Die lockende Schöne

Horror Hall of Fame Novellas

by Oliver Onions

Geistergeschichten in der klassischen englischen Tradition, bei denen Liebe und Haß noch aus dem Grab die Geschicke der Lebenden bestimmen.

OLIVER ONIONS (1873 - 1961) gehört zu den bislang leider vernachlässigten englischen Autoren der Phantastik, dessen Geschichten das Andere, Unheimliche in der Alltagswelt suchen und den Leser unmerklich entführen, wie die gespenstische Lockende Schöne den Helden der Titelgeschichte.

"Der Meister der psychologischen Gespenstergeschichte ... weiß auf subtile Weise die allmähliche Sättigung der alltäglichen Realität mit dem Übernatürlichen zu gestalten." Rain (sic!) A. Zondergeld in "Lexikon der phantastischen Literatur"


Die lockende Schöne


Spuk- und andere Geschichten um Liebe aus dem Jenseits


Inhalt:

Die lockende Schöne (The Beckoning Fair One, 1911)

Benlian (Benlian, 1911)

Io (Io, 1911)

Genres: Horror, Fiction, Short Stories, Gothic, Ghosts, Classics, Ghost Stories

172 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1911

About the author

George Oliver Onions (1873–1961), who published under the name Oliver Onions, was an English writer of short stories and novels.

Oliver Onions was born in Bradford in 1873. Although he legally changed his name to George Oliver in 1918, he always published under the name Oliver Onions. Onions originally worked as a commercial artist before turning to writing, and the dust jackets of his earliest works included illustrations painted by Onions himself.

Onions was a prolific writer of short stories and novels and is best remembered today for his ghost stories, the most famous of which is probably ‘The Beckoning Fair One’, originally published in Widdershins (1911). Despite being known today chiefly for his supernatural short fiction, Onions also published more than a dozen novels in a variety of genres, including In Accordance with the Evidence (1912), The Tower of Oblivion (1921), The Hand of Kornelius Voyt (1939), The Story of Ragged Robyn (1945), and Poor Man's Tapestry (1946), which won the prestigious James Tait Black Memorial Prize as the best work of fiction published that year.

Onions was apparently a very private individual, and though admired and well-respected in his time, he appears not to have moved in literary circles, and few personal memoirs of him survive. He spent most of his later life in Wales, where he lived with his wife, Berta Ruck (1878-1978), herself a prolific and popular novelist; they had two sons, Arthur (b. 1912) and William (b. 1913). Oliver Onions died in 1961.

Reviews

[Federico DN · Rating 2 out of 5]

You are not welcome here.

In the midst of writing a book, Paul Oleron, an aspiring novelist, decides to move to a more convenient and spacious lodging. The new place so comforting and relaxing to the point of nearly hampering the progress of his writing to a full stop. Elsie Bengough, his lifelong friend and personal adviser, frightfully worried, as Oleron increasingly distantiates from everything and everyone, retreating into his abode, and into himself.

Ugh. Psychological horror is really not my thing, and especially not overstretched to novella kind.

The gloomy room, the darkening atmosphere, the inexplicable... Next day, same again, darker shade, different hat. Ugh. Drives me crazy. Is it a shadow? Is it a spirit? Is it an apparition? It is my eyes? Am I going insane? Is it the f* ghost of Christmas past? Man IDGAF just pick one already!

Sigh. Truth be told I don't think this is that bad, it's actually a great idea, and I'm positive many (most?) would enjoy this story. It certainly has a lot of value to it. And many great writers dubbed it a masterpiece. It's just really not my thang!

It’s public domain. You can find it HERE.

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PERSONAL NOTE :
[1911] [96p] [Horror] [2.5] [Conditional Recommendable]
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No eres bienvenido aquí.

Mientras escribe un libro, Paul Oleron, un aspirante a novelista, decide mudarse a un alojamiento más cómodo y espacioso. El nuevo lugar tan relajante y reconfortante hasta el punto de casi detener por completo el progreso de su escritura. Elsie Bengough, su amiga de toda la vida y consejera personal, terriblemente preocupada, mientras Oleron se distancia cada vez más de todo y de todos, retrayéndose en su morada, y en sí mismo.

Ugh. El terror psicológico realmente no es lo mío, y especialmente no sobreextendido al estilo novela corta.

La habitación lúgubre, la atmósfera que oscurece, lo inexplicable... Al día siguiente, lo mismo otra vez, un tono más oscuro, un sombrero diferente. Agh. Me vuelve loco. ¿Es una sombra? ¿Es un espíritu? ¿Es una aparición? ¿Son mis ojos? ¿Me estoy volviendo loco? ¿Es el condenado fantasma de las Navidades pasadas? ¡Hombre que me parta un rayo si me importa, elige uno de una maldita vez!

