"How Fear Departed from the Long Gallery"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A particularly dreaded "family ghost" threatens when a young woman falls asleep in the wrong part of the ancestral home.
My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
This one seems to get mixed reactions. I liked it. I appreciated the touches of humor. The multiple family ghosts were reminiscent of L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Windy Poplars (a.k.a. Anne of Windy Willows), when Anne is invited to Tomgallon House and is regaled with tales of the many, many strange people and unusual deaths in its history-- "All part of the Curse, my dear." (If you haven't read that chapter, it's a delight. I doubt anyone would suggest that the book as a whole is Montgomery's strongest effort, but parts of it are wonderful.) Actually, Tomgallon House is much more entertaining than this story... But still, overall, I liked it.
-- "'My dear, was not that the Blue Lady who has just gone into the shrubbery? I hope she won't frighten Flo. Whistle for Flo, dear.' (Flo, it may be remarked, is the youngest and most precious of many dachshunds.)"
-- "'Poor blue Aunt Barbara is such a bore! Whenever I meet her she always looks as if she wanted to speak to me, but when I say, "What is it Aunt Barbara?" she never utters, but only points somewhere towards the house, which is so vague. I believe there was something she wanted to confess about two hundred years ago, but she has forgotten what it is.'"
-- "In fact, it is supposed to be a compliment, when you go to stay at Church-Peveril, to be assigned to a bedroom which is frequented by defunct members of the family. It means that you are worthy to look on the august and villainous dead, and you will find yourself shown into some vaulted or tapestried chamber, without benefit of electric light, and are told that great-great-grandmamma Bridget occasionally has vague business by the fireplace, but it is better not to talk to her, and that you will hear Master Anthony 'awfully well' if he attempts the front staircase any time before morning."
-- "I forget the details of great-great-grandmamma Bridget, but she certainly cut the throat of some distant relation before she disembowelled herself with the axe that had been used at Agincourt. Before that she had led a very sultry life, crammed with amazing incident." ...Wow. Sounds like a joy.
-- The ghost-twin-babies are creepy... (What is it about twins? They usually are kind of creepy-- in the abstract-- even while living. (g)) Anyway, this story deals with one of my pet peeves in ghost stories-- the idea that the ghost of a perfectly innocent victim would want to inflict harm on the equally innocent living. It doesn't make sense-- always keeping in mind that we are dealing with ghost stories, here, and that "making sense" may have flown out the window long ago. Maybe they'd want revenge on the person who harmed them, but other than that...
-- Almost forgot about the lichen-faced woman. An odd little tidbit of physical horror...
-- So now the ghost babies are happy. Aw, how sweet. Or something... But before that? I don't think I'd have gone into that room on my own, no matter the time of day. (Practicality and common sense-- the kryptonite of horror stories!)
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Monday, February 24, 2014
"Outside the Door"
"Outside the Door"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Our narrator's hostess relates a theory about the nature of hauntings, then provides the tale of a ghostly experience to back it up.
My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
Here's another of those stories where a character puts forth a theory about "psychical matters" and proceeds to give an example. The theories (so far) don't seem to be anything radically new (to a modern reader experienced in the genre, at least), so they could just as well be left out. The stories would be creepier without them.
-- The narrator and his hostess rather humorously fail to turn the table: "No tremor even had passed through its slight and spindle-like legs. In consequence we had, after a really considerable period of patient endeavor, left it to its wooden repose, and proceeded to theorise about psychical matters instead, with no stupid table to contradict in practice all our ideas on the subject."
-- "'Otherwise, we must frankly state our disbelief in haunted houses altogether, or suppose that the spirit of the murdered, poor wretch, is bound under certain circumstances to re-enact the horror of its body's tragedy. It was not enough that its body was killed there, its soul has to be dragged back and live through it all again with such vividness that its anguish becomes visible or audible to the eyes or ears of the sensitive. That to me is unthinkable, whereas my theory is not.'"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Our narrator's hostess relates a theory about the nature of hauntings, then provides the tale of a ghostly experience to back it up.
My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
Here's another of those stories where a character puts forth a theory about "psychical matters" and proceeds to give an example. The theories (so far) don't seem to be anything radically new (to a modern reader experienced in the genre, at least), so they could just as well be left out. The stories would be creepier without them.
-- The narrator and his hostess rather humorously fail to turn the table: "No tremor even had passed through its slight and spindle-like legs. In consequence we had, after a really considerable period of patient endeavor, left it to its wooden repose, and proceeded to theorise about psychical matters instead, with no stupid table to contradict in practice all our ideas on the subject."
-- "'Otherwise, we must frankly state our disbelief in haunted houses altogether, or suppose that the spirit of the murdered, poor wretch, is bound under certain circumstances to re-enact the horror of its body's tragedy. It was not enough that its body was killed there, its soul has to be dragged back and live through it all again with such vividness that its anguish becomes visible or audible to the eyes or ears of the sensitive. That to me is unthinkable, whereas my theory is not.'"
Sunday, February 23, 2014
"The House with the Brick-Kiln"
"The House with the Brick-Kiln"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Two friends rent a manor house for a few weeks, hoping to enjoy some fly-fishing along the nearby stream. Strange occurrences on the property gradually lead to a less-than-ideal situation.
My Reaction:
I enjoyed it. A good old-fashioned haunted house story. Personally, I think some of the creepiness is blunted by having two friends as witnesses-- both open to the possibility of "paranormal activity"-- both more than willing to discuss things. Benson seems to prefer having at least two witnesses to his horrors. I guess it can work, sometimes, to have them discuss, compare, and contrast their creepy observations-- but often I find it scarier when a character is alone. ~shrug~ It's more a matter of execution than a simple, cut-and-dried fact that a story can't be scary with two witnesses. Some extremely creepy stories have two or more people witnessing the same creepiness-- with great success in the form of shivers and shudders. In this story, however, it doesn't feel that these two men are ever in any real danger, and even when what they observe is horrific, the details are usually lacking something... But it was still a perfectly nice story-- especially in parts.
