I say:

Come, dear friends. Come and pull your chairs, stools and (noncombustible) beanbags closer to our fire – for tonight we will have much need of its warmth.

But wait! Was that a gnarled face I saw flash at the window pane? Listen! Can you hear a distant (but heavy) panting?

Frightened yet? I didn't think so. But you will be. You will be…

*Cough*…By all that, of course, I mean hello and thanks for showing up. The fact that you're reading these words on this bleak Monday night (a night heavily pregnant with menace) means that you've foolishly joined the accursed thing we like to call – The Dreadful Thoughts Story Club. Sinéad and I (your hosts) bid you welcome.

Last Wednesday we set the group its homework for today, in the shape of M. R. James' fantastically creepy "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad".

Now let's uncork those bottles of blood-red wine, light a few candles, steel our ragged nerves, and get this party started. Over to you Sinéad.

Sinéad says:

My unswerving grá for the ghost story goes back to when I was probably too young to be reading them. It was on my parents' book shelf that I discovered a cache of Alfred Hitchcock-edited ghost story collections. One was Bar The Doors, another, with a fantastically eerie/trippy cover was Ghostly Gallery. Next to those were several books linked by subject and geography: Irish/Scottish/English Tales of Terror full of inexplicable happenings in small towns and castles, of banshees, corpses and witches.

Why do we love scary stories? Perhaps because of what Edith Wharton called their "thermometrical quality". By which she meant "if it sends a cold shiver down one's spine, it has done its job and done it well". As a huge fan of the short story in its broadest sense, I love that so many writers you wouldn't expect to have written ghost stories, have attempted a spooky tale. Writers like Paul Bowles, Elizabeth Bowen, A. S. Byatt, Somerset Maugham, Nadine Gordimer, Graham Greene, V. S. Pritchett, Isaac Bashevis Singer, and Fay Weldon. But we start our first Dreadful Thoughts discussion with the undisputed champion of the supernatural story: M.R. James. I look forward to hearing everyone's thoughts and suggestions for upcoming tales to discuss.

Me again:

Just to re-emphasise – the club is intended as a pace for informal conversation/discussion about selected short horror tales.

It's all about interaction so please don't hesitate to pop any and every casual/random/bonkers thought you have about tonight's story into the comments section below.

This is (we promise)Note: Promise not legally binding! a social and friendly environment where the only thing you need fear is a nocturnal visit from an entity whose face is composed of crumpled linen. Aaaaarrrghh!

The Dreadful Thoughts project begins (like a cauldron of hot blood) to bubble and fizz most satisfactorily – with my comrade Sinéad rallying the troops over at The Sigla Blog.

For the first of the reborn (Hallelujah!) Story Club's homework assignments we're returning to the previously discussed (though not discussed much) M. R. James. Given that James is probably deserving of a club devoted exclusively to his supernatural tales – this is not remotely a bad thing.

Sinéad's choice of story is one of his very best/creepiest – the frequently anthologised "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" (1904). Links to online texts are given below.

That, then, is your assignment Dreadful Thinkers (or should that be Thought-ers?). You have until this coming Monday (the 10th) to read and ponder it. Return here at 8.00 p.m. on that date when a shiny new post for all related chitter and chatter will be waiting for you.

It'd be great if all interested parties could be online simultaneously, but (as Sinéad suggests) "if you can’t make the designated time, you can always post your thoughts afterward". There's no time limit on how long the discussion can run for (the comments section will remain ever open).

Now but one question remains unanswered: What's a good (reasonably priced) red wine to accompany talk of g-g-ghosts and ghost stories?

Story: "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" (pdf), (html)

Meeting: Monday, March 10, 8.00 p.m. (GMT).

P.S. By the way, the new issue of The Irish Book Review features my not entirely complimentary take on Roddy Doyle's The Deportees.

The path by which I came to know and (greatly) enjoy M. R. James was a rather long and meandering one. Many years ago (and late one night) while my brother and I idly flipped through the channels we happened to stumble across Jacques Tourneur's wonderful Night of the Demon (1957).¹

Within minutes it had its hooks in us and we watched (with growing delight) till the credits rolled. In the years that followed we'd occasionally reminisce fondly about what the brother had taken to calling, "the devil on the bicycle" film – this being a reference to the "squeaky bike" noise that presaged the demon's appearance. After one such conversation I girded my loins, muttered "Right!", and set about doing a bit of digging (no easy feat in those dark pre-internet, or "printernet", days).

The search led me back to the 1940s and the marvellously restrained (but perverse) films Tourneur had made for Val Lewton (one of cinema horror's most idiosyncratic voices). Discovering Lewton, and watching (for the first time) the likes of Cat People, I Walked with a Zombie, The Seventh Victim and The Body Snatcher, are dark pleasures I won't forget in a hurry.

But I digress. Let us cut to the chase and skip forward a few more years to the glorious age of DVD. Night/Curse of the Demon has just been released on that format and there I sit watching the Spinal Tap-tastic opening sequence in all its Stone Henge-y glory.

A booming voice intones:

"It has been written since the beginning of time, even unto these ancient stones, that evil, supernatural creatures exist – in a world of darkness"

And we're off and away, but not before giving credit where credit's due:

I'd had a second-hand copy of James' collected ghost stories gathering dust (or ectoplasm) on my shelves for quite a while but had never done much more than a bit of dipping in and out. The above reminder spurred me on to have a determined crack at it/them and very grateful I am for the needed kick in the arse.

While "Casting The Runes", the second tale for our Dreadful Thoughts Story Club, is not one of James' most chilling ("Oh Whistle, and I'll Come to you my Lad" probably freaks me out more than any other), it does showcase some classic 'Jamesian' themes, features, and flourishes.

1) The sense of being "pursued" by an inexplicable, indescribable "thing". The feeling that, through the protagonist's greed, negligence, folly, or simple bad luck, a "thing" has noticed and taken an interest in him/her (it's nearly always "him").

2) The postponed appearance/revelation of the "horror". The excruciating sense of expectation and terrible anxiety about what is to come. Critics of James might see his "punchlines" as anticlimactic, but the pleasure is all in the (tension-filled) anticipation.

3) The ambiguity and shapelessness of the "horror". Impressions of what was seen, dreamt or felt are always fleeting, hazy and hard to keep in focus. Think Dunning's encounter with the man handing out leaflets…

He looked in passing at the giver but the impression he got was so unclear that, however much he tried to reckon it up subsequently, nothing would come.

…or his growing sense of anxiety…

It seemed to him that something ill-defined and impalpable had stepped in between him and his fellow-men – had taken him in charge, as it were.

I'll leave you (for now) with these well-known lines from Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" – which Harrington received (scribbled on a woodcut) shortly before his demise. A more perfect compliment to "Jamesian" horror it'd be very hard to find.

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

Let the discussion begin and flow. Talk about the story. Talk about the film. Talk about whatever in hell's nine circles you feel like.

1. Released, minus 13 minutes, as Curse of the Demon in the US. [back]