The superficial “meaning” of a lot of traditional spooky stories can often seem quite conservative: “Steer a sober and steady line through life or look what can happen?”. The “meaningless” tale (see Nesbit et al for details) has far more ambiguous politics…though given that the “unknowable” experiences can shatter established world-views there’s definitely a whiff of subversion.

One thing that does strike me though is for a story that has its main character claiming that “you’d have to get rid of your bodies first�, I’m a bit startled by the power that the descriptions of female bodies have.

Indeed. And while Pauline’s (sexual/”vulgar”) body seems to fill space and intrude on Marston’s peace, Rosamund’s earthly body tucked itself discretely away into the corner of Marston’s library (crocheting or whatever). She was all child-like coyness, until she became incorporeal. At which point she became plenty intrusive and plenty erotic!

I don’t know what to make of it.

Nor do any of us it seems!

I keep assuming that the narrator is female – possibly partly because Sinclair is, but also things like that description of Rosamund’s beauty at the beginning seem so not-male. But Marston would hardly tell this story to a female friend. (Then again, it’s hard to imagine him telling a male friend about her hair slapping him in the face either – how close are he and the narrator?)

That throwaway sentence about there being “queer stories going about” makes it seem as if Rosamund is protecting Marston from some real, material danger (as opposed to the spiritual damage caused by having sex with a “lascivious” woman). And then it fizzles out and sex with Pauline is just sex after all and she appears genuinely vulnerable when she comes to him.

One thing that does strike me though is for a story that has its main character claiming that “you’d have to get rid of your bodies first”, I’m a bit startled by the power that the descriptions of female bodies have.

I don’t know what to make of it.

However, at some point the distancing effects are quietly dropped and we are allowed to feel things with the haunted individuals as they happen. In this story that never happens. It starts out like some smoking room story, and it ends like a smoking room story. That may be deliberate, but in the end it feels as cold and impersonal as a newspaper article.

Agreed. And I do think it’s deliberate. I’ve tried to mix it up with the story choices for DT. As I said before, there are plenty of “button pushing” tales out there that are brilliantly effective but I just don’t feel I’ve that much to say about them. Other than describing how they unnerved/touched me.

On the other hand, you could argue that a ghost/uncanny story should (at the very least) manage to unsettle/scare you on some level. This clearly doesn’t. Perhaps that’s a failing. Perhaps not. I’m generally not a fan of “genre” efforts that don’t respect their generic origins. There’s plenty of that about (in cinema etc) and academics often lap it up with a big spoon. Focusing on themes and images and forgetting that the thing might be disingenous, or pretentious, or snotty about its place in an established genre (or just, not very good). Fuck that!

Swamp Thing! Hadn’t thought of that but you’re absolutely right. Although Moore’s version seared itself onto my filthy/mystical brain centres more indelibly.

There’s definitely a “low” carnal physicality vs transcendent spiritual beauty thing going on. And Marston comes across as a prudish wuss for choosing the airy-fairy latter over the fun ‘n’ dirty former!

To me, the problem with the story is that you are always kept at a distance from the story and the characters. Harking back to M R James again, his stories often begin with some nameless narrator (Presumably MRJ)telling us about some visitation in the manner of an academic reporting an unusual tale he has discovered. However, at some point the distancing effects are quietly dropped and we are allowed to feel things with the haunted individuals as they happen. In this story that never happens. It starts out like some smoking room story, and it ends like a smoking room story. That may be deliberate, but in the end it feels as cold and impersonal as a newspaper article.

I think it’s significant that he feels the disturbing presence most strongly in the library – a locus of ambiguous and encoded and subjective human meaning against which “the evidence” is pretty damn small beers.

Re: a hypothetical modern version… I think if it was written today it would be very different. Think Robert Anton Wilson or Alan Moore (and in fact the implied climax of this story reminded me of nothing so much as a particular episode in Swamp Thing: Love & Death – Fústar, you know the one I’m thinking of).

