiences through dialogue, the reader engages with her diary entries, daily or weekly accounts where the woman describes her interactions with Freddie, now Ferdinand as he does not share his real name with her. Some of her entries include scripts of recorded conversations that illustrate her intense anxieties and fears but also the “acting” she puts on each time she executes an escape plan. Her entries also deliver some wonderfully descriptive passages, not only about the interior space and the cottage itself but also the life she was living before she was kidnapped: such as meeting G.P. for the first time. G.P. is an older man, a father figure for her, though at the same time she harbors a desire and love for him. Miranda sees herself as Emma from Jane Austin’s self-titled novel and G.P. as Mr. Knightly. Thinking and writing about her times spent with G.P. at his apartment, listening to music, and their talking about art becomes a catalyst for survival. On the other hand, when she writes about her “Caliban,” she merely expresses her disgust for him, most of all for stealing her away from her world but also for his “cleanliness.” At the same time, she writes about moments where she is grateful he is there due to her loneliness: “Where’ve you been, I snapped at him. He just looked surprised, said nothing. I said, you seem so late…I wanted him to come. I often want him to come. I’m as lonely as that” (226). She is constantly “scheming” an escape plan but each attempt fails. As her behaviors fluctuate from conveying hatred for her captor to seduction, she worries that Ferdinand hates her enough to kill her. Her final entries indicate that she falls deeply ill, experiencing fever dreams, sweats, and bronchial issues. Her final sentence is a plea to God: “Do not let me die” (279).
 Parts 3 and 4 are much shorter and both revert back to Frederick, who informs the reader of Miranda’s ongoing illness, as well as his inability to decide what to do. At first he thinks she might be faking it, but her health takes a quick turn for the worse. At one point, he goes to a doctor in Lewes. Yet so many people are waiting for the doctor and he is not sure how to explain his situation that he goes to an apothecary. Trying to convince a pharmacist to give him penicillin, he is refused. Eventually Frederick finds Miranda dead; having passed from her illness, likely pneumonia. Three weeks later, Frederick finally decides what to do with her body, so he digs a hole under an apple tree and buries her in a box with all her things, but not before taking a lock of her hair as a trophy or souvenir. He also reads her diary, which confirms that Miranda never liked him. Frederick sees her cruel words as affirmations that he was right. She was not who he thought she was; Miranda was always “pretending.” – all this not before spotting another young woman. He is no longer a collector of just butterflies: now he is on his way to collecting young women.
Fowles’ novel was a fascinating read that reveals the socio-psychopathology of a young man who lacks empathy and a conscience. Prior to this book, I had recently read Martha Stout’s The Sociopath Next Door (2006), which attracted me based on its claim that 1 in 25 people is sociopathic. Stout defines conscience and empathy through both accessible psychological and philosophical optics for laypersons and provides narrative case studies that examine and discuss various types of sociopathic behaviors. Although antisocial personality disorder (ASPD) was not added to the DSM until 1980, Frederick does in fact exhibit several related criteria (highlighted in the list below):
- A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:
- Failure to conform to social norms concerning lawful behaviors, such as performing acts that are grounds for arrest.
- Deceitfulness, repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for pleasure or personal profit.
- Impulsivity or failure to plan.
- Irritability and aggressiveness, often with physical fights or assaults.
- Reckless disregard for the safety of self or others.
- Consistent irresponsibility, failure to sustain consistent work behavior, or honor monetary obligations.
- Lack of remorse, being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, orstolen from another person.
2. The individual is at least age 18 years.
3. Evidence of conduct disorder typically with onset before age 15 years.
4. The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. (Fisher and Hany “Anti…”)
Fowles’ characterization of Frederick falls into nearly every criteria from the DSM-III. We do not really know whether Frederick began to exhibit his stalking behaviors or conduct disorders before age fifteen, but he is over eighteen in the book. There is no evidence that I can recall pointing toward any kind of initial diagnosis making his behaviors exclusive. Because Frederick “speaks” directly to the reader, we can engage with any emotion that he experiences so that we recognize the lack, or at least inadequacy, of his superego. Additionally, there are moments where the novel feels, well, instructional – once our sociopath is presented opportunity when he wins the pools, he can fully forge ahead with a plan that has obviously been rattling in his brain for a long time, a plan that was once fantasy but now he can make come true. Imagine a future psychopath reading the following passage from Part 1:
No one will understand, they will think I was just after her for the obvious … There was something so nice about her you had to be nice too, you could see she sort of expected it. I mean having her real made other things seem nasty. She was not like some woman you don’t respect so you don’t care what you do, you respected her and you had to be very careful. (Fowles 36)
Our narrator is giving advice, thinking aloud on the page, delivering necessary instructional information about what is required when you “bring a woman home.” All of which begs us to ask the question: What happens when he loses respect for her? What happens when “you don’t care what you do”?
“You had to be nice”– is a reminder of the charm portrayed by serial killers like Ted Bundy. The facade of polite refinement is most sinister, how you never really know someone when you think you do.
Works Cited
Fisher Kristy A and Manassa Hany. “Antisocial Personality Disorder.” [Updated 2023 May 8]. StatPearls. Treasure Island, FL: StatPearls Publishing; 2023. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK546673/
Fowles, John. The Collector. NY: Back Bay Books, 2010; 1963. Print.
Stout, Martha PhD. The Sociopath Next Door. NY: Penguin Books, 2006. Print.
Straub, Kristina. “Strange Shakespeare: Transforming ‘The Tempest’, Classifying Caliban.” Folger Shakespeare Library. 11 Sept. 2020. https://www.folger.edu/blogs/shakespeare- and-beyond/strange-shakespeare-transforming-the-tempest-classifying-caliban/
Wulach, James S. “Diagnosing the DSM-III antisocial personality disorder.” Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 14(3), 330–340, 1983. https://doi.org/10.1037/0735- 7028.14.3.330
Heather J. Macpherson loves writing. Her work has appeared in Soundings East, The Carolina  Quarterly, Bennington Review, 580 Split, Blueline, CLARE Literary, and other fine places. She is the publisher and nonfiction editor at Stone Quarterly, a Literary Arts Journal and teaches writing at Clark University. Heather’s co-edited collection with Francesca Borrione, Voicing the Less Dead is forthcoming from Lexington Books in 2024. Find more at heatherjmacpherson.com
Images: If there is any copyright infringement in posting these images, inform me and I will remove them. As far as my research has shown me, their usage is not restricted.
Cover of the Book The Collector: Back Bay Books, Hachette Group (author’s collection)
Butterfly Collection A Peoria Riverfront Museum https://www.facebook.com/riverfrontmuseum/photos/a.10150157014282782/10159637306317782/?type=3&paipv=0&eav=AfZOCf7HpPvMWYNAXsysRjZ9hH8C-CkiYcnSPdkAXD8SxpCy_YcgkkTfREkxKMh2at0&_rdr
Caliban engraving: Caliban, from “Twelve Characters from Shakespeare” Etched and published by John Hamilton Mortimer (British, Eastbourne 1740–1779 London)
Poster for film The Collector: Collector poster 2 Mike’s Take on movies https://mikestakeonthemovies.com/2014/01/19/the-collector-1965/
Caliban image Caliban, from “Twelve Characters from Shakespeare” Etched and published by John Hamilton Mortimer (British, Eastbourne 1740–1779 London)
Photograph of Heather Macpherson, author’s collection |
Sharon Healy-Yang 