In Albion’s Eco-Eerie, author and professor, Phil Smith seeks an alternative readingof TV and Movies of the Haunted Generations suggesting looking at the media in terms of ‘unhuman characters, the materials and the edgeland spaces’. He suggests the term ‘hobgoblinology’ as a name for his contemplation of the subject matter, but I question whether that is necessary as the ‘Eco-eerie’ term he uses in the book title does a much better job of specifically conveying the centre of attention. If the use of a term helps the writer unlock what they want to say in the book, then it’s a useful tool, but going forward I don’t know if there is a need for any further terminology within the gamut of topics. I enjoyed reading Smith just talk about his selected subjects more than about the terminology and application of it, which I felt disrupted the flow a little. I have personally discovered with labels that they have a limited purpose – they only need to point in a direction rather than map a territory down to the millimetre. Sometimes too much definition risks stifling and suffocating further creativity in the crib, whilst a net cast too widely can serve no real purpose. Further labelling may be best served to supermarket shelves and the toes of mortuary corpses. I fully understand that as wider interest in the sub-genres/modes have grown that the terms ‘Folk Horror’ and ‘Hauntology’ may carry some baggage or alternatively are limiting but I don’t feel like the remedy for that is more terminology. That said, for the purpose of this book the term ‘Eco-eerie’ alone is ideal.
Smith’s lens upon the estrangement between humankind and nature when looking at specific examples is an intriguing vantage point to take. Smith adds an s to the end of Bob Fischer’s term ‘Haunted Generation’ to take us back before Generation X’s particularly spectre-ridden childhoods (a demographic that also seems particularly attuned to Burns’ predilection for a nostalgia that is part warm and fuzzy and part traumatised by monsters).
Smith’s book, as the name suggests, mainly concentrates its attention on British examples (some creations from other countries are discussed at times in comparison) and again there’s a nice range of choices including The Company of Wolves, Oh Lucky Man!, Whistle and I’ll Come to You and the work of the late Nigel Kneale (whom is currently enjoying a long renaissance of interest) is covered well particularly regarding one of his lesser-discussed creations The Quatermass Xperiment. One of the strongest sections in the book for me talks about the strange 1975 children’s television series The Changes. This curious show is possibly the epitome of Albion’s Eco-eerie, though I must admit that whilst I enjoyed watching that programme I was never as much a fan of its conclusion and its explanation as I was of what came before in earlier episodes.
Albion’s Eco-eerie is a slim book but there is a lot packed within its covers and I would recommend it as a book for those with an existing interest in the fields who want to look at the subject matter from a different and intriguing vantage point, and as a reference book for students and film-TV critics/writers rather than a first-stop introduction to the subjects covered.
Films and TV shows discussed:
Night of the Demon The Maze The Company of Wolves The Quatermass Xperiment Quatermass 2 The Strange World of Planet X Fireball XL5: ‘Plant Man from Space’ Quatermass and the Pit O Lucky Man! The Changes Children of the Stones Whistle and I’ll Come to You A Warning to the Curious The Lovecraft Investigations (podcast) Hellraiser and Hellbound: Hellraiser II The Girl with All the Gifts
As the number of books about Folk Horror and Hauntology is considerably increasing, focus falls now upon a quest for a unique selling point – the tone, the angle, which cultural examples will be concentrated upon. With Ghost of an Idea the aspect of Nostalgia is a point of interest.
There is only so much that can be said about the ‘Unholy Trinity’ of folk horror films or Jacques Derrida’s origin of the word Hauntology – mention of either is inevitable but this book mentions the former more in passing but gives the latter a fair bit of attention. Problem with the discussion of Derrida and his concept of political Hauntology is that quite a bit of distance has fallen between that and the ‘popular Hauntology’ of the Haunted Generation. It still has a place however as the associated mode of Folk Horror frequently has a political dimension. But here its introduction early risks the book being taken as dry covering a matter that Mark Fisher and others have adequately discussed prior, but anybody facing that qualm should stick with the book as it becomes more animated with the detailing of specific movies and music.
An issue facing Folk Horror and /or Hauntology arises then of how to shape a book on the subjects and which audience to target. This makes Ghost of an Idea something of a mixed bag as it at times reads like an academic tome (and would prove very useful for anyone studying the subject matter at university) and at others like a more mass-market book on the cultural entertainment examples – and at this it excels as it provides a very useful list of films and music – a good proportion of it straying from the well-beaten track.
The book opens with a dedication to Mark Fisher, the late writer whose own work investigated the relationship between emotion and the hauntological media of film, literature and music and political philosophy (as well as investigating the concepts of the ‘weird’ and ‘eerie’), and a quotation by the folklorist Catherine Crowe. Burns’ appreciation for Fisher is very clear and well-placed but I would have liked to have also seen more integration of ghost-lore within the book, though aspects such as Stone Tape Theory are covered.
