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Moths
The spirit of a long-dead actress possessed her--setting her body afire with its lust and consuming her soul with its evil.
As soon as Nemo Boyce saw Dower House she fell in love with it and convinced her husband to buy it. As soon as Professor Harris saw Nemo, he fell in love with her.
It could have been a commonplace triangle--except for Sarah Moore. Sarah--beautiful, lustful, murderous, and dead. Sarah, who draws men to her like moths to a flame. Sarah, who starts to take over Nemo. And Harris, consumed by his own love, is powerless to stop her.
As soon as Nemo Boyce saw Dower House she fell in love with it and convinced her husband to buy it. As soon as Professor Harris saw Nemo, he fell in love with her.
It could have been a commonplace triangle--except for Sarah Moore. Sarah--beautiful, lustful, murderous, and dead. Sarah, who draws men to her like moths to a flame. Sarah, who starts to take over Nemo. And Harris, consumed by his own love, is powerless to stop her.
211 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1976
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 63 reviews
May 25, 2014
Another penguin from my favourite bookshop. This one is an oddity, a ghost story. I must admit I hadn’t heard of Rosalind Ashe; she’s written a few other novels and a couple of books on Literary Houses. This was her first novel, I think, and was praised by Iris Murdoch.
The plot does stretch believability. Harris is an Oxford don in his late 30s and a bachelor. He finds an old house on the market; grand and beyond his price range. He spends a good deal of time in its grounds (and in the house) while it is on the market. He meets the potential purchasers, James and Nemo (Latin for no one) Boyce and befriends them, falling in love with Nemo. Things drift along well with good descriptions of the gardens and the grandeur of the house and Harris getting along well with the Boyce's. Nemo becomes obsessed with the house and how it should look and slightly odd things begin to happen; mostly related to a former resident, Sarah Moore, a regency actress. Harris begins to believe Sarah Moore is still around. To cut a long story short; Nemo begins to bump off men having had sexual intercourse with them first (they are the moths). Harris is a potential victim, but survives and realises that Sarah Moore has taken over Nemo (?!?). Instead of doing the obvious and telling the police, he decides his love for Nemo overrides this and he wants to save her/help her etc. Events spiral with a few twists and turns. It’s all a bit strange.
I don’t mind a good ghost story; Susan Hill and M R James being among my favourites. Virago have also published an excellent compilation. This is ok, but the notion of a homicidal female bumping off deluded males led by the one thing males are usually led by is a little formulaic (although quite fun) and the ending leaves much open. However the late great Dennis Potter was working on a film version of Moths when he died (called Midnight Movie) and I do like much of his work. It’s interesting, but too much focussed on Harris and too little on Nemo for it to work entirely. 3.5 stars.
The plot does stretch believability. Harris is an Oxford don in his late 30s and a bachelor. He finds an old house on the market; grand and beyond his price range. He spends a good deal of time in its grounds (and in the house) while it is on the market. He meets the potential purchasers, James and Nemo (Latin for no one) Boyce and befriends them, falling in love with Nemo. Things drift along well with good descriptions of the gardens and the grandeur of the house and Harris getting along well with the Boyce's. Nemo becomes obsessed with the house and how it should look and slightly odd things begin to happen; mostly related to a former resident, Sarah Moore, a regency actress. Harris begins to believe Sarah Moore is still around. To cut a long story short; Nemo begins to bump off men having had sexual intercourse with them first (they are the moths). Harris is a potential victim, but survives and realises that Sarah Moore has taken over Nemo (?!?). Instead of doing the obvious and telling the police, he decides his love for Nemo overrides this and he wants to save her/help her etc. Events spiral with a few twists and turns. It’s all a bit strange.
I don’t mind a good ghost story; Susan Hill and M R James being among my favourites. Virago have also published an excellent compilation. This is ok, but the notion of a homicidal female bumping off deluded males led by the one thing males are usually led by is a little formulaic (although quite fun) and the ending leaves much open. However the late great Dennis Potter was working on a film version of Moths when he died (called Midnight Movie) and I do like much of his work. It’s interesting, but too much focussed on Harris and too little on Nemo for it to work entirely. 3.5 stars.
August 15, 2014
My late grandmother was a writer, and this was her first novel. It's pretty shameful I haven't got round to reading it until now, especially since this is a pretty great book! A ghost story of sorts, it touches on jealousy, love and doubt, and ends up being really entertaining. It starts slowly, with some luxurious prose and pretty evocative character profiles, but once you've been lulled into a false sense of security, the shocks are visceral. It's the story of a woman named Nemo, who buys an old Georgian house in Oxfordshire with her husband, and Harry (our narrator), who quickly befriends the couple and falls for Nemo. After a supernatural experience, Nemo's mood swings evolve into migraines and fits of passion, and when death rears its head, things get pretty intense. It's a short book - I finished it in a day - but it's full of riches, and I'll never look at a hat-pin the same way again.
October 10, 2025
review soon
December 13, 2025
How do you tell a man, gently, that his wife is a homocidal nymphomaniac?
This is an intriguing, pulpy, gothic horror novel about a professor that is too young for a mid life crisis and too old for a quarter life one, but after meeting the couple that buy his favourite house decides to have one anyway. I did find myself wondering why he didn't just buy it himself.
What truly intrigued me about this story though was the discussions of rape, told by and done to, men. The main character did acknowledge, with the word rape used, that that had happened to him, but in his obsession with Nemo he often dismissed it, wanting it to have more meaning.
There's an overall vibe that the men are torn between their obsession with Nemo, what had happened to them, and a sense of embarassment and feeling that they won't be believed. It's even mentioned that telling their story would be embarassing. The horror story itself is just fine, but this aspect of the book was the one that I will think about long after.
This is an intriguing, pulpy, gothic horror novel about a professor that is too young for a mid life crisis and too old for a quarter life one, but after meeting the couple that buy his favourite house decides to have one anyway. I did find myself wondering why he didn't just buy it himself.
What truly intrigued me about this story though was the discussions of rape, told by and done to, men. The main character did acknowledge, with the word rape used, that that had happened to him, but in his obsession with Nemo he often dismissed it, wanting it to have more meaning.
There's an overall vibe that the men are torn between their obsession with Nemo, what had happened to them, and a sense of embarassment and feeling that they won't be believed. It's even mentioned that telling their story would be embarassing. The horror story itself is just fine, but this aspect of the book was the one that I will think about long after.
June 11, 2025
This new edition includes a really good and thoughtful introduction from Lisa Kröger that puts Moths in the context of gothic fiction, horror, and Ashe's contemporaries.
My late grandmother was a writer, and this was her first novel. It's pretty shameful I haven't got round to reading it until now, especially since this is a pretty great book! A ghost story of sorts, it touches on jealousy, love and doubt, and ends up being really entertaining. It starts slowly, with some luxurious prose and pretty evocative character profiles, but once you've been lulled into a false sense of security, the shocks are visceral. It's the story of a woman named Nemo, who buys an old Georgian house in Oxfordshire with her husband, and Harry (our narrator), who quickly befriends the couple and falls for Nemo. After a supernatural experience, Nemo's mood swings evolve into migraines and fits of passion, and when death rears its head, things get pretty intense. It's a short book - I finished it in a day - but it's full of riches, and I'll never look at a hat-pin the same way again.
