Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror

[PeterC]

Good news, comrades - Mr Priestley has a horror novel due out in October entitled The Dead of Winter.

[dem]

thanks for the tip off peter. i see Mr. Priestly has put an extract on his blog.

Dead Of Winter

i found it very sweet that among the comments we find "Hi Chris, Just wondered if you mind adults reading your books?"

Am getting along famously with Tales of Terror from the Black Ship. The stories have the immediacy of a good supernatural horror comic strip (that is intended as a compliment, obviously) and wouldn't seem out of place in a collection like, say, Mary Danby's popular Frighteners (ditto). The vampire story, for reasons beyond my comprehension, had me thinking of Roger Muller's multiple-authored novelisation of his Supernatural series!

Pitch: Sporting a scary skull tattoo on his "kill hand", ship's bully Billy Harper may be only sixteen but he's already the most feared crew-member aboard The Lion. His only real friend is the cat, Pitch, but he's also inexplicably genial toward young Tom Webster. Tom hates this, as it makes him a figure of contempt among his fellow sea-dogs, and one night while he's on watch he gets the opportunity to do something about it. As a blind drunk Harper leans over the gunwales, Tom takes him by the legs and tips him overboard. Harper catches a rail and clings on for dear life until panicking, Tom spots a hatchet left behind by the carpenter ....

Pitch is the only witness to the crime, and Tom reckons maybe he ought to get rid of him, too ....

Irezumi: Mattie Husk, 17 and Stephen Fletcher, 12, visit a Nagasaki tattoo parlour while on shore leave. A sinister old gent ushers them into a room whose walls are engraved with weird designs and, while Mattie lies face-down waiting for a beautiful vampire lookalike to apply the needle, Stephen's eyes are locked on a particular image, "a demon with bulging eyes and flaming hair and tusks like fangs for teeth. He held a chain on which there appeared to be a row of collars, like dog collars, or the restraints that might be used on slaves or prisoners." Back aboard the Charlotte, Mattie does everything he can to avoid his, until now, closest friend, and where once he worked bare-chested in all weathers, now he wears a shirt and jacket in even the most sweltering conditions. The Charlotte is an unhappy ship. A crew member is washed overboard during a storm and two of his colleagues go AWOL, presumed deserters. But what could all this have to do with the weird tattooist?

The Boy In The Boat: Off the Bay of Biscay, the crew of the Roebuck rescue a child adrift in a glorified rowing boat, weird eyes painted either side of the prow in place of a name. Danny Youngman, being the youngest, is charged with his safety but despite the fact "There were men aboard ... who would think nothing of stabbing a fellow crewman in the liver with a marlin-spike if they were crossed", the boy is under no threat from the sea dogs who dote on him to a man. Even the surly carpenter, Ludlow, who hates everyone, falls under his spell. The kid may be mute but he can laugh - a musical, highly contagious laugh it is to - which he does whenever anything hilarious happens, like Ludlow sawing off his thumb or Connolly breaks his neck in a fall from the rigging. As the fatalities multiply, the men decide there's only one thing for it - they'll have to kill the boy. Easier said than done.

Perhaps the finest story so far, with a lovely grim ending but early days yet because next up is a 'when gastropods attack'!

[dem]

Nature: Fifteen-year-old George Norton, son of a wealthy naval surgeon, has his heart set on becoming a country parson on the basis that such a position would not require much of his time or effort which could be put to better use boning up on snails. Despite his clearly having no aptitude for a life at sea, father pulls strings to wangle him a place aboard merchant ship the Swift and it is farewell beloved bug, insect and mollusk collections, hello abject misery. Three days into the voyage and the Swift is all but wrecked in a storm and, rudderless, drifts into uncharted waters, caught in a huge, evil-reeking expanse of vegetation. George, who has been either seasick or cowering in terror since the ship left Plymouth, spots something amid the weeds and, to the captain's amazement, lowers himself by rope to retrieve it. What has he found? A massive great snail. "I believe it may be a new species" explains George and how right he is as, the next we know, it's bitten into seaman Sam's finger, stripping it to the bone. The captain stomps it under his boot, the shattered shell revealing something "more like something from a butcher's block: more like raw meat or offal." Lured by the bloody carcass, the snail colony board the ship in numbers. George, desperate to win the men over, persuades the cook to fry them, effectively heading off the food crisis. That night the crew feast upon the delicious delicacies until their bellies are full and George is feted as the man of the hour.

