Book Review: Marghanita Laski’s The Victorian Chaise-Longue

Once I decided to try to read four books, my plan for this year’s R.I.P. VI Challenge, kindly hosted again by Carl V. of Stainless Steel Droppings, was to slowly increase the peril level throughout the challenge. I started with a vintage mystery, moved to an early 20th century real life ghost story with some mildly perilous moments, and then read a contemporary Japanese ghost story with a really eerie perilous vibe. I was worrying if I’d gotten the order right after that one, but Marghanita Laski’s The Victorian Chaise-Longue really scared me, so in the end I got the order right.

Melanie, a young, 20th century mother with tuberculosis, sits on an antique chaise-longue to rest. She wakes up in 1864 – long before doctors realized that what she needed most was sunshine and fresh air. She recognizes no one – but they know her. She’s Milly, soon to die of tuberculosis. And they’re waiting for her confession. But she doesn’t have one to give, which contributes to the tension of the book.

So why was a book with no monsters, no ghouls, and no brutally murdered innocents so scary? The horror of Lanski’s The Victorian Chaise-Longue comes from Melanie’s growing realization of her abjectly hopeless situation:

But things can’t happen twice, she told herself wearily, closing her eyes, the momentary relaxation over, the racking torture established again, I must always have been Milly and Milly me. It is now that is present reality and the future is yet to come. But if I have to wait for the future, if it is only in time to come that I shall be Melanie again, then that time must come again too when Sister Smith leaves me to sleep on the chaise-longue, and I wake up in the past. I shall never escape – and the eternal prison she imagined for herself consumed her mind, and she fainted or dozed off into a nightmare of chase and pursuit and loss. p. 58-59

This book creeped me out – there’s not one graphic moment, but it’s the kind of book that makes you think. What would it be like if no one believed you? What would it feel like to be without the people you love most when you are ill? What if the person who was supposed to love you most really didn’t? Powerful and horrible themes that pushed my peril-meter higher than I usually like!

Okay – four perilous reads for the R.I.P. VI Challenge – and just in time! Thanks so much, Carl V., for another great autumn of perilous reading. I am already looking forward to next year! This was one of my favorite Persephone Books so far.

Book Review: Taichi Yamada’s Strangers

Taichi Yamada’s Strangers is a moody tale of loss and redemption, set in modern day Tokyo. Hideo is a recently divorced television writer, emotionally cut off from the world since the loss of his free-spirited parents in a motorcycle accident when he was only twelve years old. While wandering around his old neighborhood, he sees a man who looks exactly like his father in a comedy club – and the man doesn’t seem at all surprised when he follows him all the way home, to a woman who looks exactly like his mother. In fact, they seem to have been expecting him.

Are they strangers, or are they his parents? His new girlfriend – the only other person actually living in the noisy apartment building that most owners use as business space – warns him to stay away from them. And his colleague Mamiya appears terrified at the physical change in Hideo. But Hideo doesn’t notice any change at all.

He continues to see his parents, who seem not at all disconcerted to be so much younger than their son. But can they really be the kind people they appear to be?

This ghostly story sent shivers down my spine. And the only reason for the short review is that it would be a shame to give anything away. I loved Yamada’s writing style – the first-person narration is almost journalistic in its austerity, but still richly descriptive. I read fantastic reviews of this book from both The Parrish Lantern and Dolce Bellezza, two bloggers who tend to add to my TBR with their great recommendations, so I wasn’t at all surprised to enjoy the book. But I wasn’t really prepared for how powerfully this story resonated with me. I'd call this highly recommended for fans of Japanese literature and for those who love a good ghost story.

This one definitely turned up the peril-meter for my R.I.P. VI Reading, so thanks to Carl V of Stainless Steel Droppings for hosting. I’m kind of sad that October is coming to an end, but the reviews from this year’s challenge already have me thinking about next year! And this is also my second book for the Bellezza’s Japanese Literature Challenge 5 – I’m glad I’ll have some more time to work on that challenge when the semester winds down!

