IT’S that most spooky time of the year again, and reading classic and contemporary tales of terror is one of the surest ways to get that delightful frisson of fear crawling up your spine.
The genre is well-represented by talented writers who have managed to frighten countless readers over the centuries.
The most familiar to many is Edgar Allan Poe, whose disturbing works are required reading in some literature classes. A family favorite is “The Cask of Amontillado;” my daughters and I have memorized the first few lines. A story about revenge served cold, it ends with the protagonist literally getting away with murder. Check out Youtube for readings of this story by Christopher Lee, Basil Rathbone, and Vincent Price (the latter’s maniacal laughter at the end is particularly creepy).
I am also partial to the Victorian and Edwardian writers, who were among the most masterful in their handling of the genre. Foremost among the writers of that era is M. R. James, a medievalist scholar of Cambridge who redefined the ghost story by using realistic, modern settings. Drawing on his personal experiences and knowledge as a scholar, James made many of his protagonists professors, students, or other academic folk, who have to deal with cursed items—books, drawings, a dollhouse, a whistle, a crown—and shake off visitors of a demonic nature.
James’ approach is deft and subtle, and thus all the more terrifying because he delivers a creeping, insidious fear without resorting to gore or violence. “Canon Alberic’s Scrapbook” summons a demon that haunts the book’s new buyer; “Lost Hearts” tells how ghostly orphans deliver an overdue comeuppance to an utterly despicable murderer; “The Treasure of Abbot Thomas” describes how the loathsome but faithful guardian of a hoard of gold torments would-be treasure hunters; and “A View From a Hill” reveals the nasty origin of a pair of binoculars that can see into the past.
Another master of disaster was Sheridan Le Fanu, whose works are frequently anthologized, among them “Green Tea.” The dialect he used in “Madam Crowl’s Ghost” will take some plodding through, but the description of elite lifestyles in the 18th century and the denouement that reveals Crowl’s guilty secret are worth the effort.
Those enamored of tales of the Raj should read Rudyard Kipling’s “The Phantom Rickshaw” (guilt and deception), “The Mark of the Beast” (retribution for disrespecting local religious customs), and “At the End of the Passage,” an ambiguous story that invites speculation on why one of the protagonists suffers a relentless insomnia that drives him to hallucination and death.
Most, if not all of these classic works may be read for free on the Internet.
In the modern era, the name “Stephen King” is synonymous with horror the world over, thanks to his best-selling books in the genre that he regularly churns out.
Many of his works have been made into movies that were the stuff of our adolescent nightmares; because of them we fear clowns (It), vampires (Salem’s Lot), and large dogs (Cujo).
King’s use of language is genius, the tone and flow so attractive and hypnotic that his books have often been described as “unputdownable.” A National Medal of Arts awardee in 2015, he was hailed for being “one of the most popular and prolific writers of our time,” combining “his remarkable storytelling with his sharp analysis of human nature.”
While some might find his novels, particularly the latter ones, slow and meandering (Duma Key, The Cell), his short stories are always gripping. Among his short story collections, my favorites are Night Shift (containing “Children of the Corn,” which was later adapted into a feature film), Different Seasons, Skeleton Crew, Four Past Midnight, and Nightmares and Dreamscapes.
His latest collection, The Bazaar of Bad Dreams, is now out in paperback. The tome leads with “Mile 81,” at once a story of courage, curiosity, altruism, and mind-shattering fright, starring brave children, clueless adults, and a haunted car. He has used these themes to good effect before (It, Christine), but in his hands they gain new life in this story.
For those who want to explore this genre further, short story anthologies are an efficient and affordable way to get a broad overview of the different styles and themes.
Happy Halloween! Let me leave you with a warning from M. R. James: “Be careful how you handle the packet you pick up in the carriage-drive, particularly if it contains nail-parings and hair. Do not, in any case bring it into the house. It may not be alone…”
Dr. Ortuoste is a California-based writer. Follow her on Facebook: Jenny Ortuoste, Twitter: @jennyortuoste, Instagram: @jensdecember.