Hugh Lamb - Return From The Grave

[dem]

Hugh Lamb (ed.) - Return From The Grave (W. H. Allen, 1976)

Foreword - Hugh Lamb

W. L. George - Waxworks
H. R. Wakefield - Ingredient X
Arthur Porges - In The Tomb
R. Murray Gilchrist - Roxana Runs Lunatick
Alice Perrin - The Sistrum
August Derleth - The Coffin Of Lissa
A. C. Benson - The Slype House
R. H. Benson - The Watcher
Rosemary Timperley - The Other Woman
Oswell Blakeston - Snow Time
L. A. Lewis - The Tower Of Moab
Maurice Level - Blue Eyes
Ramsey Campbell - In The Shadows
Edgar Allan Poe - Some Words With A Mummy
John Blackburn - Dad
Eddy C. Bertin - Composed Of Cobwebs
Frederick Cowles - Death In The Well
Warden Ledge - The Legion Of Evil
Robert Haining - The Wall
Eleanor Scott - At Simmel Acres Farm

includes:

W. L. George - Waxworks: East End docklands. Henry Badger and girlfriend Ivy take shelter from the rain at Mrs. Groby's wax emporium while taking a tour of 'the strange sights of London.' The chamber of horrors boasts Crippen, Catherine Wilson the poisoner, Charles Peace and Gouffe the bailiff who "had been carved into pieces and packed in a trunk" and ... the corpse of old Mrs. Groby who's been murdered for the day's takings ...

Oswell Blakeston - Snow Time: Switzerland. A young English boy, bullied by his nurse, scoops his sago pudding into a cigarette box and hides it in a cupboard only to be tormented by it in a nightmare: "The eggs, the nasty horrid eggs had hatched! Long white things were crawling towards the bed, waving their sightless heads to get the direction where they sensed the small boy was lying, then worming their way forward ..."

Maurice Level - Blue Eyes: A prostitute keeps her promise to lay flowers on her sweetheart's grave on All Saints Day, he having been executed for murder. Wan and wasted, she leaves her sickbed and eventually finds a client. She arrives at the cemetery just as it is about to close, but manages to persuade the warden to allow her to lay her bouquet. Only when she returns to the brothel does she learn the identity of her customer ...

Arthur Porges - In The Tomb:'The Professor', recently released from prison, enlists Bull to break into the vault containing the remains of Ruhig who was buried wearing his priceless jewels. In life Ruhig was feared as "the man who never slept" and ruled with an iron hand. To pass the time the Prof brags to Bull about a Polish girl he ruined, blissfully unaware that she was the man's sister. Bull collapses the tunnel on him. Ruhig lives up to his reputation.

Frederick Cowles - Death In The Well: How Professor Rutter of St. Emeran's College, Cambridge met his death in Austrian Tyrol, 1929, as narrated by his youthful assistant, John Evans.
Despite the pleas of the custodian of St. Dichul's Monastery, Rutter disinters the corpse of a long dead - but strangely well preserved - black magician to discover that the key to a treasure trove is sat in the mouth of the severed head. The Professor descends the well unaware that he's being 'watched' the while by a headless monk in a black robe ...

John Blackburn - Dad: Dad was a first division footballer, cross-country runner and all-round brilliant sportsman. His son was born with one leg, the other terminating in a stump just below the waist. Throughout his life the son is tormented by the sight of his fathers medals and trophies which are kept in a state of polished perfection.

When Dad dies - he either fell or was pushed under a bus by his offspring and failed to survive the operation to amputate his legs - his son gloatingly locks away all the silverware and hacks down the tree the old man used to climb.

But the old man returns.

In the guise of a surgeon.

Robert Haining - The Wall: A man wakes to find himself bricked into his flat in a high rise block. At first he suspects an elaborate practical joke but soon learns otherwise. Days pass and somehow the windows too are bricked. He gradually becomes aware of a presence. Somebody has also readied a noose.

Warden Ledge - Legion Of Evil: "My God! 'Gunner', they're killing for the sake of killing." When magistrate Jack Bairdsly evicts the old hag 'Madge', a reputed witch, from her hovel in Long Woods, she wreaks bloody vengeance with the help of an army of blood-lusting ... stoats. First they attack the stable and then - with Jack, his brother-in-law, the grooms and all the horses down - they move on to the house, where Mrs. Bairdsley is sleeping ...

