I received the review copy pictured below from the publisher. I am, as always, impressed by the quality of the volume. Tartarus never lets you down - their books are built to last. The cover is simply entitled 'An Old House', a painting by Edith Abbott. I like it.
'The Silent House' is a novella concerning an old property on an island described - perhaps ironically - as one of the Hesperides. The house is rented by the narrator, who transforms it into a museum dedicated to a lost film and its director. The sudden, violent death of the latter foreshadowed an era of civil war and repression, leading to the 'disappearance' of large numbers of civilians. Among them were many of the actors in the movie.
The description of the way in which the museum is established, the contents of the various rooms, and the 'freemen' who come to habituate it are described in elegant, somewhat detached prose. The arrival of a mysterious, attractive young couple and the tendency of a player piano to start up in the night add to the atmosphere.
This is a ghost story, in that there is a ghostly presence - a pianist who accompanies the partially restored film. But looming over all is the greater phantom of tyranny and crimes too long unpunished. And the only living antagonist of the narrator - an officious bureaucrat - has the initial G.F. A nod to the days of the Generalissimo?
Not surprisingly, many scenes are intensely cinematic, an effect enhanced by the use of title cards - BANG! and so on. I also learned a little about a method Spanish people used to hide valuables or incriminating artefacts - 'Forbidden books? Masonic tools?' Overall, 'The Silent House' is a fine example of the longer supernatural tale.
'Timepiece' is a more conventional short story. The narrator decides to have a novelty watch pendant repaired. She finds a tiny shop run by an old, hunchbacked watchmaker with a distinctly crotchety disposition. Fortunately, he is impressed by the quality of the watch and fixes it. Later, the narrator finds the shop is closed. A passerby tells her the watchmaker has died, and recounts the story of the man's lonely existence. It was a life circumscribed by a strange occurrence concerning a clock.
'The Caller' again uses a familiar trope in an interesting way. The narrator, browsing at a flea market, on impulse buys an antique bakelite phone. She tries and fails to connect it to the modern network and consigns it to storage. But mysterious noises and rogue vibrations plague her. She picks up the receiver and a voice asks for a person she's never heard of. Who is Madeline? The resulting detective story is well-handled, and overall this is a fine contribution to the sub-genre of telephonic weirdness.
'The Grey Man' is another haunted house story - in a way. A woman plans to sell the home where she raised her children, but is bothered by the presence of the eponymous stranger. She keeps vigil as a strange presence seems to invade the house. She puts it up for sale, and the mysterious man returns. This is a delicate piece, deft and melancholy. You really can't go home again.
'The Tell Tailoress' is a period piece which surprised me by its intriguing twists. Set in London during the years preceding the Great War, it begins in a rather cosy fashion. A tailoress and an architect, both exiles from central(?) Europe, divide the rent for a room in Drury Lane. At first, their relationship seems to be merely a quaint and pleasant friendship. The couturier clothes a succession of models and the architect photographs them in the old style, glass plates and all. But he also takes the women's silhouettes, and thereby hangs an altogether darker tale. To reveal more really would be a spoiler.
'Woodbine', another substantial story, offers a fresh perspective on the theme of hauntings and what restless spirits might get up to. Spoiler - it's nothing particularly nice. An art historian is hired to value the possessions of a recently deceased woman whose house appears, at first, rather pleasant. However, there are some odd occurrences, and as the narrator's research progresses, disturbing things are revealed. This is another masterly (mistressly?) tale, and I found it thoroughly enjoyable. (Except for the bit about the cats.)
'Three Friends' takes us to... a haunted house! This time, though, the changes are rung in two satisfying ways. Firstly, this is one of those tales set in pre-internet days - sometime 'after the war' - when a crystal set and a wind-up gramophone could credibly be owned by a young man. Secondly, there's a harking back to the inter-war tales of writers like Burrage and Wakefield, in that the plot involves a deliberate bearding of ghosts in their domain. The eponymous friends undertake to spend a night in a supposedly haunted house. Each one will write a story based on the 'origin story' of the haunt. It's a clever, witty tale that concludes with a suitably powerful ending, which might be described as a warning to the curious.
'Fabula Rasa' is a polished gem of a tale that takes us to - have a guess? But, yet again, the changes are rung on the venerable theme. A group of friends are chatting in a bar on New Year's Eve and the subject turns to organ donation. A stranger sitting nearby has a story to tell about a similar topic. It begins when he resolved to simply disappear, abandoning his old life and starting anew in Italy. Needless to say, things do not go as planned.
Rounding off the collection is 'Ashes to Ashes', a tale of mortality and things that endure. A group of Brits set off to scatter the ashes of a friend from a lighthouse on the French coast. It's a fine story, with a well-constructed history for the fictitious tower and its unusual precursors.
I'll be surprised if I read a better debut collection this year. Sophia J. Unsworth proves, through ten admirable stories, that the weird tale is alive and well. I hope she finds time to write more and that her work gets the wide recognition it deserves.
2 comments:
Do we know if she is related to Simon Kurt Unsworth?
I don't know! But I don't think so.
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