My late grandmother was a writer, and this was her first novel. It's pretty shameful I haven't got round to reading it until now, especially since this is a pretty great book! A ghost story of sorts, it touches on jealousy, love and doubt, and ends up being really entertaining. It starts slowly, with some luxurious prose and pretty evocative character profiles, but once you've been lulled into a false sense of security, the shocks are visceral. It's the story of a woman named Nemo, who buys an old Georgian house in Oxfordshire with her husband, and Harry (our narrator), who quickly befriends the couple and falls for Nemo. After a supernatural experience, Nemo's mood swings evolve into migraines and fits of passion, and when death rears its head, things get pretty intense. It's a short book - I finished it in a day - but it's full of riches, and I'll never look at a hat-pin the same way again.
June 4, 2025
There’s something quietly haunting about Moths, like the delicate brush of wings against glass at midnight. Rosalind Ashe crafts a narrative as fragile and persistent as the creatures that inhabit its pages. The recurring image of moths isn’t just symbolic; I found it spectral. Drawn to light even when it consumes them, the moths mirror not only our protagonist’s descent into obsession and self-erasure, but that of the entire cast of characters.
The moths, as well as the home at the heart of the story, form a soft, flitting metaphor for longing, memory, and the kind of ruin that feels almost romantic in its inevitability. The novel unfolds in a way that recalls the larger strokes of The Yellow Wallpaper, where the supernatural and psychological flicker and battle for your senses.
Ashe’s voice echoes the gothic elegance of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, but with a sharper, more fractured psychological edge. There is also a quiet feminism stitched through the shadows. Like Rebecca, Moths centers women whose power is often misunderstood, underestimated, or mislabeled as madness. They are haunted, yes—but by what? A specter, or the weight of restraint?
And yet, Moths never loses its own sense of self. It is its own haunted house, its own flickering lamp in the night.
A beautiful and melancholy read, Moths lingers long after the last page is turned. By the end, I felt as though I were a moth drawn to its flame.
The moths, as well as the home at the heart of the story, form a soft, flitting metaphor for longing, memory, and the kind of ruin that feels almost romantic in its inevitability. The novel unfolds in a way that recalls the larger strokes of The Yellow Wallpaper, where the supernatural and psychological flicker and battle for your senses.
Ashe’s voice echoes the gothic elegance of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, but with a sharper, more fractured psychological edge. There is also a quiet feminism stitched through the shadows. Like Rebecca, Moths centers women whose power is often misunderstood, underestimated, or mislabeled as madness. They are haunted, yes—but by what? A specter, or the weight of restraint?
And yet, Moths never loses its own sense of self. It is its own haunted house, its own flickering lamp in the night.
A beautiful and melancholy read, Moths lingers long after the last page is turned. By the end, I felt as though I were a moth drawn to its flame.
July 21, 2012
Eh, whatever. Great idea -- blah execution.
The narrator's (i.e., author's) parade of elitist fragments & metaphors made me want to rip a thesaurus in half -- there's a point where one leapfrogs descriptive to splat headfirst in a puddle of overwritten, which is exactly what happened here. The flat and/or unlikable characters weren't enough to make up for the language style, & after scanning the last few pages I didn't want to bother slogging through a mediocre read for so little reward.
If you like extremely wordy, academia-centric gothic novels with self-important narrators...have at it. But for me? Nope. Standard 2-star DNF.
The narrator's (i.e., author's) parade of elitist fragments & metaphors made me want to rip a thesaurus in half -- there's a point where one leapfrogs descriptive to splat headfirst in a puddle of overwritten, which is exactly what happened here. The flat and/or unlikable characters weren't enough to make up for the language style, & after scanning the last few pages I didn't want to bother slogging through a mediocre read for so little reward.
If you like extremely wordy, academia-centric gothic novels with self-important narrators...have at it. But for me? Nope. Standard 2-star DNF.
January 25, 2026
The true horror lies in the narrators poor decisions.
March 9, 2025
The tagline on the cover compares this book to Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca and that's a pretty bold statement for a publicist to make. For the record, this is nowhere near the literary classic. Not in style, quality or endurance.
It was written in the 70s and I'm sure it wasn't good then but it would have been somewhat titillating on the spinner racks. It hasn't aged well.
The narrator is an English don, or professor, I guess. Still, I can't imagine anyone having the inner monologue this character has. I've read a lot of British literature and fiction over the years and I've never had to "translate" one as much as this. The terms and phrasing are either archaic or so local they never made it over to the US or into any other English novels I've read.
Secondly, I mistakenly thought this was in some way related to the titular (that's a word the narrator would use) moths. I thought this might be early modern folk horror. Nope.
You have to call this Horror because there's nowhere else to put it, I guess. It's a shame, because the cover art is great. I think it was mostly a way to write 70's sex. As seen by someone observing it. Sort of. And thinking it was kinky.
This is being re-released soon by Valancourt Books, which is how I heard about it. I tracked down, and paid for, this mass market edition specifically for the cover. You can read it, too. But don't be expecting moths that make you do sexy things. Like I was.
It was written in the 70s and I'm sure it wasn't good then but it would have been somewhat titillating on the spinner racks. It hasn't aged well.
The narrator is an English don, or professor, I guess. Still, I can't imagine anyone having the inner monologue this character has. I've read a lot of British literature and fiction over the years and I've never had to "translate" one as much as this. The terms and phrasing are either archaic or so local they never made it over to the US or into any other English novels I've read.
Secondly, I mistakenly thought this was in some way related to the titular (that's a word the narrator would use) moths. I thought this might be early modern folk horror. Nope.
You have to call this Horror because there's nowhere else to put it, I guess. It's a shame, because the cover art is great. I think it was mostly a way to write 70's sex. As seen by someone observing it. Sort of. And thinking it was kinky.
This is being re-released soon by Valancourt Books, which is how I heard about it. I tracked down, and paid for, this mass market edition specifically for the cover. You can read it, too. But don't be expecting moths that make you do sexy things. Like I was.
March 20, 2023
I yield..its a DNF for me.
Better books await.
Better books await.
January 14, 2023
Bravo! An astonishing first novel, gripping, compelling, a real page-turner, precisely written, with not a word out of place. Why Rosalind Ashe isn't mentioned alongside Daphne Du Maurier and Shirley Jackson, or at the very least alongside similar slow-burn horror novels of the '70s like Robert Marasco's Burnt Offerings and Bernard Taylor's Sweetheart Sweetheart is one of those eternal mysteries of the vagaries of literary fashions and reputations. (The low Goodreads rating is also baffling, unless people were expecting a schlocky horror novel like were churned out by the thousands in the '70s.)
The novel concerns Harry, a bachelor university don, who visits an old house up for auction and falls in love at first sight -- with both the house and its eventual purchaser, the beautiful Nemo, who is unhappily married to the dull philanderer James. Legend has it that a slightly mad 18th century actress, Sarah Moore, once lived in the house, and as Harry contrives to spend time at the house (and with Nemo) on various excuses, odd things begin to happen. A dead dog, strange whispers caught on a tape, etc. Nemo begins to act oddly, and Harry starts to believe the impossible: that she is somehow being possessed by the ghost of Sarah Moore.