Book Review: Elliot O’Donnell’s Scottish Ghost Stories

One of the most dangerous things about a Kindle is the “immediate gratification” apect of it: you find a review for a book, it looks interesting, and in less than a minute it’s on your device. And the money is out of your bank account. Ouch! Which is why it’s fun to scroll through the free and $0.99 titles for e-book readers – a lot of classics are available that way, and while I’ll admit the typesetting sometimes suffers for the price, it’s way better than having a to borrow the same classic from the library—and deal with the mold and mildew that often plagues old books.

That’s how I came across Elliott O’Donnell’s classic horror volume, Scottish Ghost Stories. Turns out that O’Donnell was a turn-of-the-last-century ghost hunter, and quite a celebrity in his time. He even had a radio show about paranormal phenomenon at one point. The R.I.P. VI Challenge, hosted by Carl V. at Stainless Steel Droppings, was looming, and I wanted to include something aside from mysteries in my list this year, so I downloaded it on impulse. It wound up being an enjoyable read, but probably not for the reasons that O’Donnell intended.

Scottish Ghost Stories purports to be a collection of true hauntings, either experienced by O’Donnell himself or relayed to him by reliable sources, all taking place in Scotland. The book was written in 1911, and has a real Victorian sensibility, very descriptive and melodramatic:

And soon there stole upon me a sensation to which I had been hitherto an utter stranger – I became afraid. An irrepressible tremor pervaded my frame, my teeth chattered, my blood froze. Obeying an impulse – an impulse I could not resist, I lifted myself up from the pillows, and, peering fearfully into the shadowy glow that lay directly in front of me – listened. Why I listened I do not know, saving that an instinctive spirit prompted me. At first I could hear nothing, and then, from a direction I could not define, there came a noise, low, instinctive, uninterpretative…Dreading to think what it might be, and seized with a wild sentiment of self-preservation, I made frantic endeavours to get out of bed and barricade my door. My limbs, however, refused to move. I was paralysed.Kindle Location 1775 of 1905

It suddenly struck me while reading it that O’Donnell’s book represents the Victorian equivalent of reality TV! Like the producers of shows like “Paranormal State,” O’Donnell’s narrative makes it clear that ghosts can be found in the most unlikely places – and the reader may well be the next victim! There are some great period touches in that regard. For example, in most cases O’Donnell only gives the neighborhood of the occurrences he’s detailing, not the actual addresses of them, presumably to protect the current property owners who may be trying to foist their ghostly tenants on some other unsuspecting homebuyers – quite an interesting touch, I thought. There are also routines associated with the haunting, such as the forcing of the haunted to act against their will, and paralysis of victims that make it impossible to flee the terrifying apparitions they describe later, that recur in the stories.

From the standpoint of the challenge, the book did provide a couple of mildly perilous moments. But the truth is I found it most interesting as an artifact of its time – and a sort of verification that the current fascination with “true crime” and other “reality” genres has historical antecedents. I think lovers of Victorian literature should really consider taking a look at this book, as it represents a very popular genre in its time that we now commonly overlook – non-fiction. But it would also be of interest to those who are interested in the evolution of the horror genre, especially “true horror.” And if you’re kind of wimpy about horror, this is a good introduction – this is definitely not a book of the Stephen King, nightmare inducing kind! I’m certainly glad I happened upon it, and that I finally got to read a ghost story for this year’s R.I.P. VI Challenge. So thanks again to Carl V. for hosting – this is my second R.I.P. Challenge, and I can already see why it’s a highlight of autumn for so many book bloggers!

Book Review: Margery Allingham’s The Crime at Black Dudley

Another first for this summer: my first Albert Campion mystery. Margery Allingham’s books have been on my radar screen for a while, but Bev’s Vintage Mystery Challenge finally put one in my hands.