*Suspiro*. A decir verdad, no creo que esto sea tan malo, en realidad creo que es una gran idea y estoy seguro que muchos (¿la mayoría?) disfrutarían esta historia. Ciertamente tiene mucho valor. Y muchos grandes escritores la llamaron una obra maestra. ¡Pero realmente no es lo mío!

Es dominio público, lo pueden encontrar ACA.

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NOTA PERSONAL :
[1911] [96p] [Horror] [2.5] [Conditional Recomendable]
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[mark monday · Rating 3 out of 5]

A chilling novella about a writer's move into a flat and his quick descent into lunacy. I can see why this classic is still being recommended today: it set the table for many such stories to come, and yet doesn't feel dated or overly familiar. Onions is a splendid writer: he gets right into his protagonist's head and so we descend right alongside him, following his increasingly deranged thought process and disastrous life decisions. The storytelling is never stilted and - despite its eventual cruelty - the storyteller has a lot of empathy for his two main characters.

The sound of the ghost brushing her hair was pretty freaky. The image of our unhinged protagonist standing for hours in just the right spot in the hallway - the spot that allows him to see into all five of his rooms at once - was even freakier. And the long sequence where the writer decides he's going to carefully ignore the ghost because that's the best way to get a lady's attention was the freakiest thing of all. There's plenty more unnerving bits of horror, but the main thing I took away from this was how sorry I felt for the sad, pretentious Oleron. The ghost in this story doesn't just influence his mood, it takes away his affection for the one woman who appreciates him and, just as terribly, it destroys his personal ambitions. He begins to see his flat as his special hidey hole, a place of heady scents and romantic contemplation; the reader begins to see the starkness of his rooms and halls as a mirror reflecting an empty life and an even emptier future.



I was impressed by Onions' portrait of the brave love interest, who is atypical for her time period. Stout and sensible (although eccentric in her couture, and yay for that too); devoted to the hero but never in a clinging or pathetic way; a career girl during a time when such things where considered pretty radical... she's a striking creation. Although she suffers WATCH OUT HERE COMES A SPOILER an early version of the dreaded Woman in Refrigerator trope, she's an admirably well-developed character up until then.

[Bionic Jean · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Beckoning Fair One by the English writer Oliver Onions, is said to be one of the best classic horror novellas, and is often to be found in anthologies of either horror or ghost stories. Oliver Onions wrote over 40 novels, and six collections of popular ghost stories and weird fiction, although The Beckoning Fair One remains his most popular work. The novella was first published in his collection “Widdershins in 1911, which J.B. Priestley described as a ”book of fine creepy stories“. Algernon Blackwood called this particular story “the most horrible and beautiful [story] ever written on those lines”.

Its reputation is well deserved. Setting a slow pace, the psychological horror in this one gradually builds from a vague sense of unease to a fully fledged grotesquerie in the cold light of day. Yet the “cold light of day” is not usually very evident in creepy tales such as this one, and comes as a real shock.

We begin with a familiar enough premise. At forty-four, writer Paul Oleron has grown tired of living hand to mouth in dingy rooms, as he tries to write the novel which he thinks will at last make him famous.

“Yes, he was himself, Paul Oleron, a tired novelist, already past the summit of his best work, and slipping downhill again empty-handed from it all. He had struck short in his life’s aim. He had tried too much, had over-estimated his strength, and was a failure, a failure …”

Crossing a rundown square, Oleron notices a “To Let” board leaning precariously in front of a red-brick building which, although shabby, looks far better than the pokey rooms he is used to. Nobody has rented the house for years, so he is able to rent the entire first floor. Paul Oleron is delighted to find he has five whole rooms to himself.

In his excitement, Oleron spends far more money than he should having his rooms cleaned and repainted, and then getting some furniture out of storage, which his grandmother had left to him. The style is exactly right. Oleron appreciates the old-fashioned elegance, noticing that there is even a curious closet off the kitchen, which must once have been used for powdering wigs. He investigates the window-seats, but find them empty except for a mysterious triangular sack with buckles and straps.

When his renovations are completed, Paul is happy to sit back contentedly and gaze at his beautiful new surroundings, with their subtly pastel shades. He knows he must finish the novel he has in progress, because he is contracted to do so for his publisher, but for some reason he feels little urgency about this.

After a while, his good friend Elsie Bengough comes to visit him. Elsie is a journalist: a modern, capable woman, “large, showy, fair as butter, pink as a dog-rose” and given to “explosive utterances”. She has always admired Paul’s writing, and is a perceptive first reader. She is keen that he should get back to writing his novella, “Romilly” telling him that the first fifteen chapters were wonderful, and could make his name as a successful author. Elsie is appalled to hear that Paul has tired of his heroine, and proposes to rewrite the book differently. It is clear that Elsie considers the character of Romilly to be based on herself.

