How have I missed M.R. James? I love ghost stories, I grew up reading horror, but somehow I’d never even read James’ most famous story, “Whistle and I’ll Come To You, My Lad”. But part of my original plan for TBR Stack was to work my way through the teetering towers of tomes that have made my apartment increasingly unlivable awesome, and I finally got to James! I’m not going in any particular order for this column (that way lies madness) but since I’d just read Colin Winnette’s brand new ghost book, The Job of the Wasp, I figured I’d keep the trend going. Luckily among my many stacks of books is the the 1992 Wordsworth Classics edition of James’ Collected Ghost Stories—a collection I greatly enjoyed.
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Collected Ghost Stories
We all agree that telling ghost stories at Christmas is one of the greatest holiday traditions of all time, right? Imagine my delight when I learned that M. R. James wrote many of his stories explicitly for that tradition, and that he and his circle at Cambridge gathered together to read the stories aloud to each other each Christmas Eve. Fittingly, it was his stories that brought that tradition back, when the BBC began airing A Ghost Story for Christmas in the 1970s, and then again when BBC Four brought the tradition back again in the mid-2000s. James is considered one of the preeminent English ghost story authors, publishing five books of ghost stories between the 1890s and the 1920s. His writing style, especially in the early stories, is a startling mixture of droll Britishness and violent description. For instance, this is the opening to 1904’s “Number 13”:
Among the towns of Jutland, Viborg justly holds a high place. It is the seat of a bishopric; it has a handsome but almost entirely new cathedral, a charming garden, a lake of great beauty, and many storks. Near it is Hald, accounted one of the prettiest things in Denmark; and hard by it is Finderup, where Marsk Stig murdered King Erik Glipping on St. Cecilia’s Day, in the year 1286. Fifty-six blows of square-headed iron maces were traced on Erik’s skull when his tomb was opened in the seventeenth century. But I am not writing a guide book.
I mean, what is that?
James’ tactic is deceptively simple. He begins with a fusty scholar or Lord, and uses his elevated language and droll humor (many, many golf jokes) to establish a sense of mundane if high class British life. Once his reader is settled and comfortable, James introduces an artifact that jolts the nature of reality. In this way his character’s lives are thrown into disorder by a single small object, rather than a more standard ghost story in which an unsuspecting person ends up trapped in a haunted place. James’ hauntings become micro-specific, centered in a flute or a slip of paper rather than infused into a house of a piece of land.
This is where I get tripped up on M.R. James.
What is a ghost story? Most of the ghost stories we grow up with are oral tradition, tales passed down around campfires and during slumber parties. “Ghost stories” are often so rooted in place: spirits lingering in houses where terrible things happened; stretches of road haunted by phantom hitchhikers; hotels with spectral guests; cemeteries that house a town’s dead.
And—to me at least—this is what makes a ghost story a ghost story.
Elizabeth Gaskell’s “The Old Nurse’s Tale,” Amelia B. Edward’s “The Phantom Coach,” and Charles Dickens’ “The Signal-man” (1852, 1864, and 1866 respectively) are all proper ghost stories. And Oscar Wilde had already lovingly satirized the ghost story trappings in his first published story, 1887’s “The Canterville Ghost.” Wilde trots out rattling chains, sudden moaning winds, bloodstains that won’t wash away, and clocks mournfully chiming 1:00 am, all in the service of a story about the spirit of Sir Simon, who soon realizes he’s no match for the brash Americans who’ve moved into his ancestral home.
The Shining is a ghost story. The Amityville Horror? Ghost story. Hell House? The Family Plot? Ringu? The Woman in Black? All ghost stories. “21st Century Ghost” and Poltergeist? Ghost story. “The Specialist’s Hat”? Ghost story. These are all stories in which a violent or traumatic thing happen in a contained site, and the soul or spirit or ectoplasmic impression remained in that site, repeating the actions that led to its death, or wreaking vengeance on any newcomer. Is The Babadook a ghost story? It Follows? No, since both of those are more a manifestation of a particular guilt or societal more: the titular Babadook isn’t the dead husband and father coming back, it’s a monster (and LGBTQIA icon) that seems to spring from the mother’s complex feelings about her child; It Follows features a shambling manifestation of sexual repression/STDs/AIDs. The Exorcist is not a ghost story—nor is The Exorcism of Emily Rose or The Exorcism of Molly Hartley or End of Days or Stigmata, for that matter, because those are all stories about vulnerable young people being possessed by demons who explicitly fit into a Christian framework.
