A story about the dangers and pleasures of hashish! Who would have thought our beloved Louisa May Alcott of Little Women fame could write such a decadent and sensational story! Actually I have read a few of her more sensational writings, written under a pen-name, in the past and know she was the breadwinner for her family and likely relied on such provocative stories to earn money. I wonder which ones she enjoyed writing more? As much as I love Little Women (which came after this story), the second half of the book moralizes a bit too much for my tastes these days. "Perilous Play" which appears in A Marble Woman: The Unknown Thrillers of Louisa May Alcott, edited by Madeleine Stern is really great fun. A little on the silly side, but fun nonetheless. I imagine it must have been quite shocking for readers in 1869--quite lascivious. The sort of story you read when your parents think you are doing something else!
"'If someone does not propose a new and interesting amusement, I shall die of ennui' said pretty Belle Daventry."
Famous last words. A game of charades, would have been out of the question I suppose. Faced with an endless afternoon of boredom her friend Meredith is happy to comply, and given his talents at inventing amusing activities, the group knows he will come up with something interesting. What he pulls from his pocket is a little box of tortoiseshell and gold and filled with bonbons. Not to be confused with sugarplums these little morsels will amuse in "in a new, delicious, and wonderful manner." What Meredith has in hand is hashish.
"'Oh, yes; it's that Indian stuff which brings one fantastic visions, isn't it? I've always wanted to see and taste it, and now I will,' cried Belle, nibbling at one of the bean-shaped comfits with its green heart."
One prudent young lady tries to dissuade the group knowing that people end up doing all sorts of queer things, but six can surely do no harm. Taking too many might elicit visions of phantoms and frenzies and a touch of the nightmare. Having taken the drug the experimenters each sets off on their own giving in to foolish and uninhibited behavior. Two of the group have decided to follow the moon and go sailing. Not a wise idea under the circumstances and pass a frightening night in the maelstrom of a storm believing they are all but lost.
Alas no moralizing tone in this story. As a matter of fact no ghouls or spirits but the luck of the devil since not only are the pair rescued but their nighttime adventure. A nightmarish sleep follows--"incoherent wanderings haunted him like parts of a grotesque but dreadful dream." Yet dare I tell you how the story ends? Surely shocking to readers of the 19th century--our foolish pair not only live to tell their tale but fall in love in the undertaking of hashish experimentation. The young man, who has now the courage to share his true feelings for the young lady says (ardently!) "Heaven bless hashish, if its dreams end like this!".
So, not technically a ghost story, but Victorian sensationalism seems fitting for this time of year, too.
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I did read a story by a writer who is likely to elicit a few chills up the spine however. I'm not sure why I have never tried any of H.P. Lovecraft's stories before. I guess I always assumed that as he wrote horror fiction I wouldn't really enjoy it. But thanks to Caroline for suggesting his story "The Outsider" to me. I found it in a collection of stories called The Dunwich Horror and Others. It's a story of what seems to be a young man looking back over his childhood who has been raised in the confines of what seems to be a great house or a castle. He is cared for in a rather indifferent manner and with little in the way of affection by a caretaker.
"Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness. Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal chambers with brown hangings and maddening rows of antique books, or upon awed watches in twilight groves of grotesque, gigantic, and vine-encumbered trees that silently wave twisted branches far aloft. Such a lot the gods gave to me--to me, the dazed, the disappointed; the barren, the broken. And yet I am strangely content, and cling desperately to those sere memories, when my mind momentarily threatens to reach beyond the other."
This childhood spent in solitude and loneliness made him yearn to leave this place. He learned all he knows from the books on the shelves, but he has no memory of hearing his own voice let alone the voices of others. He narrates a story of his past where he dreams of leaving, escaping into the sunshine filled world that he sees in the illustrations of books. And he waited and dreamed and bided his time until that moment when he could finally escape.
He tells of his adventure of finding a way out of the castle and into the world outside and he describes the things he sees and the people he encounters. And it is with a growing sense of dread and understanding and horror the reader begins to understand what his situation means. This is quite an effective story and very well done. My own realization of what was happening coincided almost exactly with the narrators. Maybe it was due to my own inexperience reading stories of horror, or else Lovecraft is just a very good storyteller. I suspect it is the latter (as much as my own inexperience).
Not sure what I will pick up next. Part of the fun of short stories, and of ghost stories especially is the search for something really good.