Tenebrae

by Ernest George Henham, Gerald Monsman (Editor)

The narrator of Tenebrae inhabits a decaying, desolate mansion in the remote and wild countryside with his younger brother and their mad old uncle, driven insane by abuse of opium and alcohol. This nameless narrator is a morbid young man who passes most of his time in a room painted all black, poring over arcane manuscripts dealing with the mysteries of death, while sipping garishly coloured liquors brewed by his uncle or cups of coffee flavoured with arsenic.

When he falls in love with a neighbour, he looks forward to marrying her and trading his life of despondency for one of joy. Perhaps unsurprisingly, though, she finds him rather unpleasant company and instead falls in love with his brother. Driven to murderous jealousy, he resolves upon a brutal crime. But after the consummation of his terrible act, he finds himself haunted by a huge, monstrous spider. Is it a delusion brought on by incipient madness? the reincarnated soul of his murdered victim, returned for vengeance? or does it foretell a fate even more horrifying than can be possibly imagined?

Published in 1898, at the end of a decade in which English writers explored the literary possibilities of the Gothic with such characters as Dorian Gray, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Dracula, and The Beetle, Ernest G. Henham's weird horror novel Tenebrae is reminiscent of the works of Poe. Perhaps unequalled in its extreme darkness and gloom, and yet at times grimly, though possibly unintentionally, hilarious, Tenebrae remains one of the strangest productions of this fertile literary period. This newly typeset edition includes the unabridged text of the first edition, as well as an introduction and notes by Gerald Monsman, the foremost scholar of Henham (1870-1946), who later published under the name John Trevena. Also featured is a reproduction of the cover of the incredibly scarce first edition.

Genres: Horror, Gothic, Classics, Fiction

227 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1898

About the author

Ernest George Henham was a Canadian-British author who wrote novels at the beginning of the 20th century about Dartmoor and Devon, England. He also published literary works under the pseudonym John Trevena.

Ernest G. Henham was born in 1870 and his writings include a series of novels based on Dartmoor, the moorland in Devon, England, where he lived much of his life. He created a pseudonym, John Trevena, for many of his books. It was probably no coincidence that the surname he chose was the original name for Tintagel, the legendary location of King Arthur's castle.

Henham wrote more than two dozen books, which were published between 1897 and 1927. He was considered a recluse, but often used people he encountered in real life for the characters in his work. In addition to the United Kingdom, his books were also published in the United States.

Reviews

[Nancy Oakes · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have to say that this book gave me a right case of the willies while reading it, leaving me more than a bit shaken when all was said and done.

full post here:
https://www.oddlyweirdfiction.com/202...

Just about a quarter of the way through this novel, I remarked on my goodreads status that Tenebrae is a book so filled with gloom that even when the characters are out in the garden it's hard to imagine sunlight. Mind you, I had no idea that it was about to get even darker before all was said and done, but considering that the Latin word tenebrae translates to "darkness," I should have at least had an inkling. Originally published in 1898, Tenebrae is the story of two brothers, with "extraordinary affection for each other," right up until the time a woman came between them.

I won't say much in the way of plot as it's better to go into this book knowing little more than what's revealed on the back cover blurb. I will say that it is quite clear that there is something not right from the outset. As the elder brother begins writing this account of events, he reveals that he is "curiously liable to ... fits" when thinking of the younger, now dead, to the point of the ink turning "red upon the paper," the pen "dripping with blood," and "the horror" surging before his eyes. This is quite strange, given that he goes on to describe their past relationship as one of "great unspoken love," sharing "the same heart, the same mind, equal portions of the same soul," and the fact that they "understood each other so well that speech was often unnecessary." Something has obviously changed, and throughout the first part of this book, so aptly entitled "The Foreshadowing," we discover what that is as we follow the course of events involving two men who loved the same woman driving the elder to, as the back-cover blurb notes, a "murderous jealousy" that will change the lives of all three involved. The second and darkest part of this novel, "The Under-Shadow," becomes a dizzying amalgamation of madness, mania, guilt and vengeance, all coming together in the form of a giant spider, "the most hideous of gaolers."

This isn't a book I read in fits and starts -- it's actually impossible to stop reading once begun. It is a novel that moves well beyond disturbing, owing to Henham's most excellent and atmospheric writing that has produced some of the most nightmarish imagery I've encountered over the course of my reading. Do not bypass the excellent introduction by Gerald Monsman, but I would suggest leaving it until the last.