Elsie predicts that Paul will never finish “Romilly” in these rooms, and Paul resents her pessimism. He feels the aesthetics of the rooms are exactly right, and that it is florid Elsie who does not “fit” the house. He has known her for 10 years, and is extremely glad now that he had never proposed marriage.

Before she leaves, Elsie identifies the mysterious sack as a cloth to wrap a harp. After she has gone, Paul Oleron realises that Romilly—or Elsie—is not his fictional ideal, and so he decides to burn the manuscript. He fetches it, but hesitates. The kitchen tap is dripping, with a “tinkling gamut of four or five notes … sweet and dulcimer-like”. Listening, fascinated, he begins to doze.

The tune seems to stay in his mind, and Oleron finds himself humming it at odd moments during the day. Mrs. Barrett, a neighbour who keeps house for him, overhears Oleron humming the tune, and identifies it as The Beckoning Fair One, an old air which is usually accompanied by a harp.

As Oleron’s attachment to the house grows, so does Elsie’s aversion. When she takes out the cloth from the window seat, she cuts her hand on an exposed nail, although Paul was sure he had he removed them all. Elsie’s reaction as he puts a bandage on her hand, make him realise with a slight shock, that Elsie is secretly in love with him; an idea which he finds irritating.

Next time Elsie visits, her foot breaks through a solid step. Having already sensed that the house has a bad feeling about it, she now knows that the house doesn’t want her—and that Paul doesn’t want her. Elsie limps off, refusing his assistance, determined to at least keep some pride. That night, Paul hears the faint crackle of a woman combing her hair, although there is nothing to see. He escapes with relief to a pub, deciding that he will never return to the house—although the drinks give him a sense of confidence, so his resolution is short-lived.

Things go from bad to worse. His neighbour Barrett makes insinuations about Paul’s “sinful” relationship with Elsie, and tells him that his wife will no longer work as Paul’s housekeeper. Paul also notices the other neighbours in the square looking askance at him. He does not want anyone in his rooms anymore, and lies to Elsie saying that he will be travelling, also warning her about Barrett’s suspicions. Elsie sees through the lies, and knows that this is Paul’s excuse to drop her. She tells him she will never come again, but knows that she will sense if Paul is in trouble, and says she will be there for him.

Paul, feeling relief at being free, consults the local vicar about the house’s history. Its last resident, an artist named Madley, starved himself to death. This does not bother Paul, who has become attuned to the house and its elusive “beckoning fair one”. He wants only to stay there, waiting, but the Fair One will not make herself known. At one point he sees his comb moving in an invisible hand.

Paul becomes more determined to court the Fair One, and banish the rest of the world. He closes all the blinds, shunning daylight, and stations himself at his bedroom door, from where he can see all his rooms. He has his food delivered daily, and fills his rooms with flowers. At last he realises that he must destroy the manuscript, which idolises Romilly, or Elsie, the Fair One’s rival.

As Paul burns the pages, he hears Elsie pleading at his door, but ignores her. When she leaves, he sees a shadow “light as fleece” take shape in the kitchen. As the weeks pass, food, flowers, and telegrams accumulate untouched at Paul’s door; he lies on his bed forgetful of work, confused about Elsie. She has no tact, and he cannot think why they were friends for so long, but sometimes he fights off the feeling that she was kind.

Confused, Paul feels a kiss on his lips, but it seems to change to gnashing as he hears Elsie enters the house. He shouts a warning and is left sick and helpless on his bed. He can hear Elsie in the kitchen; she must have come to nurse him. He hears her cry out his name, followed by silence, but he is too weak to investigate. Again he feels the press of a breath-stealing kiss on his lips.

With a dramatic shift of viewpoint we see that a crowd is gathering in front of the house. Stepping inside, the police officers find themselves ankle-deep in rotting food and flowers. An emaciated Paul Oleron lies on his bed in the bedroom, confused. In the powdering closet, there is something large, wrapped in a harp-sack, with a scrap of dress material poking out. Paul can barely stand, but is shielded from the angry crowd, and hurried into a cab, which quickly moves off along the square. The sack-wrapped bundle is removed to another vehicle, which goes in the opposite direction, toward the mortuary.

Quite a few of Oliver Onions’s stories explore the connection between creativity and insanity. It is tempting to think that this is the theme of The Beckoning Fair One. Certainly we see that the artist is in danger of withdrawing from the world altogether, and losing himself in his creation. We see growing agoraphobia, and a heightened aesthetic sense which is so extreme that it becomes unhealthy.