I would argue that many of James’ stories aren’t actually ghost stories. More often, James used his career as a medieval scholar (he was a Don and Provost of Eton College and King’s College, Cambridge—Mark Gatiss made a documentary about James which you can watch here) to add historical details and religious facts that bring the stories to life, but which also render them more ‘tales of the occult’ than ‘ghost stories.’ His first book, Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, played on his day job. Many of his stories are about specters that seem more like avenging demons/angels. “An Uncommon Prayer Book” and “A Warning to the Curious” are both about artifacts that are linked closely to British history, and in each case, disturbing those artifacts seems to call forth an avenging spirit of Britain. In “A Warning to the Curious” the spirit is specifically demanding that the artifact be replaced in its exact resting spot, with the implication being that England’s safety depends on it.
Then there are stories about occultists of various stripes—some living, some revenant—attacking more prosaic folks with spellworks and curses. In “The Ash Tree,” a woman who’s accused of witchcraft curses her accuser, and given how the story unfolds it seems that she did actually traffic in the dark arts. “The Casting of the Runes” follows a hapless academic who runs afoul of a cranky occultist, who then stalks the man, plants a written curse on him, and tracks his movements waiting for it to take effect. And “Lost Hearts” follows the treacherous life of a young orphan who is taken in by a distant cousin… a cousin who has previously cared for two other abandoned children, who each went mysteriously missing.
Meanwhile “The Mezzotint” and “A Haunted Doll’s House” are both about specific items that replay horrifying events for captive audiences—one a print that shifts and changes to depict a crime, the other literally a haunted doll’s house that serves as the setting for a murder.
James’ most famous story, “Whistle and I’ll Come For You My Lad”, hinges on a skeptic finding an antique brass whistle. TL;DR: he whistles, and something does, indeed, come for him. But here again—it isn’t the place that’s haunted. Sure, he finds the whistle in the ruins of an abbey, but he’s staying at a resort that is bounded on one side by the beach and on the other by a golf course. If the young man hadn’t found the whistle, and instead just explored the ruins, he would have been fine. Hell, he might have been okay if he just looked at the whistle and left it where he found it. It’s the act of disturbing the whistle from its place that seems to trigger the horror, because the whistle itself carries the haunting with it.
James seems to see life as trundling along down a narrow track, when a crack in reality allows other, darker elements to creep in. The idea of being “haunted” in James’ stories seems to be that even if you think there’s nothing wrong at first, this other, horrifying reality slides down around you and creates a wall between you and your fellow-men.
It’s interesting to me just how visceral and corporeal his specters are—hands that reach out of books or half-open doors, slithering, ill-defined shapes of either black (“A Warning to the Curious”) or an unsettling white (“Whistle and I’ll Come to You,” “The Uncommon Prayer-Book”), and hairy spider-like creatures that swarm over people’s faces and necks. Nobody gets away with just speaking to a ghost who then politely disappears, or feeling a general sense of unease, oh no: these specters will follow you home, sleep in the room with you, move your stuff around when you aren’t there, and then just jump on you. In multiple stories people are being followed by shadowy creatures—and other people can see them. Train conductors hold doors open for them, maids make up their beds, only for the living protagonists to turn and see nothing.
The other thing that got to me the more I read was that these ghosts don’t seem to follow any rules. They can cross water with no problem. They can inflict physical damage. They also sometimes ignore traditional Western ghost rules about making amends. More like Ringu or Ju-On, the mortal people can replace artifacts and apologize, but that doesn’t always mean that they’re absolved of their supernatural crime.
It’s possible I’ve been overthinking the fine lines of ghost stories. M.R. James’ stories rattled me in the best way, and I’ll definitely think twice before I remove ancient artifacts or dusty tomes the next time I’m exploring an archaic ruin.
Leah Schnelbach knows that as soon as this TBR Stack is defeated, another will rise in its place. Come give her reading suggestions on Twitter!
According to current paranormal lore, spirits and dark energies can be attached to things instead of places. They can sometimes travel distances, and some people, particularly those with some form of mediumistic abilities, are haunted because their ability to see or sense ghosts and other things make them a beacon in the darkness. The primary rule that ghosts seem to follow is that what they believed when alive about death will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Free will as applied to death.