They retire to their bunks.

And then the screaming starts.

Definitely my favourite so far! This is extra welcome as the only previous snail shorts i can recall are Patricia Highsmith's winning double, The Snail Watcher and The Quest For Blank Claveringi. Other than the X Factor-wannabe snails in Richard Lewis' Pestilence - choreographed tight-rope walking to get at their sea-bound human prey - i'm struggling to think of any more.

[dem]

Mud: This one has a touch of the Basil Copper's about it - The Second Passenger to be specific. Twins Peter and Ben Willis are a pair of brutal thugs who join up as merchant seamen to escape the boredom of Norfolk life. Ben secret loathes Peter whom he thinks of as a demon and blames for his own faults. Worst of all, he never feels truly alone with brother around. One night in Lynn, as they make their way back to the ship after trading with a gang of cut-throat smugglers at The Black Horse Tavern, Peter stumbles into the marsh and sinks to his waist in the slimy ooze. Ben helps himself to their purse from the nights shady dealings then forces his twin under the sludge by striking at his head with a pole. But back aboard ship, a trail of stinking, muddy footprints warn him that Peter won't rest until he's settled the score.

[The Lurker In The Shadows]

Recently read 'The Dead of Winter', Mr Priestley's ghostly novel, and I'm delighted to say that it's every bit as good as the 'Tales of Terror' books - another pitch perfect pastiche of Victorian/Edwardian ghost stories, this time emulating the longer tales like 'The Woman in White' and 'Uncle Silas', I'd say.

Meantime, I see that the 'Tales of Terror' are to be re-issued for the adult market, with new covers and a new story in each, though sadly missing the illustrations.

[lemming13]

The youngest spawn is very happy at the moment - she was just presented with a copy of the first Uncle Montague book as a prize for winning the school horror story competition. Eleven years old and she apparently creeped the hell out of the judges, which none of the entries from older kids managed to do. I'm so proud ( ). Mind you, I'm not sure if it was the story that did the creeping or her rather accurate reproduction of the 'ghost sound' from Ju-On, coupled with her habit of peering round corners with her long, long hair dangling over her face...

[dem]

Heartfelt congratulations to lemming minor, the potteries' own new dark princess of terror! and fair play to the teachers for their judicious choice of winning prize. let us know the verdict!

[lemming13]

So far she reckons they're fun, but a bit 'mild'. But then, I used to read her M R James of an evening (incidentally, her winning tale was inspired by The Ash Tree; seems none of her teachers noticed, though).

[dem]

spookily, i seem to remember Climb Not from Uncle Montague ... has more than a smidgen of The Ash Tree about it. 'Mild' is probably the right word, although the tales take on a slightly nastier edge by Tales of Terror from the Black Ship. Nature is a particular delight in this regard and proves what Shaun Hutson knew all along. If you want a horror story done properly, send in the man-eating slugs.

i'm really wondering how the books will go down now they've been reissued for the adult market, losing David Roberts' delightful illustrations in the process. can't help but think this is a bit sad as the artwork added much to the series' charm and it wasn't as if adults weren't getting into them anyway.

[cauldronbrewer]

[Hello from a long-time lurker, first time poster.]

Thanks to the folks on this thread for introducing me to Chris Priestley's books. I bought Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror to sample his work, and as soon as I was finished with it I ordered the other two Tales of Terror books. I'm currently halfway through Tales of Terror from the Tunnel's Mouth.

Two things particularly impress me about Priestley's writing: his ability to breathe new life into classic horror themes (creepy dollhouses, haunted mirrors, ominous standing stones, carnivorous plants, and so forth), and his skill at bringing his stories to shudder-inducing ends. I also love the Gorey-esque illustrations.

