The Incubations, by Ramsey Campbell

 

"Your bombs were meant to cast down Hitler, but they raised his spirits." 

9781787589292

Flame Tree Press, 2024

245 pp

hardcover  

First, my many and grateful thanks to Flame Tree Press for my copy of this book.  A new novel by Ramsey Campbell -- definitely not an everyday occurrence, so when I was asked if I might want to read this book and post about it, I jumped at the chance.  I wasn't disappointed -- not at all.  

When Leo Palmer was a boy, his school had decided to celebrate the twinning of their town with the German town of Alphafen as a way to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the end of World War II.  His teacher had assigned the class the task of writing letters to the children of that town, which like Leo's home town of Settlesham, had been bombed close to the end of the war.  While not all students were thrilled about the assignment,  Leo chose a girl named Hanna Weber and sent off his letter; they'd been penpals ever since.  Now Leo is grown, working for his parents in their family driving-instruction business, and as the novel opens, is not having such a great time of things.  He is in the car with a student who is ready to take her driving test. After a couple of minor incidents, they continue on their way,  but soon the student has had enough -- Leo's directions and conversation have become so convoluted that he's "talking rubbish" to her, and she wants to go home.  He isn't doing it on purpose to mock her dyslexia, as she accuses him of doing once she is back at her house; he has no idea what is happening.  But that's not all -- he soon suffers a bout of hysteria when he gets back behind the steering wheel and decides he can no longer drive, a serious problem when you make your living as a driving instructor.  After a visit to a psychologist, Leo is off on a scheduled trip to Alphafen to finally meet Hanna and her family in person.  And it's at this juncture that the book seriously takes off.

Leo is happy to finally be there and to meet Hanna, and the citizens of the town of Alphafen seem to welcome Leo on his arrival, honoring him with toasts, the singing of his national anthem at a restaurant and greetings from the mayor, etc.  He also experiences strange, inexplicable episodes that he tries to rationalize before moving on, as is his nature.  Things start to get even weirder when he meets a fellow countryman, Jerome Pugh, who has more than a slight interest in the connection between Hitler and Alphafen in a conversation that Leo finds distasteful and to which he takes offense.   And while I won't divulge much more about his time in Alphafen, I will reveal that Leo takes home more than simply memories of his visit when he returns to life in Settlesham. 

from MeteorologiaenRed

The Incubations sort of twins the reader's mind with Leo's in the sense that Campbell has structured his book so that as Leo's story unfolds, we too are also trying to figure out exactly what is causing all of this to happen, only to be horrified when connections are finally made and all is revealed.  What made this book such a page turner is that all along I sensed something not quite right running beneath the surface of Leo's conversations with the people in Alphafen, which seemed to take on a darker, more mysterious meaning than Leo comprehends.  Readers will latch on to the wrongness of things pretty quickly by reading slowly and carefully rather than buzzing through this book at top speed.  

I could not put this book down once I picked it up; Campbell has been writing horror for sixty years now (my favorite is still his Nazareth Hill)  and The Incubations shows that he is still going strong and hasn't missed a beat.  Not only are the dark moments in this book intensely creepy, but where it excels is in the more mundane moments that slowly morph into something much more sinister.  The themes he presents here are powerful and especially pertinent in our current world where technology aids in the rise of the dark forces that exist out there;   the issue for me is that it is difficult to say much about this book without ruining it for potential readers, and far be it from me to ruin anyone's reading experience.   What I can say is that fans of Ramsey Campbell will certainly not want to miss this one.  

 Highly recommended. 

Beware Us Flowers of the Annihilator, by Alexander Zelenyj

 

"There are more men in the world who wreaked senseless havoc than men who preached for peace."

9781913766306

Eibonvale Press, 2024

406 pp

I would have done a happy dance when this new book by Alexander Zelenyj arrived at my door, but there were people here so I just did it inside my head.  I have had the very great fortune to have read several of this author's short story collections, and this  newest one is definitely cause for celebration.   

