Friday, June 21, 2019

Short Book Reviews: HP Lovecraft Meets Shirley Jackson's Hill House


In the Shadow of Spindrift House, by Mira Grant (Subterranean) 


I made my acquaintance of the works of Seanan McGuire through Rosemary and Rue, then the “Incryptid” and “Ghost Roads” series. Mira Grant is Seanan’s horror-writing alias, and I’ve only recently dabbled in her work. Even though horror is not usually my cuppa I’m so glad I did! In the Shadow of Spindrift House is a strange little tale, novella-length if I’m not mistaken, a sort of demented love-child of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, and the work of H. P. Lovecraft. And a gang of kid ghost-busters, now adults adrift in their own lives.

Spindrift House is haunted; that’s the only thing the denizens of “the half-ruined town of Port Mercy, Maine” can agree on. The land itself is valuable, but the title is clouded, and the documents that would establish claim lie within the strange Victorian edifice. The contesting families have offered a huge reward for the documents, but anyone searching for them must remain for the entire search. So our ghost-busters-now-grown embark upon this treasure hunt.

But the house isn’t safe, and neither is the ocean it overlooks (of course – this is Lovecraft territory, isn’t it?) The imagery shifts from “the sweet, beguiling whisper of the sea” to “the sound of the sea . . . like the beating of some huge, horrible heart” The house, too, is described in spine-chilling terms from “like it’s rotting from the inside out . . . the banister was slick under my fingers, damp with some scentless, unspeakable fluid . . .” “the house was moving in my veins, burrowing into my bones . . .”

The language, with its frequent references to rot and decay, the sense of creeping, nameless horror, are all evocative of Lovecraft’s work, but also Jackson’s psychological thriller, with its slow peeling-away of the veneer of normality and civilization to reveal most uncivilized secrets.

This is a quick read, full of shivery moments. Familiarity with either Lovecraft or Jackson isn’t necessary to enjoy it, although fans of either work will relish the references.

The usual disclaimer: I received a review copy of this book, but no one bribed me to say anything in particular about it. Although chocolates and fine imported tea are always welcome.

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