Given how often modern horror writers want to dress up and pretend they’re H.P. Lovecraft, it’s always lovely to find one content to wrap himself in a comfortable old frock-coat and imagine himself M.R. James. ‘Verona: A Ghost Story’ focuses on a young couple in the 1980s who cannot have children, but such is Ashforth’s spot-on emulation of James’s late Victorian/early Edwardian prose style, there’s immediately a spooky dissonance. You may well be reading about a (fairly) modern couple trying and failing with IVF, but you can’t fail but recognize you’re in an old time ghost story.
Needing a break, the couple visit Verona, where matters become swiftly spooky – in a way which has echoes of ‘Don’t Look Now’ (the film, rather than the story which I’ve shamefully never read), and the tale is, for the most part subtle, scary and mysterious.
Unfortunately, by the end that subtlety has been kicked away to make room for something big and Hollywood, which is more than a tad disappointing. I wish Ashforth had had the courage of his convictions and kept true with James right to the end, to give us something opaque, wonderful and brilliant for not having all the answers.