Tidbits (with SPOILERS):
-- "...Our arrival seemed to arouse a good deal of interest. The reason for this was obscure; he could only tell us that he was questioned a dozen times as to whether we really intended to live in the house, and his assurance that we did produced silence and a shaking of heads. But the country-fold of Sussex are notable for their silence and chronic attitude of disapproval, and we put this down to local idiosyncrasy."
-- "...at that moment of stepping from the darkness into the cheerfulness of the lighted house, I had a sudden sensation, to which, during the next fortnight, I became almost accustomed, of there being something unseen and unheard and dreadful near me."
-- When the two friends discover that both of them have had that odd, unpleasant sensation... "...As he spoke I felt it with far greater intensity than ever before. And at the same moment the house-door which had been closed, though probably not latched, swung gently open, letting out a shaft of light from the hall, and as gently swung to again, as if something had stealthily entered."
That reminds me of the bit in Blackwood's The Willows when a character says that speaking about things makes them real-- giving them utterance-- admitting that you've noticed them-- makes them worse, somehow. ~shiver~
-- The "revelation" of the manor house's history is no great surprise. Well, possibly the reader's not sure who the woman was-- or that the ghost is the artist-- but I think most modern readers will jump to one conclusion regarding the brick-kiln, almost as soon as they see the word "brick-kiln".
-- It took six months for someone to discover the "charred fragments", and in the meantime, Francis Adam was apparently living at home as usual, working on his series of paintings of the house and grounds. No wonder the brick-kiln was always visible (and smoking), even from angles where it should have been hidden. He was obsessed-- possibly haunted-- by what he had done... The white flames around the edges of his clothes make less sense. Just a symbol of his crime? It would be more logical (er, ghost-story logical) if he had thrown himself into the lighted brick-kiln, driven to fiery suicide by his guilty conscience or the haunting presence of the kiln.
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Two friends rent a manor house for a few weeks, hoping to enjoy some fly-fishing along the nearby stream. Strange occurrences on the property gradually lead to a less-than-ideal situation.
My Reaction:
I enjoyed it. A good old-fashioned haunted house story. Personally, I think some of the creepiness is blunted by having two friends as witnesses-- both open to the possibility of "paranormal activity"-- both more than willing to discuss things. Benson seems to prefer having at least two witnesses to his horrors. I guess it can work, sometimes, to have them discuss, compare, and contrast their creepy observations-- but often I find it scarier when a character is alone. ~shrug~ It's more a matter of execution than a simple, cut-and-dried fact that a story can't be scary with two witnesses. Some extremely creepy stories have two or more people witnessing the same creepiness-- with great success in the form of shivers and shudders. In this story, however, it doesn't feel that these two men are ever in any real danger, and even when what they observe is horrific, the details are usually lacking something... But it was still a perfectly nice story-- especially in parts.
Tidbits (with SPOILERS):
-- "...Our arrival seemed to arouse a good deal of interest. The reason for this was obscure; he could only tell us that he was questioned a dozen times as to whether we really intended to live in the house, and his assurance that we did produced silence and a shaking of heads. But the country-fold of Sussex are notable for their silence and chronic attitude of disapproval, and we put this down to local idiosyncrasy."
-- "...at that moment of stepping from the darkness into the cheerfulness of the lighted house, I had a sudden sensation, to which, during the next fortnight, I became almost accustomed, of there being something unseen and unheard and dreadful near me."
-- When the two friends discover that both of them have had that odd, unpleasant sensation... "...As he spoke I felt it with far greater intensity than ever before. And at the same moment the house-door which had been closed, though probably not latched, swung gently open, letting out a shaft of light from the hall, and as gently swung to again, as if something had stealthily entered."
That reminds me of the bit in Blackwood's The Willows when a character says that speaking about things makes them real-- giving them utterance-- admitting that you've noticed them-- makes them worse, somehow. ~shiver~
-- The "revelation" of the manor house's history is no great surprise. Well, possibly the reader's not sure who the woman was-- or that the ghost is the artist-- but I think most modern readers will jump to one conclusion regarding the brick-kiln, almost as soon as they see the word "brick-kiln".
-- It took six months for someone to discover the "charred fragments", and in the meantime, Francis Adam was apparently living at home as usual, working on his series of paintings of the house and grounds. No wonder the brick-kiln was always visible (and smoking), even from angles where it should have been hidden. He was obsessed-- possibly haunted-- by what he had done... The white flames around the edges of his clothes make less sense. Just a symbol of his crime? It would be more logical (er, ghost-story logical) if he had thrown himself into the lighted brick-kiln, driven to fiery suicide by his guilty conscience or the haunting presence of the kiln.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
"The Bus-Conductor"
"The Bus-Conductor"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Our narrator tells the story of the time his friend recounted a strange and eerie experience with the ~~Other Side~~. (Ooooh, spooooky.)
My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
This one has a couple of creepy moments. The basic idea of the story is probably familiar to most modern readers, but it's still eerie-- a classic case of a "warning from beyond". Incidentally, the word around town-- eh, the Internet-- is that Benson's story was the first to use the so-called "coachman's warning". It's been popular ever since, even making its way into an episode of Twilight Zone.
-- "'But why you go ghost-hunting I cannot imagine,' he said, 'because your teeth were chattering and your eyes starting out of your head all the time you were there, from sheer fright. Or do you like being frightened?' Hugh, though generally intelligent, is dense in certain ways; this is one of them. 'Why, of course, I like being frightened,' I said. 'I want to be made to creep and creep and creep. Fear is the most absorbing and luxurious of emotions. One forgets all else if one is afraid.'"
-- "'Just room for one more inside, sir.'"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Our narrator tells the story of the time his friend recounted a strange and eerie experience with the ~~Other Side~~. (Ooooh, spooooky.)
My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
This one has a couple of creepy moments. The basic idea of the story is probably familiar to most modern readers, but it's still eerie-- a classic case of a "warning from beyond". Incidentally, the word around town-- eh, the Internet-- is that Benson's story was the first to use the so-called "coachman's warning". It's been popular ever since, even making its way into an episode of Twilight Zone.