I’ve always loved MR James, and most, if not all, his work is out of copyright so you can find it online for free.
Other authors who are not known for ghost stories but wrote some excellent ones are Arthur Conan Doyle and Henry James.
You should perhaps count your blessings. I first read M R James’ Collected Ghost Stories when I was eleven (what were my parents thinking of leaving it out on a bookshelf for me to find) and was terrified every night for some years afterwards even though I did not at that age understand all the antiquarian detail. They are truly exceptional and have spawned a whole industry of commentators and pasticheurs some of whom are excellent in their own right – the nearest parallel is perhaps the Sherlock Holmes industry. But James was so much more interesting than Conan Doyle – an absolutely first class scholar and academic administrator who produced some of the best ghost stories ever written as a hobby for his friends to enjoy. Incidentally it is interesting that what is probably an account of James’ only direct encounter with a ghost – “A Vignette” – relates to a ghost in a specific location as do two of my favourites – “Wailing Well” and “A Neighbour’s Landmark”. .
Wow, I’ve actually read ‘Lost Hearts’. The description of the two sacrificed children’s ghosts remained with me word for word to this day but I had completely forgotten the title and author. With that as a sample I think I’ll approach the rest of James’ oeuvre with extreme caution.
@1 “Other authors who are not known for ghost stories but wrote some excellent ones are Arthur Conan Doyle and Henry James.”
Also Edith Nesbit; Man-Size in Marble is deservedly well-known, but she rattled me with a more low-key but quietly disturbing tale, “The Shadow”.
Interesting piece. I recently did a talk on MR James and raised the question: ‘What is the difference between a horror story and a ghost story?’. After some fun discussion, the rough conclusion was that it was to do with the tone of the writing and the intention of the author. Basically, horror fiction presents you with the horror face to face, described and provides detailed accounts of things we fear such as feeling physical pain and agony. Ghost fiction, however, is about atmosphere and seeking to achieve the desired result through hint and suggestion with a tendency to avoid too direct descriptions. It is this that MRJ is a master at.
MR James stories are almost always described and anthologised as ghost stories and yet very few ghosts appear. In fact, off the top of my head, only Lost Hearts actually has ghosts and these are capable of interacting with the real world – tearing a nightshirt for example. Instead we get horror motifs such as giant spiders, the walking dead, demons and vampires. But it’s all down to the descriptions. They are sparse and suggestive eg a briefly glimpsed figure is strangely wet looking and seems to be dead for all that it’s climbing a wall. A vampire is described as being all-over hair with eyes and so on. Part of this was a conscious attempt on MRJ’s part to get away from the haunted house motif which had become almost hackneyed by the time he was writing.
Other writers worthy (imho) of attention would be EF Benson, HR Wakefield and Robert Aickman. An excellent introduction to the variety of ghost stories can be found in the, sadly out of print, Fontana Books of Great Ghost Stories. Twenty were published and they pop up on amazon often enough.
I think the inconsistencies probably reflect how seriously M. R. James took his stories – ie, not very. There’s a bit of the schoolboy lurking beneath that polished, donnish prose, and all that schoolboy really wanted to do was to scare the pants off other schoolboys.
I only discovered recently that a sizeable chunk of ‘The Hobbit’ started out as a serial. Like M. R. James, Tolkien had a new chapter ready each Xmas, which would then be read out loud to his kids, presumably in conjunction with all the preceding chapters. I’m guessing as the book got longer and longer, doing so turned into more and more of a chore. The latter half – from the death of Smaug on – was written at the instigation of a publisher who saw the unfinished manuscript.
I envy you your first discovery of MRJ, and I think you’re dead on in your response to him. “Rattled in the best way” is exactly what he wanted his readers to be! As he wrote in the preface to his Collected Ghost Stories, “I am told they have given pleasure of a certain kind.” I have to admit, though, that “Oh, Whistle” never struck me as especially preeminent among James’ stories. For my money, “Casting the Runes” is one of the very best, as well as “Count Magnus,” “A Warning to the Curious,” and “An Episode of Cathedral History.” If you don’t mind pastiches, Steve Duffy writes some first-rate Jamesian stories, which I have enjoyed a lot.