The ‘unique selling point’ of this book is the discussion of Nostalgia. It’s a subject that I have a particular interest in and whilst I found the contemplation of it in Burns’ work intriguing – I did really want more. Indeed I would have preferred further discussion of the psychological conditions of Nostalgia and maybe related feelings such as Deja vu than the content matter of later chapters, which in some instances felt somewhat misplaced.
Burns masterfully covers the wide range of associated music from Blind Willie Johnson to Boards of Canada and beyond. This includes an apt and colourful description of Syd Barrett that I enjoyed – “Psychedelia’s first hauntological casualty Syd Barrett, the Edwardian psychonaut, had one foot on an interstellar spacecraft and the other on a penny-farthing bicycle, haunting his own acid-addled mind, becoming rock’s premier living ghost.” Included are some interviews with musicians extraordinaire such as The Rowan Amber Mill’s Stephen Stannard, Angeline Morrison and Epic45. Though interesting I wonder whether the interviews would have been better suited to a book collection of their own (with other interviewees included) as their inclusion does break up Burns own train of thought a little. Also I am not sure about the section where Burns recollects certain concerts attended. The recommended albums list however is a great inclusion.
With regard to the films that Burns discusses, again the range and inclusion of some lesser-known examples is very useful and to be applauded. Whilst in such discussions the personal views and tastes of the writer and different readers may vary – for instance I disagree with Burns in my opinion that the remake of Suspiria is a much better film than The Void. Sometimes though I feel that he may sometimes be a bit too harshly cynical towards some examples (even when I share a similar dislike towards some of the media mentioned) and a little too gushing towards others (an example being Alan Moore, although I do think that he’s a very good writer and a huge influence on the evolution of comics, I do feel that too many other excellent comic writers get smothered in his shadow). Though I do share Burns’ great admiration of David Lynch, some people for some strange reason don’t, but one man’s poison is another man’s meat.
I do question the amount of space devoted towards some films/shows and their actual inclusion – eg. American Horror Story, Star Wars and Toy Story. The attention to these feels somewhat incongruous to what has gone before and I would have preferred (along with the concert reviews) either their omission here, for possible use in other works, meaning that Ghost of an Idea be a shorter book or for other studies of the concept of Nostalgia / additional examples of place memory hauntings to have been featured in their place. Or possibly a deeper dive into more found footage/ fake documentary films may have been better placed (I’d have liked to have read about Lake Mungo for instance) or a discussion about Backwoods films or even more about Hoodie Horrors may have been a better fit.
In conclusion it is a well written book, in some instances it really hits the mark perfectly and the film and album lists would prove very useful to both newcomer and those already quite immersed in the fields covered. But … There’s just some inclusions and choices that didn’t fully land and spoiled the flow for me – though of course they may land very well for others. And it’s totally up to an author what they include in their own books as the ending quote from John Cassavetes, included in in Ghost of an Idea, states “I don’t give a fuck what anybody says. If you don’t have time to see it, don’t. If you don’t like it don’t. If it doesn’t give you an answer. fuck you. I didn’t make it for you anyway.” 😉
Ghost of an Idea: Hauntology, Folk Horror and the Spectre of Nostalgia is due to be released in early 2025 – More Information HERE
Wyrd Harvest Press are thrilled to present 21st Century Ghost Stories: Volume III the latest in our spooky anthology series. Featuring a host of new stories by a wealth of talented writers, edited by Paul Guernsey, illustrated by Andy Paciorek and created with great thanks to Richard Hing and Grey Malkin; sales profits from this book will be charitably donated to The Wildlife Trusts ‘ nature conservation projects.
This third volume in our 21st Century Ghost Stories anthology series features 39 astonishing short-fiction contributions from writers the world over, each with a surprising and contemporary twist on some aspect of the uncanny. The collection includes unsettling stories of supernatural seduction, episodes of AI gone terrifyingly awry, accounts of workplace witchcraft, and tales of ghostly and/or demonic forces that infest places and ensnare people. We invite you to open this book and feel the chill!
featuring …
Introduction – Paul Guernsey
The Carny — Ann O’Mara Heyward
Gina Of Golden Gardens — Shala Erlich
The Pickup — Kathryn Pratt Russell
Door To Door — Ruth Schemmel
Ghost Story — Isobel Oliphant
He Loved His Mamma And His Mayonnaise — Gerard J Waggett
Interest in speculative fiction screenwriter Nigel Kneale has seen a 21st Century cult renaissance, mostly regarding his creation the rocket scientist Quatermass, but here Andrew Screen puts the focus on Kneale’s ATV series Beasts. Broadcast in 1976 during the golden age of British television plays and supernatural/thriller anthology shows, even amidst this bizarre telly miscellany, Beasts is something of a strange … well … beast. Each episode tangentially is related to animals or sometimes the animalistic within human nature – diverse beastly menace from an invasion of super-rats to a possessed kaiju film costume ensues. Screen dives deep into this strangeness seeking possible inspirations for Kneale’s manifestations. The folklore, history, Forteana and comparative media covered is wide and intriguing – resulting at one point in possibly the oddest and most amusing note disclaimer I’ve ever witnessed, stating that the author was in no way suggesting that Kneale was a viewer of equine erotica! – all the more bizarre by the fact that this is mentioned in relation to Buddy Boy, an episode about a dead dolphin haunting a potential porn theatre!
