vistas, that no Aristotle, Shakespeare, or Nietzsche imagined. H.P. Lovecraft's horror stories took readers into the yawning vacuum between ordinary life and extraordinary science, over a tragedy-lite sequence. King recognized its potential. In Lovecraft's vision, society has a thin border against chaos. Shadowy forces engulf what's beyond. Cast into this hostile universe, readers tumble head over heels in panic, until Lovecraft mysteriously drops them back home. Relief is palpable. Fear, in this case terror, and pity for oneself, dissipate in the reader's special knowledge. Something lurks behind ordinary reality. It's like taking a wild roller coaster, getting off safely, and discovering it's not electricity, but a monster turning the wheels. Entranced and terror free, readers walk away giddy. This isn't Aristotle's catharsis, but for those who buy his premise, Lovecraft's stories shake out fear and leave one humble yet knowing. King develops this carnival engine into an exotic hybrid. Shawshank's plot pushes Andy down a classic tragic pathway, under a Damocles sword that hangs by a thread. As he reaches Aristotle's resolution, where the hero finds justice and is crushed, King opens up a Lovecraft portal. Between prison cell and freedom, a symbolic and monstrous passage emerges. Submerged in this realm, Dufresne suppresses panic. When he emerges, his relief is joyous. Let the cathartic process begin. It Feels So Good & It's Good For You Too Catharsis is a bountiful word. Not its dictionary definition, but in use. To get over a crisis, or the crisis itself: either can be cathartic. So are creative expressions, feeling part of nature, a good cry, the big game, a cool party, hot sex. Ancient Greeks coined katharsis for medicine, to explain why sick people eject phlegm, vomit, and bled. It purged bodies of illness. Orgasm eliminates no disease, so it wasn't karthartic. Aristotle borrowed the word for theater, and with that it became a psychological idea. In a few sentences he established a meaning that's still robust. Plays presented stories that made audiences pity tragic heroes. Stories delivered on their promised consequences, which audiences feared. But with a little help from friends on stage, the chorus, audiences realized fate happens. That purged their pity and fear. Catharsis left audiences civil and introspective. Aristotle described catharsis best practices. Ancient Greece had over 1,000 serious plays. Only 31 exist today. Most do not adhere to his plot pattern. Maybe 20 have happy endings, something he believed defused catharsis. His catharsis wasn't nuanced, its rules proved effective but had limits. He didn't define pity and fear, which soldiers experience differently from children, mountain climbers from public speakers. If audiences fear and pity in just one way, that may not matter. That's not what happens. Stories portray haves and have nots, war and peace, and everything in between. Audiences identify with protagonists, project themselves into a performer's pitiable situation, their fearful event. Audiences fear for and with a plot's characters. A young woman attacked in a shower, and a shipwrecked sailor circled by sharks, both face death by sharp cuts. People make sense of these events, which triggers different fears. The woman's youthful indiscretions were risky, but her death is wholly undeserved. The audience takes her perspective, and feels shock, outrage, and pure terror. The sailor knew the dangers he risked, struggled to overcome them, but is doomed. Audience fear grows, gnaws, and numbs. Audience fear can be sudden and heart-pounding or foreboding and draining. Pity is an emotion triggered by another's misery. It's hard to judge another person's suffering. Because the well-off avoid material deprivation, they find it easier to pity the destitute than the comfortable. Aristotle realized tragedy got audiences to pity those leading respectable, even enviable lives. We