Thursday, October 28, 2021
Saturday, October 23, 2021
"The Night of Turns" is a narrative of folk horror, a record of the author's experiences in a land where theatre is used as a weapon, and lives are forfeit in a sinister game of spiritual roulette. "
And, as the usual Broodcomb warning states,
"It might not be for you."
|just one of many game boards from the novel|
Monday, October 11, 2021
"tales of whispering voices and maddening sights from deep in the Yorkshire Dales to the ancient hills of Gwent and the eerie quiet of the forests of Dartmoor."
No teddy bears' picnics here; instead there are twelve tales which celebrate "the enduring power of our natural spaces to enthral and terrorise our senses."
"it seems that a man is not sure in what company he may suddenly find himself..."
|from A Bit About Britain|
"Haunted woods are places where narrative and environment are merged, where the imagination and landscape are rooted together,"
and this theme as well as others runs through each and every story in this book. In some cases the idea of "woods" might seem a bit stretched, but it didn't matter to me. Just reading these tales brought back many moments I've spent in forests both day and night, remembering all of the creaks and groans of the trees, the crackle of movement by woodland creatures, and the sense of being in an unworldly place where the sky is hard to see through the canopy. Recommended mainly to those readers who, like me, love these older creepy stories from the past, and to those readers who are fans of the British Library Tales of the Weird series in general. Don't miss the introduction (but do save it until the end), and be sure to check out the cover art as well.
I'm now psyched for a cool day and a hike through the woods -- and for whatever I may encounter there.
Monday, October 4, 2021
The Villa and the Vortex: Supernatural Stories, 1916-1924 by Elinor Mordaunt (ed.) Melissa Edmundson
" reached the scene of his day's labours -- pleasure, solicitation, whatever it might be -- by some altogether uncanny means; that his every action, his whole life, indeed, was nefarious."
One February night she finds herself coming home from a tea party, "enveloped by a thick yellow fog," and becomes turned around, completely lost, when a stranger she can't see offers help; it's then that she hears the familiar "tap-tap" next to her. Let me just say that I thought I knew what was going to happen here, but as it turns out, I was not only wrong but I would never have guessed it in a million years. The bizarre, disorienting travels through foggy London streets add even more of a chill to this story, which would be a superb addition to any collection of weird tales.
|from photosample, by Kalin Kalpachev (if you go there, buy him a coffee)|
Two haunted house stories made my favorites list as well: "Four Wallpapers," from 1924, is set in Tenerife, where a couple who had bought a house sight unseen are discouraged by the lack of progress the local workers have made by the time they arrive, even though they'd been sending regular payments for the work. Mrs. Erskine decides that she'll have to buckle down and get things done herself; for Mr. Erskine it's all too much so he spends most of his time in the local hotel. He particularly hates the wallpaper, but his wife promises him it will all be gone shortly. But even as she's starting to strip it away, she becomes utterly fascinated as the house begins to spill its secrets, layer by layer. "The Fountain" (1922) features a house that becomes haunted over the course of the story, but what elevates this one is the author's incorporation of ancient nature beliefs into the story. "The Villa," the final story, is also not your typical haunted house -- here, as Edmundson notes in her introduction, Mordaunt describes this villa in Croatia as a "sentient being: hating, revenging, waiting." The original owner of a beautiful house in Croatia falls victim to a death wish, so that another owner might take possession of it. The house, however, isn't happy about the change in ownership and takes its revenge over the next few generations.
Although I've only offered a very brief sketch, all of the stories in this volume run psychologically deep and often hit at the very souls of her characters. The ones I didn't mention in this volume are also quite good, and I'm not at all surprised that Mordaunt's stories, as the editor notes, were "favourably compared" to those written by Algernon Blackwood and HG Wells. What is surprising is that Mordaunt is so underappreciated with her work rarely appearing in anthologies, because her stories lend themselves so nicely to any number of different facets of the supernatural and the weird. Save the excellent introduction for last but do not pass it by -- I'm always amazed at the depth and breadth of Edmundson's research and knowledge. From haunted houses to haunted people, Mordaunt's work is very well done, highly intelligent, and I'll go so far as to say a definitely must-read for readers of older supernatural tales, especially those written by women whose work has long been "very much underacknowledged." Highly recommended.
Saturday, October 2, 2021
"Folk ritual, crow roads and the quiet little places where there is more to be heard than the sea were always going to lead him astray."
After a week he's stopped at a B&B next to train station, and the old steam engine currently sitting on the tracks catches his attention. With the intention of taking "an evening ride up the coast" he boards the train, which the only other passenger tells him is heading for Linnett. He also learns about a dig on a "spit island" called Gloy Ness, from which a number of artifacts ("the Gloy stones") were removed because of the island's geographical impermanence. Barley finds a room in Linnett, and then decides to travel the roughly three miles to Upmorchard, "a tiny fishing cove with a natural harbour" where the stones are now housed. It isn't long until he is invited to view the stones and he meets two academic researchers who are focused on trying to decipher the strange symbols on these "gargantuan stones." As Barley looks at the stones, he is positive that together they made up "an enormous text," which Arthur, one of the researchers, has already figured out. He also claims to have translated some of the text, and Barley is curious as to how, since neither Arthur nor his colleague Delia have neither a key nor any kind of Rosetta stone as a guide. His curiousity and his need to know get the better of him, until he too falls under the stones' spell. To say more would be absolutely criminal, but I will say that what Barley encounters while trying to solve this textual mystery is well beyond disturbing, moving into the zone of abject horror.
