MR James – { feuilleton }

Lynd Ward’s Haunted Omnibus

“The Haunted Omnibus” is a title that suggests some form of public transport filled with spooks, but all the spectres here are lodged in the pages of a story collection from 1937, edited by Alexander Laing and later reprinted in a truncated edition as Great Ghost Stories of the World. Both books were collections for American readers, with at least half the stories in The Haunted Omnibus originating in Europe. Many of the selections feature no ghosts at all; “weird tales” would be a better descriptor for any collection that includes entries as diverse as Guy de Maupassant’s The Horla, Arthur Machen’s The White People, Algernon Blackwood’s The Wendigo and an extract from Beowulf.

Grendel aside, if you’re familiar with 20th-century weird fiction there are few surprises, the main attraction is Lynd Ward’s copious illustrations which, for the longer stories, run to two illustrations a piece: a title vignette and a full page. With 42 stories in total that’s a lot of artwork; what you see here is a necessary selection. The ISFDB page for the book links to a PDF scan of the entire collection if you’d like to see how well the illustrations suit the stories; alternatively, this old blog post has nearly all of Ward’s interior illustrations. Laing’s collection wasn’t Ward’s first engagement with horror, his superb edition of Frankenstein was published in 1934. This was followed by covers and a frontispiece for two of Alexander Laing’s novels, The Cadaver of Gideon Wyck (1934) and The Motives of Nicholas Holtz, Being the Weird Tale of the Ironville Virus (1936), which no doubt led in turn to The Haunted Omnibus. Ward’s Frankenstein illustrations are all wood engravings, a medium at which he excelled, and one which gives his drawings a precise definition that’s lacking in the story collection. I can’t say for sure what medium he used here but they look like lithograph drawings. The textural roughness is useful for conveying a nebulous atmosphere but Ward’s predilection for Expressionist distortion makes some of his depictions difficult to read at first glance. On the plus side it’s good to see how he deals with something like The White People which was being reprinted for the first time outside Machen’s own The House of Souls collection. This makes Ward the first illustrator of the story, as he was with The Wendigo and (I’m guessing) several more of these pieces.

(Note: At the time of writing ISFDB is suffering problems with bots overloading its server resources but the PDF link directs to Alexander Laing’s entry on this page.)

The Half-Pint Flask by DuBose Heyward.

The Treasure of Abbot Thomas by MR James.

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Ghosts on the Cam

Presenting my latest cover illustration for Swan River Press, and another story collection edited by Robert Lloyd Parry:

Ghosts on the Cam is the third in a series of linked anthologies. Ghosts of the Chit-Chat (2020) collected supernatural tales by members of the Cambridge University Chit-Chat Club, of which MR James was a leading light. Friends and Spectres (2024) looked more widely at works by MRJ’s friends outside the club. In the present volume the authors’ personal connections with MRJ are less strong, though his literary influence is just as powerfully felt. But what really binds the tales collected together here is the town of Cambridge itself, with its libraries and chapels and echoing cloisters, its murky river and misty streets. Many of the authors studied at Cambridge; several worked there; two were born there. In a series of introductory essays Robert Lloyd Parry looks at how and why a small market town on the edge of the Fens has produced so many writers of the supernatural.

A photochrom print from 1905.

As with the cover wrap for Friends and Spectres, we’re out in Cambridge at night, only this time the scene is a distinctly chilly one. The Cam is the river that runs through Cambridge, so a view of the river itself seemed unavoidable, especially when it’s crossed by the elegant Bridge of Sighs which connects two of the buildings of St John’s College. The name of the bridge derives from the Ponte dei Sospiri in Venice, a more appropriate borrowing than when applied to the Hertford Bridge in Oxford which also bears the name Bridge of Sighs even though it spans a narrow road. The bridge over the Cam was built in 1831, and is especially attractive for its Gothic styling which matches the college buildings while making the structure seem much older than it is. The bridge also benefits from having been built parallel to an older bridge close by, the so-called Kitchen Bridge (or St John’s Bridge), which has provided a platform for numerous photographers to capture the Bridge of Sighs from the middle of the river.

The abundance of photo reference was certainly useful but cameras can generate unforeseen problems when you’re trying to create a single extended view of a place which has only ever been photographed as isolated details. Most of the photos of the area concentrate either on the bridges or the mass of college buildings which are enclosed by a wall pierced by Gothic windows. David Hockney used to say that photographs never show you things the way they are, by which he meant that they don’t show you the world as it appears to our eyes: photo views are cropped more narrowly than our field of vision, and lenses of all kinds distort perspectives. Hockney’s dissatisfaction with photography led him to create his mosaic views of people or places constructed from multiple overlapping photographs. I had to do something similar (albeit much more precise) to achieve this view of the Bridge of Sighs which is wider and deeper than anything you’d be able to capture with a camera. The older photos of the bridge revealed that the group of trees by the bank have been pruned back several times, while the river wall had gone in the opposite direction, having once been overgrown with ivy. Since all the stories are set in the past I’ve restored some of these earlier appearances although the buildings themselves have changed very little since the bridge was built.

That’s a lot of words about architecture for a book which is really concerned with the supernatural. There is a ghost in the widescreen picture if you look carefully, possibly two ghosts. As with Friends and Spectres I leave it to the viewer to decide about the second figure.