A lot of really ghastly things happen, the mystery and suspense build, and the book finishes off in a literal blaze of glory. Hats off to Rosalind Ashe, whose novel was apparently a minor hit when it first came out and had rave reviews from the press and fellow writers like Iris Murdoch but is totally forgotten today. If you're a fan of old slow-burn horror novels, or Gothic suspense tales, pick up a copy of this one -- you won't regret it.
The novel concerns Harry, a bachelor university don, who visits an old house up for auction and falls in love at first sight -- with both the house and its eventual purchaser, the beautiful Nemo, who is unhappily married to the dull philanderer James. Legend has it that a slightly mad 18th century actress, Sarah Moore, once lived in the house, and as Harry contrives to spend time at the house (and with Nemo) on various excuses, odd things begin to happen. A dead dog, strange whispers caught on a tape, etc. Nemo begins to act oddly, and Harry starts to believe the impossible: that she is somehow being possessed by the ghost of Sarah Moore.
A lot of really ghastly things happen, the mystery and suspense build, and the book finishes off in a literal blaze of glory. Hats off to Rosalind Ashe, whose novel was apparently a minor hit when it first came out and had rave reviews from the press and fellow writers like Iris Murdoch but is totally forgotten today. If you're a fan of old slow-burn horror novels, or Gothic suspense tales, pick up a copy of this one -- you won't regret it.
February 3, 2026
Moths, for me, was an interesting book. I was initially grabbed by the cover of the book as there was something quite imaginative about it. You get a general idea of what the base of the story will be from the blurb, but the cover offered me the chance to imagine where the story could go from there. It was mysterious, bold, messy. It's shame there's no official credit of the illustrator behind it as I feel it's a great cover.
I really liked the writing in this book. Rosalind Ashe gives distinct voices to each character and does a great job in creating the scenery of the book. I think she did a great job in defining each character throughout the book. The book is written as an almost narration or account of the story, by our protagonist, Harry Harris. I really enjoyed the exploration of his thoughts and feelings, seeing into his inner turmoil as he tries to manage his 'love' and humanity. I feel it's his perspective that gives the fire to this story. As far as he is concerned throughout the whole story, he has a clear mind and has a complete handling on his emotions in regards to Nemo. Time and time again, that's proven to be untrue and that's where the interest for me laid. A man entirely enchanted by someone, driven to do the most ridiculous things, all because he believes it's his true love that drives him and nothing more.
There are some interesting themes in the story, which given it was released during the 70's, I can imagine offered a great impact. I loved that despite much of the story being on the pages, there are still several mysteries and ideas that are open to the readers interpretation. But, the actual story itself is where I didn't feel this book was at its best. The whole concept of men being the moths and Nemo being the flame is really fun. It offers so much room to explore this almost cult-like environment. I feel with that base, you have the space to see the extremes these men will take and the power that is held. It offers the opportunity for horrific and interesting developments. Where the story actually goes however, is a different thing. Unfortunately, it's my belief that not much really happens. I mean there are some fun moments here and there, where you'll feel the urge to keep turning the pages, but those are few and far between. I feel there is some good build up in the first 100 pages but instead of keeping that momentum, it slows down and maybe takes a step every 35 pages thereafter. The character moments are cool, but as for events in the story, I mean yeah they happen. I think maybe, my imagination stretched further that what the book intended to be, and perhaps that was the cause of my slight disappointment and not the book itself. Saying that though, I also felt the ending was a little uninteresting. After progressing through the story, the ending felt to me as though it was shrugging it shoulders at me, like 'yeah, that's the end'.
There is a lot I liked about the book and I feel that there are some strong qualities in Rosalind Ashe's work. It makes complete sense to me why many people would love this book. I just can't help but feel very little about what actually happened in the story. Despite my thoughts not being being entirely positive, I do like the book and would recommend it to anyone interested in it.
I really liked the writing in this book. Rosalind Ashe gives distinct voices to each character and does a great job in creating the scenery of the book. I think she did a great job in defining each character throughout the book. The book is written as an almost narration or account of the story, by our protagonist, Harry Harris. I really enjoyed the exploration of his thoughts and feelings, seeing into his inner turmoil as he tries to manage his 'love' and humanity. I feel it's his perspective that gives the fire to this story. As far as he is concerned throughout the whole story, he has a clear mind and has a complete handling on his emotions in regards to Nemo. Time and time again, that's proven to be untrue and that's where the interest for me laid. A man entirely enchanted by someone, driven to do the most ridiculous things, all because he believes it's his true love that drives him and nothing more.
There are some interesting themes in the story, which given it was released during the 70's, I can imagine offered a great impact. I loved that despite much of the story being on the pages, there are still several mysteries and ideas that are open to the readers interpretation. But, the actual story itself is where I didn't feel this book was at its best. The whole concept of men being the moths and Nemo being the flame is really fun. It offers so much room to explore this almost cult-like environment. I feel with that base, you have the space to see the extremes these men will take and the power that is held. It offers the opportunity for horrific and interesting developments. Where the story actually goes however, is a different thing. Unfortunately, it's my belief that not much really happens. I mean there are some fun moments here and there, where you'll feel the urge to keep turning the pages, but those are few and far between. I feel there is some good build up in the first 100 pages but instead of keeping that momentum, it slows down and maybe takes a step every 35 pages thereafter. The character moments are cool, but as for events in the story, I mean yeah they happen. I think maybe, my imagination stretched further that what the book intended to be, and perhaps that was the cause of my slight disappointment and not the book itself. Saying that though, I also felt the ending was a little uninteresting. After progressing through the story, the ending felt to me as though it was shrugging it shoulders at me, like 'yeah, that's the end'.
There is a lot I liked about the book and I feel that there are some strong qualities in Rosalind Ashe's work. It makes complete sense to me why many people would love this book. I just can't help but feel very little about what actually happened in the story. Despite my thoughts not being being entirely positive, I do like the book and would recommend it to anyone interested in it.
September 22, 2026
I logged this late but it's taken me far too long to read this! Though I have enjoyed it being in the background of my life for the last couple of months. It's tough with these kind of books, similarly to some Shirley Jackson, when they get labelled as horror but don't really fit that category (at least in my opinion). It's not scary, it's maybe psychological, but maybe not... a ghost story really! I suppose if I had read it quicker it would have felt more like a thriller, but it's not that fast paced. Regardless of what these expectations may add or take away from a reading, I enjoyed this book. I am a Shirley Jackson fan and this did feel similar. The writing is beautiful and the story is intriguing. I found this by chance in the Library while browsing horror, I like moths so the title caught my attention and once I saw the cover art I was sold. A description that read like a sort of haunted house story grabbed me even more. If I had more drive I'd write a whole thing about the haunted house stories I've read the past few years, from sci-fi futures to historical horrors - a subgenre I really love.
I think there could have been some deeper explorations into the characters here but I also understand that it is from the perspective of one man and his biases definitely show. I think there is more I can consider in general about this book and women in horror so I may spend some time reading around that.
I wish I could find more information about Rosalind Ashe out there, I'm very intrigued by her life and motivations for writing this story. I see that she also wrote some books on Literary houses and I wonder if houses, fictional and real and the literature in and around them was a fascination for her as well.
I think there could have been some deeper explorations into the characters here but I also understand that it is from the perspective of one man and his biases definitely show. I think there is more I can consider in general about this book and women in horror so I may spend some time reading around that.