Like Derleth's torture tale The Coffin Of Lissa (described elsewhere), this one is revived from the Not At Night series I'm always boring everyone about.

[Calenture]

I've been reading this amazing flood of anthology reviews that seems to be appearing before most of us are awake (OK, before I am). A lot of them seem to be new additions.

Looking down the titles in this anthology, the only two stories I know I have, are those by Poe and Gilchrist.

Roxana Runs Lunatick is included in the Gilchrist collection A Night on the Moor. I tried writing up this very short piece before, but it's so antiquated in style I find the details almost incomprehensible - the outline is simple enough, though.

"My lord's cast-off doxy" spitefully sends a journal to his lordship detailing his wife, Roxana's, unfaithfulness, and he "devises a plot worthy of Satan himself."

Confusingly, her lover Hyperion also accuses her of unfaithfulness in a note. But he arranges a tryst for the next night. When she sleeps, she keeps his note in a silk bag hung between her breasts; but her husband steals it and reads it while she sleeps.

The night of the tryst, her husband locks her in a room next to the place of the intended lovers' meeting. Then he takes his 'death-hounds' and goes to the trysting place.

"Roxana could not know what happened in the darkness. The agony of the man whose every vestige of clothes was torn away, and whose white flesh gaped bloodily, was hidden from her by the seven feet of masonry that parted them as he leaped madly into the courtyard."

When my lord returns to find Roxana, she isn't there. She had climbed to the gallery in the dark.

"In one corner soft delicious things like nets of gossamer fell on his fingers. He stooped to the floor, and touched more of them. Above was a sound of tearing, but no panting nor indrawing of breath. Another web fluttered past his face; his lips began to quiver. It was Roxana's hair."

Gods, I love Gilchrist's writing!

[dem]

calenture said:

I've been reading this amazing flood of anthology reviews that seems to be appearing before most of us are awake

Bit of a mixture, Rog. Some new, some old, some revamped, all vacuous. As it happens, midweek and it will be six months since we moved for the old board. Vault Mk.II is fleshing out pretty well now, don't you think?

Hugh Lamb has to take much of the credit for bringing Gilchrist and Frederick Cowles - to name but two - back into the public eye, and his collections from this period are a real treasure.

[Calenture]

admin said:

Bit of a mixture, Rog. Some new, some old, some revamped, all vacuous. As it happens, midweek and it will be six months since we moved for the old board. Vault Mk.II is fleshing out pretty well now, don't you think?

I always get a buzz from reading the reviews here because they give me an idea what a story's about and some hint whether or not I'll like it myself. I think the new board's working out great - and the input from new members keeps everything fresh.

Yeah, I wasn't sure whether all the reviews were new or not. There's a lot of stuff I haven't remembered, so it's all been welcome!

Hugh Lamb: So far I've only ever tracked down his two Star Horror anthologies, and my reviews of those are examples of what I mean when I say I used to leave out too much detail writing stuff up. Nugent Barker's One, Two, Buckle My Shoe is unforgettable and very visual, so I'd like to do better justice to that one sometime. Mind you, I'm almost happy with what I wrote about Bassett Morgan's Laocoon. I must see if there's any PD fiction of hers online, as that's the only one I have by her!

The Eddy C Bertin story has a brilliant title which would have put it on my first-to-read list if here: Composed of Cobwebs. Could the story live up to the title?

[dem]

R. H. Benson - The Watcher. The narrator is astonished when his companion the priest bursts into tears at the sight of a dead mouse on the path. It stems from an incident in his childhood when he shot a thrush out of sheer anger and cruelty and saw a terrible face leering at him in appreciation from the rhododendron bush.

August Derleth - The Coffin Of Lissa: Gruesome tale of torture at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition. The narrator is placed in the titular contraption. Rats gnaw his hands. The lid slowly descends ...

Eddy C. Bertin - Composed Of Cobwebs: Some years ago, Allan, a seriously frustrated office worker, had been responsible for the suicide of Marciella, the only woman he'd ever loved, and the death of her boyfriend when he overturned the car while driving them home, drunk, in the fog. Now he roams the streets, desperate for an old friend to talk to, but each house he calls at is empty. He comes to believe the entire town is dead, and that the slug-like shadows which have recently haunted him will destroy him if he's left alone. When a friendly policeman refuses to arrest him but tells him to go home and sleep it off, Allan snaps.

Memo to road-workers. Don't leave a pick-axe hanging around where some fool madman can grab it in an emergency ...