That extra special talking mongoose Gef gets coverage in the chapter covering Special Offer, an episode whereby teenager Pauline Quirke telekinetically terrorises a mini-mart. Discussion of therianthropy arises in relation to What Big Eyes, an episode where Patrick Magee, at his bombastic best, conducts weird experiments at a pet shop. Many aspects of weird history and preternatural phenomena are covered in this book making every chapter an enthralling read. Regarding the episode During Barty’s Party, I started to feel unsettled by the discussion of actual cases of rat attacks and infestation. I am pleased to see Screen feature Kneale’s TV play Murrain in this book. Although part of a TV play series called Against the Crowd, Murrain played a part in the commissioning of the Beasts show but also it feels akin, tonally, aesthetically and subject wise with Beasts, particularly to the episode Baby.
Both Murrain and Baby are set in bleak rural settings and deal with the fear of witchcraft and curses. Murrain, as the name indicates, concerns a rustic community that fears that a swine disease outbreak and other local misfortunes are due to the malfeasance of a suspected witch; whilst Baby concerns the discovery of an anomalous mummified creature found interred in an old rustic house – confined there not perhaps for apotropaic reason but for malediction. As well as rigorously covering production tech-specs and post-production reaction, Screen’s book is the most interesting, inviting and entertaining commentary on the work of Nigel Kneale I’ve encountered. A great tribute to possibly Nigel Kneale’s most peculiar body of work.
The Book of Beasts: Folklore, Popular Culture and Nigel Kneale’s ATV Horror Series Andrew Screen Headpress. 2023 pb. Illus. index. 434 pages. £22.99 ISBN. 191531609X
Having written and/or illustrated several myself it is fair to say that I have a soft spot for encyclopedias / guides to folkloric entities and beasts, especially the darker beings. Folklore is such a vast and diverse field and unless you are multilingual so much of it still remains hidden from many readers. Therefore it is a welcome treasure for me when English language tomes covering creatures from the lore of different cultures becomes widely available. Khanna and Bhairav’s book is such a treasure – especially as it caters to my other book bias in being illustrated throughout. And though the mysterious ‘they’ say never judge a book by its cover, the sleeve design of this book is beautiful making it a pleasure to hold and behold even before it is opened.
Airi. Illustration by Appupen (George Mathen)
Many examples the world over display that folklore and its entities can be pretty darn weird and Asian lore certainly excels in those stakes. Japanese lore of Yurei (ghosts), Yokai (demonic spirits), Tanuki (racoon-dogs with huge testicles) and many other denizens of night parades and kaidan (ghost stories) are relatively well known in the west but India’s otherworldly beings, despite being as rich and weird and despite the familiarity of the pantheon of Hindu gods and goddesses, are a lesser known gathering. Khanna and Bhairav have worked hard and done extremely well to bring a multitude of spectres and monstrous creatures to a wider audience. They have scoured the subcontinent and surrounds including not only India but Afghanistan, Tibet, Nepal, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Myanmar, the Maldives and Iran, and the various religions, folktales and superstitions of these areas and across the ages in their bid to assemble an A to Z of bizarre beasts and malign entities.
Baak. Illustration by Shyam Sankar.
Though I was previously familiar with Naga, Kali, Dev, Blemmyae, Gog & Magog, Rakshasa, Chudail, Yeti, Jinn, Manticore and Bhuta the vast majority of this chunky book was a revelation to me. Between Aavi (a mist-like, mournful ghost) and Zunhindawt (an entity that possesses people compelling them to drink from puddles of urine!) writhe hundreds of pages devoted to incredibly strange and frequently sinister specimens. Contained between the covers are such strange individuals as the Moila Deo (a spirit of jealousy manifest as an ash-coloured dwarf with long dirty hair), the Than-Thin Daini (a disembodied head of a witch that eats the entrails of sleeping people), the Ghorapaak ( a shapeshifting devourer of fish and murderer of fishermen), the Rav ( a creature that comes into existence should seven tigers die at the same moment and which causes its victims to vomit blood), the Gomua Bhoot (the ghost of a cow that died whilst calving, which can climb trees and turn into a pumpkin), the Penchapechi (a ghost in the form of an owl that can consume people whole) and many, many more besides.
Bram Bram Chok. Illustration by Vidyun Sabhaney.