-- "'But why you go ghost-hunting I cannot imagine,' he said, 'because your teeth were chattering and your eyes starting out of your head all the time you were there, from sheer fright. Or do you like being frightened?' Hugh, though generally intelligent, is dense in certain ways; this is one of them. 'Why, of course, I like being frightened,' I said. 'I want to be made to creep and creep and creep. Fear is the most absorbing and luxurious of emotions. One forgets all else if one is afraid.'"
-- "'Just room for one more inside, sir.'"
Saturday, February 15, 2014
"The Shootings at Achnaleish"
"The Shootings at Achnaleish"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A small English family party rents a Scottish hunting lodge for a couple of months, eager for fishing and shooting in the fresh, cool surroundings. They soon discover, however, that the locals have some very strange-- and potentially deadly-- ideas...
My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
An interesting read. Very strange story. Reminds me of The Wicker Man. These primitive villagers are not quite so wicked and conniving as those were-- but they're still plenty frightening. This is the kind of thing that could actually happen, too. (No, not the part about people turning into hares. The part about people having such bizarre beliefs and behaving crazily as a result.) Less likely these days, in civilized countries, but still possible.
-- The description of the "taboo" in action was a bit spooky-- not to mention the fact that on the night the villagers planned to burn down the lodge, "every window and door on the ground floor was wired up".
-- So... Who exactly was renting out this hunting lodge? Did someone in the village own it, or an outsider? (Maybe it was mentioned early in the story and I simply missed it.) If a villager owned it, it seems like they'd make it clear from the start that the hares were off limits-- but with the low rent, it seems more likely that an unscrupulous outsider owned the land and lodge.
-- "Now, we had Achnaleish for two months, but we had no wish to be burned or otherwise murdered. What we wanted was not a prosecution of our head-keeper, but peace, the necessaries of life, and beaters. For that we were willing to shoot no hares, and release Maclaren. An hour's conclave next morning settled these things; the ensuing two months were most enjoyable, and relations were the friendliest." Ha! That's amusing, but I wouldn't be willing to stay. (And I'd be asking for a refund!) Maclaren's mother was still dead-- and he still blamed them for her death. He might take it into his head to make another attempt at murder. The party's willingness to stay two months in the place is just weird enough to be funny.
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A small English family party rents a Scottish hunting lodge for a couple of months, eager for fishing and shooting in the fresh, cool surroundings. They soon discover, however, that the locals have some very strange-- and potentially deadly-- ideas...
My Reaction (with SPOILERS):
An interesting read. Very strange story. Reminds me of The Wicker Man. These primitive villagers are not quite so wicked and conniving as those were-- but they're still plenty frightening. This is the kind of thing that could actually happen, too. (No, not the part about people turning into hares. The part about people having such bizarre beliefs and behaving crazily as a result.) Less likely these days, in civilized countries, but still possible.
-- The description of the "taboo" in action was a bit spooky-- not to mention the fact that on the night the villagers planned to burn down the lodge, "every window and door on the ground floor was wired up".
-- So... Who exactly was renting out this hunting lodge? Did someone in the village own it, or an outsider? (Maybe it was mentioned early in the story and I simply missed it.) If a villager owned it, it seems like they'd make it clear from the start that the hares were off limits-- but with the low rent, it seems more likely that an unscrupulous outsider owned the land and lodge.
-- "Now, we had Achnaleish for two months, but we had no wish to be burned or otherwise murdered. What we wanted was not a prosecution of our head-keeper, but peace, the necessaries of life, and beaters. For that we were willing to shoot no hares, and release Maclaren. An hour's conclave next morning settled these things; the ensuing two months were most enjoyable, and relations were the friendliest." Ha! That's amusing, but I wouldn't be willing to stay. (And I'd be asking for a refund!) Maclaren's mother was still dead-- and he still blamed them for her death. He might take it into his head to make another attempt at murder. The party's willingness to stay two months in the place is just weird enough to be funny.
Friday, February 14, 2014
"The Dust-Cloud"
"The Dust-Cloud"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Our narrator's host at a house party tells a story of a ghostly automobile, back in the time when cars were still unfamiliar to most.
My Reaction:
It's alright, but rather wordy in spots-- much more so than what I've seen so far in this author's other short stories. It was also very predictable and therefore anticlimactic. The story seems to be as much about the excitingly new "motor-car" as it is about ghosts! I'm sure it would have seemed less predictable-- or at least more unique in approach-- when it was originally published.
Random Bits (with SPOILERS):
-- The first bit, with all the talk of a car having moods and "an independent life of its own" reminded me of King's Christine-- or at least, reminded me of what I've heard of it, having neither read the book (or is it a short story?) nor seen the movie.
-- My copy of this story contains what must be a typo. Someone says there's an "old" story about a car crash-- but the car crash didn't happen that long ago (in the story), so surely it was meant to be an "odd" story.
-- "'Ghosts?' I asked. 'Yes, the ghost of his motor-car. Seems almost too up-to-date, doesn't it?'" Well, now that you mention it... Yes. Ok, it's possible to write a very creepy ghost story involving motor vehicles, but this one's lacking in shivers. Too much focus on the "novelty" of a ghostly car! Novelty alone is not enough to make a ghost story a success.
-- The part about different people being receptive to different types of ghostly phenomena-- sight, sound, etc. Interesting idea, but rather too clinical/faux scientific in presentation, imho.
-- The creepiest parts came early in the story, with the recounting of what people have heard or seen -- especially the children having seen a little girl who wouldn't speak to them. ~shiver~ Also, the intimation that the driver had been so prone to road rage (long, long before "road rage" was a term) that he ran down his own dog rather than hit the brakes or veer away.
-- Oh, and I'd forgotten the cheerful description of "the weather-eaten, sandy cliffs of the Suffolk shore"-- "the ancient town of Dunwich". "...Of its seven great churches, nothing remains but one, and that ruinous and already half destroyed by the falling cliff and the encroachments of the sea. Foot by foot, it too is disappearing, and of the graveyard which surrounded it more than half is gone, so that from the face of the sandy cliff on which it stands there stick out like straws in glass, as Dante says, the bones of those who were once committed there to the kindly and stable earth." So eerie.