I wish I could find more information about Rosalind Ashe out there, I'm very intrigued by her life and motivations for writing this story. I see that she also wrote some books on Literary houses and I wonder if houses, fictional and real and the literature in and around them was a fascination for her as well.
May 6, 2026
Lowkey close to a 4.5. Maybe. The best way I can think to describe this book is like reading a movie. The descriptions painted such a beautifully haunting image and even though that meant that it took a while to get into the actual story I think it was completely necessary. I haven’t read a page turning book like this in a while and I loved going into it knowing absolutely nothing
October 25, 2025
while I enjoyed some parts of this book, i felt like the ending was underwhelming
March 5, 2026
started out interesting but the ending was meh
July 31, 2026
brilliant - such an uneasy exploration of female autonomy and expectations 🫦🫦🫦
September 5, 2026
Just recently, I had some words to say regarding American author Joan Samson's remarkable horror novel of 1976, "The Auctioneer," a book that, despite being a million-copy best-seller when first released, seems to be little discussed today. Well, now I would like to tell you of yet another stunning horror affair from that same year, by another female author, that sold well back when but that is perhaps even lesser known today. The book in question is Rosalind Ashe's "Moths," a wholly nightmarish affair that will surely manage to impress any modern-day reader lucky enough to experience it, and a work that is, if anything, even more horrifying than Samson's expertly crafted classic.
"Moths" was originally released by the British publishing company Hutchinson in a hardcover format, with another hardback released by the American firm Holt, Rinehart & Winston later that year, as well as a Japanese edition. In 1977, paperback editions would be released, by Penguin in the U.K. and Warner Books here in the U.S. And then, Ashe's novel would go OOPs (out of prints) for no fewer than 48 years, till the fine folks at Valancourt Books opted to, uh, bring it back from the dead in 2025, and featuring an erudite introduction from Lisa Kröger and cover art by M. S. Corley. And what an inspired revival this one turns out to be, too, allowing a new generation that had probably never heard of this truly unsettling work--as was the case with me--an opportunity to explore its manifold wonders. All fans of exquisitely penned horror fare are urged to pounce on this one!
Before telling you a little something about the scares in this nail-biter, a quick word on their creator...very quick, indeed, as biographical details on Rosalind Ashe's life would seem to be in short supply. She was apparently born in Jamaica (the island, I take it; not the neighborhood in Queens!) in 1931, and lived most of her life in Oxfordshire and London. She received a degree in English at Oxford University, and was already 45 when she came out with "Moths," her first book. But over the next 12 years, she would release five more novels plus three books of nonfiction (more on those nonfiction books in a moment). Ashe passed away in 2006, in her 75th year.
"Moths" is narrated to us by the 40-year-old bachelor Henry "Harry” Harris," a don and tutor of English lit at Oxford University. He chances to fall in love with an historic building, Dower House, in the (fictitious) nearby town of Sutton Hamden, a house that is currently unoccupied but that will be auctioned off soon. Harry begins to spend more and more time in the house's quiet grounds and gardens, peering into the windows and wishing that he could gain entry to the locked abode. And his hope is indeed converted to reality when he befriends the new owners, James and Nemo (short for Mnemosyne!) Boyce. Over the next few months, Harry gets to see and explore the inside of Dower House, which had once served as the home of the famous 1820s actress Sarah Moore. And he very quickly falls in love with Nemo, which might not be as problematic as it seems, what with James--an Oxford don of economics--carrying on several affairs of his own in London. But soon, some troubling elements begin to enter the picture. The strains of a music box are heard in the house's nearby woods, and the scratchy, haunting sound of a whispering woman can be clearly heard on a classical music recording that Nemo had made. Then, during the Boyces' wild housewarming party on New Year's Eve, Harris is flabbergasted to see the glowing, ghostly form of Sarah Moore herself gliding through the strobe-lit, discoing throng--and then vanishing near Nemo! And immediately after, Nemo begins to subtly...change.
Flash forward three months, during which time Harris had been teaching in the States. The news when he returns to Oxford is doubly bad. A workman had been killed in Dower House in a freak accident, and a friend of Harry's, a sci-fi writer, has gone missing. And matters soon grow even stranger when Nemo, dressed in 19th century garb, rapes our narrator while he is engaged in gardening, and then attempts to kill him after he ventures to go for a round 2! When Harris purloins the woman's diary, he learns the shocking truth about that workman and his author friend...both of whom had been drawn to the vivacious, possessed Nemo like you-know-whats to flame, and both of whom had summarily been snuffed out by Sarah Moore, a woman who, notoriously, never gave a repeat performance or "entertained" a lover more than once! Harris, stunned but still infatuated, covers up for Nemo's crimes, but when one of his own students, Bertie Bull, as well as a psychiatrist friend of his, Boris Goodie, who Harris brings in to study Nemo, both fall under her spell, Harry's plight just keeps getting more and more problematic....
Readers venturing into the chilling world of "Moths" will soon be marveling when they recall that this was Rosalind Ashe's very first novel. It is a perfectly controlled performance by the new author, and her story grows darker, more serious, and increasingly eerie with every passing chapter. The book is more than impressively written; it is ornately written; some might say overwritten. Take, for example, our narrator's description of Nemo during their first encounter:
"...So then I looked at her. She was standing in the dusty sunbeams staring up at the pure curve, her sunglasses in her hand, and her eyes were golden--coruscating with swarming specks of light like the small rare beetles that gild the corpse of an Amazon explorer. I knew very well that in shadow, and on her passport, her eyes would be 'brown': a poor two-dimensional sort of word, applied indiscriminately to those dead beads set into some faces like pairs of currants, as well as to those peat streams floored with mica pebbles, and dark Jamaican rum filled up with crushed ice, and the zircons, and chips of iron pyrites--aptly named 'fool's gold'--that spin through my mind in the suspended second, as if I were a drowning man...."
While some have compared the book to Daphne du Maurier's 1938 classic "Rebecca," with Dower House substituting for Manderley, and a nymphomaniac killer ghost substituting for an elegant yet deceased former owner, I prefer to view the story as a supernatural film noir. Here, the possessed Nemo comes off as the ultimate femme fatale/black widow, while no film noir schnook has ever fallen harder, and sunk lower, than our poor Harry Harris here. Despite his love for the possessed wife, and his best intentions, Harry just keeps getting in deeper and deeper as he tries to cover up Nemo's atrocities, to the point where the police begin to suspect HIM of those very homicides. Ultimately, his actions prove completely unavailing; one more element of horror in a book already loaded with so many. Harry is obviously a well-read academic but his obsessive love...well, any fan of such classic film noirs as "Double Indemnity" (1944), "The Postman Always Rings Twice" (1946) and "Out of the Past" (1947) will tell you where a fixation with a lethal femme fatale will most likely take you!
Befitting a narrator who just happens to be an Oxford don of English literature, many classic works of fiction and poetry, as well as their authors, are touched upon here. A little bit of simple research reveals those authors to be R. D. Blackmore, George Eliot, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, John Keats, M.R. James, Ernest Dowson, Thomas Hardy, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, George Herbert, Miguel de Cervantes, Mary Webb, Georgette Heyer and, of course, William Shakespeare, lending a touch of literary cachet to Ashe's already exquisitely penned prose.
