Tag: supernatural

Review 2462: Weyward

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Bookish Beck has a meme called “book serendipity” where she finds things in common between books she’s read recently, and I have a doozy. Not to give too much away, but this is the second book I’ve read in two weeks where women decide that the only way to deal with their abusive husbands is to murder them.

This novel is set in three time frames. In 1619, Altha is being tried for witchcraft. In 2019, Kate has discovered she is pregnant, so she has decided she must leave her abusive boyfriend, Simon. She has inherited a cottage from her Aunt Violet that he doesn’t know about and she has quietly saved some money, so she goes. In 1942, Violet has grown up isolated, not even allowed to go to the village and never told anything about her mother. At 16, she is jealous of her brother Graham, who is allowed to study interesting topics while she is forced into a traditional feminine role. She wants to travel the world and study bugs, but her father has apparently already chosen a husband for her.

Back at the cottage, Kate begins looking into her family history, into the women who called themselves the Weywards and have an unusual connection to animals.

This is an interesting novel with supernatural overtones that are fairly slight. I was interested in all three stories, although I found the outcomes of Altha’s and Kate’s stories fairly easy to guess. In this novel, I wasn’t as disturbed by the husband murder as I was in the other novel, in which I thought the wife could have easily gotten away. In any case, almost all the men in this novel are rotten to the core. So yes, I liked this novel fairly well.

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Review 2449: The House Next Door

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Colquitt and Walter Kennedy are dismayed when they hear that the lot next door in their wealthy Atlanta neighborhood is being built on. They have relished it as a green buffer and have been assured that no one can built on it. However, the new owners have apparently found someone who can, Kim Dougherty, a young architect. Colquitt is the first to admit that the house he builds is strikingly unusual and beautiful. In fact, she understands its beauty much better than do the owners, Pie and Buddy Harrelson. As the house goes up, Colquitt and Walter develop a friendship with Kim.

I read this novel because I heard it was a good ghost story, but it’s not a ghost story as such—rather a haunting. As the house goes up, the bodies of small animals, ripped apart, appear, including that of Pie’s puppy. Pie falls down some unprotected stairs and has a miscarriage. When Kim finishes the house and moves on to other projects, he reports being unable to work. The Kennedys think he’s just burnt out and needs a rest, but he says it’s the house, that it takes whatever you value most. Then, on the night of the Harrelsons’ house-warming party, a dreadful event occurs.

When the next family moves in. Buck and Anita Sheehan, Colquitt feels that Anita looks haunted. The neighborhood soon finds out that Anita spent time in a mental hospital after the couple’s son died in the Vietnam War. (The novel was written in the 1970s.) Soon enough, Colquitt and eventually Walter start to believe that Kim may be right about the house. The problem is what to do about it.

I am not familiar with Siddons, so I don’t know if she generally writes about the privileged. The Kennedys are not wealthy according to themselves, but they both have generous salaries and they live among the rich. There are times when the novel reflects a sort of exclusiveness and self-satisfaction that is not flagrant but is there. The Kennedys run into a class wall when they try to warn people about the house, but all this surfaces at the end in an unusual way.

The ending of this novel takes a startling turn that opens up the reader’s interpretations of the actions of the novel and makes you rethink. I think this put it higher in my regard than it would have if it had gone where I expected it to. It made me reconsider the whole story.

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Review 2436: The Dark Fantastic

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I was surprised by the direction that this novel took, but I would have been less surprised if I hadn’t missed a note from the author. It explained that although the characters were made up, the novel was inspired by events that took place at her great-grandparents’ home in rural Indiana.

In post-Civil War Terre Haute, Indiana, Judith Amory is defying convention by attending Macbeth without a male escort. She has recently been dismissed from her teaching position for being too advanced in teaching George Eliot, so she can’t really afford to go, but she thinks of herself as refined and cultured and is excited to see the performance of Edwin Booth.

At the performance, she ends up breaking convention again by speaking to her neighbor, a young man who has journeyed in from his farm just to see the play. Judith finds him handsome, prosperous looking, and eager to discuss literature, perfect for her idea of a husband—until he says he has a wife and three children. Then he mentions that the nearby town needs a teacher.

Judith is not dismayed. First, she intends to have that job even though it’s a bit beneath her. Then, she intends to have that man, Richard Tomlinson.

How she gets her Becky Sharpish way is one thing, but what happens afterward is quite unexpected. This is a pretty good, darkish novel that dabbles in the supernatural. Echard is good at setting her scene and presenting the dynamics of the Tomlinson family. She’s good at depicting the main characters, although I lost track of some of the secondary ones. This is a good one for those who like darkish tales. Warning for the politically correct—the one Black character is depicted stereotypically as isn’t surprising for a novel published in 1947.

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Review 2320: The Haunting of Alma Fielding

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The two previous books I’ve read by Kate Summerscale were Victorian true crime stories. In The Haunting of Alma Fielding she changes genres (slightly) and periods to write about the spate of supernatural cases, and one in particular, that hit England when World War II was threatening in 1938.