Before writing all his novels and ghost stories, Oliver Onions worked as a commercial artist. We can see the influence of this in the portrayal of Paul Oleron, with his freshly-painted white walls or specific shades of pastel colours or choice of flowers, depending on his emotional state. We see the former artist in the painterly descriptions, such as the “ lozenge of moonlight, almost peacock-blue by contrast with his candle-frame” or when Oleron draws his crimson blinds, drowning his room with a “blood-red half-light of a photographer’s darkroom”, or the way daylight’s “last trace of sallowness” dies before the glow of an evening fire. Oliver Onions’ skill in creating atmosphere through the various descriptions of light and colour is remarkable, and stresses the sensitive effete protagonist, rejecting the blousy, bossy Elsie, as he succumbs to the resident “beckoning fair one”: the spirit of the woman he can detect occupying his apartment.

But this beckoning fair one is far from being a benevolent muse. We know that the obsession with her drove the previous tenant to his death. She is winsome, capricious, jealous, and altogether evil—for who was the body in the wig cupboard if not Elsie? And who could have killed her? Certainly not the weak and emaciated Paul Oleron, who can barely stand, let alone attack a robust and healthy young woman, unless he was possessed by a malevolent spirit.

The execution is masterly, slowly and methodically moving towards the grotesque conclusion. We follow the protagonist’s thoughts and feelings throughout, as he yearns for seclusion, so that the sudden shock of the ending is even more powerful. And yet we have questions. Is this really a ghost story at all? We could take the events quite literally, and ask who exactly murdered Elsie Bengough? The story can be read as a realistic description of a psychotic outbreak, culminating in catatonia and murder, told from the deeply disturbed subject’s point of view. Is the “beckoning fair one” really a ghost; the spirit of a dead woman who haunts her former house as it seems, or is she a manifestation of Oleron’s fragile mental state? Is he possessed by an evil spirit, or is he, in his madness hallucinating or projecting it all? We are never quite sure whether Oleron is dealing with a malign presence in the house or having a psychotic breakdown. The ambiguity is perfectly maintained.

It might be worth mentioning that The Beckoning Fair One is an old Welsh folk tune, known as “Symlen Ben Bys”. The powdering-closet suggests the story is set in the 18th century. In “Musical and Poetic Relicks of the Welsh Bards” of 1784, Edward Jones describes it as:

“a favourite tune of the great pastoral poet Dafydd ap Gwilym, who flourished about the year 1400. He wrote a poem in its praise, wherein he informs us that he learned to play it on his harp.”

Digging a little deeper reveals that “symlen” can either mean symbol, or a female fool, and “ben bys” (or pen bys) means either a mountain, an enclosure for confining livestock, a fingertip or “[that] made by twisting hay or straw around the finger”. Does the phrase “Symlen Ben Bys” then literally mean “she who twists men round her little finger”?

This is a memorable story to make you ponder. We see a fastidious, self-regarding protagonist, who comes to loathe everything about his friend; her clothing, her class, her career and her character. He exhibits a fear of sexuality in his increasing misogyny, and we see the author exploring themes of gender roles, social eccentricity, class differences, artistic integrity, commercialism, and even including a smattering of religious fundamentalism. This is no ordinary haunted house story—if it even can be called that. The main character has depth and is well nuanced; we see deep but subtle characterisation here, and psychological realism, leading to a terrifying conclusion.

The horror critic and publisher Williams Simmons has said that Oliver Onions excelled in investigating:

“the intimate relationship between ‘creating’ and mental instability … His characters often get lost in their own creations. The artist, the sensitive being, always runs the danger of complete and soul effacing mental absorption. The creative process is only one thin line away from self-destruction.”

There is a 1967 Italian film loosely based on The Beckoning Fair One, directed by Elio Petri, starring Franco Nero and Vanessa Redgrave. It is called “A Quiet Place in the Country”, and features what is presumed to be the ghost of Wanda, a nymphomaniac countess.

“And if all else was falling away from Oleron, gladly he was letting it go. So do we all when our fair ones beckon.”

[Althea Ann · Rating 5 out of 5]

What really makes this story is how what's terrifying about the ghost is how its influence affects the mind and moods of the characters... Over and above shadows and bumps in the night, it's the depression and despair that accompany its presence.

A writer rents out a suite in a decrepit and long-empty home. Sinking his savings into renovations, he's eager to show the apartment off to his lady-friend, whom he anticipates will be delighted by what he's done with the old place. However, her reaction is quite the opposite. Even though everything is freshly painted and lovely, she hates it. Moreover, she seems terribly prone to accidents whenever she comes to visit. Meanwhile, the tenant can't seem to get a lick of work accomplished there, and the more he tries to buckle down and get his latest novel written, the more he seems convinced that it's no good, and that he's a failure.