Ghosts, Monsters and Demons of India is a great book for folklore collectors, aficionados of India, artists and writers seeking phantasmic inspiration, kids with ghoulish tastes (of which I was one and would have loved this book), and anybody who fancies flipping a page open on a long, dark witch-season night to see what nightmares unfold. The book is replete with peculiar, scratchy, quirky black and white illustrations by Appupen, Rashmi Ruth Devadasan, Shyam Sankar, Samita Chatterjee, Vidyun Sabhaney, Misha Michael, Priya Kuriyan, Pankaj Thapa and Osheen Siva making it an ideal, unusual gift book for Halloween or any occasion.
Watkins publishing have added to the world of Fortean travel-guides with 2 titles aimed to whet the wanderlust of wyrd voyagers. From the pen of Andy Sharp – musician, wordsmith and designator of the English Heretic black plaques (awarded to the strange denizens and dwellings that English Heritage overlooked) comes The Astral Geographic. On my first encounter with reference books, I often flip through the index to get a taste of what’s to come. Here we find an itinerary that takes us from “Anal Intercourse” to the “Zong Massacre”. Better buckle up then as it sounds like a wild ride is in store. Many eclectic ports are found along the way – myriad souls encountered include JK Huysmans, Sun Ra, Felicien Rops, Madame Blavatsky, Moloch, Manson, the Son of Sam, Saint Mary and that dweller in many an abyss – the almost ubiquitous Aleister Crowley. Although a chapter is devoted to Crowley and Neuberg’s summoning of the demon Choronzon in the Algerian desert, for readers who may feel somewhat overwhelmed by the seemingly universal presence of Magick Uncle Fester in much of occulture literature, there are also many other interesting characters and scenarios encountered within the pages of this book. Other subjects include Atlantis, the alchemy of Fulcanelli, Hekate, folk curses, Viking witchcraft and much more besides.
Sharp’s prose melds the informative and the poetic; although different in subject matter, in spirit it sometimes puts me in mind of the works of the naturalist J.A. Baker. Perhaps more accessible than his previous ‘The English Heretic Collection’ – ‘The Astral Geographic’ retains a targeted market as I suspect that mainstream TV producers may not send out Joanna Lumley or Bradley Walsh on a Saharan sodomy and ‘Satanism’ safari. Both this book and Weird Walk could however prove good ground for offbeat travel shows.
Weird Walk perambulates in a hinterland between Julian Cope’s ‘The Modern Antiquarian’ and Sara Hannant’s ‘Mummers, Maypoles & Milkmaids’ concentrating as it does on the British ritual year and megalithic monuments. It is more about rolling cheese than raising the dead. There is a little crossover with a chapter in The Astral Geographic in covering British standing stone’s relationship with short horror fiction and some Haunted Generation television shows, but Weird Walk focuses more attention on a variety of British sites – both ancient and follies of a more recent era. I particularly enjoyed Weird Walk’s commentary on EF Benson and Blakeney Point. Best remembered for his 1920’s socialite characters Mapp & Lucia, Benson’s supernatural stories have not quite enjoyed the renaissance bestowed upon M.R. James, Machen or Blackwood but are worth some attention. In its accessible psychogeographical approach to combining history, folklore, pop culture and artistic and literary inspiration, Weird Walk would also be of interest to fans of Edward Parnell’s Ghostland.
Weird Walk takes a seasonal approach and accompanies us from the Beltane fires of spring through summer’s Burryman Parade, from autumn’s Stag Dance of Abbot’s Bromley to the winter Wassailing in the company of the strange bone-horse the Mari Lwyd. Taking in many other ritual customs and enigmatic sites it illustrates that for the folk traveller Britain offers a lot of visiting opportunities the world round.
Both The Astral Geographic and Weird Walk bear an Occult Revival-revival aesthetic coupling Art Nouveauesque psychedelic title fonts, loose drawings, sun-bleached photography (Weird Walk particularly has some lovely, evocative shots) and a colour palette recalling the Gay Way primary school books, but both are equally substance as style. As someone once said “Man cannot live on bread alone” … or prana, manna or foyson… so quirkily both books occasionally include stopping off spots where the weary wanderer may partake of sustenance … though perhaps of the liquid victual variety. Whilst The Astral Geographic may point you in the direction of Absinthe, Weird Walk pours you a pint of real ale. They’re quite different books in some ways but are complimentary and provide interesting nuggets of diverse information to both the active and armchair travellers.
The Astral Geographic: The Watkins Guide to the Occult World Andy Sharp Watkins 2023 pb. Illus. index. 294pgs £20.00 ISBN 9781786786739
Weird Walk: Wanderings and Wonderings Through The British Ritual Year Alex Hornsby, James Nicholls, Owen Tromans
Watkins 2023 hb. Illus. refs. Index. 288pgs. £19.99 ISBN 9781786786821
High John the Conqueror, the latest novel by Tariq Goddard – author, founder of Zero Books and Publisher at Repeater Books, is a strange brew – in large part a gritty British police procedural, partfolk horror / urban wyrd, political commentary and psychedelic trip-literature.