In Beware Us Flowers of the Annihilator, Zelenyj cuts across and through genre in his stories to produce something entirely his own.  There are elements of horror, science fiction and fantasy at work throughout this book, but there are also any number of disorienting moments between these two covers that speak to a more surreal reading experience.  At the heart of these stories, and what gives them a resonating quality, is the keen attention he pays to his characters no matter the situation in which they find themselves, starting from the beginning.   In "Peacekeeper and the War-Mouth" a young boy from a Czech immigrant family is bullied by another boy at his school, and while he doesn't quite have the courage to kick his tormentor "square in the junk," he discovers another way to achieve the satisfaction brought by vengeance. In the next, "The Deathwish of Valerie Vulture," a popular comic-strip character, Valerie Vulture, who has been "everyone's sad little scavenger bird for over a century" comes to life, only to beg the cartoonist who has taken over the strip to finish her off.  She can no longer stand the "sick glee" of the many humans who've watched her suffer over that time, and can't bear being the "measuring stick" for people who have enjoyed her misery.  Unfortunately the cartoonist's boss won't allow that to happen because of the profits Valerie's brought in.  "Silver the Starfallen" in which the main character's deep sense of longing is brought to the fore, is set in the time after the defeat of the Danes by the Saxons.  A group of Northmen have been trying to keep out of the way of their enemy, their number including an "inexplicable" warrior by the name of Silver whose earliest memory is "falling like a star from the sky."  Evidently he is "not of this world," and misses the peace of the time "before man existed."  

Throughout this collection of tales, characters face the weight of the past, their own inner demons, and often crushing alone-ness, their experiences making for a beautifully rich collage of human emotions and especially their vulnerabilities.   This is most true in my favorite story, "Little Boys," which to me is one of the best stories this author has ever written, and I've certainly read enough of them to be able to say that.    On their mission to drop the atomic bomb at Hiroshima, the crew of the Enola Gay start their long flight without a hitch, but some three hours in, the pilot, Lt. Paul Tibbets, discovers a strange black flower stuck to the bulkhead.  No one knows where it came from, but eventually more crop up. However, that's not the strangest thing that happens during this flight,  but about the rest I will absolutely say nothing more.  I read this story twice, put the book down for a bit, and then when I picked it up to start again I read "Little Boys" a third time. The imagery is absolutely stunning, as is the intent in this tale, and the raw emotion just leaps out at the reader.  Oh my god -- someday (and soon!) someone should nominate the author for some kind of award, if for nothing else, this story alone.   Then there's another personal favorite, "Bright Sons of the Morning," that finds a military investigator who is tasked with tracking down an ancient evil in the desert of Iraq.  Mackey finds this mission more personal than most he's carried out over his very long career, beginning with a strange and powerful cult as well as a rogue officer.  I had the sense of Apocalypse Now mixed with sheer evil as I read through this one, most likely the most frightening story in this collection.    The remainder of the stories are also excellent, with not a bad one in the bunch, illuminating the weariness wrought by the fact that, as the titular character in "Silver the Starfallen" notes, there are "more men in the world who wreaked senseless havoc than men who preached for peace,"  a truth that is definitely at home in our present.  

Beware Us Flowers of the Annihilator is this author's boldest story collection so far, and although I have truly loved his books that I've read in the past, this book goes well above and beyond those on so many levels.   Most highly, HIGHLY recommended.  

The Ghosthunter, by D.F. Lewis

 

"And so, life itself that one needs to live so as to write the stories that creates the life that created them in the first place, will be sure to prevail perhaps forever, whoever the one is whom one chooses to write them." 

9781069101624

ghosttruth/Montag, 2024

127 pp 

paperback

 Regular, long-time readers of strange/weird/ghostly/horror fictions (mainly small press but not always)  will have at least once crossed online paths with this author's sixteen-year run of  Real-Time Gestalt Reviews, where D.F. Lewis offers "episodic, brainstorming reviews" which are to him "very personal -- rough-shod and spontaneous." They are also extremely insightful, offering readers an ongoing commentary based on his own distinctive perceptions vis-a-vis connections, coincidences, and synchronicities, which I have never before experienced from anyone else who has ever written a book review.  His work is truly one of a kind; he is the ultimate scrier and although retired from reviewing now, his work will continue to live on.  