This, if perhaps you hadn’t already guessed, is a very British novel, and any number of references crop up that might cause those living outside of England to again scurry to their Interwebs for help. I'm referring here especially to those references to an AGA stove, Calor gas, Liberty prints, secateurs, Tonibell vans, Rugger blues, The Temperance Seven, the Ashmolean, Cornish pasties, a Hilary term, the MOT test, and the Queen of Puddings. And, naturally, the seemingly inevitable British slang words and expressions pop up, such as "loudhailer," "set fair," "knackered" and "knees-up." But as I always insist, a little homework on the part of the reader will always yield big results in terms of both appreciation and understanding. Fortunately, Ashe rewards her readers with some truly creepy scenes in her book. Standouts in this regard include the whispering voice of Sarah Moore heard on that tape, saying "...winter coming apace...I am going to need a new coat...fur is warm...flesh is warmer...." and other chilling tidbits (could Peter Straub have been influenced by THIS scene for his similarly frightening ghost-on-tape sequence in his 1979 classic "Ghost Story"? And just what is it about ghosts on tape that is so frightening, anyway?); Harry's spotting Sarah Moore at that New Year's party, the one and only time we get to see the actress not encased in Nemo's body (and Harry's reaction to the spectral image is an extremely credible one...he faints!); Harry being raped by the possessed Nemo, and later almost killed by same; the reading of Nemo's diary, with its hideously cool and detached recounting of her two murders; Bertie Bull's tale of his violent encounter with Nemo; the fate of Boris Goodie, when he grows overly amorous with Sarah Moore (not for nothing is a hat pin prominently featured on the front cover of that Warner Books edition!); and the recital party that the Boyces throw, at which Nemo gives a very special performance.
So yes, Rosalind Ashe's first novel is very much a success, both frightening and impressively written. Several lines almost border on the humorous, such as our narrator wondering "How do you tell a man, gently, that his wife is a homicidal nymphomaniac?" I just love the alliterative manner in which Harris refers to Nemo as "that middle-aged, mad, married murderess." And who wouldn't chuckle at psychiatrist Boris saying to our narrator "...perhaps the ghost of Sarah Moore can only be laid by being laid...." I love it! And oh...a thank-you to author Ashe for turning me on to the word "caracole"; don't think I'd ever encountered that one before!
To be perfectly honest, this reader did have some minor problems with Rosalind Ashe's otherwise splendid work here. Her description of Dower House itself, and its surrounding forest and gardens, was, ironically, a bit hard for me to envision, and I only say "ironically" because the author supplies us with so much descriptive detail; detail that failed to cohere into mental images for me. Ashe name-checks what feels like every plant and flower in existence, half of which meant nothing to me (or perhaps you know what a Rosa Mundi is), to the point that many readers will probably be thinking "Get on with it!" And her description of the interior of Dower House--for me, anyway--was even more problematic in terms of visualization. Still, her love of old houses clearly does come through. Ashe was the author of three nonfiction books on the subject of classic abodes of fiction, namely "Literary Houses: Ten Famous Houses in Fiction" (1982), "More Literary Houses" (1983) and "Children's Literary Houses: Famous Dwellings in Children's Fiction" (1984, and co-authored by horror great Lisa Tuttle). And, as Lisa Kröger tells us in her introduction, Ashe also restored no fewer than eight homes "to their former glory" as a sideline. So even though her description of Dower House was a bit sketchy for me, at least a passion for her subject did manage to emerge.
But that's it...my only reservations for this particular debut novel by an author whom I would surely like to experience again. Of Ashe's 1977 novel "Hurricane Wake," Stephen King has said "Wonderfully scary, wonderfully exotic...absolutely riveting," and that book might also benefit from the Valancourt treatment. But really, her novels "Dark Runner" (1984) and "The Laying of the Noone Walker" (1988), from what I have read, sound every bit as enticing....
(By the way, this review originally appeared on the FanLit website at https://fantasyliterature.com/ ... a most ideal destination for all fans of well-written horror fare....)
"Moths" was originally released by the British publishing company Hutchinson in a hardcover format, with another hardback released by the American firm Holt, Rinehart & Winston later that year, as well as a Japanese edition. In 1977, paperback editions would be released, by Penguin in the U.K. and Warner Books here in the U.S. And then, Ashe's novel would go OOPs (out of prints) for no fewer than 48 years, till the fine folks at Valancourt Books opted to, uh, bring it back from the dead in 2025, and featuring an erudite introduction from Lisa Kröger and cover art by M. S. Corley. And what an inspired revival this one turns out to be, too, allowing a new generation that had probably never heard of this truly unsettling work--as was the case with me--an opportunity to explore its manifold wonders. All fans of exquisitely penned horror fare are urged to pounce on this one!
Before telling you a little something about the scares in this nail-biter, a quick word on their creator...very quick, indeed, as biographical details on Rosalind Ashe's life would seem to be in short supply. She was apparently born in Jamaica (the island, I take it; not the neighborhood in Queens!) in 1931, and lived most of her life in Oxfordshire and London. She received a degree in English at Oxford University, and was already 45 when she came out with "Moths," her first book. But over the next 12 years, she would release five more novels plus three books of nonfiction (more on those nonfiction books in a moment). Ashe passed away in 2006, in her 75th year.
"Moths" is narrated to us by the 40-year-old bachelor Henry "Harry” Harris," a don and tutor of English lit at Oxford University. He chances to fall in love with an historic building, Dower House, in the (fictitious) nearby town of Sutton Hamden, a house that is currently unoccupied but that will be auctioned off soon. Harry begins to spend more and more time in the house's quiet grounds and gardens, peering into the windows and wishing that he could gain entry to the locked abode. And his hope is indeed converted to reality when he befriends the new owners, James and Nemo (short for Mnemosyne!) Boyce. Over the next few months, Harry gets to see and explore the inside of Dower House, which had once served as the home of the famous 1820s actress Sarah Moore. And he very quickly falls in love with Nemo, which might not be as problematic as it seems, what with James--an Oxford don of economics--carrying on several affairs of his own in London. But soon, some troubling elements begin to enter the picture. The strains of a music box are heard in the house's nearby woods, and the scratchy, haunting sound of a whispering woman can be clearly heard on a classical music recording that Nemo had made. Then, during the Boyces' wild housewarming party on New Year's Eve, Harris is flabbergasted to see the glowing, ghostly form of Sarah Moore herself gliding through the strobe-lit, discoing throng--and then vanishing near Nemo! And immediately after, Nemo begins to subtly...change.
Flash forward three months, during which time Harris had been teaching in the States. The news when he returns to Oxford is doubly bad. A workman had been killed in Dower House in a freak accident, and a friend of Harry's, a sci-fi writer, has gone missing. And matters soon grow even stranger when Nemo, dressed in 19th century garb, rapes our narrator while he is engaged in gardening, and then attempts to kill him after he ventures to go for a round 2! When Harris purloins the woman's diary, he learns the shocking truth about that workman and his author friend...both of whom had been drawn to the vivacious, possessed Nemo like you-know-whats to flame, and both of whom had summarily been snuffed out by Sarah Moore, a woman who, notoriously, never gave a repeat performance or "entertained" a lover more than once! Harris, stunned but still infatuated, covers up for Nemo's crimes, but when one of his own students, Bertie Bull, as well as a psychiatrist friend of his, Boris Goodie, who Harris brings in to study Nemo, both fall under her spell, Harry's plight just keeps getting more and more problematic....