L. A. Lewis - The Tower Of Moab: "A veritable flock of ghoulish wraiths whirling about a young girl who stood on the kerb, wearing on her face a look of desperation that spoke of private tragedy ... She uttered a ghastly, sobbing scream and hurled herself with a kind of boneless wriggle under the wheels of a lorry."

A salesman, down on his luck, is fascinated by a huge yellow structure began by a religious cult eighty years earlier as their answer to the Tower of Babel. Fascinated and at a loose end, he jacks in his job and takes a room at the local inn where he can drink himself insensible while investigating the tower. As he sinks further into Whiskey oblivion, he becomes aware of the Devils and Angels flitting about the top of the column until the latter descend on the unwitting public en masse, tormenting them with their sins. Eventually his own demons appear and he's taken away to a lunatic asylum.

[monker]

Do you have the review of the Barker story online anywhere, Cal?

I'm interested to see if I get a picture of how I remember it. It's certainly a favourite of mine but it's the kind of story that plays on the mind of the reader. It's all implicit. I sometimes wonder if certain stories are sheer flukes or whether the author knew exactly the effect he/she was going to get. It should have made Pelan's 'Centuries Best' list in my opinion.

[oatcakeredux]

The Lewis story is one of my favourite horror short stories, full-stop. For me, it's the moment very near the end that really creeps me out, when the narrator - finally relaxed in his padded cell - notices a thin yellow line rising up into the sky, and realises that the Tower of Moab is still growing. The things that flap around it seem almost anti-climactic by comparison. It's a fine piece of Lovecraft-style cosmic horror.

For some reason, I was sure that the Richard Matheson tale with which this volume shares its title was also included. Was it, or is my ageing memory not quite what it once was?

[dem]

i just checked and no sign of the Richard Matheson story in this anthology, i'm afraid.

L. A Lewis has a small but enthusiastic far club on here. Tales Of The Grotesque is a work of insane genius! it's to Hugh's great credit that he resurrected so many neglected masters.

[oatcakeredux]

Thanks, demonik - it turns out that I was wrong about that tale, anyway! It's in fact called "Back From The Grave", and was written by Robert Silverberg, not Richard Matheson. It's in one of the Fontana Horror Stories collections, as this marvellous board has just informed me. What was I thinking?

[dem]

Alice Perrin - The Sistrum: For five years, since the death of her parents, Lydia Wayte, 24, has been installed as companion and skivvy to her wealthy Aunt Sarah. Miss Wayte's passion is for rummaging in Curiosity Shops and the gloomy house on Kennington Road is now cluttered wall-to-ceiling with the junk she's accumulated. A particular favourite haunt is Mr. Fiske's, though you'd not know it from her typically obnoxious manner toward the proprietor. It really is time he put one over on the terrible old battleaxe.

Aunt Sarah, with Lydia in tow, is rummaging in Fiske's when she spots an unusual African relic, intricately carved, with the look of a hollowed-out ivory mace. Fiske assures her that it's an authentic Sistrum, as once belonged to His Majesty, the King of Benin, and it came into his possession via General Forest's widow, recently deceased. He volunteers no information as to the Sistrum's purpose.

Miss Wayte wants to know more. Wasn't Lydia once engaged to the previous owner's son, Captain Forest? Lydia was so hoping she'd not bring that up, but the old girl emotionally blackmails her into writing a humiliating letter requesting information on the Sistrum.

The Sistrum is hung in Lydia's room. That night she endures the most vivid nightmare, a man slowly tortured to death by tribesmen. Her screams wake the entire household. Miss Wayte bawls her out for making such a fuss and takes the relic to her own bed chamber.

Captain Forest arrives next morning to tell them everything he knows about the Sistrum ...

Eleanor Scott - At Simmel Acres Farm: Markham, recovering from a rugby injury, invites fellow Oxford undergraduate Norton to spend the holiday with him at the family farmhouse in the Cotswolds. Norton, thinking that plenty of fresh air will speed the invalid's recovery, asks about the ruined barn adjoining the house, Mrs. Stokes the housekeeper gravely informs him, "If I were you, I'd keep out of Simmel Acres Plot," so, of course he doesn't.