Lewis is also a published author, and his latest book is The Ghosthunter.  There are no EVP sessions, EMF meters or laser grids to be found here, nor are there garden-variety entities covered in shrouds or dragging clanking chains along with them.   It is an eerie and atmospheric collection of what the author calls "miniatures," which are very short, dark and uniquely-styled fictions.  In the telling, they are more than a bit fragmented, which leaves the reader to become a sort of scrier in his/her own right over the course of the book to seek out the meaning behind what the ghost hunter wants to reveal.   The Ghosthunter, because of the way it incorporates places, literary works, people and events over the central character's lifetime, has a rather semi-autobiographical feel, and the ghosts that inhabit this book are tied to the ghost hunter's life experiences via perception and memory.   The thing is that Lewis does not make it so easy for the reader to discern the exact moment when the realities begin to blur into something less tangible or when the ordinary slides into something less familiar, making the overall effect one of distortion and disorientation, as well as mystery and above all, uncertainty.  For me, this is the essence of the ghosts/memories   that this ghost hunter seeks -- they are elusive, often  shapeshifting, and even capable of haunting the ghost hunter himself from time to time. 

Lewis tackles, among others, themes of meaning and mortality in this rather enigmatic yet introspective book; in his distinctive (and admittedly at times daunting) prose, the author takes the reader along with this ghost hunter on his journey as he offers these rather haunting tales of "self and non-self," making it seem as if you are right there with him.  I especially loved the use of intertexuality in these stories, but even more,  that of mansions that runs throughout, since not only are they the perfect setting for literary ghost stories but also for spaces where memories reside, especially if you follow the idea of houses representing people (which, as a closet Jungian and huge fan of Elizabeth Bowen, I do).  In some of these mansions there are no rooms, and more importantly is his notion of "mansions without roofs," which early in the ghost writer's career (I don't know about the author's but I suspect so), was set as a sort of writing prompt from a member of the author's local writers' group that had been drawn from a tin.  There is also mention of a "mansion of life," which so stood out to me that I must repeat it here because it captures one of a number of poignant reflections that are found scattered throughout the book:

"These stories, it increasingly becomes clear, are separate floors in the mansion of life, till you reach the topmost attic of all, from which vantage point of near roofless exposure, you can gather, simply by looking down, that the whole crumbling exterior of the mansion badly needs repair." 

While reading this book,  I often had the feeling that I was trespassing into the ghost hunter's metaphysical space, which, I suppose I was meant to, but it felt so personal that I often felt like an intruder.   On the only negative I can think of, it does take a lot of time and patience to get through and even then, I'm not absolutely positive that I've truly understood all that Lewis has to say here.   If you’re looking for a fast-paced thriller or a typical ghost story, this one won't work for you.  However,   The Ghosthunter is something that runs much deeper, it is highly introspective, and it is a book that resonates emotionally. It is dark and can range into somber,  yet in its own way it is a most beautiful collection that will stay with me for a long time.   

The Universe as Performance Art, by Colby Smith

 

9781913766153

Eibonvale Press, 2024

143 pp

paperback

Crikey! It's been a long while since I've been here but things have been a bit on the chaotic side for a while.  There really just hasn't been much spare time to post my thoughts about what I've been reading, although I will say I have a stack of small-press gems sitting here waiting for my comments. 

 First up is one of  Eibonvale's latest releases,   The Universe As Performance Art  by author Colby Smith, a collection of short stories that above all will jolt its readers out of their complacency while making them do some serious thinking about what they've just encountered.   As described on the back-cover blurb by author Paul Cunningham, this book is "a disquieting, panoramic gallery exhibition obsessed with art's arranged marriage with Nature and the consequences of art itself," but to say that Smith's work is "disquieting" is an enormous understatement.  

