THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION #5: A review of "The Lover's Ordeal" by R. Murray Gilchrist

You don’t get more old fashioned than this tale. We have a young man coming to court a young woman. We have a task he has to achieve before she surrenders her hand in marriage. To say nothing of the grooms, the horses, the harpsichord playing, and, of course, the stately old house on the property where the family no longer sets foot.



Mary Padley is head over heels in love with Endymion Eyre, but she doesn’t want to make things easy for her young lover. No, you see, she wants him to stay the night in the family’s old house, where no one has been for eighty years. “The place is haunted—or so ‘tis said—and ‘twill require all your courage to pass the midnight hours in those deserted suites.”


Being a proper gentleman, Endymion leaps at the chance. Before long, he’s riding a horse down to the old house, which is described in the perfect gothic fashion from Gilchrist. In fact, it’s safe to say that this is the epitome of haunted house descriptions, at least until Shirley Jackson and Richard Matheson come along.


Unfortunately, Mary’s grandmother has neglected to tell her about the true nature of the haunting of the old house. Well, who can fault her? Still, when Mary learns about the truth of the matter, she rushes to her fiancé’s rescue, hoping that she’s not too late.


It truly is a beautiful old tale, certainly one that couldn’t be told today. A relic of a bygone era, it belongs in the heart of all lovers of dark fiction. And there’s more . . . .


SPOILER ALERT: Ladies and gentlemen, we have our first vampire story of the anthology. In what is a breathtaking scene, Gilchrist introduces Diana, the beautiful creature who lives at the old house and feeds on the blood of humans. (The word “vampire” never comes up.) Endymion is so taken by her he completely forgets about Mary to the point where “[p]ast and future were blotted from his mind. He lived solely in the present.” And the part where she actually drinks of his blood is so elegantly done, almost to the point of politeness.


The only drawback is the ending itself. Mary saves her lover and burns the old house down. It’s pretty typical and also a let down. Happy endings in horror don’t usually mean much to a reader. The reason is, horror fiction is supposed to get down to the ugliest, basest parts of human nature. That’s not a fun road to travel. Very few good things come out of this, which is why happy endings always feel forced. This one certainly does, and the moment when Mary’s grandmother reveals the truth about the old house is so flat it reminds someone of a kid being forced to read aloud in class. END OF SPOILERS.

Despite the flaws just mentioned in the ending, the journey is completely worth it. Where Machen couldn’t control himself to get the right amount of beauty into “The White People,” Gilchrist succeeds at nailing in “The Lover’s Ordeal.”

[This story first appeared in the June 1905 issue of THE LONDON MAGAZINE, but sadly, not even the Gutenberg Project has the full text up online.]

THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION #4: A review of "The White People" by Arthur Machen

This is arguably the story Machen is most famous for, and it will in all likelihood be the one for which he is remembered centuries from now. Yet it is the weakest in this volume thus far, for a variety of reasons, but chiefly among them being its absolute denseness. For example, when we get down to the meat of the story, it’s told in the charming voice of a child. However, since it’s almost stream-of-consciousness most of the time, it gets hard to read through. In fact, paragraphs go for pages on end, giving a reader absolutely no place to rest his or her eyes.



It doesn’t help that not much actually happens in the story. First of all, there is a very unnecessary frame involving an argument on the nature of sinners and saints. It’s amusing and unconventional, but if this were to come across an editor’s desk today, it would be demanded that the frame is cut. It doesn’t serve the story at all.


Yet when we get to the actual story, most of it is told in an anecdotal fashion by the child narrator, thus robbing it of its immediacy. In a story where there is nearly a total lack of interest, this is not good.


It seems like there wouldn’t be much to recommend this story, but it is celebrated for a reason. There are amazing images to be found here, and it is a tale of fairies (some good, some not so good), sorcery, and other fantastical things. Yet Machen somehow makes it all seem . . . boring.


There are some parts where he can’t screw up, though; take, for instance, the scene in which a woman dances among the forest, summoning all the snakes out of the ground, where they twine about her, coating her like a second skin. And then, they all retreat, leaving her with a speckled and scaled egg, a magical object that will practically allow her to do anything she wants. It is so beautifully and eerily portrayed that Machen should be remembered for this remarkable scene alone.


Sadly, he can’t keep the magic going. It sparks up here and there, like when the child narrates about her nurse showing her how to use magic, but for the most part, by the end of the story, a reader is left not caring much about what has just happened.


Read it so you can say you read it, especially if you are heavily interested in dark fiction. It’s important to know the history of the genre, and Machen heavily influenced one of the most famous writers in the industry, H.P. Lovecraft. Just don’t expect too much. It’s a lot of work for very little reward.

[This story first appeared in HORLICK'S MAGAZINE and can be read here.]

THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION #3: A review of "Valley of the Spiders" by H.G. Wells

This one is borderline horror. It falls more under the pulp adventure genre, as editor John Pelan readily admits in his introduction to this story. However, it does have a scene very much intended to horrify, and it does get to one of the baser parts of human nature.



The events are simple. A group of men are out in the middle of nowhere, looking for a woman who has abandoned her lover, the leader of this band, and along the way, they run into a massive swarm of carnivorous spiders. Thanks to its adventuresome nature, it stands out from the other two tales so far; whereas they are genteel, polite instances of horror, this one is balls out. Holy fuck! Man-eating spiders! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!! As a result, it reads a lot more modern than the others.


However, despite the cool idea, Wells just can’t connect with the readers on this one. We learn nothing about this woman, or why these men are looking for her. We don’t even learn their names; we only know the gaunt man, the little man, and their leader, the man with the silver bridle. Such a distancing alienates the reader. Why should we care about these guys?


The story gives a little back in the end, though. SPOILER ALERT (as this one wasn’t quite as widely read as, say, “The Monkey’s Paw”): in the end, the man with the silver bridle, who planned this great romantic adventure, turns out to be a coward. The little man recognizes this (as he, too, is a coward) and laughs at his leader. To protect his good name, the man with the silver bridle murders his friend. Then, as he rides away from the valley of spiders, he decides that the woman must have been killed by the arachnids, so he might as well go home. Then, he sees a column of smoke from a campfire and knows it is her and her companions, yet convinces himself it isn’t so he can go home with his skin intact. For such an old piece, it’s very unusual to not have a strong protagonist. In fact, none of the characters are particularly likeable. One wonders what Wells meant to say with this. END OF SPOILERS.


Ultimately, it’s not Wells’ best work. For something better, seek out such classics as WAR OF THE WORLDS and THE TIME MACHINE. “The Valley of Spiders” is short, so if you’ve got fifteen minutes to kill, go for it. Otherwise, you might want to pass.

[This story first appeared in the March '03 issue of PEARSON'S MAGAZINE and can be read here.]

THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION #2: A review of "The Monkey's Paw" by W.W. Jacobs

If you’ve spent any time breathing in the 20th Century (at least from 1902 and on), chances are, you’ve read this story. It is possibly the most imitated horror tale in history. Even if, by some strange set of circumstances, you haven’t read it, you at least know the point: be careful what you wish for.



Considering the ubiquitous nature of this story, it’s hard to know where to begin. In case you don’t know, it is the tale of the White family. When a friend comes visiting with a strange relic, a mummified monkey’s hand, and an even stranger tale (an Indian fakir—of course—cursed it so that three men can have three wishes each to show that fate rules over all, and if you tamper with it, you just make matters worse), Mr. White decides he must have it. He rescues it from the fireplace, where his friend has thrown it, and shortly thereafter makes his first wish, for two hundred pounds. He certainly gets what he wants in a horrible way; his son gets killed at work, and the White family’s compensation is, you guessed it, two hundred pounds.


One thing leads to another, and Mr. White wishes for his son to come back to life, except when he does, he realizes young Herbert will probably return as he’d looked just after his death. When a mysterious knocking comes to their door late at night, he is practically driven mad by the idea of the grim specter on the other side of the door, and he resorts to his final wish.


It’s certainly a horrifying story. There is definitely a reason why it has survived this long, and continues to go strong. It’s also interesting to see how Jacobs goes about his story. Back in those days, people liked to orally tell horror stories to one another, usually around Christmas time, so the stories usually had a frame structure in which a character tells the actual events of the story to another character (a little something to help listeners empathize with said characters). At first, it seems like this is going to be one of those narratives, except the Sergeant-Major (Mr. White’s friend) actually produces the monkey’s paw. The story he tells is just the beginning of what actually happens, so that when we find ourselves with Mr. White at the door with his dead son knocking on the other side, it has a sense of immediacy that a lot of stories from back then lacked. It’s pretty revolutionary stuff.


That said, here are a few things to think about: the fakir who set the curse on the monkey’s paw in the first place was a dick. First of all, why a monkey’s paw? Did he just want to gross people out? And what about why he cursed it? Why can’t he mind his own fucking business? Why does he want to hurt people? To be fair, the three men who had their wishes did, indeed, choose to have their wishes. Yet, why throw that kind of temptation at someone?


Also, when Mr. White acquires the monkey’s paw, he doesn’t know what to wish for. He even says, “It seems to me I’ve got all I want.” And then Herbert himself tells him to wish for two hundred pounds, which is pretty funny in and of itself. But still: why would he rescue a gristly relic from a fire to wish for something he doesn’t even want? When you think about it, such a concept kind of belongs in Chuck Palahniuk’s FIGHT CLUB.