Readers venturing into the chilling world of "Moths" will soon be marveling when they recall that this was Rosalind Ashe's very first novel. It is a perfectly controlled performance by the new author, and her story grows darker, more serious, and increasingly eerie with every passing chapter. The book is more than impressively written; it is ornately written; some might say overwritten. Take, for example, our narrator's description of Nemo during their first encounter:
"...So then I looked at her. She was standing in the dusty sunbeams staring up at the pure curve, her sunglasses in her hand, and her eyes were golden--coruscating with swarming specks of light like the small rare beetles that gild the corpse of an Amazon explorer. I knew very well that in shadow, and on her passport, her eyes would be 'brown': a poor two-dimensional sort of word, applied indiscriminately to those dead beads set into some faces like pairs of currants, as well as to those peat streams floored with mica pebbles, and dark Jamaican rum filled up with crushed ice, and the zircons, and chips of iron pyrites--aptly named 'fool's gold'--that spin through my mind in the suspended second, as if I were a drowning man...."
While some have compared the book to Daphne du Maurier's 1938 classic "Rebecca," with Dower House substituting for Manderley, and a nymphomaniac killer ghost substituting for an elegant yet deceased former owner, I prefer to view the story as a supernatural film noir. Here, the possessed Nemo comes off as the ultimate femme fatale/black widow, while no film noir schnook has ever fallen harder, and sunk lower, than our poor Harry Harris here. Despite his love for the possessed wife, and his best intentions, Harry just keeps getting in deeper and deeper as he tries to cover up Nemo's atrocities, to the point where the police begin to suspect HIM of those very homicides. Ultimately, his actions prove completely unavailing; one more element of horror in a book already loaded with so many. Harry is obviously a well-read academic but his obsessive love...well, any fan of such classic film noirs as "Double Indemnity" (1944), "The Postman Always Rings Twice" (1946) and "Out of the Past" (1947) will tell you where a fixation with a lethal femme fatale will most likely take you!
Befitting a narrator who just happens to be an Oxford don of English literature, many classic works of fiction and poetry, as well as their authors, are touched upon here. A little bit of simple research reveals those authors to be R. D. Blackmore, George Eliot, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, John Keats, M.R. James, Ernest Dowson, Thomas Hardy, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, George Herbert, Miguel de Cervantes, Mary Webb, Georgette Heyer and, of course, William Shakespeare, lending a touch of literary cachet to Ashe's already exquisitely penned prose.
This, if perhaps you hadn’t already guessed, is a very British novel, and any number of references crop up that might cause those living outside of England to again scurry to their Interwebs for help. I'm referring here especially to those references to an AGA stove, Calor gas, Liberty prints, secateurs, Tonibell vans, Rugger blues, The Temperance Seven, the Ashmolean, Cornish pasties, a Hilary term, the MOT test, and the Queen of Puddings. And, naturally, the seemingly inevitable British slang words and expressions pop up, such as "loudhailer," "set fair," "knackered" and "knees-up." But as I always insist, a little homework on the part of the reader will always yield big results in terms of both appreciation and understanding. Fortunately, Ashe rewards her readers with some truly creepy scenes in her book. Standouts in this regard include the whispering voice of Sarah Moore heard on that tape, saying "...winter coming apace...I am going to need a new coat...fur is warm...flesh is warmer...." and other chilling tidbits (could Peter Straub have been influenced by THIS scene for his similarly frightening ghost-on-tape sequence in his 1979 classic "Ghost Story"? And just what is it about ghosts on tape that is so frightening, anyway?); Harry's spotting Sarah Moore at that New Year's party, the one and only time we get to see the actress not encased in Nemo's body (and Harry's reaction to the spectral image is an extremely credible one...he faints!); Harry being raped by the possessed Nemo, and later almost killed by same; the reading of Nemo's diary, with its hideously cool and detached recounting of her two murders; Bertie Bull's tale of his violent encounter with Nemo; the fate of Boris Goodie, when he grows overly amorous with Sarah Moore (not for nothing is a hat pin prominently featured on the front cover of that Warner Books edition!); and the recital party that the Boyces throw, at which Nemo gives a very special performance.
So yes, Rosalind Ashe's first novel is very much a success, both frightening and impressively written. Several lines almost border on the humorous, such as our narrator wondering "How do you tell a man, gently, that his wife is a homicidal nymphomaniac?" I just love the alliterative manner in which Harris refers to Nemo as "that middle-aged, mad, married murderess." And who wouldn't chuckle at psychiatrist Boris saying to our narrator "...perhaps the ghost of Sarah Moore can only be laid by being laid...." I love it! And oh...a thank-you to author Ashe for turning me on to the word "caracole"; don't think I'd ever encountered that one before!
To be perfectly honest, this reader did have some minor problems with Rosalind Ashe's otherwise splendid work here. Her description of Dower House itself, and its surrounding forest and gardens, was, ironically, a bit hard for me to envision, and I only say "ironically" because the author supplies us with so much descriptive detail; detail that failed to cohere into mental images for me. Ashe name-checks what feels like every plant and flower in existence, half of which meant nothing to me (or perhaps you know what a Rosa Mundi is), to the point that many readers will probably be thinking "Get on with it!" And her description of the interior of Dower House--for me, anyway--was even more problematic in terms of visualization. Still, her love of old houses clearly does come through. Ashe was the author of three nonfiction books on the subject of classic abodes of fiction, namely "Literary Houses: Ten Famous Houses in Fiction" (1982), "More Literary Houses" (1983) and "Children's Literary Houses: Famous Dwellings in Children's Fiction" (1984, and co-authored by horror great Lisa Tuttle). And, as Lisa Kröger tells us in her introduction, Ashe also restored no fewer than eight homes "to their former glory" as a sideline. So even though her description of Dower House was a bit sketchy for me, at least a passion for her subject did manage to emerge.
But that's it...my only reservations for this particular debut novel by an author whom I would surely like to experience again. Of Ashe's 1977 novel "Hurricane Wake," Stephen King has said "Wonderfully scary, wonderfully exotic...absolutely riveting," and that book might also benefit from the Valancourt treatment. But really, her novels "Dark Runner" (1984) and "The Laying of the Noone Walker" (1988), from what I have read, sound every bit as enticing....
(By the way, this review originally appeared on the FanLit website at https://fantasyliterature.com/ ... a most ideal destination for all fans of well-written horror fare....)
April 3, 2026
4.5 stars
September 17, 2025
Many will be attracted to this book from 1976, reprinted by Valancourt, because of it being the story of an old Georgian house in Oxfordshire, the young couple who buy it, and the mysterious and sinister events that occur once they take residence. Certainly we have come across this before, but isolated and delapidated mansions in rural England do lend themselves well to a horror story.
One of the problems here though, is rather like the rambling and overgrown bushes of the garden of the house, there is considerable ground to be cut through before getting to the actual story.
Ultimately, Ashe describes her three well-to-do main characters, with their moodswings and strange traits, well, but any real fun is gained from the incidents that occur, the death of a workman that may or may not be a murder and the discovery of a mysterious notebook that seems to say that one of the characters is not who they say they are. Its a mix of the supernatural and the gothic, but could all have been told in half as many pages.