And that's just the beginning of the horror...

(Just as a note, I think what really brought this up to 5 stars for me is the character of Elsie [the friend of the narrator]. She's just so bold and real - 'substantial' in more ways than one. She's one that's going to stick with me.)

(a re-read)

[Craig · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a good macabre novella, a subtle story with an unreliable narrator that may or may not be supernatural in nature. It's one of the earliest examples of a writer-going-crazy-or-is-he stories that Stephen King (and a zillion others) have published, not to mention the inclusion of a woman-in-refrigerator plot twist before refrigerators were invented. It's a good, dark tale with a Gothic flavor. Onions was an early master of psychological horror, probably frequently passed by because the name he used sounds so silly.

[Plateresca · Rating 4 out of 5]

"['To let' boards] resembled nothing so much as a row of wooden choppers, ever in the act of falling upon some passer-by, yet never cutting off a tenant for the old house from the stream of his fellows."

I've been reading ghost stories since the beginning of Autumn and I'm not going to review most of them for lack of time, but I did want to draw your attention to this one, in case you don't know it yet. It is special. Very atmospheric, it's romantically melancholy in the beginning, creepy in the middle and suddenly realistically almost CSI-style in the end.

It deals with the fascination we feel for the mysterious. This reminded me of the theme of the Sidhe enchantment (one of many others in Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell which I've just finished rereading - new review coming soon). The sadness one feels might be a longing for the happiness of otherworldly presence, or it might simply be a spell, a cheating which deprives the victim of something... only the victim might never regret it.

Well-written, subtle and intriguing.

And here's Jean's excellent in-depth review.

[Jeffrey · Rating 3 out of 5]

This 1911 ghost story is an impressive example of suggestion and atmosphere, as a struggling novelist, Paul Oleron, rents a floor of a dilapidated house and is slowly seduced by something ghostly. Onions unfolds the story languidly, beginning with incidents that could just as easily be Oleron's imagination as a supernatural presence: an ancient melody he can't stop humming, a visitor scratched by a nail he swore he removed. Uncovering the hidden, nailed-down window boxes gives us our first clue about the spectral inhabitant--Oleron finds a large, strangely-shaped piece of soft cloth, and after puzzling over it for awhile, discovers it is a harp cover. This hint that the presence is feminine continues to be reinforced, when Oleron hears hair being brushed, feels a strong desire to bring flowers to his house every day, and learns that the melody he can't get out of his head is called "The Beckoning Fair One." His seduction continues when his only female friend suffers several accidents in his house, and Oleron comes to believe that his ghost is jealous of her. Like many ghost stories, it is possible to read large sections of The Beckoning Fair One as perception rather than reality--Oleron may be cracking under the strain of his deadlines and years of financial pressures--but the horrific ending makes this line of thinking more difficult to argue.

[Sirensongs · Rating 5 out of 5]

It seems as if there is somewhat of a gap in my experience of ghost stories if it has taken me this long to finally read this classic by Oliver Onions. Better late than never, however, and I must say it is one of the finest spectral tales that I have ever read! It contained all the elements that I find most enticing in a ghost stories: a tortured artist, obsession, madness, unrequited love and passion, the subtlest hints of lust, ambiguity... I truly found this to be a masterpiece of this particular literary form. What a treat! I look forward to further exploring the oeuvre of Mr. Onions!

[Warren Fournier · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'll never again be able to hear my wife combing her hair without goosebumps.

This novelette is the first story to appear in the 1911 classic "Widdershins," a compilation of supernatural stories written by Oliver Onions. For whatever the reason (perhaps because his name comes across as silly), this author is not read much these days, but he really is a force in British literature, and his horror stories rival those of M.R. James, Hugh Walpole, and Gertrude Atherton.

Though I read "Widdershins" years ago, I've just recently reread "The Beckoning Fair One," and believe it is worth discussing separately.

It concerns a novelist who has grown tired of having to rent two small flats to store all of his stuff. So he rents the first floor of an old London mansion, and contents himself that for once he can work efficiently in his new digs. Unfortunately, he finds that he suffers from a kind of malaise in the house. Instead of working on his latest book, he farts around. When he does think about the book, he starts to lose interest in it, even thinking of burning his manuscript all together. What's worse, his girlfriend has noticed the change in him, and when she tries to convince him to leave, the house seems to attack her. At first, he just assumes she is accident-prone, but events slowly unfold to reveal that there is a presence in the house. And this presence is an angry one, supplanting his previous aspirations and directing him to do... what?