Lastly, SPOILER ALERT (on the off-off-off-off chance you haven’t read this story): We never get to see Herbert on the other side of the door. We have no indication that he’s going to be as fucked up as Mr. White seems to think. He wishes his son back to the grave before Mrs. White manages to open the door on a spookily empty street. Granted, considering how much of a dick the fakir was, the chances were good that Herbert wouldn’t have looked too peachy, but still. This is a weakness, but it’s also kind of a strength, too. As with Pain’s Undying Thing, Herbert’s corpse remains off-stage. All we have to go on is our imagination, and fans of the grotesque are noted for their dark creativity. END OF SPOILERS.


So if you’re one of the rare people on this planet who speaks English and has not read this story, look it up. It’s impossible to not find online. And if you haven’t read it since you were a kid in school, throw an adult set of eyes on it. It’s a very simplistic tale, but it gets to the guts of something important in the nature of humanity. Think about it: how many times have you gotten something you wished desperately for and were subsequently let down?

[This story was first published in HARPER'S MONTHLY, and it can be read here.]

THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION #1: A review of "The Undying Thing" by Barry Pain

Meet Sir Edric Vanquerest, a lifelong misanthrope who has somehow managed to find true love in Eve, his second wife. We come upon him pacing frantically as she gives birth upstairs. The pregnancy was troubled, and her survival is in question. Then, he who once cared nothing for religion implores God to not strike her dead. As payment, Sir Edric would devote the rest of his life to worship and kindness.



The doctor descends the stairs and notifies Sir Edric that Eve has died, and she has given birth to . . . something. After a lot of hand-wringing, they decide to murder the monster of a baby she has birthed and throw it into the deep caverns nearby.


Not a bad start, especially to a story written in 1901, but that’s just some background material. The real story begins centuries later, when the modern day Sir Edric, a nice guy by most standards, is trying to survive a curse laid on his line by the local witch lady. You see, it is rumored that some beast called the Undying Thing lives in the local caverns. The witch lady says that when it comes to the Hall, “the Vanquerest line will be ended.” Officially the end of the line, Sir Edric has a valid concern.


For such an old piece, this story reads pretty smoothly despite a few thee’s and thou’s early on. However, it suffers a bit for putting the story of the first Sir Edric’s child at the front, like some kind of prologue. There is a good scene later where Andrew Guerdon, Sir Edric’s friend, is asked to go through some family papers to see what needs to go to the solicitor and what needs to be burned. The story of the child would fit in nicely here. In fact, some details of the story do, indeed, come out here. Why not all of them?


As with other work of its time, there is a lot of extra information, stuff that would be cut these days to streamline the tale. However, when the ending arrives, it is very suitable to everything that came before. It strikes just the right chord of horror to satisfy a reader of any generation. SPOILER ALERT (if something more than a hundred years old really needs a spoiler alert): The only flaw is that it’s a sins-of-the-father kind of ending. Poor Sir Edric doesn’t deserve his horrifying ending. Also, it is a nice, classic touch that Pain never describes the Thing. It is never onstage, not once (except for when it is carried wrapped in a blanket after Sir Edric supposedly killed it). END OF SPOILERS.


All in all, this is a good way to start out THE CENTURY’S BEST HORROR FICTION. It isn’t the strongest horror tale in the world, but it’s pretty strong for its day. It’s a good departure point for seeing the evolution of the genre over the course of 100 years.

[This story was originally published in STORIES IN THE DARK and can be read here.]

100 REVIEWS IN 100 DAYS

Thought I'd forgotten about this, eh?  Nope, my plate's been pretty full, but I've been accumulating a few reviews, just in case I fall behind.  I'm going to start posting them next week.  Every day I have Internet access, I will post a review.  That will go on for 100 days, as there are 100 stories in THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION, one for every year of the 20th Century.  I'll try to do some research to show where each story first appeared, and if at all possible, get a picture of the author.  That's going to be hard, considering how obscure some of these guys are.

As a result of this new project, a lot of my other posts will be suspended.  Cool Shit will definitely go away for a while.  (Not too big a loss.  I've just been talking about the same books, anyway.)  Comic book reviews will also fall by the wayside for the most part.  Forgotten Comic Books and Everyone's Got One will also stop appearing in that time.  The only exception I'll make is C2E2 coverage.  Starting Monday, we'll be balls deep in the horror classics of the last century.

Anyway, on Wednesday we'll have a review of the new comic book adaptation of AT THE MOUNTAINS OF MADNESS.  On Thursday will be Cool Shit (provided I'm impressed enough to write one).  On Friday is Everyone's Got One, which will be entitled FUCK THE LAW.  Then, the horror!  The horror!

THE 100 REVIEW CHALLENGE!

Well, what do you know?  Cemetery Dance finally printed and shipped the two volumes of THE CENTURY'S BEST HORROR FICTION.  For those who don't know, these books contain 100 short stories, one for every year of the 20th Century.  Currently, I have a bunch of stuff on my plate, but as soon as I finish it all off, I'm going to review each and every single one of these stories.  One story every weekday.  Keep watching this page for developments.