Set in Wessex in 2016, the book follows a team of detectives as they investigate a series of teenagers going missing from council estates in a provincial city and pursue a rumour that wealthy individuals are kidnapping the youths as sex-slaves and perhaps even sacrifices for orgiastic rituals. This premise is fed by Goddard’s political reflections as is a factor of numerous Zero and Repeater books. The debate of class divide and exploitation of the poor by the privileged is pertinent to the book’s plot and for the most part, the political message is delivered without preachiness, but I do question whether the prolonged discussion between a police investigator and a wealthy, powerful suspect is a realistic conversation but it does serve a purpose of exposition. Otherwise the book, which is led by a lot of dialogue paints believable characters. One issue I had with it, which may not bother most readers is the names of the police officers. Though I think it’s fine to pay tribute to inspirations in naming characters, for me the nomenclature of the individual coppers was too much. I visualise books strongly, and once a worm has burrowed into my brain I find it difficult to dislodge and as the officers were named after cult musicians – in one scene featuring a number of cops I pictured members of Coil, Psychic TV and the Banshees all dressed up as police officers. It does add to the surreal aspect of the book I guess, but alas for me was difficult to dislodge the image from my mind which distanced me a little from the story.
The combination of neo-noir police procedural and folk horror evokes thoughts of The Wicker Man and David Pinner’s Ritual, and other elements of the book reminded me of the Ben Wheatley films Kill List and IN THE EⱯRTH, but High John the Conqueror is also its own beast. The High John of the title referring to a natural psychoactive substance that only grows at lengthy intervals and when it does demands attention. This powerful drug is deeply entwined with the disappearance of the teens, but is far more strange and sinister than any recreational drug being peddled on the streets and across county lines.
Hallucinatory yet gritty, Goddard’s novel is a genuine portrait of Britain’s shadowy underworld but intensified to a psychogenic peak. Scattered throughout are scratchy, flowing line drawings which have a feel of automatic art to them. As a big appreciator of books featuring illustrations, I approve of this – actually I’d have liked it to feature more drawings, but kudos to the inclusion of book art.
Forests Damned and Furrows Cursed is a new anthology of classic Folk Horror novellas harvested by the author William P. Simmons of Shadow House Publishing. We say ‘Folk Horror’ but all of the contained novellas were written in the late 19th/early 20th Century before the term Folk Horror was widely applied as a sub-genre or mode, therefore all are written with a purity of independence, free from the worry of whether their work conforms to a set idea or ticks all the expected boxes – a problem contemporary writers of Folk Horror may feel they face. So within these covers we are presented with 5 comparatively diverse tales, which still nonetheless should content both the casual and the more rigid readers of folk inspired horror.
The stories featured are ~ Watcher by the Threshold by John Buchan (1902) The Novel of the Black Seal by Arthur Machen (1895) Dionea by Vernon Lee (1890) The Man Whom the Trees Loved by Algernon Blackwood (1912) The Garden at 19 by Edgar Jepson (1910)
Differing from a number of Folk Horror anthologies that have collected short – short stories, Forests Damned gathers those creatures that dwell in the borderlands between short prose and novels – the land of the Novella. Outside of publisher demands (which may be of pragmatic /financial intent rather than creative) which may dictate a set word or page count, my personal belief with writing is that the story should be as long or as short as it takes to tell in the most rewarding manner. The precise amount of detail is required to describe the characters, setting and significant events. – applied to set the pace, to build suspense and either satisfy completely or to non-frustratingly leave the reader wanting more. Just enough detail for the reader to view the scene and unfolding events in their mind’s eye and to immerse in the story and be less conscious of reading a book, if that makes sense? So ideally, not so short as to appear rushed and unsatisfactory, not too long as to bloat and drag with superfluous padding. The stories in this book don’t always completely meet those aims but it is important still that they have been collected and presented again in our time as they are strong interesting stories in their own right and a vital link in the chain for any reader / collector that wishes to build a library and /or knowledge of literary fiction that falls under the umbrella of what is now rather widely referred to as Folk Horror.
Likewise these novellas are of their time which is relevant regarding their pace, style and also with reference to some social-political issues. They come from a time when there was little competition for attention in leisure time – no films, internet, games etc. So they can take their time getting where they are going and can stop to smell the roses in their descriptive manner. So as with all books and tales from different eras, may not be to the taste of all contemporary readers. In his introduction to the collection, Simmons does a good job of putting the works in context and explaining the feral nature of Folk Horror, so no previous experience of reading Folk Horror stories is necessary to enter into the wild lands contained, but it may be useful for those new to the form to read some shorter stories of both Folk Horror and of the era before tackling these long -short stories / short novels. Regarding the social-political issues within some of the tales, attitudes may raise some eyebrows and with fair enough cause; however whether they reflect the opinions specifically of the fictional characters portrayed, the author or the majority of their particular society at that time is not instantly identifiable. The reader can make their own judgement call when reading. Any issues do not overwhelm the tales, mostly they are concerned with traditional gender roles and the occasional opinion regarding foreign nations, but are mentioned purely for context of these tales being creatures of their own time. Such matters may also be of interest to Folk Horror fiction historians in their contemplation not only of tales being told but how they are told.