The story does get a bit slow in the middle, as this is where we get to know the main character and his girlfriend. It's a surprisingly poignant study of what happens when we approach middle age and start questioning the choices we made when we were younger and feeling the pressure of time. We kind of expect that the days of dorms and ratty apartments and ramen noodles will end when we grow up and finally arrive, but then in the blink of an eye, we are 50, and still aren't where we thought we'd be in life. But this is where some readers might get stuck. Where are the ghosts? Where's the spooky stuff?

When the supernatural does manifest, it is subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. But I find it to be incredibly effective. This one really got under my skin. Have you ever had a dream where you are trying to get something done and yet something keeps holding you back? Or have you ever been so intoxicated that you are horrified to discover later that you did things in a blackout that you can't remember? Or how about being alone in a dark place, and hearing a noise that just shouldn't be there? All of these primal images and fears are captured in this story. And though it is written with a slight edge of humor, this story is bleak, mysterious, and tragic.

So if you are reading this as a standalone story, or are working your way through "Widdershins," don't pass judgement until you've read the whole thing. I think you'll find it to be a rewarding piece of literature, as well as a solid ghost story for a rainy October night.

SCORE: 5 hair combs out of 5

[Annalisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Una ghost-story ritenuta tra le più suggestive, "La bella Incantatrice" di Oliver Onion, pochissimo conosciuto in Italia, tradotto solo nell'ambito di alcune raccolte dedicate alla Ghost Story e di genere.

La lettura di questo romanzo breve (o racconto lungo) è davvero seducente, alla maniera Edith Wharton le presenze non sono quasi mai manifeste, sono "suggerite", accennate, ma non per questo meno terrorizzanti.

[Danielle The Book Huntress · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hmm. I didn't enjoy this story that much. I can see why it's influential and respected as a ghost story. But, it's not my cup of tea. I think that the malevolent ghost aspect is interesting and appreciated, but I didn't care much for the execution, or the ending. I can see how this motif has been used in latter works. Definitely respect Oliver Onions for that. I also respect him for having such a dark aspect to this story.

Let's be real here. I like upbeat endings. I can enjoy some books that end negatively, but I didn't like this ending. I felt bad for Elsie. She genuinely cared about Paul. I wanted her to kick some ghost you know what. And Paul, well he just seemed to give up the ghost (no pun intended) and let the spirit suck him dry, practically. Nope, I didn't like that.

My other problem was how long and meandering it was. That doesn't tend to be my favorite kind of writing. I didn't think that Mr. Onions did much to build up the tension. It was awful vague, more suggestive and 'is it really happening or is Paul Oleron off his rocker?' But we know that's not the case.

Again, I can see why this is well-respected, and it was a pretty good story. Just not my thing. I feel so bad for poor Paul and Elsie. What a downer--and no good scare with it. Bah!!!

[Mizuki · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's a 3.5 stars read, I like the writing and the characters, but the very, very faint ending is a bit of a letdown.

[Zoë Birss · Rating 3 out of 5]

This classic novella of eery horror brings to mind The Shining. A writer is driven to madness as his wits, his passions, and his inspiration are replaced by dark, supernatural evils within the building that is his new home. The narration expertly carries us through various states of our protagonist's fear and folly, changing in tone and clarity to match the waxing and waning of the character's own lucidity. The largest complaint I have of the book is that I found it too long. It is a novella, when a short story would have more than serviced the needs of the woeful tale.

[Latasha · Rating 2 out of 5]

I listened to a Librivox recording for this story. the reader did very well. the story started out so slow. i didn't think it picked up until desperate friend started getting hurt then it slowed back down. overall it was ok. it could have been A LOT shorter, though.

[JoAnn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Odd, yet compelling.

[MJ · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a pure delight. I had not idea it was written in the early 1900's. Lovely, atmospheric, eerie, gothic - perfect for this time of year. I never thought I would enjoy an author with a name like Oliver Onions - but I do! Highly highly recommended.

[Hudson · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a short story that King said was part of inspiration for the shining. Bonus - there is a collection on Amazon and this is the 1st story, entire story available in the sample.

[Chrystal · Rating 4 out of 5]

A writer moves into an old flat that has been empty for years; will he be allowed to leave?

[Crookedhouseofbooks · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a very enjoyable psychological ghost story.

I truly love these Horror Hall Of Fame novellas. So far, this is the third one that I have read and I'm always impressed with the author bios and the bonus stories in the appendix section.

The Beckoning Fair One kinda reminded me of The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins. You have a main character that is apparently suffering from delusions but, in this particular story, the reader is left to ponder how much was actually imagination and how much was ghostly.

One thing is for certain, something is not quite right with the house.

I won't mention any other details because this is a short story that truly needs to be experienced first hand.