Very highly recommended, especially to readers who like myself, love this older stuff -- it may be well over one hundred years old, but the horror it carries hasn't faded over the years. Not one iota.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

I once saw M. P. Shiel’s novella “Vaila“, as well as its more-accessible rewrite „The House of Sounds“, described as „The Fall of the House of Usher in overdrive“. Same can be said for this novel, more so in fact. And not only in relation to that one Poe story, but a number of them – feel free to add „The Masque of the Red Death“ and „The Sphinx“ to the mix, and then proceed to amplify the effect. You might get the idea of what this novel is like then, if only a slight one.

This hysteric gothic novel is really a very impressive character study, and one of more memorable depictions of the descent into madness that one might hope to encounter. Its unreliable, bipolar narrator is at the core of its appeal, with his decaying mansion (with descriptions like these „Some there were which forgotten ancestors had deemed it advisable, or necessary, to close up, and which now peered blankly through the clinging ivy, striking into the spectator’s mind a latent suggestion of guarded horrors lying concealed behind, of rooms possessing no door, nor any means of entry from within“ or with chambers painted in stark black or stark white) and its bleak surroundings serving almost as this extension of his psyche, with weather itself either matching his moods or presenting contrasts as stark as his changes of mood.
What is more remarkable is how Henham, at least in the first half of the novel, manages to make his naive and pitiable, even endearing. There is both humor and sadness to be found in his naive arrogance and his obliviousness to what is happening around him.
After the inescapable conclusion of the first portion, we have the steady descent into madness and phantasmagoria in the second part, with narrator being pursued by this shadow in the form of a giant spider – „shadow“ that very much can be described so in the current psychological lingo – that feeds on the his remaining shreds of sanity, his memories… Where gloominess and decadence of the first portion verge on self-aware humour, second half presents pure, undiluted darkness.
Henham‘s writing is richly descriptive and erudite – those annotations aren't there for nought. He can conjure some truly haunting dream-imagery that will stay with the reader long after the novel‘s end.

Oh, one more thing: arachnophobes really ought stay away from this one. Seriously.

[Jim Dooley · Rating 5 out of 5]

A Note About Spoilers: I'm not planning on revealing major plot points or unexpected happenings. However, I am going to mention a major theme that I feel is very likely to give away one of those major plot points. For that reason, I decided to display a Spoiler Alert.

Speaking of Spoiler Alerts, I do wish the many scholarly experts who provide a Forward or Introduction to a classic work would label their comments for what they are ... a critical analysis. (Either that or remove their observations to an Afterward.) In the edition of TENEBRAE that I read, such an Introduction revealed virtually every key plot point. This is fine if I'm taking a college course in Literature or I've read the work before. At one point, though, the "Reveals" were so annoying that I set the Introduction aside (and I didn't return to it) so that I would have the pleasure of discovering something in the story on my own.

Whenever I read one of the horror imaginings of Edgar Allan Poe or H.P. Lovecraft, TENEBRAE is exactly the type of work that I hope I'll read. Although it sent me scurrying to my dictionary less often than I do when I read Lovecraft, the phantasmagorical manifestations, gothic setting, maniacal scheming and outright horrific occurrences were all there, awaiting my pleasure. At times, I felt as if some of the happenings would have been eagerly anticipated in some of the old EC Comics tales.

A very key theme is a genuinely horrific slant on the Biblical story of Cain and Abel, and the emergence of Seth. Although many stories have referenced Cain and Abel, this was truly a different perspective of me for Seth ... and, I thought, a highly creative one. Indeed, it sent me back to GENESIS with that new perspective in mind.

The only flaw I found in TENEBRAE was an occasional tendency to "cover the same ground" multiple times. Yes, it is a tale of madness, so such obsessions are appropriate. There was a stretch of about three chapters, though, when I wanted to shout out, "All right already! I get it!" I'm sure the approach was designed to build a mood and, considering how much I was impressed with everything else, perhaps I was just in the wrong frame of mind to appreciate it during that reading session.

TENEBRAE is a title I've seen mentioned for many years. While it would have been particularly enjoyable to discover when I had been more fully in my "Poe / Lovecraft period," I'm very pleased that I finally had the opportunity to read it now.