One of the problems here though, is rather like the rambling and overgrown bushes of the garden of the house, there is considerable ground to be cut through before getting to the actual story.
Ultimately, Ashe describes her three well-to-do main characters, with their moodswings and strange traits, well, but any real fun is gained from the incidents that occur, the death of a workman that may or may not be a murder and the discovery of a mysterious notebook that seems to say that one of the characters is not who they say they are. Its a mix of the supernatural and the gothic, but could all have been told in half as many pages.
August 4, 2026
Looooooved it
January 21, 2020
A strange supernatural thriller about a bachelor professor who falls in love with a house, and then with the woman who moves into that house.
Professor Harris is a forty-year-old don who has experienced no deep emotional romantic feelings until he encounters thirty-five-year-old married Nemo. Initially, he runs from those feelings, but after Nemo becomes possessed by the fiery spirit of Sarah Moore (a Regency actress who formerly occupied Dower House), Harris can no longer conceal what he feels.
Unfortunately, Sarah Moore, like he, avoids deep, long-term commitments. She prefers her involvements to be brief, intense and never to be repeated. She is a taker who refuses to submit to others’ desires and is interested only in her own gratification.
Addled by the spell Sarah casts, Harris and other men seek to cure and control her, with disastrous results.
Professor Harris is a forty-year-old don who has experienced no deep emotional romantic feelings until he encounters thirty-five-year-old married Nemo. Initially, he runs from those feelings, but after Nemo becomes possessed by the fiery spirit of Sarah Moore (a Regency actress who formerly occupied Dower House), Harris can no longer conceal what he feels.
Unfortunately, Sarah Moore, like he, avoids deep, long-term commitments. She prefers her involvements to be brief, intense and never to be repeated. She is a taker who refuses to submit to others’ desires and is interested only in her own gratification.
Addled by the spell Sarah casts, Harris and other men seek to cure and control her, with disastrous results.
April 13, 2021
An exercise in style, miles away from her best novels such as Hurricane Wake, Dark Runner and Take Over.
Its erudite narrative and evocative language do not allow to empathise with the story, to feel, imagine and live the scenes.
A touch baroque, old school and tedious, it only lives on the surface.
Its erudite narrative and evocative language do not allow to empathise with the story, to feel, imagine and live the scenes.
A touch baroque, old school and tedious, it only lives on the surface.
November 11, 2025
Strange, dreamy - sort of obvious and super self restrained at the same time. The nightmare sequences are really well done. I think this will linger.
I’m trying to turn off the tv inside my head but this would make such a good film, ninety perfect minutes.
I’m trying to turn off the tv inside my head but this would make such a good film, ninety perfect minutes.
May 6, 2026
“...A sort of wave of blinding nausea, when I saw those scratches on his chest, like mine. My uppermost thought was: It should have been me, I wish it had been me.”
Borrowed this from the library with the intention to read it over the course of the week, only to be told at the counter that today is actually the LAST borrowing day. It was around 1pm then. What followed was an almost daze of me forcing myself to keep reading through the exhaustion that had been dogging me since I had woken today, persistently reading (and rereading) the words until it was five something and I had achieved my very stupid, very stubborn goal. I am a prideful person; I am also very particular. I knew if I hadn't made myself finish it then, I might have never picked it back up again.
Well, here we are. Three stars (2.5, if I'm being more honest), though that doesn't mean I didn't like it. I thoroughly enjoyed the prose - it rang with color all throughout, and was a delight to read. (Although it was really difficult for me to reconcile it with UK characters, in a UK setting, by a UK author. Something about this felt so distinctly American all throughout.) I think the main issue for me is that I was never really convinced by the Sarah Moore possession. Even though the synopsis outright says it, even though it's covered for the majority of the book, I just couldn't accept it. It was just not written in a way that enticed the reader to believe in it, imo. I had the same issue with the main character Harry's love for Nemo, especially since we get to see so little of the actual Nemo before she's taken over by Sarah Moore almost entirely. We could argue that that is the point, that we're meant to debate if Harry has ever loved Nemo at all or if it has always been Sarah Moore he's loved, but it is just so difficult for it to feel earned. Plus, Sarah Moore is just a name that inspires no fear or awe in me. Sorry. I also found it frustrating that we spend more time with the pedo shrink than with Nemo herself. I think that when it comes to character focus, that could have definitely been negotiated more in Nemo's favor. I don't know.
"And you want me to keep quiet?"
"Well--who else do you want to tell, Bertie? It would be less than gallant to tell your friends, and it would only shock your father."
Around halfway through this book, it hit me that this entire thing is also a gender/role reversal of purity culture, rape culture, the misogynistic concept of virginity. This was the best aspect for me. I cannot help but derive some malevolent pleasure from seeing men have to reckon with the reality for women that they are the perpetrators of. On the other hand, it also made me tired to witness how in the end even though they are experiencing our side now it will still always be different for them, in many ways better, in little ways worse, just because they are still men.
Honestly, despite the stellar writing style, despite the fact that it was not bad at all, I think it's just a matter of personal preference. I begin to realize I vastly prefer gothic stuff that really goes inward, deep into intimate dynamics. When we were introduced to Nemo and James I had hoped for a very deep look into that kind of married dynamic coupled with the possession stuff, but it was barely touched at all. I find that such a missed opportunity. There was so much that could have been done with Nemo living in the house in past and present memory, Nemo ten years younger than James and drifting through the woods, James uncaring of her migraines and throwing her over for his blondes, etc. Marriage and domestic life as horror, heightened with the supernatural. But it was focused overmuch on that supernatural aspect (that wasn't even made very believable to the reader) and almost completely neglected the household horror that's ALREADY IN THE PREMISE (!!!) for a typical femme fatale black widow archetype. I really, really didn't like that.
Borrowed this from the library with the intention to read it over the course of the week, only to be told at the counter that today is actually the LAST borrowing day. It was around 1pm then. What followed was an almost daze of me forcing myself to keep reading through the exhaustion that had been dogging me since I had woken today, persistently reading (and rereading) the words until it was five something and I had achieved my very stupid, very stubborn goal. I am a prideful person; I am also very particular. I knew if I hadn't made myself finish it then, I might have never picked it back up again.
Well, here we are. Three stars (2.5, if I'm being more honest), though that doesn't mean I didn't like it. I thoroughly enjoyed the prose - it rang with color all throughout, and was a delight to read. (Although it was really difficult for me to reconcile it with UK characters, in a UK setting, by a UK author. Something about this felt so distinctly American all throughout.) I think the main issue for me is that I was never really convinced by the Sarah Moore possession. Even though the synopsis outright says it, even though it's covered for the majority of the book, I just couldn't accept it. It was just not written in a way that enticed the reader to believe in it, imo. I had the same issue with the main character Harry's love for Nemo, especially since we get to see so little of the actual Nemo before she's taken over by Sarah Moore almost entirely. We could argue that that is the point, that we're meant to debate if Harry has ever loved Nemo at all or if it has always been Sarah Moore he's loved, but it is just so difficult for it to feel earned. Plus, Sarah Moore is just a name that inspires no fear or awe in me. Sorry. I also found it frustrating that we spend more time with the pedo shrink than with Nemo herself. I think that when it comes to character focus, that could have definitely been negotiated more in Nemo's favor. I don't know.
"And you want me to keep quiet?"