That overview out of the way, to look now at the individual tales contained and their creators.
John Buchan
The first story featured is The Watcher by the Threshold by John Buchan (first published in 1902). Buchan (1875 – 1940) was a Scottish polymath. In addition to being a fiction writer (his most famous work quite probably being The Thirty Nine Steps – an adventure tale of political intrigue (known more widely for Alfred Hitchcock’s 1935 cinematic adaptation); Buchan was an editor, non-fiction author, Unionist Politician and Governor General of Canada. The Watcher by The Threshold tells of a man living on the Scottish moors whose studies of Justinian and classical philosophy go beyond obsession and finds himself feeling haunted by a devil. The importance of landscape in Folk Horror is well represented in this tale. I have a love of moors yet find them somewhat unsettling and Buchan’s writing sets the scene very well here.
Arthur Machen: Illustration by Andy Paciorek
Next we have The Novel of the Black Seal by Arthur Machen (1863 -1947) (which was first published as part of his 1895 collection The Three Imposters). Machen was a Welsh journalist, author, proto-psychogeographer and mystic – being a member of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn for a while, his personal spirituality though leaned towards Celtic Christianity. The Novel of the Black Seal shares an element of Buchan’s tale which is also evident in a lot of M.R. James’ work that of academic study becoming embroiled in real situations of archeological, anthropological or folkloric horror. In this case case we find explorations of a subterranean site in the Grey Hills of Wales turning up more than expected. The existence and nature of the denizens of a Faerie Otherworld coexisting with our own goes against any Disneyfied Tinkerbell ‘airy-fairy’ conceptions of the ‘Little People’ of folklore and presents us with a forgotten, hidden swarthy, troglodyte race. In being of its time, perhaps the most horrific scene is implied rather than graphically explained. This works to its advantage, for in contemplation of the origins of the conception of the strange servant boy in the tale, I found myself genuinely unsettled. This tale went on to inspire both HP Lovecraft and Robert Howard in their weird fiction writing. It was in connection to the Machen story incidentally, that I thought of the comparatively low incidence of classic tales fitting a Folk Horror vein being adapted to film during this current current Folk Horror revival. Rather than ‘karaoke’ versions of The Wicker Man, it would be good to see more of the old stories brought to the silver screen. This train of thought commuted my mind to the (criminally little-known) film adaption of a collection of Machen tales, Holy Terrors (2018) by Mark Goodall and Julian Butler (see https://folkhorrorrevival.com/2018/01/19/holy-terrors-film-review/ ) and I think that they would be perfect to adapt Forests Damned and Furrows Cursed to film as a portmanteau – an Amicus-anthology style Folk Horror film if you will. Anyway I digress, so on with the book …
Vernon Lee aka Violet Paget
Next up we have Dionea by Vernon Lee. Originally published in 1890, Vernon Lee was actually the pseudonym of Violet Paget (1856 – 1935). Paget was a strong proponent of feminism but was published under a masculine pen-name. The author’s own contemplation and experience of gender matters can offer a further context to the story of Dionea, a foundling child raised in an Italian convent. Dionea does not care for the studies, chores and sewing that the nuns put her too and instead is drawn more to nature. As she gets older, her independence of thought – her perhaps even feral nature puts her at odds with the convent and later beyond those cloistered walls. Dionea’s strength of character and wild free-spirit is even seen to affect the fate of others and she is viewed with both suspicion and superstition. The return of buried paganism is a recurring element through different examples of Folk Horror, which marks Dionea’s place in this book and the Folk Horror canon, and the voice behind it is a refreshing interlude to the male, quite conservative – despite the themes, uttering of the other featured tale-tellers.
Algernon Blackwood: Illustration by Andy Paciorek
Perhaps one of the most evocatively titled of all horror stories follows next, The Man Whom The Trees Loved (1912) by Algernon Blackwood (1869 – 1951). A member of both The Ghost Club and like Machen, The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn; Blackwood is perhaps the biggest name in the book among horror circles. Extremely prodigious and successful in his horror writing career, alas I find issue with The Man Whom the Trees Loved – it’s not that it’s a bad story – it’s a decent enough tale. The problem is that in my opinion, it should be a short story not a novella. There for me is an issue of repetition in the tale – if handled skillfully then a little repeating can build up suspense but I just find too much of it and dallying here. It is surprising as Blackwood knows his craft, so it would’ve been hoped that he did not opt for a ‘less is more’ approach here. As for the tale itself, it is quite poetically beautiful as well as unsettling. A woman becomes extremely concerned with her husband’s obsession for the trees that surround their country abode. It has an underlying mystical and philosophical debate about the sentience of life, (indeed all of the stories featured in this book pose a studious contemplation of the ‘nature’ of both nature and the supernatural) and it is a valuable addition to the Folk Horror bookshelves but I unfortunately cannot help but feel that it would have been a more powerful narrative had Blackwood decided to have it edited down.