[Redrighthand · Rating 2 out of 5]

The cover was the best part. I really like it.

[Andy · Rating 3 out of 5]

As far as Gothic trappings, this book has it all -- an isolated old crumbling mansion, a desolate, windswept moor, a crazy old uncle who speaks in riddles (but may know more than you suppose!) And best of all, a narrator descending into madness, which is written very effectively. This novel excels in exploring the unreliable narrator specifically in a work of Gothic fiction.

Much of the story happens in beautiful daylight at the start, but there are a lot of night scenes, and the house itself always seems cloaked in darkness. In one room of the house called the "Blue Room" all of the windows and lamp shades are blue, "Here the furniture, the hangings upon the walls, even the depicted decoration of the ceiling were of the same sombre hue of black. Upon all these things rested a livid lustre..."

There's not too many other decadent eccentricities such as this unfortunately, although there are a few. Nature itself, as often happens in Gothic novels, is a pervading force, a character in itself. The wind is always whipping around, the sea is "moaning" and pounding the beach. The scenes of arachnophobia this novel is known for are compelling, by which I mean skin-crawling.

But...

In the first half of the novel I was bored by overlong scenes where the main character plays a game of cat-and-mouse, trying to make those who have betrayed him squirm. Later this is turned on him -- and I was bored a second time. Unfortunately the first half of the book is better than the second, particularly the last quarter. The plot is frankly: Just. So. Boring. The final confrontation of the novel is full of long, overwrought speeches. Enough. I didn't find the building of suspense in most scenes throughout entirety effective, partly because there was consistently so little pay off.

I like slow, moody reads, but just because this book was once rare and a first edition goes for $1,500 doesn't mean this is going to live up to a "lost gem" status. If you're looking for something similar I would recommend "Echo of a Curse" by R.R. Ryan or "Malpertius" by Jean Ray instead. "Eltonsbrody" by Edgar Mittelholzer is a decent read and more "fun" too.

[P.S. Clinen]

WARNING - spoilers ahead

Would never have found this book if not for my own novel Tenebrae Manor. It's times like this that I'm glad we have the internet and goodreads, etc. because otherwise I would never have found this little gothic gem. Tenebrae, for those that don't know, is Latin for darkness, and that is exactly what this book brings to the table. It is a short but powerful read that follows a young man's descent into madness following a jealous rampage that ended in the murder of his brother. Throw in the classic insane relative who knows more than given credit for, a mysterious wife whose intentions become increasingly sinister, and a windswept mansion on a cliffside and you have all the elements of a great gothic tale. My favourite part of this book however, was the embodiment of the protagonist's paranoia - a hideous giant spider - Henham does well in creating a truly unsettling atmosphere. The prose was beautiful; I find it hard to believe that this author isn't more well known, because 'Tenebrae' is right up there with Dracula, Dorian Grey and Frankenstein. A great gothic novel.

[Alex T · Rating 5 out of 5]

So delightfully silly in places, this was MADE to be a Vincent Price film

[Andy Weston · Rating 2 out of 5]

Though I read more horror than any other genre, and watch more horror films than any other classification of films, I don’t like stuff that sets creatures up as being terrifying, be they sharks, snakes, and particularly spiders.

Call me strange, and many will.. but I’m a big fan of spiders. Some of my best friends are spiders.
Such is this book. It’s got some interesting observations on the period in which it is set (it was published in 1898), but the scenes with enormous spiders and just ridiculous. It’s a Valancourt reissue, and rarely do they get it wrong, though I realise, it’s only wrong for me.. I suppose some people may see such an arachnid as being something to fear.

I particularly dislike the victimisation of animals in children’s literature, such as the wolf. It sets a child’s mind from a very young age that that particular animal is something, not only to be feared, but to be got rid of.

[Sandy · Rating 4 out of 5]

A number of literary works from some of my favorite authors are celebrating their quasquicentennial, or 125th anniversary, this year. Released in 1898 were H. G. Wells' "The War of the Worlds," Henry James' novella "The Turn of the Screw," Jules Verne's "The Mighty Orinoco," and H. Rider Haggard's "Doctor Therne." Those first two titles, of course, are acknowledged all-time classics; the latter two admired to this day by fans of the authors. Another book that turns 125 this year is one that is barely known at all by the average reader, yet one that is every bit as deserving of remembrance and admiration as any of those four mentioned above; namely, "Tenebrae," by the English author Ernest G. Henham. It is a book that I myself was completely ignorant of until recently, and yet it has turned out to be, surprisingly enough, one of my favorite reads of 2023.