I decided to start with Campion’s first appearance on the literary scene, The Crime at Black Dudley. The choice here was deliberate, but debatable. Campion is a significant character* in the novel, but he is not the protagonist – some Campion enthusiasts apparently don’t count this as a Campion mystery at all. Still, I reasoned that if his cameo in one novel led to the larger gig, I wanted to see why.

The story revolves around a house party arranged by Wyatt Petrie to entertain his invalid uncle by marriage, Colonel Gordon Coombe, who is living out his last years in the family’s ancient, secluded castle, Black Dudley. Petrie arranges for a lively set of stylish young people to share the country weekend, including his friend George Abbershaw, an eminent young pathologist. The very serious Abbershaw has uncharacteristically wrangled an invitation because he is smitten with Meggie Oliphant, another member of the party. Also along is the affable and outrageous Albert Campion – who everyone assumes is someone else’s guest at the party. In addition, Petrie’s uncle has a few – very surly – friends in attendance.

So the stage is set for the lights to go out.

And right on cue, they do just that! Petrie suggests the group reenact the family ritual of the Black Dudley Dagger, a grown-up game of “Hot Potato” played with a bejeweled blade that is passed throughout the house in the pitch dark. The loser is the one left holding the dagger when the lights come on, so everyone is frantically trying to pass it.** When the lights come on, Petrie’s uncle has been whisked away – it turns out he’s been stabbed. And his surly companions want Abbershaw to sign a phony death certificate.

So who killed the uncle? And why are the surly companions threatening to kill everyone else if they can’t find a lost item? And what’s in the brief case Campion is fighting with the chauffer about? And while we’re at it, who the heck is Albert Campion? I’m not telling, but Allingham does make a very interesting thriller of it.

Unfortunately from my perspective, as clever as it all is, she doesn’t really give the reader a chance to solve the mystery. I think this may be related to the fact that she started off with one hero – Abbershaw – and ended up with two, as Campion played out his quirky, baffling part in the story’s ultimate resolution.

I liked this book, but didn’t love it. My main problem was that I found it disjointed. The members of the weekend party were unevenly developed, giving the mystery a strange slant: you couldn’t focus attention on all of the players, because there wasn’t enough information to go on. I did like the gothic elements though: the secret passages, the strange lady in the attic, the unexplained car in the garage all made for a very atmospheric read. And I definitely liked the Campion character enough to read one of Allingham’s other books.

Okay, that’s my sixth Golden Girls read for the Vintage Mystery Challenge. I’m planning to finish up with Phoebe Atwood Taylor’s The Cape Cod Mystery, which will make for seven different Golden Girls read in the challenge, six of whom were brand new to me! This has been a lot of fun, so thanks Bev! And since it’s a mystery, I’m also linking to the RIP Challenge, even though this wasn’t one of the two books I was planning. Hmmm. Maybe I can get to four after all… No, no mustn’t overcommit! But we’ll see.

*And believe me, “character” is the right word for Campion in this book. Little wonder he caught the attention of the public – and the publishers.
**This leads to a lot of running around in the dark with sharp objects, something at which all mothers reading this book will doubtless shake their heads, anticipating imminent disaster. They will be correct.

Looking Forward to a Perilous Fall: Joining the R.I.P. Challenge

The general lameness here at Col Reads over the past two weeks can only mean one thing – the semester has begun! But now that my darling daughters are also back-to-school (that takes an additional week here), I expect to have things back to normal starting next week! Or at least as normal as they get around these parts.

So autumn has arrived, and with it the RIP (that's Readers Imbibing Peril) VI Challenge, for readers of mysteries, suspense, thrillers, dark fantasy, gothic fiction, horror, or supernatural titles. Isn't the button fantastic?

I’m joining at the Peril the Second Level, but I hope to read more than two books – I just don’t want to overcommit.

What? Did I hear laughter? Me? Overcommit?

Hahahahahaha!