I am so late in posting about this book which I should have done last month (had it not been for a two-week vacation and then a week of sleep recovery)  that I'm only going to offer three examples of stories that made a deep impact on my already-buzzing psyche.   "The Game Show Expats" did my head in and wins my personal award for most disturbing.    This story consists of three different scenarios focused on people who've won each a trip to the Florida Keys as a prize in a game show that "combined both the novelty-game and trivia formats."  The first two are out there, but it's the third one that made me do a very loud "WTF,"  but then again, I live in this state and honestly, nothing here fazes  me any more.   If you're talking about the question of what different people find to be important in life, this story answers it in suprising ways.   "All about yourself" indeed.    I can't speak highly enough about "Somnii Draconis," which begins as a young man is walking along the beach and runs into an older guy with a dowsing rod. Turns out the dowser is looking for "the sex of stones." Obviously, the younger man says, "there are no organs at all in rocks," but the old man definitely knows what he's talking about -- as the younger will soon discover.    As this part of story is unfolding, another thread running through this tale links current "black-market hype" (which I won't explain here)   to the  "classical Chinese medicinal canon," beginning with the "dragon bones"  (龍骨), fossils discovered by farmers as they plowed their fields, which then went to priests who ground and used them for their "supposed healing properties" against "metaphysical ailments."  While there is more than a bit of humor in this one,  the younger man's  unspoken"counterargument" toward the conclusion of this story deserves our full attention.    In a completely different vein is "Amaterasu Overthrown," which is without doubt brilliant, transplanting the Japanese myth about the sun goddess deep into the future and most fully into the realm of science fiction.   On the space station Takamagahara the light suddenly dies, "sucked away" by the goddess Amaterasu who has fled the station for a black hole after a prank "gone too far"  by her brother. The result is devastating for life forms on the station; thus a price must be paid.   Worth more than an honorable mention are "Aphorisms in Concrete," "The Bombed Zoo,"  and in a much quieter mode, "Fluora," all of which point to Smith as a serious talent. 

The majority of these stories center on art, integrating physical, mental and spiritual selves,  science and the natural world as well as other areas of existence, all written in  bold, vital language.  Connected to that are the consequences of the choices that are made by the people who inhabit these tales, which are also explored here.   What really struck me though in most cases was the intensity of emotion that seeps out via the author's characters, even in those stories I didn't particularly care for, which in actuality weren't all that many.  I will say that if you depend on trigger warnings, well, this probably isn't the book for you.  

 In the blurb on the back of the book, Cunningham also says that this book is "an indispensable contribution to the Neo-Decadent international art movement canon," and  I have to admit that my familiarity with the movement is pretty much nil (although after reading this one my curiosity is getting the better of me).  I found this article from Document (2023) which helped a bit,  and a brief explanation by Fergus Nm in The Aither as part of a review of Neo-Decadence Evangelion (Zagava, 2023; ed. Justin Isis) where he describes this group as a "loose confederation of writers, poets, and artists with an axe to grind against the imagination-starved tedium of much of what passes for 'contemporary culture.' "   Amen to that -- and here's to continuing to shake up the system.  There's more than enough to keep any reader of darker fiction on their toes here, and my many and hugely grateful thanks (along with an apology for taking forever)  to the very good people at Eibonvale for my copy.  I may not know the movement itself very well, but The Universe as Performance Art blew me right out of my comfort zone and made me want to read more from Mr. Colby Smith in the future.  And that's what matters. 

Malpertuis, by Jean Ray

 

9781939063702

Wakefield Press, 2021

originally published 1943

translated by Iain White

246 pp

paperback

Sometimes you just find that book that you know is not only unlike anything you've ever read but also makes you wonder just how in the hell you're going to find aything that ever tops it.   This past summer I had the great fortune to have read all four volumes of Belgian author Jean Ray's short-story collections published by Wakefield:  Whisky Tales, Cruise of Shadows: Haunted Stories of Land and Sea, Circles of Dread and The Great Nocturnal, and fell in love almost immediately into the first of these, but it is Malpertuis that's really won my soul as far as Ray's work goes.  

This post will not be a long one since the secret of what lies at the very core of the mystery of the house named Malpertuis should remain exactly that until discovered by the reader.    Divided into two main parts, the story begins with a short introduction written by a thief who had discovered pages of "yellowing, scribbled papers" in a pewter tube while pilfering a monastery.  As he sets out to "sift, to classify, to eliminate" the "work of colossal size,"  he also happened upon a "little notebook, in a neat scholarly hand,  bringing "the number of collaborators to four"  people responsible for the account as a whole. In putting it all together,  now, as he says, this thief-slash editor is "obliged" to add his name 

 "to the role of those Scribes who, without their knowledge (or almost without it),  have given Malpertuis a place in the history of human terror." 