The book's relative obscurity can be fairly easily understood today. "Tenebrae" was originally released by the British publisher Skeffington & Son as a hardcover volume (the previous year, Skeffington had released Richard Marsh's classic novel of Egyptian horror "The Beetle," which outsold Bram Stoker's "Dracula"; I hope to be reading that novel shortly), after which it went OOPs (out of prints) for no fewer than 111 years! The novel was finally resurrected by the fine folks at Ramble House in 2009 and, three years later, by Valancourt Books. It is the Valancourt edition that I was fortunate enough to lay my hands on; a beautiful edition, indeed, that includes the novel's original cover art, as well as a scholarly introduction by Henham authority Gerald Monsman. Monsman's (spoiler-laden) introduction is indeed so very erudite and astute as to practically comprise the "last word" on the subject of this Gothic-inflected, psychological horror masterpiece. Still, I will endeavor to throw my middlebrow 2 cents' worth into the discussion.

Before doing so, however, a brief word on the author himself. Ernest G. Henham was born in London in 1870 but relocated to the Canadian Northwest as a young man. After penning some dozen novels under his own name, he moved back to England around 1906, settled in the forested area of Dartmoor, and wrote another 18 or so novels under the pen name of John Trevena, many of them centering around life in that rural area. Henham wrote at least three novels with fantastic content: "Tenebrae," "The Feast of Bacchus" (1907), and "The Reign of the Saints" (1911). He ultimately passed away in 1948, at the age of 77.

Now, as to "Tenebrae" (the Latin word for "darkness"), Henham's third novel, itself: The book, for the most part, takes the form of a journal written by a man named...well, we never do learn his name, actually, and this is as good a time as any to mention that none of the other characters in the book are ever named either. Unusual, right? Our narrator is a youngish man in his early 30s who lives in the gloomy old house that he had inherited from his deceased parents. Also dwelling in this abode are his madman uncle, who had earlier in life wrecked his body and mind with opium, morphine, laudanum and alcohol, and who now spends his days talking to the bugs in the garden (he calls himself "King of the Insects"), concocting new drugs, and hallucinating reptiles; his handsome younger brother, with whom he is very close (so close, indeed, that the two kiss each other good night); and the aged nurse who had brought them up since infancy. Our narrator's house sits on the edge of a moor that is scattered with dead, gnarly trees and that contains a black, stagnant lake at its center; on the house's other side is a pine forest leading to a cliff high above the sea. As we soon learn, our narrator, already half mad when we meet him, is an antisocial sort who spends his days poring over old Norse manuscripts, reading about Chaldean witchcraft, and studying the myths of the heathens, when he isn't imbibing some of his uncle's various narcotic potions. The one bright spot of normalcy in his life seems to be the love he bears for a beautiful local woman. But he soon begins to suspect his brother of being in love with that same woman, and when he sees the two together in the pine forest, the love he holds for his brother instantly turns to hatred. And before long, in a passionate rage, and with the thought of the Cain and Abel story in his mind, he slays his brother horribly, casts his body from the cliff, and buries him with rocks beneath the sea. So ends the book’s first section, "The Foreshadowing."

In the second section, "The Under-Shadow," our narrator beings to go completely off the deep end, devoured by guilt and remorse. He has the temerity to ask his brother's former lover for her hand in marriage, a proposal that the young woman, remarkably enough, agrees to, although we sense an ulterior motive in her acquiescence. The marriage turns out to be a horrible one, with our narrator afraid to so much as share a bed with his new bride, lest he blurt out something incriminating in his sleep. His madman uncle repeatedly warns him that the woman is "a tiger" who is out to get him, but our narrator has other things to contend with now. An arachnophobe from an early age, he now begins to see an enormous spider that appears to him in a most threatening guise...the embodied spirit, he fancies, of his dead brother's vengeance. The visits of this hideous spider invariably leave our narrator in a state of absolute paralysis, as his mind teeters closer and closer to complete collapse....