The bonus story in the appendix was also penned by the author and is entitled The Cigarette Case. It's another ghost story that was quite enjoyable but had characters that were undoubtedly sane without question.

I received a copy of this in exchange for an honest review. Honestly, you gotta read this one. Anyone that enjoys victorian ghost stories will find this one very entertaining.

[Bill Kupersmith · Rating 4 out of 5]

Paul Oleron, a 40-something novelist, has a sudden impulse to let a flat in a dilapidated old building (a clue to the age are the insurance marks, dating from the days of private fire brigades), that seems to be haunted by a former occupant. It's not clear whether he's falling in love with her ghost or with the rooms themselves, but he gradually becomes alienated from his only only woman friend and from his current work in progress. It is difficult to know how to take this story, whether it is a study in addiction, depression, obsession, or a 'real ghost story'. Whatever, it features one of the creepiest titles in classic supernatural fiction (alongside 'O Whistle and I'll Come to You, My Lad'). For all of us lonely authors, it's a warning to keep our friendships in good repair.

[Mike · Rating 2 out of 5]

The kind of novella that makes you appreciate even more writers like Poe, Hoffmann, Le Fanu, Lovecraft, etc. This was dull, staid prose that had neither the creative flair of earlier 19th century supernatural fiction nor the psychological punch of some of Onions’ contemporaries. Even the sensational ending couldn’t salvage this one for me. I’m always amused when the tired, old “Was it a ghost, or was it a mental break?” trope is lauded as groundbreaking, when it’s the same damned literary device used for centuries (Hamlet, anyone?).

[Becka · Rating 4 out of 5]

Can't imagine why I attached so strongly to yet another story where someone becomes gradually trapped in/haunted by/consumed by their house. This one had a few very sharp lines about the drudgery of writing when you're exhausted with your subject matter, and overall was just a very good ghost story with a harrowing conclusion.

[M · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is not a story where ghosts pop out of the dark shadows and people scream. It is a story of obsession, possession and the sheer terror of losing everything to an unknown force. Short and brilliant. Why it is not better known, amazes me. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

[Randy Money · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the great early 20th century ghost stories, on a par with anything written by M. R. James, and arguably creepier than The Turn of the Screw. A man rents a room and begins to hear things, not least the combing of someone's hair ...

[xenia · Rating 2 out of 5]

It's come to my attention that ghost stories can be read as parables of intergenerational trauma; that those haunted by the dead are sequestered into a dissociative theatre to re-enact the past unto an eternal deferral of the future. Through possessions and hauntings the living play out their own deaths without an end in sight. Living death is much like ptsd, it's a death you cannot die, a violation from without that settles into one's inmost core. It's history, congealed beyond articulation; bodies trapped in their own temporal loops. The possessed becomes the possessor, the traumatised becomes the traumatiser.

The fantasy of ghost stories is that speaking the historical injustice will end this loop. Its inverse fantasy is that the loop is eternal, unchangeable, human-nature. Both are simplistic narratives. Change only happens through loops, through repetition. The formation of new habits requires a deeper engagement with the past, of which acknowledgement is the first step. If there is a human-nature it is malleable, fixed only insofar as the assemblages it is constituted through remain the same. Knowing, feeling, and doing occur through bodily practices aligned to institutional frameworks. Moving through one's home and one's workplace, through malls, and streets, and gyms, and cafes. Setting boundaries, coming to consensus, voicing one's pain to a friend or colleague, accepting critique, standing up for oneself. These are all intersubjective phenomena that are not merely internalised, but actively reinforced (as well as undone) through social engagements.

Perhaps this is the failing of so many ghost stories. They depict the ontological rupture and its subsequent restoration (or continuation) as all too clean. Something happens, something unhappens (or never stops happening). There is no social act that transforms the haunted space; there is only the lone protagonist whose revelation speaks truth into being (or merely primes them to their inescapable fate as the next victim-victimiser in line). Ghost stories are all too singular and ahistorical, despite their evocation of historical wrongs.

Perhaps this is the brilliance of newer horror films such as Get Out, which pivot the ghostly and the weird as an intersection of differently situated bodies vying for political hegemony. Intergenerational trauma is ghostly precisely through its capacity to efface the pain and subjectivity of the other. To make the other invisible—even to themselves. To colonise the mind. Black bodies become the terrain through which colonial history progresses, a terra nullius for white becoming—the horror of becoming a nameless, faceless spook, once more.

Horror is the repetition of history, not as a house of strange accidents and shrieks, but as a system of domination whose social articulation is uncontested, roots sunken so deeply in time we believe no other reality could flourish in its place.