Edgar Jepson
Closing the book is The Garden at 19 (1910) by Edgar Jepson (1863 -1948). Jepson, an English writer, is more widely associated to crime and adventure novels ( as well as translating Maurice Leblanc’s French tales of the aristocratic brigand Arsene Lupin into English). One of his wanderings into fantastic territory The Garden at 19 is a mixed bag. Like The Man Whom the Trees Loved, 19 could’ve probably done with being a bit shorter. It also has its eyebrow raising moments in its oddly repeated opinions of German professors and also in its portrayal of girls/women and their societal roles. Otherwise it’s a fair enough tale, reminiscent of Denis Wheatley’s Satanism in suburbia romps. The presence of that old horny deity Pan explains the book cover (featuring a painting by the, alas not familiar enough, Belgian Symbolist painter of the uncanny, Leon Spilliaert) and relates how a young lawyer becomes intrigued both by the strange goings-on in his neighbour’s garden and then by the presence of his neighbour’s niece. The character of the neighbour, Woodfell, is very clearly inspired by the notorious occultist and tabloid scandal-fodder of the time, Aleister Crowley.
The afterword of the book comes in the form of questions, an interesting addition that would perhaps prove useful for book groups, genre-study classes, and academic or personal-interest students of Folk Horror / horror literature. This and the novel approach of presenting novellas rather than shorter fiction makes this book an interesting and valuable addition to folk’s Folk Horror book collection.
Faun by Moonlight: Leon Spillaert (1900)
Forests Damned And Furrows Cursed: A Haunted Heritage of Folk Horror Novellas Edited by William P. Simmons Paperback, 236 pages Published April 26th 2022 by Shadow House Publishing ISBN13 – 798806998614
Upon hearing of the release of Dark Folklore by Mark and Tracey Norman, I was beguiled as to what Chthonic treasures the book would contain, for there is certainly darkness a ‘plenty to be found within the world of folklore. Upon opening the book and casting my eyes over the contents listing of the 5 chapters offering a bewitching array of lore with Fortean interest, the first chapter The Old Hag: Folklore and Sleep Paralysis was of particular personal intrigue to me, having experienced numerous incidents of this bizarre state myself. The Normans provide a very good overview on the subject covering the bases of superstition, psychoanalysis and scientific rationale. Presented are numerous entities associated to the Hag-riding phenomenon aspects of sleep disturbance in world folklore, from the Hungarian Liderc to the Arabian Quarinah and the Alien Greys. The authors put forward balanced and insightful consideration of the subject, without judgement. They explain the medical processes of such unsettling experiences but don’t merely dismiss the entities envisioned rather questioning why a feeling of somnolent physical inertia and laboured breathing (amongst other symptoms) can result in visions of old crones or other strange entities squatting on the sufferers’ chests or dark mysterious figures lingering in the corners of the room. Archetypal consideration is applied here, as is the rich folklore of myriad nocturnal entities that can be found across the world in both developing and more technologically advanced societies. (An unsettling folkloric belief, not mentioned within this book, was told to me by a Filipina associate who claimed that the Batibat, an entity associated to the strange hypnagogic / hypnopompic episodes is believed in her culture to be the ghost of someone who had died in their sleep).
Chapter two deals with The Dark Church and covers wide-reaching examples of association mostly between the Christian church in Britain and superstition and pagan influence. Discussed are foliate head and Sheela-na-gig carvings, St. Mark Eve vigils (whereby observers may see a procession of those destined to die in the following year and other wondrous delights. Here we wander down corpse roads and meet the priests of Devon who reputedly employed rather than denied folk magic. The magician-priests included Reverend Franke Parker who lore declares had the power to shape-shift and had an esoteric library that he was deeply protective of. The peculiar Parson Parker was reportedly once found at rest in a bed surrounded by dead toads.
Folk Ghosts provide the focus of the third chapter and considers the distinction that should be made more in haunt studies between ghosts that exist purely in lore and those reported to have been experienced by verifiable witnesses. Many places are said to be haunted by a phantom stagecoach or phantom black dog for instance, but how many have known contemporary witnesses of the particular phenomenon? ‘Cockstride ghosts’ – the spirits of those destined to perform some impossible or potentially eternal penance for an earthly crime are also given good attention. Weaving rope from grains of sand or emptying large pools with a leaking diminutive vessel are examples of such posthumous burdens that may befall wicked souls.