While making my way through our narrator's increasingly crazed journal, this reader could not help being reminded of those immortal words of Wednesday Addams, from the very first episode of "The Addams Family" back in 1964: "It's so nice and glooooomy." And truly, Henham's book really is a thing of delicious dreariness and morbidity. The house is dreary, the grounds are dreary, the weather is, usually, dreary. Most especially dreary, perhaps, is our narrator's favorite chamber in his abode, the Blue Room, with its walls and furnishings done all in black but with blue-tinted windows to throw a ghastly light over all. And just get a load of our narrator's dreary description of his walk across the moor:

"...A sombre gloom pierced through the shivering haze of colours. Everything was motionless, peaceful, yet with the gloom of the tomb, the statuesque quietness of eternal death. The black trees, blasted and bent into frightful shapes, stood as emblems of tortured souls; the rank grass, with bleached heads hanging droopingly, represented life in its nakedness, stripped of its smallest pleasure; the black mirror of the lake, with its noxious miasma of bursting gas bubbles and fetid herbs, spread before me as a symbol of the unknown that confronts the soul beyond death, and the continual horror of that same phantom over life. The gaunt rocks were tombstones, that sealed down the crumbling bones of a forgotten past...."

Such a pleasant, cheery young man, right? Henham here reveals himself capable of a stunning writing style, effortlessly capturing the Gothic mode of a century before. The comparisons to Poe that Monsman makes in his introduction are understandable; the killers in such Poe stories as, oh, "The Tell-Tale Heart" (1843) suffered no fewer mental pangs after their crimes than our narrator does here. Even the multiple-killer Raskolnikov, in Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment" (1866), doesn't go through as much hallucinatory self-torture as our poor nameless wretch here. "Tenebrae" doesn't have much of a story line other than its narrator going bonkers after committing fratricide, but the interior monologues that we are privy to are endlessly fascinating, delivered as they are in beautifully florid prose. The book is a wonderfully detailed portrait of a rapidly deteriorating mind, and our narrator is as unreliable as they come. Still, we cannot help but marvel at his consistent unpleasantness. Again, here's what he tells his lady love, when he espies her placing some flowers by her mother's grave: "It is a strange custom, this spreading of flowers upon graves...What connection can fragrant blossoms have with the rotting flesh or brown-dried skeleton beneath?" Honestly, what woman could possibly resist such a charming chap?

"Tenebrae," despite the outwardly simple story line, yet features any number of tremendously effective and dramatic sequences. Among them: our narrator's initial discovery of the two lovers in the pine forest; the nighttime murder of the brother, following a remarkable dialogue between the two; the three sightings of that giant spider (in the second, the arachnid appears as a 20-foot-long monstrosity, clinging to the outside wall of our narrator's house!); our narrator, believing himself to be dead, approaching his wife to torment her, causing the woman to cry "You vile creature...you miserable madman"; and, of course, the final conversation between our narrator and his wife, during which all cards are laid upon the table.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention what a wonderful character our narrator's madman uncle is; one who, despite his insanity, is a lot shrewder than he initially appears. How amazing it is that the uncle has taught our narrator to flavor his coffee with a touch of arsenic, and when he gives his nephew his newest concoction: brandy laced with liquefied nicotine! But still, ultimately, it is the nephew who turns out to be the most wackadoodle character of all. Whether endlessly bouncing a ball against the wall of his chamber (shades of Steve McQueen's "Cooler King" in 1963's "The Great Escape"), insisting that chrysanthemums are in fact poppies, laughing and declaiming to himself, chopping off the tops of flowers in his garden (shades of Morticia Addams!), refusing to consummate his marriage, hallucinating demons and spiders, and sitting in his chamber, paralyzed, for hours, he really is a character for the ages...whatever his name might happen to be. His narrative is compellingly readable, and really, I can't say enough about Henham's wonderful style and beautifully written prose. Is it any wonder, then, that the family doctor, after reading this manuscript, remarks on sections of it being "beautifully and carefully written"? I could quote any number of impressively rendered passages here for your delectation, but perhaps have already given you a sufficient sample. As the doctor also mentions, the manuscript is "the strangest history that is ever likely to come within my knowledge," and after reading it yourself you might be inclined to agree!