After a brief introductory chapter detailing a shipwreck, the story begins in earnest with the narrative that "constitutes the kernel of the story, around which "the appalling destiny of Jean-Jacques Grandsire that the whole horror of Malpertuis revolves."   And now we're off and into Malpertuis itself, where Jean-Jacques' Uncle Cassave is quite literally on his deathbed with his family all around.  He is obviously a man of great wealth, but his family will not inherit any of it unless they all come to live in the house until their own deaths, and to sweeten the deal they will receive annual allowances.  They may not make any changes to Malpertuis, and there are a few other conditions as well, including that the last surviving inhabitant in the house will acquire Cassave's entire fortune.  

Notably, while this is Jean-Jacques' account, when the name of that house first arises, he becomes anxious:

"Malpertuis! For the first time the name has flowed in a turbid ink from my terrified pen! That house, placed by the most terrible of wills like a full stop at the end of so many human destinies -- I still thrust aside its image! I recoil, I procrastinate rather than bring it to the forefront of my memory!"

He continues:

"What is more, pressed no doubt by the brevity of their earthly term, human beings are less patient than the house; things remain after them, things -- like the stones of which accursed dwellings are made. Human beings are animated by the feverish haste of sleep tumbling through abbatoir gates -- they will not rest until they have taken their place under the great candlesnuffer that is Malpertuis."

There is obviously something terribly wrong about this house, but I had absolutely no clue as to just how wrong things were going to become.  After being plagued by bizarre visions, strange sounds and other occurrences, Jean-Jacques at one point comes to believe he's caught up in a "dream, a nightmare," begging "For the love of God, let me wake up!"  But this is no dream.    While it may sound as if this is prime haunted-house story material, perfect for relaxing curled up in your easy chair while reading,  for me that was definitely not the case -- it is so much more, well beyond your standard fare, with one character describing Malpertuis  as a "kind of 'fold in space...' " and an "abominable point of contact."  

As is the case with his short stories, Jean Ray writes here constructing layers upon interconnecting  layers as he gets closer to the heart of the tale of Malpertuis.   The result is an atmosphere of lingering dread, bleakness and full-on uncanny created by a blending of elements of the mystical, the mythical and the Gothic, leaving the reader with the feeling that perhaps you ought to mentally hold on to a ball of string or lay breadcrumbs as you navigate the labyrinth that is both this house and this story.   I realize that it may not be for everyone -- it does take a lot of patience and time spent thinking through this puzzle of a book and although I thought I'd sussed it a couple of times, what happens here went well beyond anything I could have possibly imagined.  The Wakefield edition has an excellent editor's afterword by Scott Nicolay that by all means should be left until after completing the novel unless, of course, you want to wreck things.  Malpertuis is a wild ride of a novel that I can most heartily recommend to readers of the strange.   I was completely entranced, off in another world altogether as I read it.   

Lost Estates, by Mark Valentine

 

"There would be tokens and talismans of the true country ..." 

--- from "The House of Flame"

9781783800476

Swan River Press, 2024

198 pp

hardcover

It's no secret that Mark Valentine is one of my favorite writers and now, with Swan River's publication of Lost Estates, I've added another gem of a book to my collection of his works.  If you haven't yet bought a copy, go to Swan River Press  and get one now. Seriously. 

In an insightful and informative conversation between this author and writer John Kenny, Valentine pleads "not guilty" to labeling the stories in this collection as "folk horror."  He would rather use the term "borderland" or "otherworld" stories, which he 

"came upon in contemporary 1923 reviews of Uncanny Stories by May Sinclair and Visible and Invisible by E.F. Benson,"

saying that these were "terms then in use and understood for occult and supernatural fiction."   In Valentine's opinion, "they do convey better the sense that can sometimes be felt in certain places of being close to a different realm."    I like it.  