[Riju Ganguly · Rating 4 out of 5]

This slow-burning classic story can be interpreted as a ghost story, a story of delusion resulting in suicidal tendencies, or simply a case of loneliness creeping into the psyche of someone. Most readers and critics tend to classify this work into a pathbreaking ghost story that relies entirely upon the power of suggestions to create fear. But I found this one to be a truly terrifying psychological horror story. The Sherlockian maxim "no ghosts need apply" can be easily applied here, as we get to see the protagonist tearing himself apart to the point of destruction, while being haunted by loneliness, resulting in a longing for someone who doesn’t exist.
Or, the place could simply be 'haunted', as described conveniently by most critics.
The impact this story had on Bengali literature was immense. The most successful bestselling author of the time Panchkari Dey (পাঁচকড়ি দে) had written a brilliant adaptation of this story as 'সর্বনাশিনী' that defied all conventions of ghost stories that were prevalent upto that stage. It paved the path for emergence of modern psychological horror stories in Bengali literature, that had sexual tension at their core. The best exponent of this style was Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay, who had also adopted this story into one of his own, named 'অশরীরী'.
If you are yet to read this chiller, please rectify the situation ASAP.
Recommended.

[Bbrown · Rating 4 out of 5]

Having recently read a haunted house story that failed to deliver, I decided to try this classic novella from the same genre in hopes of a better result. Luckily, The Beckoning Fair One by the wonderfully named Oliver Onions was much more of a success. The haunted house here, a run-down brick building wedged amongst the tenements, is inhabited by a malevolent entity that inspires obsession, irrationality, and agoraphobia instead of striking terror directly. The story follows its protagonist Oleron as he falls prey to this entity, and it's how relatable Oleron is that elevated the work for me. I've certainly procrastinated before, so I understood Oleron when he did so, and only later did I realize that this was the entity first starting to get Oleron in its clutches. I also appreciated how the story drops hints about what is haunting the house but never spells out a backstory for it; it's subtler than many works in the genre in this respect. As the novella goes on, Oliver Onions skillfully mirrors Oleron's mental state through his writing, and the conclusion was especially effective for me because I didn't exactly see it coming. 3.5/5, rounding up.

[Ilya Solovyev · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very intense psychological horror story with such a creepy macabre atmosphere. The writing is really great, and there are a few modulations of style and pace throughout the storyline. What is also nice about this story is that the ending and the whodunit part is quite clear and well explained :)

[Julie Davis · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can't believe I never reviewed this novella. I read it on Forgotten Classics in three parts as it is rather long.

We will be discussing it on SFFaudio where Jesse very kindly put all the pieces together into one complete audiobook for those who want to listen before hearing our discussion.

Many people complain of this being a slow, meandering tale but I found this explained by the author's own forward which explains his approach to the ghost story. These are just a few snippets but I hope they convey his overall meaning:

Ghosts, it is advanced, either do not exist at all, or else, like the stars at noonday, they are there all the time and it is we who cannot see them. The stories in the following pages were written on the second of these assumptions. ...

... I myself have never been able to understand why the unvarying question should be, "Have you ever seen a ghost?" when, if a ghost cannot exist apart from visibility, his being rests solely on the testimony of one sense, and that in some respects the most fallible one of all. May not his proximity be felt and his nature apprehended in other ways? I have it on excellent authority that such a visitor can in fact be heard breathing in the room, most powerfully smelt, and known for a spirit in travail longing for consolation, all at one and the same time, and yet not be seen by the eye. ...

For these reasons I claim that the tales that follow all range themselves somewhere between the ultra-violet and the infra-red of the ghostly spectrum. ...

I found this story did a wonderful job of introducing that uncertainty of whether there are ghosts or whether we are at the mercy of an unreliable narrator, much like The Turn of the Screw by Henry James.

[Jeffrey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh yes, it is indeed the very best short haunted house story in the English Language. Lovecraft was correct. Bennett Cerf called it one of the two 'best ghost stories I have ever read, or ever expect to read, ...' . Paul Oleron is an accomplished author living in London at the turn of the 20th century. Looking to compile his working office and domicile into a single unit, he takes a lease in an old, run-down hulk in a ramshackle corner of a London neighborhood. With the move, Paul and his girl friend are drawn down into a ever tightening gyre of revelations of a dark and sinister intent.

Historically, it is easy to see how this story has been over looked. Written just 4 short years before the greatest real-life horror show that any one had ever scene. Many of the young men who read this story in 1911 would die in the muck and blood, fire and smoke of world war. Kind of makes a story about some goof who dies of starvation hardly worth mentioning.

A century has passed since then. I find this a wonderful penultimate tale of a world so entranced with the past that it stumbled blindly into the wagons bound for the morgue.