16/12/07

Well, it's nearly Christmas. And we all know what that means, don't we? That's right! Creepy ghost stories!

Okay, so maybe not to everyone, but it does to me and the Victorians - there's a reason 'A Christmas Carol' features more ghosts than you can shake an insubstantial stick at, I'll have you know. And I'm currently very happy, as I have managed (just in time for Christmas) to finally get my hands on a book by one of my favourite Victorians - or partial Victorian, seeing as how he did outlive the lady - M. R. James.

If you know about English ghost stories, then you're probably already aware that M. R. James is one of, if not the, best authors out there. My first introduction to his work came when I was quite young, and my sister used to royally freak me out by telling me her own summarised versions. I particularly remember 'The Ash Tree'. I was not a fan of spiders at the time, and that did nothing to help. And now I have my own copy of his 'Collected Ghost Stories'. I already had 'Ghost Stories of an Antiquary' and 'More Ghost Stories'; but this book includes his other two collections - 'A Thin Ghost and Others' and 'A Warning to the Curious' (such a good title).

The thing he does best is the supernatural chills. He's very good at describing things that sound wrong - I don't know how else to say it. His stories nearly always start in very mundane ways, because he understands wonderfully that it is far more disturbing to have something strange occur in normal surroundings than in some god-forsaken mansion in the middle of nowhere, where you're half expecting it.

For example - have you ever had that feeling where you're glancing around a familiar room, and for one moment you see something that should be impossible? Say, the combination of the light from a lamp, the shadow of a pot-plant and your specific line of sight, convince you - for just one instant - that there is a pinched face peering at you from under the table? M. R. James is brilliant at capturing that brief feeling of absolute horror you get until you realise your mistake. And extending it - because, of course, in this case you weren't mistaken at all.