If I were to levy one complaint regarding Henham's wholly remarkable piece of work here, it is that it remains consistently unclear whether or not the narrator is writing of the events depicted on the days they occur, or at some future remove. Thus, when an entry is dated "Friday, 2nd May," are we supposed to think that our madman narrator is writing in his journal on that date, or that he is writing much later of things that transpired on May 2nd? The argument can be made either way. For example, in the book's very first chapter, our narrator already mentions his brother's death; "ages have rolled away since we [we?] buried him." Matters become even more confusing when, breaking from a strict chronological order, the entries proceed from August 27th back to August 19th. In that latter section, he mentions being married to his wife...although he would not be married, we'd been led to believe, until the 27th. A mistake on Henham's part, or just another instance of the mental rot occurring in our narrator? It is impossible to tell. Still, other than these two minor cavils, I could find no fault in Henham's Gothic doozy here. Valancourt Books is to be thanked for reviving this marvelously macabre entertainment from its century-plus languishment in limbo. Today, that first edition of "Tenebrae" from Skeffington & Son is almost impossible to find; a truly scarce rarity. One online seller yesterday was offering the book for $3,500 (!), but thanks to Valancourt, we now have a nice new edition that can be had for a song. Personally, I can't wait to order that other supernatural title by Ernest G. Henham, "The Feast of Bacchus," which is also part of Valancourt's most impressive catalog. Bottom line: All lovers of Gothic fiction, weird horror, and beautifully written Victorian fare will find much to love in "Tenebrae," and are well advised to pounce like a jumping spider...unless, of course, they happen to suffer from arachnophobia....

(By the way, this review originally appeared on the FanLit website at https://fantasyliterature.com/ ... a most ideal destination for all fans of Gothic horror....)

[Orlando Fato · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a beautifully written novel this was. The imagery is amazing. Even the simplest ideas were conveyed in such an evocative manner. Ernest Henham knew how to use language and definitely was a skillful writer who knew how to activate all senses in the reader. The sounds, the images, the smells, the textures and the flavors are all mingled in his descriptions and a pleasure to read. I wish I had highlighted some, during my reading, to share them here in this review.

The plot is that of unrequited love and even unintentionally funny at times. There is a chapter where the main character encounters a spider that was hilarious, although I wonder if this was the intention. Both the main character and his uncle (they have no name in the novel) were developed in a manner that made me connect and empathize with them despite their actions and madness.

All in all, this is a novel that has it all: beautiful use of language, interesting characters and an engaging plot.

[Connor Shirshac · Rating 5 out of 5]

So close to being a 5 star book. If you are a fan of gothic novels, read this one!

[Malaïka · Rating 5 out of 5]

Il y a des expériences de lecture qui laissent une trace. C’est le cas pour "Tenebrae" d’Ernest George Henham. Alors que je commence tranquillement à lire les premières pages, déjà intriguée par le tempérament étrange du narrateur, quelque chose me démange dans le cou. D’une main distraite, je chasse ce que j’imagine être un cheveu ou une poussière quelconque puis je me replonge dans ma lecture. Le narrateur présente alors la démence de son oncle, rendu fou par l’alcool et les drogues ; tel un nouveau Renfield, celui-ci règne sur un royaume grouillant d’insectes et de bestioles rampantes. Puis sans crier gare, une araignée surgit, pétrifiant le narrateur et devenant ainsi l’obsession de tout un roman. – Mais moi au même instant ! voilà que je dois encore m’arrêter : ça me gratte de nouveau sur la nuque ! Je pose mon livre à contrecœur et passe la main sur ma peau pour en retirer… une araignée ! Argh… inquiétante coïncidence et terrifiante façon de commencer la lecture de CE livre en particulier.

Parce que l’araignée, créature vampirique, symbole du remords et du fratricide commis par le narrateur, n’aura alors de cesse de hanter ce dernier tout au long du récit. Malsain et violent, ce personnage lunatique s’empêtre lui-même dans la toile qu’il s’est tissée. Par jalousie, par rivalité amoureuse, il tue atrocement son propre frère puis se voit immédiatement entouré de visions, de parasites noirs grouillant sur les murs, d’entités négatives visibles uniquement pour lui, chacune étant « l’enfant de cette Ombre que le Crime avait créée ». Un monde de créatures inhumaines sur lequel règne une horrible araignée dont le gros bidon est orné d’une croix blanche. Patiemment, elle attend son heure : « L’œil était dans la tombe et regardait Caïn » (Victor Hugo).