It's not long into the first story before this notion of "being close to a different realm" makes itself known.  "A Chess Game at Michaelmas" finds our narrator leaving the train at Abbotsbury, where he has come at the invitation of a Mr. Winterbourne, with whom he had been corresponding about Winterbourne's "house and its particular custom" as part of his research.   The train was only the first part of the journey; he still has a five-mile walk to make, which he doesn't mind.  It is as "the grey chalk of dust" was being drawn across the day" that he felt not only a "change come over the country" through which he was traveling, but also a gradual sense of passing "into a different sort of space, a pause in the usual order of things."  The feeling lasts for only a moment, but "the impression lingered..."  He eventually makes his way via the hand-drawn map he was given to an old and somewhat shabby Georgian house where he and the owner discuss the unusual "rent" on the place.  It seems that that his family holds this place "from the King in return for a service or duty."   The narrator offers his opinions about the history of this particular sort of "custom," but what he doesn't realize is that before his visit ends, the rent is about to come due.  This story is absolutely fascinating, not just for the weird elements and the lore, but for me it's much more about the historical components and especially the yews.    "A Chess Game at Michaelmas" happens to be one of my favorite tales, but it's  another longer story at the end, "The Fifth Moon," that takes my number one spot,  pondering the lost treasure of King John.  As part of the Hambledon's Mysteries of History series that explores "historical mysteries" that also features the local landscape, a writer takes on the disappearance of  the wagons and carts ("the baggage train") carrying treasures belonging to King John in 1612 that were traveling through The Wash, an estuary in the marshy area along the West Norfolk coast of the North Sea.  The story goes that John had arrived at King's Lynn (at the time known as Bishop's Lynn) where his entourage had divided into two groups. The King and one group took the safer but longer road around through Wisbech heading for their destination, while the other took a "short cut" heading for Sutton across the estuary in a spot that was "passable for a few hours at low tide," getting stuck and sinking "into the salty mire."  Taking along a photographer, and temporarily borrowing another friend's old houseboat that had been beached on the marshes as a base,  the writer makes his way to the area where he points out that "out there ... if the tales be true, lies the most fabulous hoard ever known." While investigating the landscape and the story for themselves, the plan is also for the two to interview a couple of local "experts" on the lost treasure for their opinions on the matter.  But it isn't long before another, much darker, diabolical account of the story crops up that is vastly different than any they've heard.  It is a stunner of a story, and I was so taken with it that right away on finishing it  I made an intense trip down the rabbit hole for anything connected to the lost treasure of King John and the area of the Wash itself.  Just as an FYI, by way of more explanation about Valentine's interest in the subject, check out this article written by Valentine for Wormwoodiana.   

from Meandering Through Time

Between these two outstanding tales, there are ten more, and while won't go into all of them, there are a few I'll highlight,  beginning with "Worse Things Than Serpents."  At a crossroads with a signpost offering "Church" one way and "Garden" the other, the narrator of this story examines the church first, since "Norfolk churches are usually worth stopping for," then afterwards decides to go on to the garden.  Turns out there is no garden, but once back on the road he sees a "homemade roadside notice" calling his attention to "Brazen Serpent Books."  He makes his way to the empty old shed that is the book store, no proprietor in sight.  Eventually making a selection, he leaves a note that he is "Happy to Pay What is Due."  Given his experiences in the store, the price might just be a bit on the high side. In "Fortunes Told: Fresh Samphire" there are actually two narrators, one from a man searching for his friend Crabbe, who "has vanished from his small house near the sea, and yet he is still here," and the other from Crabbe himself.   Here, landscape, history, lore and of course the other-worldly all come together, making for an eerie and quite honestly extraordinary piece of writing.   One of the darkest (at least for me) entries in this volume is "And maybe the parakeet was correct," involving a journalist hoping to come up with something different by exploring European football.  Traveling through a few countries, he ends up in Paris where in the back streets looking for "narrow passages where the enfants, shall we say not-quite-so-good, might be found, the sort that kick a ball around in the street" while treating strangers with "insolence and derision."  He gets his wish, watching "six or seven urchins" at the end of an alley, but realizes that what he is seeing is no ordinary game.  For "The Readers of the Sands," the best description I can offer is "haunting," which is actually an understatement now that I'm thinking about it again.  It begins as

 "three travellers headed by their different ways to a causeway leading them to the house called Driftwood End, which stood on a spur of land above a vast canvas of sand." 