I agree that "The Un-Door" is the standout among the stories in the first book (though maybe I'm just a sucker for stories about dollhouses--the similarly-themed "The Inner Room" may be my favorite Aickman story). Likewise, my pick of the litter from the second book is "Nature," which reminds me of William Hope Hodgeson with its Sargasso Sea and hungry sea critters. So far, "The Little People" (fairy folk have never been scarier) is my favorite in the third book.

Sadly, I only have five chapters to go, and it looks as though Dead of Winter won't be out in paperback until the fall.

[Craig Herbertson]

Hi. You have good taste

[dem]

Hi cauldronbrewer, thank you for registering and submitting such a celebratory first post.

i've not got my hands on Tales of Terror from the Tunnel's Mouth yet, but when i do it will be an edition with the originals illustrations and not the repackaged-for-the-adult-market version, no matter how many new stories it contains. David Roberts artwork adds so much to the tales of terror, it's hard to think of them in the same way without him. Lurkio mentioned that one of the woman in white's tales concerns "vindictive nuns" and i've a fondness for them. should i be preparing myself for a Priestly classic?

[cauldronbrewer]

Judging by the illustrations, "Sister Veronica" is the tale involving vindictive nuns. I haven't read it yet but should get through it this evening. Will report back.

[cauldronbrewer]

The Train: The opening part of the book’s framing story. Young Robert (who may be a bit of snot but has good taste in reading: Stoker, Stevenson, Wells, and Wilde) boards a train for school after scoffing at his stepmother’s premonition of danger. He falls asleep on board. When he awakens, everyone in his compartment is asleep except for a mysterious Woman in White. She offers to tell him a story . . .

The Glasshouse: Oscar’s father is obsessed with plants; Oscar, not so much. A worthy entry in the subgenre of tales about dangerous plants (by coincidence, my copy of Vic Ghidalia’s anthology Nightmare Garden just arrived in the mail today).

The Island: The title refers not to a piece of land surrounded by water, but rather to a hill surrounded by a field of barley. Two brothers ignore the obligatory warning and go to explore it. They find a barrow, and in the barrow they make an even more interesting discovery. The David Roberts illustration for this story is outstanding.

A New Governess: Amelia’s first gig as a governess didn’t go so well, but she’s determined to do better with her second set of charges. She decides to begin by showing impudent young Daniel (or was that Nathaniel?) that she’s the boss. He has other ideas.

The Little People: Penelope loathes her new stepsister, who claims to talk to the “little people.” When Penelope mocks “fairies” and demands to see the little people, she is told, “You can’t see them because they don’t want to see you.” That only makes her even more furious, and she decides to spy on the stepsister until she can find an opportunity to humiliate her. As previously mentioned, this one is my favorite so far; it builds to a particularly nasty climax.

The Crotach Stone: When will city folk like young Davy learn not to mess with standing stones that date back to the pagan times? When will they heed old-timers’ mutterings about the ways of the Old Ones? Not anytime soon, it seems.

Looking back on Priestley’s tales, I’m struck by how he manages to get the reader to identify with his young protagonists even though they’re often disagreeable and almost always bring their unpleasant fates down on their own heads (mind you, not so much that the reader can’t also enjoy those unpleasant fates).

[cauldronbrewer]

Gerald: Poor, portly Emma. She’s constantly being harassed by her gossipy mother when all she wants to do is watch the pretty dancing harlequin in the puppet show. Then she bumps into a boy named Gerald. The last time she met him she thought he was cute (and he seemed interested in her), but now he’s blank-faced and blank-minded. After that, she has a dream that something small and stealthy has snuck into her room. From there, things only get worse.

Scary dolls and puppets are always a sure-fire proposition (consider “The Geezenstacks,” “The Engelmayer Puppets,” The Doll Maker, and Burn, Witch, Burn!—and that’s just off the top of my head) but Priestley’s treatment of the theme is sublimely creepy. This one is my new favorite in the book.

Sister Veronica: Oh, Dem, I think that you’ll like this one. Sister Veronica is young and pretty, but vindictive as well—beating wicked girls with a hazel switch in the name of God makes her heart flutter giddily. Needless to say, her art students aren’t fond of her. Her former favorite, Barbara [extra points to Priestley for invoking my wife’s name], persuades her to pose as a saint with her arms behind her, wrapped around a column, and then things get . . . interesting.