"The Door of the Unreal" (1920) is an early werewolf novel by Gerald Biss. From the Foreword:
"As to my subject, which policy forbids me even to hint at in my foreword, I can only say that it is one common to the folk-lore of all Eastern and European countries, and found in the annals of America itself, if to a lesser degree. That of itself forbids light dismissal of the matter as beyond the bounds of credulity, and in the Near East it was accepted as a fact, at any rate, up to 1914, and since then the horrors of war and the worse horrors of Bolshevism have taught us that nothing is too ghoulish to be true. I can only add that I have read and searched many authorities in writing this book, and have not embroidered or exaggerated accepted facts for any purpose of sensationalism. Legends so world-wide and so generally accepted give pause. I myself unexpectedly learnt a great deal in the writing of this book and in my drivings into the lore of the uncanny."
Edwin Gerald Jones Biss (1876–1922) was an English motoring journalist and crime writer. His stories were often serialised in journals and newspapers.
Biss originally planned a career in the legal profession, but he found success in writing short stories. By 1903 his work was regularly appearing in newspapers around the United Kingdom. His works included serialised stories such as The Imposter, Bob Pharazin’s Madness, The White Rose, Who Killed Montagu Jerningham, and later The Shadow of the Scaffold. The Dupe was published in 1907 and in 1908 The Fated Five: The Tale of a Great Tontine. This was followed by Branded, a story that in 1921 was made into a movie starring Josephine Earle. The House of Terror was published in 1909 and the Undying Dread serialised in 1911.
The Door of the Unreal, published in 1920, was a werewolf story and a change of genre for Biss.
In a way, I wish I'd had no idea this book was about [STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT!:] a man who turns into a werewolf. Or rather, I wish it was possible to read this book in the time it was written. I only say that because, knowing the "mystery" going into it, the first half of the book I found myself just waiting for the main character to catch up to where I was, then let the other protagonists know, and on and on.
The story seems somewhat basic for a werewolf story: couple missing people, one found looking savagely attacked by an animal, a strange new tenant in a house in the woods, one man and his intelligent friends suspecting something out of the ordinary going, the revelation of lycanthropy, etc, etc.
I guess that is basically as basic as a werewolf story can get, but then I keep in mind that this was written in 1920 and probably seemed a hell of a lot more original at that time. So, certainly no strikes against the book for the story itself, which is a good, if not outstanding, tale.
The writing itself is very absorbing, and the book moves along at a fluent, relatively fast pace. The creepy characters are very creepy, and the noble good guys are very noble, and everyone seems to follow in a "Dracula" style tradition. I noticed a few similarities to that book, which would have been written about 25 years before "The Door of the Unreal." That's not a bad thing, though, as "Dracula" pretty much set the standard for horror stories about creepy guys living in secluded houses, being hunted by a group of kind-hearted monster killers.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
La porta dell'irreale di Biss sta ai lupi mannari come Il vampiro di Polidori sta ai vampiri.
Ambientato nell'Inghilterra dei primi del Novecento, ricade molto nel giallo/investigativo anche se i momenti in cui i personaggi si arrabattano per disciogliere l'enigma delle sparizioni e degli attacchi sono ben pochi. Le indagini accadono "off screen" e questo non ha giovato molto alla tensione della narrazione. Sarebbe stato nettamente più avvincente seguire uno dei personaggi che gira mezza Europa alla ricerca di indizi nelle cronache locali e nel folklore. Invece il tutto viene brevemente spiegato in poche righe e non mostrato. Altra nota dolente è il cosiddetto scontro finale, uno dei più brevi e anticlimatici che io abbia mai letto.
Gli echi (un po' sbiaditi devo dire) di Dracula di Stoker sono facilmente rintracciabili. Il gruppo di uomini che deve salvare la donzella dalla maledizione (in questo caso licantropica), lo straniero, l'avversario che si trasferisce nella loro patria inglese dal Continente. Qui pero il tema della nazione e del patriottismo (e del patriarcato?) aleggia ancora più prepotente su tutta la narrazione.
Sottile ma non troppo la repulsione dei gentiluomini inglesi verso il nemico teutonico, bestiale e malvagio, portatore del morbo del maligno e delle sue immonde cerimonie come la Walpurgisnacht.
Al netto delle mie considerazioni personali, la porta dell'irreale è un romanzo che va letto per aggiungere un tassello per niente trascurabile alla narrazione fantastica del '900, dove licantropi, vampiri e fantasmi avevano quasi del tutto perso la loro carica letteraria tanto forte nel secolo precedente, ma ancora in grado di dare valore storico alle paure e alle ansie del genere umano. Il terrore per l'altro, il diverso e il non conforme.
La bestia sanguinaria e tutta istinti contro la rispettabilità e la morale dell'Uomo moderno, con le sue automobili fiammanti, i vestiti alla moda, i sigari e il wiskey.