-- "I kept my mind, in fact, talking to itself, so that it should not hear what other voices were saying." Yes, but physically moving and talking aloud may work better at drowning them out. (Dogs are good listeners in these situations. They'll happily listen to a play-by-play of whatever mundane task you choose.)
-- Hey, remember the "monstrous goat" from "The Man Who Went Too Far"? The one who skipped through the forest with "hellish glee"? Well, there's more hellish glee in this story! "...Most terrible question of all-- had he, after making murder, rushed on to what proved to be his own death, filled with some hellish glee at what he had done?" (A very early case of hit-and-run.)
-- "I was quite satisfied to leave my curiosity unsatisfied." I know the feeling.
-- Apparently either tires were of pathetic quality when this was written, or the roads were in dreadful condition-- or both. The car suffers four punctures in one day! Also, there's reference to "boots", which I assumed were tires-- but then there's something about "socks", too. What's a sock, then? An inner-tube?
-- This car has two different noise-makers-- a hooter and a syren. I wish I could find an example of exactly how each sounded. Evidently they were operated independently of one another. The hooter was lower-pitched and was used as a sort of warning to people or animals near the road-- "Hey, heads up! Coming through!"-- and the syren was higher-pitched, almost screaming and was reserved for more drastic measures-- "Aahhhh! Move out of the way-- right now!!!"
-- It's funny to me that the narrator goes to such lengths to make sure we know that he's totally forgotten all about the ghost car. Nothing could be further from his mind. (Even though the story kept him up all night!) So it's not like this has been on his mind and he's some sort of nerved-up, ghost-obsessed, contaminated witness or something. Nope, not at all. And yet he explains that his friend mentions the ghost before they start the drive home! "As I have already said, no notion of Bircham was in my mind, and I mention this as evidence that, even if it had been, Harry's remark would have implied that we were not going through Bircham." Okay, okay, we get it. You were an impartial observer and had no idea you were headed straight into the heart of Ghost Territory. *eyeroll*
-- For the narrator, the ghost takes on the form of a cloud of dust. ... :o/ (That's my ambivalent face, by the way.) Now, don't get me wrong, if it happened to me, I'd be creeped out, but... a cloud of dust? Hm. (Maybe it's the way its presented...) There's also a shriek-- which could be a ghostly syren or a ghostly scream. Either one would be scary, but it's touched on so lightly that it fails to chill my blood.
-- And then we get this: "Then we went on again. Soon we came to scattered lights in houses by the wayside. 'What's this place?' I asked Jack. 'Bircham, sir,' said he." *dun dun DUN!!!* ...So that's the climax? Everyone reading this knows it's Bircham, and frankly, the narrator must be a bit thick if he didn't.
-- I sound grumpy and persnickety in these snippets, I know. But I just enjoy nit-picking my reading. I take genuine pleasure in it. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the reading-- not at all. It only means... I don't know, that I'm weird, I guess. ;o)
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
Our narrator's host at a house party tells a story of a ghostly automobile, back in the time when cars were still unfamiliar to most.
My Reaction:
It's alright, but rather wordy in spots-- much more so than what I've seen so far in this author's other short stories. It was also very predictable and therefore anticlimactic. The story seems to be as much about the excitingly new "motor-car" as it is about ghosts! I'm sure it would have seemed less predictable-- or at least more unique in approach-- when it was originally published.
Random Bits (with SPOILERS):
-- The first bit, with all the talk of a car having moods and "an independent life of its own" reminded me of King's Christine-- or at least, reminded me of what I've heard of it, having neither read the book (or is it a short story?) nor seen the movie.
-- My copy of this story contains what must be a typo. Someone says there's an "old" story about a car crash-- but the car crash didn't happen that long ago (in the story), so surely it was meant to be an "odd" story.
-- "'Ghosts?' I asked. 'Yes, the ghost of his motor-car. Seems almost too up-to-date, doesn't it?'" Well, now that you mention it... Yes. Ok, it's possible to write a very creepy ghost story involving motor vehicles, but this one's lacking in shivers. Too much focus on the "novelty" of a ghostly car! Novelty alone is not enough to make a ghost story a success.
-- The part about different people being receptive to different types of ghostly phenomena-- sight, sound, etc. Interesting idea, but rather too clinical/faux scientific in presentation, imho.
-- The creepiest parts came early in the story, with the recounting of what people have heard or seen -- especially the children having seen a little girl who wouldn't speak to them. ~shiver~ Also, the intimation that the driver had been so prone to road rage (long, long before "road rage" was a term) that he ran down his own dog rather than hit the brakes or veer away.
-- Oh, and I'd forgotten the cheerful description of "the weather-eaten, sandy cliffs of the Suffolk shore"-- "the ancient town of Dunwich". "...Of its seven great churches, nothing remains but one, and that ruinous and already half destroyed by the falling cliff and the encroachments of the sea. Foot by foot, it too is disappearing, and of the graveyard which surrounded it more than half is gone, so that from the face of the sandy cliff on which it stands there stick out like straws in glass, as Dante says, the bones of those who were once committed there to the kindly and stable earth." So eerie.
-- "I kept my mind, in fact, talking to itself, so that it should not hear what other voices were saying." Yes, but physically moving and talking aloud may work better at drowning them out. (Dogs are good listeners in these situations. They'll happily listen to a play-by-play of whatever mundane task you choose.)
-- Hey, remember the "monstrous goat" from "The Man Who Went Too Far"? The one who skipped through the forest with "hellish glee"? Well, there's more hellish glee in this story! "...Most terrible question of all-- had he, after making murder, rushed on to what proved to be his own death, filled with some hellish glee at what he had done?" (A very early case of hit-and-run.)
-- "I was quite satisfied to leave my curiosity unsatisfied." I know the feeling.
-- Apparently either tires were of pathetic quality when this was written, or the roads were in dreadful condition-- or both. The car suffers four punctures in one day! Also, there's reference to "boots", which I assumed were tires-- but then there's something about "socks", too. What's a sock, then? An inner-tube?