Ghosts on the Cam will be published in December, and is available for pre-order here.

Previously on { feuilleton }
• Friends and Spectres
• Ghosts of the Chit-Chat

Friends and Spectres

Presenting my latest cover illustration for Swan River Press, and another story collection edited by Robert Lloyd Parry:

Friends and Spectres is a companion volume to Ghosts of the Chit-Chat (2020), an anthology of ghost stories by authors who had been members of the Cambridge University Chit-Chat Club along with M. R. James. Here the associations with MRJ are less formal, but stronger and more enduring: for it is the bond of genuine friendship that ties these writers to him.

The majority of pieces here were originally published under pseudonyms, and over half appeared first in amateur magazines or local newspapers. All deal with the supernatural, and several of the stories are themselves spectres—or more properly “revenants”, only now re-emerging into the light after decades of oblivion. There are rediscoveries here of “lost” tales by Arthur Reed Ropes, E. G. Swain, and the enigmatic “B.”

My cover for the earlier volume showed an imaginary interior for one of the meetings of the Chit-Chat Club where James first read his own ghost stories. The new cover shows a more accurate exterior view of the grounds outside the King’s College Chapel. Given the quantity of pictorial reference I thought this might be relatively easy to do but I had a problem finding a view that matched the one I had in mind, a twilight view of the west end of the chapel seen front-on rather than at a sharp angle. Views of the chapel from the banks of the river have been standing as an emblem of the university itself for a very long time but the majority of these are angled views. My solution was to work from a collage of three different reference photos in order to have enough drawing to fill out the spread of the jacket.

Friends and Spectres is another of Swan River’s small hardbacks which in this case is limited to 500 copies. Given the following that Mr Parry has accumulated via his readings of James’ stories I imagine this one will go quickly, so anyone interested is advised to pre-order now.

Previously on { feuilleton }
• Ghosts of the Chit-Chat

Weekend links 643

Freundschaftsfoto (1964) by Jürgen Wittdorf.

• “It’s truly astonishing how Laswell collided with vastly divergent musicians and genres while somehow still representing complementary musical spheres.” Yes, indeed. Mixes of the week: Bill Laswell Research Institute: Vol I & II, two 90-minute collections at Aquarium Drunkard dedicated to the career of the indefatigable musician/producer/catalyst.

• “These pieces are created using custom developed software and laser specialised machines resulting in highly detailed laser cut works on layered paper with some works comprising over a thousand individual parts.” Works in paper at Studio Ibbini.

• “The visual history of polyhedra is littered with false starts, poignant failures, and allegories unable to convey the weight of their subject matter.” Noam Andrews explores the history of rendering polyhedral objects in art.

• “When it came to homosexuality, the east was as bourgeois as the west.” Homoerotic art from the communist era by Jürgen Wittdorf (1932–2018) receives a reappraisal.

• More MR James: All of James’ ghost stories in a single volume at Standard Ebooks, the home of free, high-quality, public-domain texts.

• More mixes: A mix for The Wire by NikNak, and XLR8R Podcast 769 by The Sun Ra Arkestra.

• At Spoon & Tamago: Tracing the history of railways in Japan through art.

• At Dennis Cooper’s: Marie Menken Day.

• Angeline Morrison‘s favourite albums.

• Ghost Train (1961) by Virgil Holmes | Ghost Train (1961) by Electro-Tones | Ghost Train (1962) by The Partners

Painted devils

Alright, these devils are inked rather than painted, but the phrase is a memorable one from Macbeth which was also used by Robert Aickman as a title for one of his story collections.

The devils in question are the work of Thomas Bewick (1753–1858), an English engraver referred to twice in Casting the Runes by MR James. I was reminded of this recently after I’d watched the excellent film adaptation, Night of the Demon, and decided to reacquaint myself with its origin. In James’ story, Karswell, a vengeful occultist with a vague resemblance to Aleister Crowley, torments a man he’s cursed by reminding him of the escalating supernatural threat and its potentially fatal outcome. One of the warnings is as follows:

…two things came for him by post during those weeks, both with a London postmark, and addressed in a commercial hand. One was a woodcut of Bewick’s, roughly torn out of the page: one which shows a moonlit road and a man walking along it, followed by an awful demon creature. Under it were written the lines out of the “Ancient Mariner” (which I suppose the cut illustrates) about one who, having once looked round—
walks on,

And turns no more his head,
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

The Coleridge quote makes it into the film but there’s no mention of the woodcut, although we do see some other engravings of medieval devils. (Likewise, the ITV Playhouse adaptation from 1979 includes the quote but omits the woodcut.) Since the quote is a genuine one I was curious to know whether the Bewick picture also existed. Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be the case. I’m equivocating, as usual, because I’m not entirely certain, but in an article from 2006 Tom Lubbock had this to say about Bewick and James:

Like Borges, James delights in the fictional but plausible work of literature. In Casting the Runes, he also contrives a fictional work of art. Though a contemporary of Coleridge, the engraver Thomas Bewick never made any woodcuts illustrating The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, nor do any of his works quite correspond to the one described in this passage. Still, it’s a good fake. Many of Bewick’s woodcuts have travellers. Some of them have moonlight and demons, too. You can see what James had in mind.

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