"Well--who else do you want to tell, Bertie? It would be less than gallant to tell your friends, and it would only shock your father."
Around halfway through this book, it hit me that this entire thing is also a gender/role reversal of purity culture, rape culture, the misogynistic concept of virginity. This was the best aspect for me. I cannot help but derive some malevolent pleasure from seeing men have to reckon with the reality for women that they are the perpetrators of. On the other hand, it also made me tired to witness how in the end even though they are experiencing our side now it will still always be different for them, in many ways better, in little ways worse, just because they are still men.
Honestly, despite the stellar writing style, despite the fact that it was not bad at all, I think it's just a matter of personal preference. I begin to realize I vastly prefer gothic stuff that really goes inward, deep into intimate dynamics. When we were introduced to Nemo and James I had hoped for a very deep look into that kind of married dynamic coupled with the possession stuff, but it was barely touched at all. I find that such a missed opportunity. There was so much that could have been done with Nemo living in the house in past and present memory, Nemo ten years younger than James and drifting through the woods, James uncaring of her migraines and throwing her over for his blondes, etc. Marriage and domestic life as horror, heightened with the supernatural. But it was focused overmuch on that supernatural aspect (that wasn't even made very believable to the reader) and almost completely neglected the household horror that's ALREADY IN THE PREMISE (!!!) for a typical femme fatale black widow archetype. I really, really didn't like that.
Read
July 31, 2026Recently reprinted in the Penguin Horror series. This is definitely a little overblown, and follows a dark-academia template that (self-evidently) pre-dates The Secret History. Our protagonist, an Oxford don with the almost deliberately fake-sounding name of Harry Harrison, becomes obsessed with a beautiful old property in a nearby village, and befriends the fast young couple who buy it and move in. (This is made easier by the massive coincidence that the husband is another scholar with an Oxford job.) Falling in love with the wife, improbably and portentously named Nemo – short for Mnemosyne – he realises that the house is being haunted by the presence of a former inhabitant, a Regency actress named Sarah Moore, who eventually begins to possess Nemo. This is by no means a particularly feminist book: Moore is characterised as pure evil by her rapacious sexual appetites, and by her masculine refusal to sleep with any man more than once; if a former lover tries it on with her again, she murders him gruesomely. Nemo is a Manic Pixie Dream Girl avant la lettre, with pale shades of Tom and Daisy Buchanan’s relationship in her intense, infidelity-strewn marriage. Harry ought to know better, but of course – like the moths of the title, drawn to a flame and then destroyed by it, do you see – he does not. On the other hand, there is a really interesting treatment in this book of the whole notion that a man can be sexually assaulted by a woman. Harry uses the word “rape” to describe the overpowering, terrifying, objectifying sex he has with Nemo, and not just once but multiple times: “she raped me”; “I was raped”. Part of me thinks this psychological move happens with a little too much ease (was this concept so easily thinkable for most men in the ‘70s, let alone sheltered academic types? Oxford continued to be virtually monastic, if you wanted it to be, for much longer than people think). Another part of me is absolutely fascinated by the possibility that Rosalind Ashe is quite precisely trying to highlight the way rape is swept under the rug in these social circles by defamiliarising it through that gender-swap, and the unfortunate Jezebel archetype that she ends up with is an accidental byproduct of the effort. Either way, the descriptions of an old and alluring house and gardens under the woozy effects of sunshine, alcohol, and irresistible company make this an ideal summer read for the morbidly inclined.
September 27, 2026
Rosalind Ashe's gothic horror covers a range of key tropes: an isolated country house, an academic, a crumbling marriage, ghostly apparitions, a narrator whose dawn of understanding arises with that of the reader.
I knew in advance that it was considered a masterpiece of the slow burn. I would perhaps restate that as a languishing iridescence. There is however a thin line between this and a tortuous, winding fuse.
For me this is not always a line trodden on the right side where Moths is concerned. A short novel that feels twice as long, but not in a good way. I am surprised to be honest that I persevered, but I wanted to see where it led. In this case literally down the garden path.
I was shocked by the sex. Meaning it was so badly written that it was shocking that it was not somehow better edited. The twist came quickly (as did the narrator, sic) and yet it did not improve the plot. A shame as I really wanted to enjoy the book having read good things about it in advance.
Penguin Horror claims to be 'literary horror' and I would certainly agree the 'literary' in this case. I'm not entirely convinced of the word 'horror', and certainly not 'kept readers awake at night'. In this case it was, sadly, a boredom-inducing narcoleptic.
I'd strongly recommend Shirley Jackson instead.
I knew in advance that it was considered a masterpiece of the slow burn. I would perhaps restate that as a languishing iridescence. There is however a thin line between this and a tortuous, winding fuse.
For me this is not always a line trodden on the right side where Moths is concerned. A short novel that feels twice as long, but not in a good way. I am surprised to be honest that I persevered, but I wanted to see where it led. In this case literally down the garden path.
I was shocked by the sex. Meaning it was so badly written that it was shocking that it was not somehow better edited. The twist came quickly (as did the narrator, sic) and yet it did not improve the plot. A shame as I really wanted to enjoy the book having read good things about it in advance.
Penguin Horror claims to be 'literary horror' and I would certainly agree the 'literary' in this case. I'm not entirely convinced of the word 'horror', and certainly not 'kept readers awake at night'. In this case it was, sadly, a boredom-inducing narcoleptic.
I'd strongly recommend Shirley Jackson instead.
September 24, 2024
The first half of this is a solidly average horror novel. I don't quite call it Gothic romance, as to my mind that's "horror plus romance" but the romance here is entirely one-sided, and all on the side of the obsessed narrator. I almost wish it were Gothic romance, because it would be the first of its kind that I've read, I think, where the narrator/protagonist was a man.
Unfortunately, he was a very stupid man, and the total collapse of the second half of the book was entirely down to him. An academic at Oxford, he becomes so enamored with a married woman who is - apparently - periodically and violently possessed by the ghost of a dead actress, that he covers up her killings and intends to take the blame for them. That makes him partly responsible for her actions in my book, and he's so weakly, morally bankrupt, and so miserably useless at any rational action - every time he has a choice, he makes the wrong one - that I was hoping to see him hanged, just to be shot of him. Alas. There's an abrupt and dreadful ending, as the central metaphor is pushed to breaking (burning) point, and gormless Harry gets off scot free.
Unless the ghost gets him. We can only hope.
Unfortunately, he was a very stupid man, and the total collapse of the second half of the book was entirely down to him. An academic at Oxford, he becomes so enamored with a married woman who is - apparently - periodically and violently possessed by the ghost of a dead actress, that he covers up her killings and intends to take the blame for them. That makes him partly responsible for her actions in my book, and he's so weakly, morally bankrupt, and so miserably useless at any rational action - every time he has a choice, he makes the wrong one - that I was hoping to see him hanged, just to be shot of him. Alas. There's an abrupt and dreadful ending, as the central metaphor is pushed to breaking (burning) point, and gormless Harry gets off scot free.
Unless the ghost gets him. We can only hope.
June 27, 2026
Inspite of being a first person narrative from a man’s POV, that too a man obsessed with a woman, you know this is written by a woman because of how the beloved is described. No description of her “body” but all kinds of descriptions about the energy she radiated. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. It’s the first book I’ve finished in a month, or probably more.
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