Category Archives: Ghost Stories

Review: ‘Mr Humphreys and His Inheritance’ by M.R. James

Rocky Valley Labyrinth, Cornwall

This tale was originally published in 1911 as part of James’s More Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, and as in a number of the author’s stories features a single gentleman with scholarly tastes, who finds himself in the fortunate position of inheriting his single uncle’s considerable country estate. The latter was, so it seems, something of a valetudinarian, and, moreover, had never met his nephew, so the latter was particularly blessed to be released from his dull civil service job by the inevitable demise of his unknown relative.  

Set during the closing decade of the nineteenth century, James presents the reader with a picture of country life in which society is clearly ordered, and everything, and everyone, in their allotted place. One cannot help but speculate whether one of his favourite hymns might have been All Things Bright and Beautiful which features the now often omitted verse:  

‘The rich man in his castle,

the poor man at his gate,

God made them high and lowly,

and ordered their estate’ 

I digress somewhat. Returning to the story, Mr Humphreys finds that he is now the owner of a substantial country house dating, most likely, from the 1770s, which happens to possess a well-stocked library, as well as an intriguing maze, the gate of which has been locked for many decades. A locked gate seldom fails to arouse the curiosity of the onlooker, and Mr Humphreys proves to be no exception to this rule, asking Mr Cooper (the bailiff entrusted to sort out the affairs of the deceased uncle and hand all over to the nephew) why the maze should be sealed off in such a manner. He receives, of course, an answer, albeit a far from satisfactory one, as well as the information that a certain Lady Wardrop had once written requesting access to the maze, but had been denied it. From there, via an intriguing document entitled ‘A Parable of the Unhappy Condition’ found in the library amongst a collection of late seventeenth-century sermons, we begin our journey into the dark mystery of Wilsthorpe Hall. I shall say no more with respect to the plot, for to do so would spoil the enjoyment of the reader. 

This proves to be an engaging enough read, although I would not place it in the first rank of James’s work. The locals are provided with suitably ‘rustic’ speech, and James’s customary understated approach to horror is well deployed, but there is little to unsettle the reader until the tale has nigh on run its course.

New Release: ‘The Ghost of Scarside Beck’

The above novelette has been released just in time for Halloween, the one day of the year when adults are forced to cower and hide indoors with the lights switched off to avoid the unwanted attentions of marauding hordes of youngsters. The horror of The Ghost of Scarside Beck, however, is of a rather different nature, and will probably persuade you to keep the lights on, rather than turn them off.  

Set in the Lake District, it starts on a light enough note, but the mood gradually descends into a darkness that cannot be escaped. Inspired by a strange incident in a Cumbrian village, which thankfully for the author lacked the element of terror that characterises the latter part of this tale, it also drew upon the curious carving shown on its cover. It is now available wherever Amazon has a presence, being priced at 99 in the UK, or 99c in the US or the EU. Kindle Unlimited subscribers may read it for ‘free’. To purchase or preview The Ghost of Scarside Beck, please click on the image above or here. The Amazon ‘Look Inside’ function doesn’t seem to be working yet, but if you would like to read a sample, simply click on the ‘send a free sample’ button on the relevant Amazon page.  

Blurb

There are places where the past and the present walk in tandem, where people and events seem to echo those who have been, but are no longer. There is something in the fabric of the buildings, in the feel of the earth, that evokes the timelessness of an eternal present, where a crossing over may occur at any moment. Scarside Beck is one such place; a Cumbrian hamlet in which the gossamer film that separates all of our yesterdays from what is now is apt to tear. Is it from the stone, or the sodden soil that this remembrance seeps, to be sensed, and felt, and yet not acknowledged by the conscious mind? There was something here, and it lingers still. I feel it. A strange sequence of events and a curious carving seem somehow to be linked, but how? 

Strewth Mate! Old Crotchet at No.1 Down Under?

Strewth mate! Old Crotchet at number one down under? She’s been having a bonzer time. I tell ya, it’s been a real boil-over that’s had me grinning like a shot fox, or it would have done if she’d been romping up the charts for paid rather than free downloads. Still, it’s better than staring at a brown-eyed mullet, although the sight of her in a cozzie would be about as welcome as a bunyip in your grundies. Crikey, I’m as gobsmacked as you are that she’s doing so well against all those better looking and younger Sheilas, nabbing the top slot in occult horror. Well, I’d better stop yabbering on. You can find her here, whether you’re in Australia, or, well . . . myBook.to/Oldcrotchet

Old Crotchet goes to Number One in Oz, Canada and the UK.

Book Review: ‘Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural,’ ed. Henry Mazzeo, 1968

An entertaining collection of supernatural tales, some by authors that I have previously read, and others that I have not. What united them for me personally was the fact that I came to them all as a fresh reader, for I had not thumbed my way through any of the stories in this volume before. Although a number of the authors included will doubtless be familiar to horror aficionados, some of them were new to me, even a figure so apparently well known as August Derleth.  

Personal tastes differ, so it is just as well that I persevered reading beyond the first story in the collection – Derleth’s ‘The Lonesome Place’ – which I found particularly grating, owing to the extreme repetition of the term ‘lonesome place’ which seemed to pop up in every other sentence throughout the text. I would suggest, therefore, that a more befitting title would be ‘The Tiresome Place.’ Perhaps it would be unfair to judge Derleth too harshly upon the basis of having read only one of his tales, but if this is stylistically in keeping with his oeuvre, then I shall be steering well clear of anything else that he penned. There was one other story in the collection that I thought to be dire, once again owing to its exceptional repetitiveness – far too many ‘whistlings’ and ‘hoonings’ for my taste – entitled ‘The Whistling Room,’ by William Hope Hodgson. It was thus with something of a sardonic chuckle, having compelled myself to read the story, that I learned that Derleth had been something of an admirer of Hodgson.  

Having gone on, at some length, about what I did not enjoy in this collection, please do not let this deter you from picking up and enjoying this volume, for it contains much that will reward the reader with an interest in the supernatural with many hours of satisfactory reading. Some of the highlights, for me, included ‘Lot No. 249,’ (the original mummy story, set at Cambridge University during the 1880s) by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; ‘The Open Door,’ by Margaret Oliphant; ‘The Ghostly Rental,’ by Henry James; ‘The Face,’ by E.F. Benson, and ‘The Grey Ones,’ by J.B. Priestley. The last of these contained a considerable amount of humour, which raised many a smile during its modest number of pages. I shall be looking out for more by Oliphant, Benson and Priestley, as well as by other familiar names in the traditional horror genre who contributed some enjoyable stories to this book, who include M.R. James, Robert Aickman, and H.P. Lovecraft. If I’d have been in Mazzeo’s seat as editor, I would have dispensed with the contributions by Derleth, Joseph Payne Brennan and Hodgson, substituting instead the ghostly tale shown below, although that may have been rather difficult in 1968, given that the author had yet to learn to speak, let alone write.

Old Crotchet is back, grumpier than ever.