Randalls Round has generally been a collection cited semi-often in the periphery of my reading habits and I finally decided to pick it up and read it fully. It is a quite good collection and well-recommended to those who read the sort of ghost stories I do (see my past reviews for a sampling of what I mean).
It is obvious, and correct, to suggest this is a Jamesian collection of short stories. Many of the elements border upon near plagiarism of M.R. James' more recognizable tales: a relic found upon a beach while vacationing, a person digging in a mound and experiencing a great horror, a Biblical puzzle that could lead to treasure but mostly terror, children being adopted by a benefactor with sinister intentions. It feels, as it does in the case of several H.R. Wakefield stories, that Scott (real name: H. M. Leys) was someone with a deep appreciation of James but ultimately a different sort of way of telling tales. With slug-like beings inhabiting old houses, you could also toss an appreciation of E.F. Benson into the mix. As well as others...is that a touch of Machen? Chambers? Even maybe a touch of Lovecraft?
It would be incorrect to describe this book as merely pastiche, though. Scott has a number of ideas and tricks that give this collection an overall fresh feel. By having bits of James with bits of other things, you see a certain proto-weird in her plots. In "Oh Whistle," James was unearthing the spectre of the Knights Templar. In "Celui-là", Scott invokes an ancient being that inhabits a certain place and is brought up in a certain way. Several touch upon folk horror as well. "The Cure" fits into this mold, as well as the title story, with rural customs being haunted by repeating evils and tying into some elder, maybe eldritch, principle: every day people playing out a pattern to an unknown god. So while a story like "The Twelve Apostles" might be little more than a James/Benson repeat, however well-crafted, you also get stuff like "At Simnel Acre Farms" that transforms the concept of a haunting to something inexplicable, a full-on brush of the Other that predicts the sort of story that is usually called Aickman-esque, nowadays.
In this light, you also have stories like "Will Ye No' Come Back Again?," that have no precise definition and cannot be read in the classic ghost story sense. "Come Back" one-ups the Aickman-esque sense by giving us a number of moments that might be thought of in the toolbox of Ramsey Campbell: distorted faces turning out to be your own reflection, strange sounds that are just every day things heard by a disturbed ear. That it comes across as mocking the feminist movement and that its ending is trite is a complication, sure, but it shows (as do the other stories in the latter half of this collection) a movement away from plot as the primary vehicle of horror and instead a more aesthetic approach in which stories purposefully fail to end entirely. While the reader can easily fill in the gaps of plot in a story like "The Tree," there is the sense that the reader can never fully understand the mechanism behind the plot and instead must experience it mostly as a short stint of despair.
"The Room," a story that was anthologized before any of the others and was an early stand-out though now feels perhaps most dated, is an oddity that exemplifies this concept beautifully. It is basically a morality play about the way we judge others while our sins grow large. Its genius, what genius it has under its sappy, conservative trappings, though, is how little the reader is ever let into the behind-the-scenes. There is a room, and men sleep in it and have terrible experiences. It is easy to read it as surface-level story as kind of a Golden Rule parable of little substance and then wholy fail to notice that Scott sneaks the Unknown right past your nose.
Scott does not delve exactly into nastiness, but does broach upon a slightly more visceral horror than James would have used. Her ghosts, when they are ghosts and not some...Thing...out of history with no precise name nor explanation, are not always treated gently. "Randalls Round," the story, might touch upon well-worn tropes such as strange little towns and folk dancing and things-in-burial-mounds, but it does so with a bit of extra-crunch without spoiling the dish by explaining away any of the unknowable things. The horror remains mostly sounds and a dark shape barely witnessed except for its bloody aftermath. While this mixture of moods does somewhat lose Scott's stories in the middle-ground between Jamesian and Lovecraftian horrors, it should be celebrated as one that touched upon the way horror was changing and took advantage of it. It shows the leap from 1920s horror to 1950s horror was not some sudden insight of a few (generally white, generally male) writers but instead was a movement being worked upon by diverse hands.
As said, it is a good collection (maybe not great in that it seems more like an introduction to further greatness had she continued writing in this vein) and it is recommended. One of my favorites, despite some of its flaws.