There would be nothing to distinguish the barn from any other were it not for a weather-beaten stone bust of indeterminate age placed above the well. Norton doesn't care for the empty eye sockets and cruel, sneering mouth, but thinks no more of it until he and Markham have claimed Simmel Acre Plot as their temporary study. From the first, Markham's personality takes a disagreeable turn. The bust fascinates him. He addresses it in Latin, insists on raising a glass of the well water in its honour. Slowly he begins to recall something of the family history, "Rather rips, I believe we were - Hellfire Club and all that tosh ..."

R. Murray Gilchrist - Roxana Runs Lunatick: Roxana has been including intimate details of a love affair in her published poetry, along with some less than endearing references to her husband, Lord Penwhile, as "too old" for her. When Penwhile's latest bit on the side maliciously alerts him to these goings-on, he borrows his wife's love-letters while she sleeps and learns the pair are using the maze on his estate as their trysting place. Clearly, a muscular demonstration of his zero-tolerance approach to trespassing is in order! At the appointed hour, his Lordship locks Roxana in an upstairs chamber, where she'll hear, if not see, all ...

Brilliant title, story requires a bit of effort, "Lord Penwhile saw Roxana's bodice swell as if the threads would burst." is least typical line. Outcome not dissimilar to that of Maurice Level's The Kennel.

[dem]

There was a time when i mostly had eyes for Hugh's strictly Victorian-Edwardian collections, now i'm thinking bizarre century-hoppers like this, Cold Fear and the superlative Wave Of Fear are perhaps his finest moments. Just A. C. Benson and Poe (what on earth is Some Words With A Mummy doing in here?) to go, and if you can find a dud among 'em you're a harsher judge than me.

Ramsey Campbell - In The Shadows: Librarian devises impromptu Halloween shadow play for underprivileged scouse schoolchildren, one of whom recently lost her infant sister in a tower block tragedy. Even as he makes his preparations, there's a horrible screeching of brakes in the road outside. What could possibly go right?

H. R. Wakefield - Ingredient X: Philip Cranley, 28-year-old commercial artist, was used to the high life until his trustee tried his hand at creative book-keeping, ruining his client in the process. From luxury Mayfair flat to bedsit-land, Clapham Common. At least this latest room is relatively decent and the rent surprisingly low. A depressing atmosphere, and he could do without that dog or whatever it is seems to camp on the stairs after dark, but otherwise almost ideal for his immediate needs. Or so he thinks, until he ventures inside the shared bathroom ....

Rosemary Timperley - The Other Woman: "What do you do when something that can't happen, happens?". A woman, dating a married man and hating herself for it, suddenly faces competition when a fourth party muscles in on the action - her doppelgänger.

[dem]

Edgar Allan Poe - Some Words With A Mummy: Always suspected it's inclusion in every Mummy-themed anthology was simply a case of making up the numbers, but Poe's satire, while slightly incongruous in this collection, has worn surprisingly well.

Dr. Ponnonner finally obtains permission from the museum to unwrap and experiment on a five thousand year's dead Egyptian. More in jest than hope, Ponnonner and colleagues apply an electric charge to the body, so imagine their surprise when ....., etc. The title notwithstanding, Count Allamistakeo (think an urbane Rubbatiti from Carry On Screaming) doesn't shut up from the moment he's reanimated, the gist of his monologue, modern civilisation is rubbish. Poe still finds room for favourite themes catalepsy, premature burial and suicide, though dead girls are given the day off for a change.

A. C. Benson - The Slype House: "The picture represented a man fleeing in a kind of furious haste from a wood, his hands spread wide, and his eyes staring out of the picture; behind him everywhere was the wood, above which was a star in the sky-and out of the wood leaned a strange pale horned thing, very dim. ".

Anthony Purvis, neglected by his father, bullied at school as a weakling, swears to get even with the world. To this end he studies under an Italian necromancer, and develops some minor fame as a wizard. On his father's death, Purvis returns to England, where he buys himself the Slype House at St. Peters church, Garchester. The Slype house was originally built as a mission enabling terminally ill priests to hear the Mass celebrated next door, so where better to install his Black Chapel? For the next thirty years Purvis plays at mysticism, builds mechanical toys and holds court over his two glorified facebook 'friends', a bored Doctor and a sycophantic priest who regards him as the next Crowley. Now well into his 'fifties, Purvis finally gives give the mysteries of death serious consideration and revives his interest in the Black Arts. But he's too rusty for the job and his meddling summons an elemental. According to the editor, Benson wrote this allegory for his pupils as a warning against dabbling in the occult, and it's clear he doesn't think highly of those unhappy types who devote their lives to writing "non-fiction" works on the subject.