-- This car has two different noise-makers-- a hooter and a syren. I wish I could find an example of exactly how each sounded. Evidently they were operated independently of one another. The hooter was lower-pitched and was used as a sort of warning to people or animals near the road-- "Hey, heads up! Coming through!"-- and the syren was higher-pitched, almost screaming and was reserved for more drastic measures-- "Aahhhh! Move out of the way-- right now!!!"
-- It's funny to me that the narrator goes to such lengths to make sure we know that he's totally forgotten all about the ghost car. Nothing could be further from his mind. (Even though the story kept him up all night!) So it's not like this has been on his mind and he's some sort of nerved-up, ghost-obsessed, contaminated witness or something. Nope, not at all. And yet he explains that his friend mentions the ghost before they start the drive home! "As I have already said, no notion of Bircham was in my mind, and I mention this as evidence that, even if it had been, Harry's remark would have implied that we were not going through Bircham." Okay, okay, we get it. You were an impartial observer and had no idea you were headed straight into the heart of Ghost Territory. *eyeroll*
-- For the narrator, the ghost takes on the form of a cloud of dust. ... :o/ (That's my ambivalent face, by the way.) Now, don't get me wrong, if it happened to me, I'd be creeped out, but... a cloud of dust? Hm. (Maybe it's the way its presented...) There's also a shriek-- which could be a ghostly syren or a ghostly scream. Either one would be scary, but it's touched on so lightly that it fails to chill my blood.
-- And then we get this: "Then we went on again. Soon we came to scattered lights in houses by the wayside. 'What's this place?' I asked Jack. 'Bircham, sir,' said he." *dun dun DUN!!!* ...So that's the climax? Everyone reading this knows it's Bircham, and frankly, the narrator must be a bit thick if he didn't.
-- I sound grumpy and persnickety in these snippets, I know. But I just enjoy nit-picking my reading. I take genuine pleasure in it. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the reading-- not at all. It only means... I don't know, that I'm weird, I guess. ;o)
Sunday, February 9, 2014
"Gavon's Eve"
"Gavon's Eve"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A pool in a wild, remote spot provides excellent fishing in unique surroundings (a natural wall of stone on one side and the ruins of an ancient castle on the other)-- but this place has a darker history than the fishermen suspect...
My Reaction:
This is more what I was expecting from these stories. It's pretty obvious what's happening (or what has happened), and I (for one) appreciate that. (I know, how boring. What can I say? I guess I'm basically prosaic. I like to know what's what.) A nice, spooky atmosphere-- but a sad story. Not many ghostly/horror stories are happy, though, so no fair complaining about that.
Random Specifics (with SPOILERS):
-- "...The ruins of a Pict castle, built out of rough and scarcely hewn masonry..." I have only vague memories of being taught anything at all about the Picts, I'm afraid. (They're just not high on the list of historical priorities, around here.)
-- Inside the castle: "...In the centre of all a very deep hole, probably a well." I was convinced that the ghostly form or, more likely, physical remains of the girl would come crawling out of the well-- and that the two men hidden inside the castle ruins would hear her, not knowing what the little sounds were until she was right behind them. I honestly think that would have made a much creepier story. Otherwise, why even mention the well? (Maybe to suggest just that suspicion...)
-- "...Above this backwater, a great wall of black and basaltic rock, heaved up no doubt by some fault in strata, rises sheer from the river to the height of some sixty feet." Basaltic rock is super neat. ...And this whole setting is ca-reepy.
-- More creepy setting: Gavon is described as "so small and huddled a group of huts, set on a bare, bleak headland between moor and sea..." I probably wouldn't want to live there, but so dramatic! (Like the salt marshes in The Woman in Black.)
-- Brora is a real place in Sutherland (in Scotland). I thought the name sounded Scandinavian, and sure enough, it does derive from Old Norse.
-- "gillie"-- a funny-looking word for a person who assists a hunter or fisherman. I guess it's someone who knows the area (and the sport) and can act as a guide, but also acts as a servant and does all the heavy lifting. Personally, I think my pleasure in an outing would be greatly diminished by having a stranger there the whole time. Even if it meant I had to carry my own stuff. ;o)
-- "'...Trouble led to drink, and trouble, I am afraid, is leading him to worse than drink.' 'The only thing worse than drink is the devil,' I remarked."
-- "...The curiously hard edges of the western cloud were star-embroidered..."
-- "What I heard I cannot bring myself to record..." An inevitably appealing literary device, that.
-- "But whether [Catrine] slipped accidentally in her passage, and so was drawn down by the hungry water, or whether unable to face the future, she had thrown herself into the pool, we can only guess." Though it's unpleasant, I suspect we are meant to infer that it was the latter. Earlier in the story, we've been told that "on this night, too, all witches had the power by certain dreadful incantations and indescribable profanities, to raise from the dead those who had committed suicide"-- and clearly she was being "risen" until Sandy interfered by calling on God.
-- Very "convenient" (I guess you could say) that Catrine just happened to have died and "come to rest" in sight of the ancient Satanic altar, huh? I mean, she could have died anywhere-- out on the moors or something-- though what she would have been doing out in the middle of nowhere is less obvious.
-- Why mention that Catrine was wearing a cloak-- despite the hot afternoon-- on her walk toward Gavon? If the cloak had appeared again, at some point, it would've been understandable (identification, proof she was there), but I don't think it was. A person falling (or jumping) into deep water while wearing a cloak would be more likely to be pulled down and drowned than someone unencumbered by all that heavy fabric... but it still seems a random thing to make a point of mentioning, with no follow-up. Curious...
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A pool in a wild, remote spot provides excellent fishing in unique surroundings (a natural wall of stone on one side and the ruins of an ancient castle on the other)-- but this place has a darker history than the fishermen suspect...
My Reaction:
This is more what I was expecting from these stories. It's pretty obvious what's happening (or what has happened), and I (for one) appreciate that. (I know, how boring. What can I say? I guess I'm basically prosaic. I like to know what's what.) A nice, spooky atmosphere-- but a sad story. Not many ghostly/horror stories are happy, though, so no fair complaining about that.