Following on in Chapter four we are entertained with Urban Legends and contemplation of their history, endurance and evolution from the era of Spring-Heeled Jack through the Edwardian case of the Cottingley Fairy photographs, to the radio and televisual panics of the broadcasts of War of The Worlds and Ghostwatch to the virtual ‘fakelore’ creations taking on a real-world presence and influence in the digital-age such as Slender Man and the Momo Challenge, perfectly showing that folklore is not simply a historical study but a living, developing part of human culture.
Dark Tourism and Legend Tripping provide the basis of the fifth and final chapter. Here, Mark and Tracey turn tour-guide and lead us to some intriguing and odd international locations and contemplate why people may be drawn to visit places of grisly repute, to witness rituals alien to their own cultures or to even re-enact certain strange historical happenings. Included here are Aokighara – the notorious ‘suicide forest’ of Japan, the Black Mausoleum of Edinburgh’s Greyfriars cemetery which bears reported activity by the Mackenzie poltergeist and the ghost tours of the Ararat Lunatic Asylum in Australia. Also covered are the death rites and rituals such as the Torajan Ma’nene funerary customs in South Sulawesi, Indonesia and the Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebrations in Mexico. Quite a lot of lore is surprisingly covered within this relatively thin and rather charming, attractively presented book. Subjects however are frequently given a satisfying amount of considered attention rather than being skimmed over but other examples are mentioned in passing which can whet the reader’s appetite for further research. The allocation of five chapters also works well here, giving the book a tighter focus whilst still treading a lot of ground and providing plenty of scope for possible further volumes in the series, which personally I’d be keen to read.
Following in the footsteps of the Treasury of Folklore: Seas & Rivers: Sirens Selkies and Ghost Ships (Reviewed Here ) folklorists extraordinaire Dee Dee Chainey and Willow Winsham (the masterminds behind the #FolkloreThursday social media phenomenon) take us by the hand now like babes in the wood and lead us … er … into the woods! But fear not, you could find no better guides to alert us to the wonders and the woes of this strange sylvan kingdom.
Within its pages, upon the paper that came from the woods itself, we are introduced to many amazing arboreal creatures and woodland wanderers from forests the world over. Some of them heroes and heroines like Vasilisa the Beautiful, a fair maiden who braved the cold Birch forests of old Russia and encountered one of folk horror’s favourite supernatural witches – the iron-toothed crone, Baba Yaga, and Paul Bunyan, the giant lumberjack of the North American timber lands & his loyal companion the blue-haired moose, Babe. We encounter strange creatures such as the timid Squonk which upon capture would dissolve into nothing in a flood of tears and the human-faced tree dogs of China – the Penghou. We meet gods and demi-gods and elemental spirits of the wild woods – the Leshy, Hamadryads, Herne the Hunter, the Moss People and many many more. We encounter those denizens of dark woods for centuries – the bears and the wolves, yet these bears and wolves may be more than we dreamed and may disturbingly be more like us than we’d dare to imagine. And we hear the lore of the trees themselves from the Dragon’s Blood Trees of Yemen to the ancient funereal Yews of Britain; from the sacred Banyan trees of India to the giant old Cedars of Canada.
The book is illustrated throughout by the charming block-print style illustrations of Joe McLaren. Images both dark and strange but with a quirky humour to them, which will likely appeal to readers of a wide age-range. Again as with the Seas and Rivers volume, some adult subject matter is touched upon but with parents’ own discretion and judgement I could see this book being popular with both themselves and their kids. I know I would have loved these Treasury books as a youngster. Furthermore I remember years ago when I was doing Tree Warden training at an agricultural college one of the tutors asked the class what it is we liked or indeed loved about trees and forests. I had numerous reasons, their role in the environment and natural habitat, their look both as pleasing landscape and for their interesting aesthetic from the point of an artist, their smell, their ambience and I also mentioned their role in folklore. At the end of the class another student approached me and asked if I could recommend any books that featured the folklore of trees and had Dee Dee and Willow’s book been available then I know it would have been top of the list. It is a great introductory book to the topic, yet it is also so diverse and so widely researched that all followers of folklore no matter how seasoned will find something unfamiliar or of further intrigue within this beguiling little book. I myself was rather bemused to encounter Tió de Nadal, within these pages. If unfamiliar with this bizarre Yule Log of Catalan tradition, then I’ll say no more and let you discover this rather odd custom for yourself within this fantastic book. Woodlands & Forests makes an excellent companion both visually and content wise to the Seas & Rivers volume and also Dee Dee’s earlier A Treasury of British Folklore. It would make a great little present for a loved one or for yourself for Halloween or a great stocking filler for Christmas … but maybe not put it in the same stocking as Tió de Nadal !!
Treasury of Folklore: Woodlands & Forests: Wild Gods, World Trees and Werewolves. Dee Dee Chainey & Willow Winsham Batsford. 2021. Hb. Illus. 192pgs.
Folk Horror Revival & Urban Wyrd Project ⨘ 