The first is a guide through the hazardous sands of the estuary, the latest "holder of an ancient office" known as "Bishop's Sandman."  The next is a "seer" who employs sand along with the patterns in the sand in her profession, and the third a woman who creates "hour-glasses" and "egg-timers" from "sea-wood and blown glass." She has also discovered a somewhat strange ability she has which she keeps to herself, one which she will have opportunity to use at a particularly critical moment during the gathering.   Their host is a certain Phillip Crabbe (and I have to wonder if this is the same Crabbe who  vanished in "Fortunes Told: Fresh Samphire") who lives at Driftwood End, and he has brought them all there for a particular purpose.  The remaining stories, "The House of Flame," "The Seventh Card," "Laughter Ever After," "The Understanding of the Signs," the titular "Lost Estates" and "The End of Alpha Street," are all excellent as well but I'm running long here. 

The blurb for Lost Estates notes that these tales offer "antiquarian mysteries, book-collecting adventures, and otherworldly encounters," as well as "mysterious landscapes, places of legend, and secret history."   Valentine has an incredible abundance of knowledge about ancient customs, history and lore that inform his stories; the joy is in seeing the connections he forges between that knowledge and the characters who interact with the landscapes which he so expertly renders here, either rural or city.  The stories themselves  have a truly special quality that I appreciate, meaning that once I start one, I'm deep into it and the outside world just vanishes.  He makes me feel like I am right there with the characters as they approach that (as the dustjacket blurb states) "unusual terrain,"   making it  beyond  difficult to put this book down at any time during the reading.  And if you get a Machen vibe, well ...

Very highly recommended -- Lost Estates is most certainly one of the best collections by this author I've read.  

Ringstones and Other Curious Tales, by Sarban

 

9781905784356

Tartarus Press, 2024 (first Tartarus edition 2000)

originally published 1951

289 pp

hardcover

I hadn't actually planned on reading this book this summer, but I had recently finished reading Circles of Stone: Weird Tales of Pagan Sites and Ancient Rites (ed. Katy Soar) as part of my ongoing reading of the British Library Tales of the Weird series and as it happens, that book began with an extract from Ringstones.   I realized that unlike the other authors whose stories were included there, I'd never read anything by Sarban, so I bought this volume from Tartarus Press and immediately on finishing it, wondered out loud how the hell I had not read him before.   I had already purchased the Tartarus edition of The Doll Maker and Other Tales of the Uncanny (2022) but once again, meeting the same fate as many books I buy, it had arrived, was shelved and other books came along that left it just sitting there -- as it turns out, a hugely serious, serious mistake.  Let me just say that after finishing Ringstones, the very first thing I did was to pick up The Doll Maker and devour it, after which I immediately ordered Sarban's The Sound of His Horn and Other Stories, which arrived earlier this week. 

First edition, 1951.  From ABAA

I won't offer much in the way of author biography of here -- that is best discovered by reading Mark Valentine's excellent Time a Falconer: A Study of Sarban  which I also bought directly after finishing Ringstones. It was originally  published by Tartarus in 2010, although I picked up the paperback issue from 2023.    John William Wall spent his working life in the British diplomatic service, and it was early in 1948 on a visit to England when he gave his future wife Eleanor two stories he'd written earlier in 1947 while working in Casablanca,   "A Christmas Story" and "Ringstones." She found a publisher, Peter Davies, and to make a long story short, eventually Wall added three more stories, "Capra," "The Khan," and "Calmahain," and his first book was published in March of 1951 under the name Sarban.  According to Mark Valentine, Sarban wrote to Mike Ashley that he had "had a liking" when he was young "for stories of fantasy and the supernatural -- H.G. Wells, and Walter de la Mare, for example," which had "prompted" him to "choose that vein" when attempting "something of my own (57)".  Trust me here, he succeeded. 

The best way to describe this book and its contents is to quote a small portion of the dustjacket blurb, which originally came from one of the book's "original reviewers" who said that these stories 

"have a curiously-imparted quality of strangeness; the feeling of having strayed over the border of experience into a world where other dimensions operate." 

 Like the very best examples of the weird tale, Sarban's work tends to begin in normal circumstances while slowly but surely taking the reader across that border into unexpected and disturbing territory.  