Random Specifics (with SPOILERS):
-- "...The ruins of a Pict castle, built out of rough and scarcely hewn masonry..." I have only vague memories of being taught anything at all about the Picts, I'm afraid. (They're just not high on the list of historical priorities, around here.)
-- Inside the castle: "...In the centre of all a very deep hole, probably a well." I was convinced that the ghostly form or, more likely, physical remains of the girl would come crawling out of the well-- and that the two men hidden inside the castle ruins would hear her, not knowing what the little sounds were until she was right behind them. I honestly think that would have made a much creepier story. Otherwise, why even mention the well? (Maybe to suggest just that suspicion...)
-- "...Above this backwater, a great wall of black and basaltic rock, heaved up no doubt by some fault in strata, rises sheer from the river to the height of some sixty feet." Basaltic rock is super neat. ...And this whole setting is ca-reepy.
-- More creepy setting: Gavon is described as "so small and huddled a group of huts, set on a bare, bleak headland between moor and sea..." I probably wouldn't want to live there, but so dramatic! (Like the salt marshes in The Woman in Black.)
-- Brora is a real place in Sutherland (in Scotland). I thought the name sounded Scandinavian, and sure enough, it does derive from Old Norse.
-- "gillie"-- a funny-looking word for a person who assists a hunter or fisherman. I guess it's someone who knows the area (and the sport) and can act as a guide, but also acts as a servant and does all the heavy lifting. Personally, I think my pleasure in an outing would be greatly diminished by having a stranger there the whole time. Even if it meant I had to carry my own stuff. ;o)
-- "'...Trouble led to drink, and trouble, I am afraid, is leading him to worse than drink.' 'The only thing worse than drink is the devil,' I remarked."
-- "...The curiously hard edges of the western cloud were star-embroidered..."
-- "What I heard I cannot bring myself to record..." An inevitably appealing literary device, that.
-- "But whether [Catrine] slipped accidentally in her passage, and so was drawn down by the hungry water, or whether unable to face the future, she had thrown herself into the pool, we can only guess." Though it's unpleasant, I suspect we are meant to infer that it was the latter. Earlier in the story, we've been told that "on this night, too, all witches had the power by certain dreadful incantations and indescribable profanities, to raise from the dead those who had committed suicide"-- and clearly she was being "risen" until Sandy interfered by calling on God.
-- Very "convenient" (I guess you could say) that Catrine just happened to have died and "come to rest" in sight of the ancient Satanic altar, huh? I mean, she could have died anywhere-- out on the moors or something-- though what she would have been doing out in the middle of nowhere is less obvious.
-- Why mention that Catrine was wearing a cloak-- despite the hot afternoon-- on her walk toward Gavon? If the cloak had appeared again, at some point, it would've been understandable (identification, proof she was there), but I don't think it was. A person falling (or jumping) into deep water while wearing a cloak would be more likely to be pulled down and drowned than someone unencumbered by all that heavy fabric... but it still seems a random thing to make a point of mentioning, with no follow-up. Curious...
Saturday, February 8, 2014
"The Cat"
"The Cat"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A portrait artist enjoys a burst of inspiration and unexpected creative growth following months of crippling depression. However, his friend (a doctor) is concerned that this amazing recovery may not last forever...
My Reaction:
This is a strange tale. I'm not completely sure what to make of it, honestly. (I'll go into that in the next section, because it's nearly impossible to discuss without including serious spoilers.) I think I prefer stories with a few more clues as to what conclusion I'm "supposed" to draw. Also, except for one occurrence, there wasn't much in the way of horror, in my estimation. Still, it held my interest. Not a bad story. I enjoyed the reading.
Random Snippets &/or Commentary (with SPOILERS):
-- "The phenomenon of his appearance was as sudden as that of the meteor, coming from nowhere and sliding large and luminous across the remote and star-sown sky..."
-- "She was one of those blonde, lithe, silken girls, who, happily for the peace of men's minds, are rather rare, and who remind one of some humanised yet celestial and bestial cat."
-- "'...You and animals use their eyes only, whereas people use their mouths and foreheads and other things. A pleased dog, an expectant dog, a hungry dog, a jealous dog, a disappointed dog-- one gathers all that from a dog's eyes. Their mouths are comparatively immobile, and a cat's is even more so.'" I'm not sure I agree-- as far as dogs are concerned. Dogs communicate a very great deal through their lips, brows, ears, and muzzles-- in addition to their eyes, of course. And that's not even mentioning their tails! Or their stance in general... or the way they can raise their hackles! This makes me wonder how well Benson knew dogs and cats...
-- "'...I always have detested cats so-- they make me feel actually faint.'" and "Now the presence of a cat was a thing that usually produced in Dick a feeling of deadly faintness." Strange... I know some people don't like cats, but to feel faint around them seems an extreme reaction-- especially since a cat is unlikely to do physical harm unless it's cornered/"trapped" and feels threatened.
-- "pellucid"-- clear or limpid, apparently. What a hideous word! Just awful! A fine example of the fact that even if you know a word, that doesn't necessarily mean you should use it. (This one ought to be locked away forever.)
-- The "one occurrence" I mentioned earlier? It was the sudden appearance of the cat, sitting on the sofa and holding in its mouth a still-living bird. That was probably the creepiest moment in the story, which isn't saying much, because the story's simply not that creepy. It has a certain "atmosphere", I guess you could say... Mainly because the reader is expecting something terrible to happen-- wondering when and how this man's peace of mind will shatter-- but... I don't really get it. (See next point.)
-- So... What is meant to have happened? I don't want everything spelled out to me too explicitly in these stories, but I like to have enough clues that I can feel fairly confident when I draw my conclusions. This time, I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to think. It seems obvious that Dick has at least contributed to the destruction of his painting-- but why? (In a fit of some sort? --Rage? Insanity?-- Accidentally, while trying to fend off a foe-- real or imagined?) And who -- or what-- killed him (by mangling his throat)? The cat? He couldn't fend off a house-cat? Unless there's paint on his throat, too-- which isn't mentioned-- it appears unlikely that he somehow killed himself (and what a way to do so!)...