I wonder too about the author. We know Sinclair to be a suffragette moving in some fairly avant garde literary circles so we approach the text in a particular fashion- fair enough. But the story has to speak for itself. It is possible we give Sinclair too much credit for her subtle critique of Victorian conventions. While this ghost offers a form of sexual and spiritual fulfilment that is strange and unusual, she is still the very ‘proper’ wifey who insists on getting her proverbial kit off behind closed doors. It reminds me of a strange inversion on DeMaurier’s Rebecca – sexpot Pauline is the definite invader here. ghostie Rosamund champions family values and would even allow Marston to remarry if he had picked a ‘suitable’ wife. it may be a veiled critique of patriachal systems but it lacks the courage of its convictions

As for the narrator, well he/she seems to be both giving Marston a mild kicking for his complete absence of imagination (and his sober reliance on “evidence”) while simultaneously sympathising with him RE: his rejection of lascivious old nudey Pauline.

Instead it just sort of peters out.

Hardly. Unless you call a bodiless, transcendental soul-orgasm climax “petering out”! But seriously, know what you mean. The EC comics/Tales of the Unexpected type grisly twist is noticeably absent.

As for #2 having a physical encounter with ghostly #1, the language is indeed decidedly strange: “Then she had put out her hands and felt the body. A woman’s body, soft and horrible; her fingers had sunk in the shallow breasts.”

Soft and horrible? Who’s saying the body was “soft and horrible”? Marston? Wife 2? The (presumably male) narrator? Whoever it is, I don’t think it’s Sinclair.

You can imagine that if it was written today it would be in some magazine like FULL HOUSE, would have a title like ‘I SNOGGED A GHOST!’ and end with the husband saying ‘Well, I thought that relations with my wife were over when she died. But now that she’s returned as a ghost my sex-life is better than ever.’

That is scarily (and hilariously) close to the truth!

Just moved your comment over from d’other post. I’ve very mixed feelings too, but, when it comes to such tales, mixed feelings can be good!

I’ve been wanting to do (for example) a Bram Stoker story for a while but there’s a sort of a “Does exactly what it says on the tin” quality to Stoker’s short fiction that makes it hard to feel like saying much about it. Other than, “That was pretty horrible”, or, “That was vaguely spooky”.

This (like the few other Sinclair tales I’ve read) is clearly aiming at something other than simple ghost story functionality! There’s sexual politics dripping from every second sentence, but it’s pretty tough to puzzle out (or at least it is for me) what precisely is being said. Not necessarily a bad thing of course.

The lasciviousness of Pauline would, in the hands of a male writer, seem pretty standard “demonization of female sexuality” alright. In the hands of a suffragette modernist it more than muddies the waters. Though I’m with you on the writhing, worm-like, grasping naked Pauline. It’s a nasty but totally memorable image.

It’s a bit like a very flat, humourless version of Blithe Spirit. There are laughs, but they are of the unintentional kind. When Wife#2 gets clouted in the gob by the ghostly hair it smacks of slapstick. And it may just be me, but when #2 starts feeling the body of the late Mrs Marston, you feel that the latter might turn round and say (rather pointedly) ‘Excuse me, but I don’t believe that we’ve been formally introduced!’

It really needs to be nastier. At the end of the tale the eminent KC is actually better off than he was at the beginning. It’s as if an M R James revenant turned out just to want to buy its victim a drink. You can imagine that if it was written today it would be in some magazine like FULL HOUSE, would have a title like ‘I SNOGGED A GHOST!’ and end with the husband saying ‘Well, I thought that relations with my wife were over when she died. But now that she’s returned as a ghost my sex-life is better than ever.’

mixed feelings about this one. main issue i had was it lacked the creepy factor for me. found ghostie rosamund a bit too pious and ethereal for my liking. an attempt is made to establish her as mysterious and other but ultimately she is more angel of the house than demon under the floorboards.

was surprised too that this was written by a female author given the fairly obvious demonization of female sexuality – lascivious Pauline writhing wormlike on the floor in her lustful advances (quite enjoyed that description though!) – though it did strike me that this might be more of a way of establishing the distance between the views of the author and the narrator&protagonist. After all, their world views are inadaquate in explaining events.

ultimately though, i have to say boo to boring rosamund, blah to insipid edward and nuts to the pathetic pauline.