La nature sauvage autour du manoir familial se pare elle aussi de cris, de tempêtes et de couleurs surnaturelles ; elle va jusqu’à fusionner avec l’humeur du protagoniste. Schizophrénie ? Réalité ?

N’y a-t-il pas pire enfer que celui qu'on s’inflige à soi-même ?

Il y a du Lautréamont dans cette tourmente, il y a du Pétrus Borel dans cette paranoïa frénétique qui s’empare du meurtrier décadent. La syntaxe elle-même est désaxée, les erreurs d’orthographe sont volontaires et deviennent les indicateurs terrifiants d’une lente mais inexorable plongée dans la démence.

Véritable pépite gothique publiée en 1898, dans la lignée de « Dracula » ou du « Docteur Jekyll et de Mister Hyde », ce roman m’aura glacée par sa profondeur psychologique, sa symbolique forte et ses frontières brouillées entre réalité, cauchemars et folie. Arachnophobes, passez votre chemin !

[Chloe · Rating 4 out of 5]

I greatly enjoyed this hilarious and dark tale. I think Henham read all the gothic novels of the century and tried to cram every ounce of his writing, characters, and plot with the wailing seas and moaning winds that make gothic novels so atmospheric. It’s great. The main character is both self-important and yet visibly pathetic, which makes reading about his hysterical undoing particularly satisfying—it’s like if you watched Kill Bill but from the point of view of the bad guys. The story is scary in many respects, because Henham is quite good at unsettling details: the main character drinks oddly colored liquids, sees shadowy apparitions, and oh yeah, commits murder. He’s also haunted by a giant spider named Seth which, while understandable from a biblical perspective, is objectively hilarious. The narrator’s inability to process his own guilt over the horrible act he’s committed is very interesting because his punishment—horrific hallucinations that drive him insane—is largely self-inflicted. Sure, there’s his badass wife who later helps speed along the process of his insanity (she’s not a huge fan of her husband), but most of the narrator’s suffering is caused by his own mind. He is the one who reads and rereads and REREADS the Bible’s passages on Cain and Abel, the one who hangs out exclusively with his clinically insane uncle, the one who drinks deranged concoctions that put him out of this mind (read: drugs). He’s a glutton for punishment while also desperately trying to evade it, which is probably why he ends his days so stressed out that he literally sweats blood from his face. A spooky ending detail that I absolutely loved. I would totally recommend this book for fans of gothic horror, although I would council patience as well, because, like an insane person, this book tends to go in a lot of (really weird) circles. But for me, part of understanding the narrator and the story was accepting this ragged, irregular pacing, filled with spooky details that made me both laugh and shudder.

[Aaron · Rating 3 out of 5]

Here is a review written by Bing (I Binged it!).

"Tenebrae by Ernest George Henham is a novel that promises a thrilling adventure in a mysterious land, but fails to deliver on its potential. The author uses an excessive amount of verbiage that obscures the plot and the characters, making the reader lose interest and patience. The novel is repetitive and frustrating, as it wastes exciting concepts such as the hidden city of Tenebrae, the ancient prophecy, and the mysterious cult. The novel could have been much shorter and more engaging if the author had focused on the action and the suspense, rather than on the endless descriptions and dialogues that add nothing to the story."

There is no hidden city of Tenebrae in the novel. Does Bing know something I don't? There is no ancient prophecy or mysterious cult. Bing is correct that the novel is repetitive and frustrating...since I told it to include that criticism (it got something right!).

[Chaos Orc · Rating 2 out of 5]

It includes elements I enjoy and has some strange and anxious moments but I’m not sure I’ll be reading it again, or recommending it. The way my copy was crafted is exquisite. There are a few scenes described on the back description that are enjoyable to reflect upon but I’m not sure I needed to read the whole book to get there.

[Susan Marie Ballain · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was most definitely an interesting and very intriguing read for me!
To know the word Tenebrae means darkness would explain a lot about this book in general! I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to feel after consuming this book but it’s definitely one of eerily unhappy and goosebumps!

[Alex O · Rating 4 out of 5]

FIIIINALLY a protagonist as ridiculously over-dramatic as me? Excellent, super morbid...a bit silly. SPIDERS!!

[Holden · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5