Was the cat ever even there? It looks dry during a thunderstorm. It appears and disappears with uneasy rapidity. It brings inspiration, but also a return of Dick's emotional instability. You could easily make a case that the cat is a figment of Dick's imagination-- a visual representation of his former love and the depression that haunted him for so long when she cast him off. --Except that in that case, what clawed his throat and killed him?
The whole thing is very much open to interpretation. That's fine, but I'm curious about at least how other readers interpret it, and I can't find much.
-- In a failed attempt to find someone else's opinion of the story (beyond "loved it" or "meh"), I instead found an interesting quotation regarding Benson's horror stories:
"Among the collections of short stories, E. F. Benson's three volumes rank high, though to my mind he sins occasionally by stepping over the line of legitimate horridness. He is, however, blameless in this aspect as compared with some Americans (sic), who compile volumes called Not At Night and the like. They are merely nauseating, and it is very easy to be nauseating." - M. R. James, Some Remarks On Ghost Stories, The Bookman, Dec. 1929.
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A portrait artist enjoys a burst of inspiration and unexpected creative growth following months of crippling depression. However, his friend (a doctor) is concerned that this amazing recovery may not last forever...
My Reaction:
This is a strange tale. I'm not completely sure what to make of it, honestly. (I'll go into that in the next section, because it's nearly impossible to discuss without including serious spoilers.) I think I prefer stories with a few more clues as to what conclusion I'm "supposed" to draw. Also, except for one occurrence, there wasn't much in the way of horror, in my estimation. Still, it held my interest. Not a bad story. I enjoyed the reading.
Random Snippets &/or Commentary (with SPOILERS):
-- "The phenomenon of his appearance was as sudden as that of the meteor, coming from nowhere and sliding large and luminous across the remote and star-sown sky..."
-- "She was one of those blonde, lithe, silken girls, who, happily for the peace of men's minds, are rather rare, and who remind one of some humanised yet celestial and bestial cat."
-- "'...You and animals use their eyes only, whereas people use their mouths and foreheads and other things. A pleased dog, an expectant dog, a hungry dog, a jealous dog, a disappointed dog-- one gathers all that from a dog's eyes. Their mouths are comparatively immobile, and a cat's is even more so.'" I'm not sure I agree-- as far as dogs are concerned. Dogs communicate a very great deal through their lips, brows, ears, and muzzles-- in addition to their eyes, of course. And that's not even mentioning their tails! Or their stance in general... or the way they can raise their hackles! This makes me wonder how well Benson knew dogs and cats...
-- "'...I always have detested cats so-- they make me feel actually faint.'" and "Now the presence of a cat was a thing that usually produced in Dick a feeling of deadly faintness." Strange... I know some people don't like cats, but to feel faint around them seems an extreme reaction-- especially since a cat is unlikely to do physical harm unless it's cornered/"trapped" and feels threatened.
-- "pellucid"-- clear or limpid, apparently. What a hideous word! Just awful! A fine example of the fact that even if you know a word, that doesn't necessarily mean you should use it. (This one ought to be locked away forever.)
-- The "one occurrence" I mentioned earlier? It was the sudden appearance of the cat, sitting on the sofa and holding in its mouth a still-living bird. That was probably the creepiest moment in the story, which isn't saying much, because the story's simply not that creepy. It has a certain "atmosphere", I guess you could say... Mainly because the reader is expecting something terrible to happen-- wondering when and how this man's peace of mind will shatter-- but... I don't really get it. (See next point.)
-- So... What is meant to have happened? I don't want everything spelled out to me too explicitly in these stories, but I like to have enough clues that I can feel fairly confident when I draw my conclusions. This time, I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to think. It seems obvious that Dick has at least contributed to the destruction of his painting-- but why? (In a fit of some sort? --Rage? Insanity?-- Accidentally, while trying to fend off a foe-- real or imagined?) And who -- or what-- killed him (by mangling his throat)? The cat? He couldn't fend off a house-cat? Unless there's paint on his throat, too-- which isn't mentioned-- it appears unlikely that he somehow killed himself (and what a way to do so!)...
Was the cat ever even there? It looks dry during a thunderstorm. It appears and disappears with uneasy rapidity. It brings inspiration, but also a return of Dick's emotional instability. You could easily make a case that the cat is a figment of Dick's imagination-- a visual representation of his former love and the depression that haunted him for so long when she cast him off. --Except that in that case, what clawed his throat and killed him?
The whole thing is very much open to interpretation. That's fine, but I'm curious about at least how other readers interpret it, and I can't find much.
-- In a failed attempt to find someone else's opinion of the story (beyond "loved it" or "meh"), I instead found an interesting quotation regarding Benson's horror stories:
"Among the collections of short stories, E. F. Benson's three volumes rank high, though to my mind he sins occasionally by stepping over the line of legitimate horridness. He is, however, blameless in this aspect as compared with some Americans (sic), who compile volumes called Not At Night and the like. They are merely nauseating, and it is very easy to be nauseating." - M. R. James, Some Remarks On Ghost Stories, The Bookman, Dec. 1929.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
"The Man Who Went Too Far"
"The Man Who Went Too Far"
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A man visits the home of a friend he hasn't seen in years and is amazed to find that this friend looks younger-- and more radiant-- than ever. His friend explains that the apparent reversal of the aging process is the result of years of focusing solely on the joys of nature. However, there is a dark side to the obsessive pursuit of joy and worship of happiness...
My Reaction:
I liked this better than "At Abdul Ali's Grave", but it still felt less... horrifying than I would like in a "horror story". There are some interesting ideas here-- but in the end, I'm afraid that (so far) I'm more befuddled than really frightened by the concept of ancient pagan gods. The "Greek god" aspect reminded me of one or two other short stories I've read... "Dionea", for instance, which was another that I didn't complete "get". Still, this was better than "Dionea", imho. Just not great.
Random Particulars (with SPOILERS):
-- "One story indeed I have heard with some definiteness, the tale of a monstrous goat that has been seen to skip with hellish glee about the woods and shady places..." ...A "monstrous goat" skipping around with "hellish glee"? Hm. O-kay...