Grazie mille a La biblioteca per averlo pubblicato in italiano in un'edizione curata nei dettagli e tradotta egregiamente.
Regarding The Door of the Unreal, Google Books says: "This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it."
Part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. That answers so many questions I have about the world we live in.
This 1919 werewolf novel (culturally important, maybe, if you've had a few cocktails and squint a bit) is an interminable British stiff-upper-lip telling of the bizarre goings on at mysterious Clymping Manor. Vaguely Sherlock Holmesian with neither the wit nor the cocaine, the story is almost painfully repetitive and plodding, although it does toss in some elements of lycanthropic mechanics from older lore that rarely if ever get used anymore. Like, maybe one page out of nearly two hundred.
The book showed promise right up front: the case is going be handled by the delightfully named Chief Inspector Mutton!
However, already on page 23, we're introduced to an "eminent German scientist, Professor Lycurgus Wolff" who has "shaggy grey hair and beard, a pair of remarkably piercing black eyes ... and distinctly pointed ears set low and far back on his head." His hands are "noticeably hairy, with red almond-shaped, curving nails."
Hm. I wonder who the werewolf might turn out to be?
Professor Wolff , Inspector Mutton -- so much promise!
Alas.
Also, I know shouldn't judge a hundred-year-old book on its creaky writing, but this is the type of book that contains sentences like:
"'Good God,' Harry ejaculated."
If only!
There is one passage early on that must have inspired the production design for the underrated 2010 remake of The Wolf Man. I'm not going to copy it here, but it describes the grounds of Talbot Manor in that movie perfectly.
Final note: The first paper copy of this book I bought off Amazon had the author's name wrong and replaced every comma with a period. The ebook version I replaced it with was mostly decent, although there were still some troubles with the scanning and OCR. Trust me, after thirty or forty eye-glazing pages, you won't really care.
A horror novel written in 1919, that is an early example of a particular twist and trope. You’ll only read it if I tell you what the trope is, and that wrecks the trope. So…why not wreck it? Recommended for readers interested in the early development of the horror genre. The Librivox recording is excellent, and the LV page gives links to e-texts.
About this book I think it would've been better if it had been shorter. It goes on and on in a slow pace with nothing of note happening, the ending is also lackluster. The better part of it is probably the beginning when the reader still has some curiosity about the case.
Voglio parlarvi nuovamente di un gioiellino libresco che ogni biblioteca domestica e non dovrebbe avere. Mi riferisco a “La porta dell’irreale” di Gerald Biss che mi è stato gentilmente offerto da @labibliotecadilovecraft
Questo romanzo pubblicato per la prima volta nel 1919 può definirsi come la prima vera e propria opera sulla licantropia e, nonostante io abbia già letto e guardato molto materiale sul tema, ho trovato la lettura avvincente e fuori dal comune. Probabilmente è proprio questo ultimo aspetto ad avermi fatto amare questo libricino alla follia oltre alle illustrazioni originali di Edmund Frederick, che lo arricchiscono ulteriormente.
La storia inizia con la misteriosa sparizione di una giovane coppia di cui si ritrova solo l’auto abbandonata lungo la strada, intatta e con i fanali ancora accesi. Dei due giovani non si hanno tracce, solo sangue sul sedile del guidatore. È in coincidenza con questa occasione che il nostro narratore americano approda in Inghilterra per far visita al suo vecchio compagno di università e si interessa alle misteriose sparizioni di Brighton Road.
Ambientato nelle campagne del Sussex, sullo sfondo di un’antica dimora di famiglia, questo romanzo è sviluppato magistralmente. La scelta linguistica è accurata e accattivante e, creando le perfette British vibes, mi ha conquistata.
Jacopo Corazza e Gianluca Venditti curando questa magnifica edizione, rendono giustizia a questo autore pressoché sconosciuto e sono felicissima di aver avuto la possibilità di leggere questo libro. Lo consiglio caldamente a tutti i lettori che sanno apprezzare sfumature un po’ vintage e dalle tinte decisamente lovecraftiane.
I think the problem is the mystery has been completely spoiled (one of the Kindle editions is literally subtitled "A Classic Werewolf Novel"), which kills any suspense this story might have had. What we're left with is stuffy upper-class Brits and our protagonist who is one of those "I'm not like the other girls" but for Americans instead. The Anglo-American alliance against a savagely inhuman German threat is clearly a ham-fisted metaphor for the recent Great War; otherwise I'm not sure why Biss even bothered with Lincoln's nationality if he's also going to be an Oxford-educated gentleman.
The tale ends with Lincoln stating that the documents related to this horrifying incident are being sealed away for one hundred years to ensure that all those involved will be dead by the time the truth is revealed. Incidentally, it was exactly one hundred years after its publication in 1919 that I read this book, so that was a neat little metafictional experience.