Upmorchard, as the dustjacket blurb notes, "returns to the peninsula's history," with Watts Barlik's story, but it also captures an even more sinister and horrific history that goes back to antiquity. It may be short in length but do not let that fool you. It is a gifted, talented writer who can do so much in such a short space and Ostermeier is a master. Not only is this story atmospheric from the beginning, the sense of place is so well established that it's as if you're right there along with these people, smelling the sea breeze on a dark night. Suspense and tension grow slowly before the story turns so dark that I had to put this book down more than once to regroup mentally before picking it up again. Like much of my favorite weird fiction, there are no ready-made answers here; like much of my favorite weird fiction, the story played out over and over again in my head long after the last page was turned.
While Upmorchard is definitely not meant for the faint of heart or for those readers who must have everything spelled out, it is a book I can more than recommend to other lovers of the strange. Sadly, I don't see any more of R. Ostermeier's work listed at Broodcomb, but hopefully this author will return with more at some point.
Friday, October 1, 2021
"draws predominantly on the region's folklore and history, yet also includes first-hand accounts of contemporary disquiet."
In short, it's my kind of book.
" A Tantony Pig" dives right into weirdsville with a story that Ostermeier notes was inspired by Machen's short story "The Ritual," which the author says was "filtered through watching the version in Julian Butler and Mark Goodall's Holy Terrors." [As an aside, I immediately looked for and found a copy of Holy Terrors on ebay and am eagerly awaiting its arrival in just four days if all goes well.] The narrator of this story had been to the Peninsula earlier while "researching the links between psychogeography and conversion disorders in closed communities;" he's back now after his supervisor, a certain Professor Barlik became concerned for his student's mental health. [As another aside, Barlik ("Barley") will feature prominently in Ostermeier's next book, Upmorchard, but more on that in my next post.] Barlik tells him of a "coven of boys" in the small coastal village of Annesdock who at "certain times of the year" play a game at dusk "for occult reasons" and then "disperse," vanishing "into the mist" if anyone comes near. As the narrator will later say, this village "spooked" him, having experienced "an event ordinary and known" which turned sinister when the shadows lengthened." Debt to Machen acknowledged, "A Tantony Pig" is the perfect appetite whetter for the rest of the stories in this collection. It also spooked me to no end. In "Finery" a "seller-of-woven things" who is also a fortune-teller and a clothes maker has a following of women who buy her dresses. Instead of choosing a dress, "the dress found you." How this is so I will not say. " Object" is another excursion into creepytown as a young man is given an opportunity to review "amateur or touring theatre" for the local newspaper. One particular play, A Circus Mirror," performed by an out-of-town troupe at the local theatre, stays on his mind well after the performance, and comes back to haunt him after he receives a strange gift as a thank you. "The Bearing" has much more of a folk-horror feel, centering on a ritual to celebrate the founding of the village of Tinton. There are two stories about that: the first, the official version in which the owners of the tin mines in the area brought in the money to build the cottages to house the workers that came looking for work, and second, the local folklore which tells of the first cottages having been built after "seven coffins were dragged during the night over the moor by seven mysterious black goats." At dawn the goats laid down between the "two sunken tors," six dying and the seventh killed for its meat. At present the ritual is carried out by selected townspeople rather than goats. And that's all I will say about this story, except that this one chilled me to the bone.
I've skipped around here as far as the actual table of contents goes, because there are three particular eerie stories that are linked to one particular location near Cubton, the Mosk House, so named because of the scientist who had once lived there, a Doctor Ernst Moskovitch, whose "work with minds and the reputedly brutal operations he used to perform: operations denounced as occult." Each occurs during a different time period; the first of these is "The Chair." When a family (Paul, Mari and eleven year-old daughter Ingrit) buys this house that had "once belonged to a scientist," Paul discovers that a chair, "a creature of metal, leather, with brass lengths like gilt bones strengthening the arms," he had seen when they'd first viewed the house is still there. He is fascinated by the chair, which as he discovers serves as the mechanism for opening a secret room, small enough that only a child might access it, furnished only with a bed, with walls filled with strange writings. Trying to figure out what the room was used for becomes sort of an obsession with Paul, and Ingrit is more than happy to help him. In "The Intruder" Wolfgang Eck wants to do something about all of the extra fat he's put on, and opts for the "less dangerous version" of bariatric surgery, the gastric band. Before he can do so, however, he must attend a series of ten counseling sessions which explored other options such as nutrition and "healthy eating." At some point he overhears a conversation about "the organic method," but is told that it's still in "trial phase so access is limited." Eventually he is accepted for the surgery, but given what happens afterward, he probably should have opted for the healthy eating. The last story set in Mosk House is the novella-length "Bird-hags," which the author warns "might not be for you." Looking back in time, as a child Owain Ockmarsh suffered through terrible night terrors, and was fortunate enough to obtain a temporary place at Mosk House where he was under the care of Doctor Moskovitch himself. If he was found "suitable," Owain would have an operation that would permanently cure him of his sleep disorder; first though, his sleep would be monitored and recorded; hypnosis would allow his dreams to "breathe." And again, not another word on this one except that while it was truly beyond disturbing, it was most definitely for me.
Considering I had absolutely no idea that either this book or this publisher even existed, I feel incredibly lucky to have discovered both. A Trick of the Shadow is for me the new standard of "weird," meaning that with this book the bar has certainly been raised in terms of any modern weird fiction I will read in the future. I would read a story and then just sit and think about it for a very long time; I had to switch from reading this in late-night quiet to brightest day because all of the thinking was keeping me awake. It just wouldn't let go. The influences of other writers can certainly be felt in this volume, but this is truly an original collection that once read, will never be forgotten. An amazing effort, and a book I more than highly recommend. I loved it.