The Collected Ghost Stories of M. R. James

First published: 1931 (previously published as Ghost-Stories of an Antiquary, 1904; More Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, 1911; A Thin Ghost and Others, 1919; A Warning to the Curious, and Other Ghost Stories, 1925; and Wailing Well, 1928)

Type of work: Stories

Time of work: Primarily the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries

Locale: Primarily England, with some stories set in France and Scandinavia

The Plot

M. R. James’s ghost stories are the perfect example of quality counting over quantity. Although he produced these stories over the course of forty years (1894-1935), his complete tally of spectral fiction is only thirty-three stories, twenty-six of which had appeared in four previous collections. Four more were added to make up The Collected Ghost Stories of M. R. James. Although this volume excludes three later stories, they are only minor pieces, and their exclusion does not detract from the completeness of the collected works. The volume has the added benefit of James’s essay “Stories I Have Tried to Write.”

Almost all of James’s stories have a common approach and content. As the title of his first book suggests, they are related by an antiquarian, meaning that the incidents are linked to the study of old documents or buildings. They develop the theme of “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” as the antiquarians in his stories always suffer from delving a little too far into things best left alone. This theme is common to almost all of James’s stories, which therefore can be explored by reference to two in detail.

James’s first published tale was “Canon Alberic’s Scrap-book” (National Review, March, 1895), which opens the volume and shows his technique to good effect. An Englishman named Dennistoun is touring southern France and spends a day taking notes and photographs at the church of St. Bertrand de Comminges. He is accompanied by the sacristan, a nervous, afflicted fellow who jumps at every shadow and sound in the church. The sacristan invites Dennistoun back to his house and shows him an old scrapbook compiled by a former canon of Comminges. Dennistoun is fascinated by a picture that seems to depict Solomon casting out a demon. Dennistoun acquires the book and takes it back to his lodgings. That night, while admiring a crucifix, Dennistoun is suddenly aware of something black, thin, and hairy beside him, and he turns to see the full horror of his visitant.

This story shows a key mark of James’s writing. Frequently his horrors are just in the act of moving. Here, “the shape . . . was rising to a standing posture behind his seat.” In “The Diary of Mr. Poynter,” readers are confronted with “What he had been touching rose to meet him.” A scene in “Mr. Humphreys and His Inheritance” describes something that “with the odious writhings of a wasp creeping out of a rotten apple . . . clambered forth . . . waving black arms prepared to clasp the head that was bending over them.”

James’s most accomplished story using these devices is “’Oh, Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad’” (1904). Taking a few days of rest on the Suffolk coast, Parkins, a professor of ontography, takes time out to investigate the ruins of a Templar preceptory. While there he unearths a small whistle. He blows it, producing a sound with “a quality of infinite distance.” From then on Parkins feels troubled. The next day, while walking on the shore, he sees in the distance a man running, pursued, so it seems, by “a figure in pale, fluttering draperies, ill-defined.” Later that evening Parkins returns to his room to find the second bed disturbed. During the night he wakes to see movement in the other bed, from which something rises, with outspread arms, stooping and groping. As it passes the moonlit window, Parkins becomes aware of its “face of crumpled linen.” In this story James is able to take the traditional form of the white-sheeted ghost and transform it into something truly unnerving.