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What Conan Doyle is to the detective story, James is to the ghost story. These are not horror stories. No gore is to be found, no monsters, no savagery. One can find a subtle horror, a persistent sense that there are things in this world that we have either forgotten or never discovered.
If one has ever engaged in any historical research on the occult (which I have undertaken as an extreme nonbeliever), one will come across several ancient books and manuscripts in the field that were edited by M. R. James. He was not merely the writer of perfect ghost stories; he was an authority in the field of occult beliefs and practices. This concrete grounding accounts for much of the realistic feel to the researches of many of the characters in his stories.
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But I didn't know this as a young man. All I knew was that my father had told me terrifying banshee tales - that his grandfather had told him in Ireland during the forties - and that by chance I discovered 'Madam Crowl's Ghost' in a wet school library one dismal dark afternoon. I read 'Sherry' (if the James afficiandos can refer to MRJ as 'Monty' then .... you get the picture) that afternoon and my life imploded ...... overnight, or rather, over afternoon, I became a devout depressive, marked by a strangely aloof and artistic air. I quoted Wilde, went to Cure concerts before they left London, and wore black eyeliner to compliment my drear Gothic clothing.
Enough about me. The tales of LeFanu are stunning. Everyone loves something because of a basically selfish reason, steeped in sentiment or posture. LeFanu was sublime. He deliberately plotted where Stoker stumbled. Only Aickmann and Machen took up the mantle of provacateur ambiguer as competently as he did. (Joyce doesn't count, though 'The Dead' from 'The Dubliners' comes close.)
I write, and if I could pen a story half as brilliant as 'Carmilla', then I would die ..... now.
Read LeFanu. Trust M.R.James. Ghost stories are not Stephen King gross horror hell raiser tasteless gore fests, they are dream haunted poems, visions of ambigious insight. Close your eyes. Picture a moonlit garden with an avenue of silver trees. At the end, a blue grey statue, a stretching saint reaching for the glitter above. You walk down the avenue, soft grey grass underfoot, running cool fingers through the mossy leaves. Somewhere a stream is gurgling. The moon washes your tired face. Then you look up, and to your horror, the statue has changed! It is facing you. The saint has shifted from his stance, and is slowly clambering down. You look up to his face .... no, you cannot! It is too horrible! His grey lifeless eyes are now emblazoned with volcano hate, boring their way into your very soul ......
And there the story should stop.
Which is why, dear reader, you should always read books by dead people.
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These stories -- honest, funny, moving, exciting -- show the world from a teenager's point of view, and no adult author would be able to get it exactly right the way these stories get it exactly right. I've also found that these stories can be wonderful models and inspiration for other teen writers. These are great works of fiction, but they aren't intimidating, they aren't Great Works of Art that have to be read in a quiet, reverent tone.
I can't imagine anything that would more inspire teens to be writers and readers than excellent stories written by people in the midst of adolescence themselves. This book, and all the books of the American Teen Writer series, belong in every school and home library.
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Trollope presents a dilemma for most readers. On the one hand, he wrote an enormous number of very good novels. On the other hand, he wrote no masterpieces. None of Trollope's books can stand comparison with the best work of Jane Austen, Flaubert, Dickens, George Eliot, Tolstoy, or Dostoevsky. On the other hand, none of those writers wrote anywhere near as many excellent as Trollope did. He may not have been a very great writer, but he was a very good one, and perhaps the most prolific good novelist who ever lived. Conservatively assessing his output, Trollope wrote at least 20 good novels. Trollope may not have been a genius, but he did possess a genius for consistency.
So, what to read? Trollope's wrote two very good series, two other novels that could be considered minor classics, and several other first rate novels. I recommend to friends that they try the Barsetshire novels, and then, if they find themselves hooked, to go on to read the Political series of novels (sometimes called the Palliser novels, which I feel uncomfortable with, since it exaggerates the role of that family in most of the novels). The two "minor classics" are THE WAY WE LIVE NOW and HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. The former is a marvelous portrait of Victorian social life, and the latter is perhaps the finest study of human jealousy since Shakespeare's OTHELLO. BARSETSHIRE TOWERS is, therefore, coupled with THE WARDEN, a magnificent place, and perhaps the best place to enter Trollope's world.
There are many, many reasons to read Trollope. He probably is the great spokesperson for the Victorian Mind. Like most Victorians, he is a bit parochial, with no interest in Europe, and very little interest in the rest of the world. Despite THE AMERICAN SENATOR, he has few American's or colonials in his novels, and close to no foreigners of any type. He is politically liberal in a conservative way, and is focussed almost exclusively on the upper middle class and gentry. He writes a good deal about young men and women needing and hoping to marry, but with a far more complex approach than we find in Jane Austen. His characters are often compelling, with very human problems, subject to morally complex situations that we would not find unfamiliar. Trollope is especially good with female characters, and in his sympathy for and liking of very independent, strong females he is somewhat an exception of the Victorian stereotype.
Anyone wanting to read Trollope, and I heartily believe that anyone who loves Dickens, Austen, Eliot, Hardy, and Thackery will want to, could find no better place to start than with reading the first two books in the Barsetshire Chronicles, beginning first with the rather short THE WARDEN and then progressing to this very, very fun and enjoyable novel.
C.L.R. James wrote this book while he was interned with the newest generation of "Mariners, Renegades, and Castaways" on Ellis Island awaiting deportation. James's fate--that of a foreigner who offers the finest existing interpretation of one of America's greatest books and is still deported--serves as a cautionary tale for our own times. James concludes, "What the writing of this book has taught the writer is the inseparability of great literature and of social life."
Rather than see Ahab and Ishmael as representing respectively "totalitarian" and "American" cultural themes as critics in the 1950's saw it, James offers a vison focused on the Pequod and its crew. A view in which the MARINERS, RENEGADES & CASTAWAYS of the ship were at the mercy of their Captain. In James' interpretaion the Pequod is a factory ship and the crew are the workers. Ahab is no longer a mere sailor but is now illustrative of a "Captain of industry."
I agree with the reviewer from New Haven regarding the peculiar situation James found himself in. The established interpretation of a Cold War allegory was in keeping with the times in the 1950's. If James or Melville himself were writing today, the interpretation on offer here - rather than something to be persecuted for - would be considered far more plausible than the narrow and blinkered view of the 1950's mainstream critics.