-- Of a house: "It was low-built, only two stories in height..." Well, how many stories would it take for a house to not be considered "low-built"? Around here, single-story homes are more the norm, and two-story homes would never be referred to as "only".
-- "'I would as soon think of eating meat.' 'Another victim on the smoking altar of vegetarianism?'" ...Yeah. Meat's just too darn tasty to be given up lightly.
-- "'...that awful and terrible disease which devastated England some centuries ago, and from which by heredity of spirit we suffer now, Puritanism. That was a dreadful plague, the brutes held and taught that joy and laughter and merriment were evil: it was a doctrine the most profane and wicked.'" I don't agree with Frank on much, but on this... Yes, I think it's a terrible mistake to believe and teach that God does not want us to be joyful and find pleasure in our earthly lives. You won't win many souls by preaching that innocent happiness is a sin. White-knuckling your way through every single day-- it's no way to live.
-- "'I believe that just as there is nothing in the world which so injures one's body as fear, so there is nothing that so much shuts up the soul.'" ...If only it were easier to live without fear!
-- As with the first story in this collection, my knowledge of the author's (assumed) "predilections" can't help but color the way I read some things. In the last story, there was a man stripped naked, sweatily digging up a grave and performing some sort of supernatural mouth-to-mouth. This time, there was an odd scene in which one man comes up to another's bedroom and puts him to sleep with his hypnotic talk. It seems a strange thing to do, does it not?
-- Frank's unnaturally powerful abhorrence of the pain and suffering in the world around him-- his absolute terror of seeing something that was not joyful-- was much more disturbing than the suggestion that Pan had come to scare him to death. That said, I definitely understand the impulse to avoid the unpleasant. It's why I change the channel or mute the TV when certain commercials come on-- or immediately flip past particular types of ads or articles in magazines, for instance. There has to be a limit, though-- and a grown man stopping up his ears and running away from a child who cries after taking a tumble...
-- "'The radical unsoundness of your idea. It is this: All nature from highest to lowest is full, crammed full of suffering; every living organism in nature preys on another, yet in your aim to get close to, to be one with nature, you leave suffering altogether out; you run away from it, you refuse to recognize it."
-- The end is predictable-- if you can still call it "predictable" when Frank's friend (sorry, can't recall his name) has issued an explicit warning regarding the likely nature of the eagerly-awaited "final revelation". Frank replies that he doesn't care if he dies as a result of the revelation. He must see this through to the end. ...And, well, if he doesn't care if he dies, why should the reader? I certainly didn't. The hoof marks weren't much of a surprise, either.
-- Conclusion: Meh.
by E.F. Benson
Synopsis:
A man visits the home of a friend he hasn't seen in years and is amazed to find that this friend looks younger-- and more radiant-- than ever. His friend explains that the apparent reversal of the aging process is the result of years of focusing solely on the joys of nature. However, there is a dark side to the obsessive pursuit of joy and worship of happiness...
My Reaction:
I liked this better than "At Abdul Ali's Grave", but it still felt less... horrifying than I would like in a "horror story". There are some interesting ideas here-- but in the end, I'm afraid that (so far) I'm more befuddled than really frightened by the concept of ancient pagan gods. The "Greek god" aspect reminded me of one or two other short stories I've read... "Dionea", for instance, which was another that I didn't complete "get". Still, this was better than "Dionea", imho. Just not great.
Random Particulars (with SPOILERS):
-- "One story indeed I have heard with some definiteness, the tale of a monstrous goat that has been seen to skip with hellish glee about the woods and shady places..." ...A "monstrous goat" skipping around with "hellish glee"? Hm. O-kay...
-- Of a house: "It was low-built, only two stories in height..." Well, how many stories would it take for a house to not be considered "low-built"? Around here, single-story homes are more the norm, and two-story homes would never be referred to as "only".
-- "'I would as soon think of eating meat.' 'Another victim on the smoking altar of vegetarianism?'" ...Yeah. Meat's just too darn tasty to be given up lightly.
-- "'...that awful and terrible disease which devastated England some centuries ago, and from which by heredity of spirit we suffer now, Puritanism. That was a dreadful plague, the brutes held and taught that joy and laughter and merriment were evil: it was a doctrine the most profane and wicked.'" I don't agree with Frank on much, but on this... Yes, I think it's a terrible mistake to believe and teach that God does not want us to be joyful and find pleasure in our earthly lives. You won't win many souls by preaching that innocent happiness is a sin. White-knuckling your way through every single day-- it's no way to live.
-- "'I believe that just as there is nothing in the world which so injures one's body as fear, so there is nothing that so much shuts up the soul.'" ...If only it were easier to live without fear!
-- As with the first story in this collection, my knowledge of the author's (assumed) "predilections" can't help but color the way I read some things. In the last story, there was a man stripped naked, sweatily digging up a grave and performing some sort of supernatural mouth-to-mouth. This time, there was an odd scene in which one man comes up to another's bedroom and puts him to sleep with his hypnotic talk. It seems a strange thing to do, does it not?
-- Frank's unnaturally powerful abhorrence of the pain and suffering in the world around him-- his absolute terror of seeing something that was not joyful-- was much more disturbing than the suggestion that Pan had come to scare him to death. That said, I definitely understand the impulse to avoid the unpleasant. It's why I change the channel or mute the TV when certain commercials come on-- or immediately flip past particular types of ads or articles in magazines, for instance. There has to be a limit, though-- and a grown man stopping up his ears and running away from a child who cries after taking a tumble...
-- "'The radical unsoundness of your idea. It is this: All nature from highest to lowest is full, crammed full of suffering; every living organism in nature preys on another, yet in your aim to get close to, to be one with nature, you leave suffering altogether out; you run away from it, you refuse to recognize it."
-- The end is predictable-- if you can still call it "predictable" when Frank's friend (sorry, can't recall his name) has issued an explicit warning regarding the likely nature of the eagerly-awaited "final revelation". Frank replies that he doesn't care if he dies as a result of the revelation. He must see this through to the end. ...And, well, if he doesn't care if he dies, why should the reader? I certainly didn't. The hoof marks weren't much of a surprise, either.
-- Conclusion: Meh.
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