The Cask of Amontillado--Montresor feels he's been insulted one time too many by Fortunato, a wine expert who is egotistical. Montresor plays it like their still friends and tricks Fortunato by telling him Montresor has purchased a cask of amontillado wine but isn't sure if it's the real thing. Fortunato is lured deep into Montresor's wine cellar. Fortunato is disoriented and a bit ill, so Montresor has no trouble chaining him to a back wall and sealing him up behind a brick wall. Montresor, the narrator, says he did that fifty years ago and still hasn't been found out.
The narrator clearly has an exaggerated sense of offense, especially considering the penalty he imposes. The "buried alive" situation is a recurring theme for Poe, a horrible situation to anybody. Fortunato does not live up to his name and seems to be more of a drunken buffoon than a haughty rival. Unraveling the guilt of both characters is a fascinating puzzle, making the story highly re-readable.
The Masque of the Red Death--Prince Prospero invites a thousand guests to one of his remote converted abbeys. The walls are high enough and robust enough that Prospero can seal them, keeping everyone inside for the foreseeable future. He is shutting out the Red Death, a virulent and deadly plague. Prospero has customized the former abbey with a string of ballrooms, each decorated in a specific color and lit by a stained glass window of the same color, from the blue room in the east to the black room in the west. After a few months, he holds a masquerade ball, a very debauched celebration. Only two things ruin the mood. The ebony clock in the black room chimes the hour in a sinister way, though the party goers recover quickly from the creepy sound. The second disruption is a seeming guest who has dressed as a bloody corpse suggesting the Red Death. Prospero challenges the figure and demands he be thrown out but no one wants to get close to him. Prospero chases him through the rooms but the figure turns to confront Prospero, causing the prince to die before he hits the floor. The rest of the revelers suffer a similar fate. That's the surface level of the story.
Prospero, like many of Poe's main characters, is full of himself and overestimates his ability, especially to get away with things (well, Montressor did get away with things, so not every Poe character). He is his own god, ruling over a kingdom he shuts off from the rest of reality. His false world seems like it has everything, e.g. a set of fabulous ballrooms and plenty of food and wine to wait out the plague. But he's not God and can't keep away the hardships of the plague, try as he might. Like his guests, he really doesn't have the courage to cast out the Red Death figure, just like he really does not have control over his world. Everything falls apart for him and his guests. Not even Propero can guarantee his own prosperity.
The Tell-Tale Heart--The narrator constantly insists that he is not mad as he describes his plan to kill an old man who never did him any harm. The old man does have a dodgy eye, with a film over it. The narrator calls it his "Evil Eye" and it drives him crazy motivates him to kill the old man. After maticulously executing his plan, he chops up the old man's body and buries the parts under the floorboards. Soon enough, some police show up about a report of someone crying out as if foul play had happened. The narrator shows them around the house and even gets them chairs to relax, chairs placed right over where the body is buried. As they wait, he can hear the beating of the dead man's heart. Sure the cops can hear it too, he cracks under the pressure of their cool demeanor and shouts that the body is buried under the floor.
It's another case of mistaken ego as the narrator is unaware of his own unjustified animosity and of the old man's supposed guilt. The first person narration gives the story a vitality and suddenness that is alarming and engrossing. The reader (hopefully) doesn't identify with the narrator but his palpable anxiety and horror are hard to miss and easy to see. The stressful shout at the end is a release for the narrator and the reader, a catharsis of the villainy in the story.
Highly recommended--these are classics for a reason.
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