The principal figure in the book is Nandor Fodor, a Hungarian emigré who studied the supernatural but also had an interest in Freudian psychology. When the Fielding case cropped up, he was in a difficult position, because although his mission was to prove whether there were legitimate supernatural occurrences, when he tried to use somewhat scientific methods of observation, he was accused of being unfriendly to mediums. His role at the Society for Psychical Research was contradictory at best and his notion of the scientific not very well developed.

The Fielding case began with a frightened family haunted by a poltergeist that hurled dishes and toppled furniture. Fairly quickly, it became clear that the activity centered around Alma, who lived in the house with her husband and lodger, and the spirits began to branch out by producing objects from her clothes at séances.

Fodor seemed so happy to have found what looked like legitimate supernatural activity that he believed everything he was told and actually encouraged the “spirits.” When later he found evidence that Alma deceived him, he still believed that some of the events were real and continued his investigation.

I found this book less interesting than the true crime books because I became so impatient with the gullibility of the investigators. And the medium tricks! After all, even if a spirit could produce small objects (called apports) from a person’s body, why would it want to? Obviously, because it’s an effect that can be faked.

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Review 2293: A Haunting on the Hill

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I haven’t read a book by Elizabeth Hand in a while, but as I remember, the two I read involved the supernatural. That probably makes this homage to Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House a natural fit for her.

Holly has recently won a grant that allows her to take leave from her school-teaching job for a semester and work on a play she’s written. She and her partner Nisa are celebrating by spending the weekend in a B & B in upstate New York when Holly goes for a drive and comes upon Hill House.

Holly decides that the mansion would make a perfect place to workshop and rehearse her play. She is barely able to afford it, and the rental agreement comes with all kinds of relinquishments of liability.

Holly assembles her small cast at the house. There is Nisa, who has written some haunting songs for the play and is going to perform them; Amanda Greer, an older actress who will play the main character, a woman who was burned as a witch in the 17th century; and Holly’s best friend Stevie, who will play a dog/Satan and do the sound. Although Amanda used to be a name, all of them have been struggling for success.

The house makes Nisa and Stevie uncomfortable, and odd things happen right away, but Holly is too obsessed with her play to pay them much heed. And she has spent too much of her money to back out.

Nisa is resentful, because Holly always talks about her play and seems to be jealous when attention is paid to the music. Also, Holly doesn’t know, but Nisa has slept with Stevie repeatedly. Amanda hasn’t worked much since her costar fell to his death from a catwalk while arguing with her. She is inclined to think the others are mocking her. Stevie is a fragile soul who struggles with drug and sex addictions.

At first there are just the huge black hares outside and sounds that might be talking. But each character experiences odd things that he or she dismisses. As the tension builds, it becomes clear that they need to leave.

This is a creepy novel, although not as creepy as the original. But it’s involving and sometimes scary.

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Review 2172: The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida

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Just by coincidence, The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida is the second book set in Sri Lanka that I’ve read in a few months. It is part of my Booker Prize shortlist project.

It’s December 1987 and Maali Almeida is dead. He finds himself watching his body being thrown into a lake, but he can’t remember who killed him or why. A photographer, a gambler, an irresponsible and unfaithful gay lover, Maali had a purpose—to reveal the photos he’s taken of the carnage and double-dealing involved in the civil war in the hopes of stopping it.

Faced with a grotesque and bewildering afterlife, Maali is determined to get his two friends, Jaki, who is in love with him, and DD, her cousin with whom Maali was in love, to find his hidden photographs and make sure they are seen. To do this, he has to figure out the inconsistent rules of the In Between, avoid being consumed by the demon Mahakali, and learn how to be heard by humans.

As with Lincoln in the Bardo, I was not enamored of Karunatilaka’s conception of the afterlife nor was I very interested in the philosophical ramifications of Maali’s conversations with other dead people, demons, and animals. However, I was very interested in his depictions of Sri Lanka’s war and got dragged into the action almost despite myself. His humor is not mine, however.

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Review 2094: The Book of Cold Cases

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I had to read The Book of Cold Cases as soon as I received it, because there’s no one better than Simone St. James when it comes to a combination of mystery and the supernatural. It did not disappoint.

Twenty years ago, nine-year-old Shea got into a serial killer’s car. She survived, but the experience left her with several phobias and a great deal of fear. It also left her with a fascination for true crime, which she feeds by keeping a true-crime blog called The Book of Cold Cases.

At work one morning, She recognizes Beth Greer, a wealthy woman who was tried but not convicted of the murders of two men in 1973. Most people in their small Oregon town think she’s the first woman serial killer. She has never agreed to an interview, but after she catches Shea following her, she agrees to one.

Shea meets her in Greer’s parents’ home, an ugly mansion above the town with the ocean a sheer drop beneath a small lawn. Oddly, it is still decorated as her parents left it. Before the murders, her father was found dead in the kitchen, having been shot in the face by an apparent burglar. The manner of death was the same as that of two men shot several years later with the same caliber bullet, which was some of the evidence used against Beth.