 The opening tale in this collection, "A Christmas Story," carries more than a tinge of melancholy,  but signals to the reader that he or she is about to delve into the realm of the strange.  It begins on a "hot, damp Christmas Eve" in Jeddah as a group of British diplomats dress up and make the customary "round of calls" which includes a stop at the home of Alexander Adreievitch Masseyev, a Russian exile who now works for the Arabian Air Force.  A bottle of Zubrovka labeled with a picture of the "European bison which seems to be the trade mark" sparks Masseyev's bizarre story about an experience he had in 1917 while a sea-plane pilot aboard a ship heading to Archangel. He and his friend were assigned the task of flying the plane to drop a message to a station where the ship was supposed to have made a call and could not due to dangerous ice conditions.  Of course, things go awry, the plane goes down, and the two decide to walk through the marshes of the "immense, sad taiga" to civilization, no easy feat as winter is closing in.   Luckily, they come upon a group of Samoyed hunters whom they believe will lead to them "to the nearest Christian men," but they encounter something entirely unexpected.  As Masseyev notes, "Yes, there are rare things in Russia," and of all people, he ought to know.   About "Capra" which I also quite enjoyed, it's best to say as little as possible, except perhaps that it's not too far a distance from the modern world of the 1920s to the realm of the old gods, especially when one is in Greece.  Set in England during World War II, in "Calmahain" two young teenaged children of the Maple family, Martin and Ruth,  whose lives are tightly restricted by the adults in their home and who are told repeatedly to stay in their own garden find a refuge in a game they play called "Journeys."  It means leaving their yard, but as neither is likely to tell on the other, the game is on.  They set a time limit that takes advantage of Mrs. Maple's "elastic after-breakfast hour with a detective novel," and each goes his/her own way.  The idea is that when they next meet, they will describe the fantastical journey each has made, and the journey becomes a fantasy tale to share with the other in great detail.  At the end of this particular adventure, Martin relates his travels but it's Ruth's story that takes center stage here, with Martin praising hers as "the best you've ever told."  He adds that he doesn't know how she made it all up, and her reply is that she didn't "make it all up."  Absolutely excellent story, one you may want to read a second time once you've finished it.   Correction -- you should read it again.   Of all of the stories in this book, it is "Ringstones" that clearly wins the prize for most disconcerting, and it happens to also be my favorite. Steeped in antiquity, in mythology and an added darker layer of subjugation and dominance (which seems to be part of Sarban's repertoire, as I noticed in The Doll Maker, but more on that book another time)  it  most strongly continues the thread of straying "over the border of experience" into another world altogether. Two friends, Piers and the narrator, have a conversation about Piers' good school friend Daphne Hazel, who has taken a summer job as a tutor/au pair taking care of "some foreign kids," specifically a teenaged boy and two younger girls.   Their discussion includes commentary on Daphne's sanity, with Piers mentioning the fact that she wouldn't be likely to "have come under influences that would encourage the germination of elvish fancies and eerie illusions" at the school she is attending, and that  he would be "much more likely to spin fairy tales for the fun of them than she is; and yet."   Piers asks his friend to read the contents of an exercise book that Daphne had written and sent to him, and it's only the next morning when the two friends talk about it that the significance of the state Daphne's mental health becomes clear.   At first it begins as a relatively benign story detailing her arrival at Ringstones Hall in Northumberland,  meeting the children Nuaman, Marvan and Ianthe and well as some of the outdoor games they play while her employer spends time on his research.  Soon, however, what sounds almost idyllic slowly turns dark and menacing as Daphne discovers that there's much more to this boy than she could possibly realize, and that she may "never come to the end of Ringstones." I'm being purposely vague here because you really must read this story to feel its full impact, and nothing I say can even come close. 

While I enjoyed some of the stories in this volume more than others,  what travels through all of them is the author's imagination and striking prose style that slowly and unexpectedly moves the reader into darker realms.  He raises the storytelling bar as he adds in elements of mythologies and the natural world that complement each other as well as the characters who populate his stories, all the while building in layers of the mysterious and the strange to create different worlds where, as he notes in "Ringstones," "some queer feet have danced."  This creative blending that marks his work as truly something of his own makes for compelling, unforgettable and unputdownable reading that stuck with me long after the last page had been turned.  

Beyond highly recommended -- truly a collection I will never forget.