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Fantasy Commentator, v. 1, issue 5, Winter 1944-1945
Page 81
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FANTASY COMMENTATOR 81 directness and forthright style; but Harvey can afford to dispense with subtlety for his "ghost" is new to literature, and this unique quality wins the reader's interest at once. However, if Harvey were to give the same stylistic treatment to some standard supernatural concept (a vampire, for example) no one would look at his story twice. Thus with Wintle. When he gives us a new supernatural plot, or presents us even with a novel twist of an old one, we can forgive his obviousness. But when, as in "The Voice in the Night" (not to be confused with Hodgson's tale of the same title), a werewolf---and a rather patent one at that---stalks through the pages we are unable to muster much enthusiasm; though Wintle indeed does not tell in so many words the true nature of the creature he describes, the reader certainly is aware of it long before the final page provides the revelation in black and white. This, then, is one fault which mars the author's work exceedingly. Allied to it is another. Wintle too often builds a story upon a minor incident. With a style such as his, it is practically impossible to be successful if this is done. True, M. R. James and R. H. Malden have accomplished the trick more than once, but again it must be borne in mind that subtlety and a meticulous care in presentation alone can attain perfection along such lines. Even E. F. Benson (especially in his More Spook Stories) was frequently unsuccessful in this respect. In Ghost Gleams this criticism may especially be levelled at "The Black Cat" and "The Footsteps on the Stairs." Two minor failings of the author may be mentioned in addition. The first is his inept introduction of humor at inappropriate sections of the narration. (This should perhaps not be held too much against him, for writers of the supernatural who have successfully garnished their work with such light touches are indeed few in number.) The second is Wintle's penchant for presentation of supernatural events which, once the story is completed, are either left unriddled in terms of themselves, or which leave too wide a gap for the reader to bridge unaided. By this I do not mean, of course, a supernatural happening which lacks a natural explanation, but rather an instance paralleling the story "When the Twilight Fell," included in Ghost Gleams. Here, a chance visitor to Mostyn Grange, a mansion dating back to the Tudors, is witness to strange phenomena: lights at night occasionally burn blue; ghostly figures are seen in unused galleries; unseen horsemen are heard in the courtyard in the early hours of the morning; and finally at one window is seen a face, which the visitor recognizes as that of Henry VIII. A book which is being read turns out to be a long series of love-letters, which in themselves provide no further clue; and, though it has been said that the Tudor monarch once visited the Grange, no definite legend shows his connection with the place. And that is all: the mystery of why the phenomena occurred is left completely unresolved by the author. Similarly guilty in this respect are two other tales in this collection: "The Ghost at the 'Blue Dragon'," wherein a spectral doppelganger haunts a chance visitor at an English seaside inn; and "The Watcher in the Mill," which tells of the horrible death that befell an investigator of strange lights that were seen at night in a deserted mill. Such occurrences as these may fit into annals of psychic investigation journals, but as fictional ghost stories they simply will not do. But there are other stories in the book that do not suffer from these defects, and in which Wintle's abilities as the raconteur of eerie tales are easily discernable. "The House on the Cliff" tells of an isolated summer camping lodge that is haunted, and the fate that befalls a vacationer there. At night strange stirrings and scratchings are heard just outside the house, and shadows flicker across the blinds where no shadows could possibly be. When he returns to the house after a short absence the vacationer finds on his writing-paper a sinister footprint, as of a gigantic bird, which appears to have been scorched onto
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FANTASY COMMENTATOR 81 directness and forthright style; but Harvey can afford to dispense with subtlety for his "ghost" is new to literature, and this unique quality wins the reader's interest at once. However, if Harvey were to give the same stylistic treatment to some standard supernatural concept (a vampire, for example) no one would look at his story twice. Thus with Wintle. When he gives us a new supernatural plot, or presents us even with a novel twist of an old one, we can forgive his obviousness. But when, as in "The Voice in the Night" (not to be confused with Hodgson's tale of the same title), a werewolf---and a rather patent one at that---stalks through the pages we are unable to muster much enthusiasm; though Wintle indeed does not tell in so many words the true nature of the creature he describes, the reader certainly is aware of it long before the final page provides the revelation in black and white. This, then, is one fault which mars the author's work exceedingly. Allied to it is another. Wintle too often builds a story upon a minor incident. With a style such as his, it is practically impossible to be successful if this is done. True, M. R. James and R. H. Malden have accomplished the trick more than once, but again it must be borne in mind that subtlety and a meticulous care in presentation alone can attain perfection along such lines. Even E. F. Benson (especially in his More Spook Stories) was frequently unsuccessful in this respect. In Ghost Gleams this criticism may especially be levelled at "The Black Cat" and "The Footsteps on the Stairs." Two minor failings of the author may be mentioned in addition. The first is his inept introduction of humor at inappropriate sections of the narration. (This should perhaps not be held too much against him, for writers of the supernatural who have successfully garnished their work with such light touches are indeed few in number.) The second is Wintle's penchant for presentation of supernatural events which, once the story is completed, are either left unriddled in terms of themselves, or which leave too wide a gap for the reader to bridge unaided. By this I do not mean, of course, a supernatural happening which lacks a natural explanation, but rather an instance paralleling the story "When the Twilight Fell," included in Ghost Gleams. Here, a chance visitor to Mostyn Grange, a mansion dating back to the Tudors, is witness to strange phenomena: lights at night occasionally burn blue; ghostly figures are seen in unused galleries; unseen horsemen are heard in the courtyard in the early hours of the morning; and finally at one window is seen a face, which the visitor recognizes as that of Henry VIII. A book which is being read turns out to be a long series of love-letters, which in themselves provide no further clue; and, though it has been said that the Tudor monarch once visited the Grange, no definite legend shows his connection with the place. And that is all: the mystery of why the phenomena occurred is left completely unresolved by the author. Similarly guilty in this respect are two other tales in this collection: "The Ghost at the 'Blue Dragon'," wherein a spectral doppelganger haunts a chance visitor at an English seaside inn; and "The Watcher in the Mill," which tells of the horrible death that befell an investigator of strange lights that were seen at night in a deserted mill. Such occurrences as these may fit into annals of psychic investigation journals, but as fictional ghost stories they simply will not do. But there are other stories in the book that do not suffer from these defects, and in which Wintle's abilities as the raconteur of eerie tales are easily discernable. "The House on the Cliff" tells of an isolated summer camping lodge that is haunted, and the fate that befalls a vacationer there. At night strange stirrings and scratchings are heard just outside the house, and shadows flicker across the blinds where no shadows could possibly be. When he returns to the house after a short absence the vacationer finds on his writing-paper a sinister footprint, as of a gigantic bird, which appears to have been scorched onto
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