Beth begins to tell Shea part of what she knows about the case, and Shea decides that although she doesn’t think Beth murdered the men, she knows more than she is telling. Then during a break, a weird thing happens. Shea goes to the kitchen and bathroom. First, all the taps turn back on after she turns them off, then all the kitchen cupboard doors open when she has her back turned to them.

When Shea tells Michael, her private investigator, what happened, he thinks Beth could have rigged up some kind of mechanism. But Shea isn’t so sure. Then when she is playing back her recording of the interview, she hears in the background the faint voice of a woman repeating, “I’m still here.” After she’s heard the voice, her phone dies and the recording disappears.

As Shea investigates the case, the novel moves back in time to events of 1973 and further back to Beth’s childhood to show what happened.

This is a great combination—mystery, thriller, and ghost story. St. James has always been good at what she does, but this book and her last were excellent.

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Review 2070: Little, Big

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I read this book because of a friend’s strong recommendation. Its genre is magical realism, not one I’m strong on.

In its little sense, Little, Big is the story of a family that has a curious, vague mission. They live in a strange house that is many houses combined on a property to the north of the City. The house is the gateway, they believe, to . . . something. The family are part of the Tale.

Although we get a summary of the lives of some of Violet Drinkwater’s forebears, the story gets going with Smoky Barnable, who meets Daily Alice Drinkwater through her cousin, George Mouse. After Smoky and Daily Alice decide to marry, Smoky must walk to her home and follow some other rituals for the wedding, which is part of the Tale.

Smoky doesn’t ever understand what’s going on, and neither, really, do we. And frankly, nothing much does go on for a long time, although everything is beautifully and minutely described. Children are born, a couple whose parentage is confused. Fairies may or may not exist, but one child is certainly substituted for another. Sophie, Violet’s sister, sleeps for years and then can’t sleep for years. One character has almost certainly been turned into a fish.

This description makes the book sound ridiculous, but it is not. It is for readers who want to take time with a book. It is beautifully written and playful with language. It is also slow building with a carefully constructed plot that everything builds up to. I think it goes a little astray with a political plot in the middle, and how much it pays off for you depends, I think, on how much you put into it. I scented distinct religious overtones at the end, but perhaps others won’t see it that way.

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Review 2025: Mexican Gothic

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It’s 1950 Mexico City. Noemí Taboada is a university student, but mostly she’s a socialite from a wealthy family aiming to have as much fun as possible.

Noemí’s father has received a disturbing letter from her cousin Catalina, who recently married a man no one knows very well. It sounds like Catalina is mentally disturbed. So, he asks Noemí to visit Catalina to find out what’s going on.

Catalina has married Virgil Doyle, the son of silver mine owners originally from England. But the silver has run out, and Noemí finds High Place a crumbling Victorian mansion. The family is not welcoming, and they impose a lot of rules, including only infrequent visits to Catalina. Catalina herself seems at first simply ill—she has tuberculosis—but later babbles about something listening, something in the walls.

Although the youngest son of the family, Francis, is friendly and helps her out, the rest of the family remains cold. Noemí herself begins having bizarre dreams.

Some readers may have a problem with how slowly this novel gets going, because the only thing that happens for quite a while is these dreams, but eventually the action picks up. Other readers have complained at the unlikelihood of the secrets revealed. That bothered me at first, but then I thought it was in the spirit of the original gothic novels. I decided it wasn’t any less likely than the notion of vampires or zombies and in these days a lot more original.

The novel is atmospheric, the heroine feisty, the ending quite suspenseful. It delivers what it promises.

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Review 1880: The Castle of Otranto

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I first read The Castle of Otranto too long ago as assignment for high school and thought it was very silly. However, it was the first gothic novel, written in 1764, and led the way toward a fascination with Gothic culture in a country littered with ruined Gothic churches and abbeys as a result of the so-called “Bloodless Revolution.” So, I put it on my Classics Club list to see what I think about it now.

Well, it’s a silly book. It is represented in the Preface as a manuscript written sometime between 1095 and 1243. Practically the first thing that happens in it is that Conrad, the son of Manfred, prince of Otranto, has a gigantic helmet fall on him out of nowhere and crush him to death on the day he is to be betrothed to Isabella, the Marquiz of Vincenza’s daughter. This is the first supernatural event in a very short book that includes walking portraits, statues crying tears of blood, and various enormous body parts appearing in the castle.

Why? It appears that Manfred’s grandfather took the castle unlawfully, and the legend is that his family may hold it until its real owner grows too large to inhabit it. Hence, the enormous body parts.

This novel exhibits all the hallmarks of the subsequent gothic novels, many of which aren’t that palatable to modern readers—overblown speeches, submissive and virtuous women (Manfred’s wife even being so submissive as to agree to her own divorce), a nearly insane villain in Manfred, a hero in disguise, a lot of fainting, and supernatural events.

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