Creepy Classics: Old, New and Consuming
“I suppose at one time in my life I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.”
- From The Secret History, by Donna Tartt
Although it feels as if the year has barely begun, Halloween is almost upon us. For those who are a bit behind like me and are sure hot cross buns were in the supermarkets only last week, I’ve put together a small list of recommendations to help you slip into the spooky season.
October of looks over shoulders and heartbeats that rattle your ribs. There’s a good combination of long and short, true and fictitious. Here are my favourite stories of murder, lost loves and other things that haunt you.
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
A beautifully written book I reread at least once a year, The Secret History will introduce you to a new kind of heartache. To escape the claustrophobia and apathy he feels at home, Richard Papen, our narrator, enrols in a small college in Vermont. There he finds himself drawn to a group of five Ancient Greek students: an odd lot, they fascinate and enthral Richard, even more so when he becomes aware his new friends are keeping something from him. Whispers in the night, blood-soaked sheets and an attempt to summon a god eventually culminate in murder. Rather than being horrified, Richard is more drawn to the remaining students than ever. Later, when his life is once again empty and silent, his year with the Greek class haunts him still.
“Murder is pollution. The murderer defiles everyone he comes into contact with. And the only way to purify blood is with blood.”
Read for: talk of eternity and how it might be found, a fascination with the immoral, and a group of young people brought together by raw, jealous love – and murder.
Masters of Death by Olivie Blake
Drawing you in like a crooked finger, this novel is brimming with all the best things. There’s truth-filled lies and lies full of truths, mystery and a complex, coiling relationship between the two most-likely of companions: a vampire estate agent and Death’s godson. The type of witty that leaves you with a proper, lasting grin, Blake’s portrayal of Death will endear rather than disturb.
“Death gave a long-suffering scowl before once again giving Fox the finger, enigmatically (and with, quite frankly, the usual unnecessary theatrics) disappearing into time and space.”
Read for: the holy trinity of ghost stories: a good dose of pining, enduring love, and, of course, a haunted house.
Seducing and Killing Nazis: Hannie, Truss and Freddie by Sophie Poldermans
This nonfiction read tells the true WWII story of three young girls who are given a gun and asked, “Do you think you could shoot someone?” I discovered the Oversteegen sisters through a TikTok describing the forgotten assassins of the Dutch resistance, who giggled and flirted and beguiled soldier after soldier, led them into the woods under the pretence of “a kiss and maybe more,” and there killed them. Brilliant, I thought, girls and blood, a few of everyone’s favourite things. The TikTok’s rough synopsis is true: the sisters do seduce Nazi members to their deaths, however at its core their story is one of an incredible desire to do good, and an excavation into moral conscience. How does one “remain human” while doing inhumane things? Leaving you grappling with the oxymoron of justifiable murder, this is a story that’s impossible to forget. Well, as it turns out, the girls could shoot someone:
“Right there and then. This wasn’t an assignment, but I don’t regret it.”
Read for: confrontation with true horror and humanity at its worst, brave, hardy girls, and a new rule: one should never ask a soldier how many people they have killed.
The Harlot’s House by Oscar Wilde
If you haven’t got the time for a novel, Wilde’s poem will leave you feeling deliciously haunted after only a few short verses. An incredibly eerie, lonely tale I’ve always loved, Wilde immediately pulls you into a ghostly world of waltzing dead and chilling laughter. Wilde’s sultry harlot’s house is as fantastical and wild as the Capulet masked ball, only here Romeo and Juliet part instead of meet.
“The dead are dancing with the dead…
Love passed into the house of lust.”
Read for: moonlit streets, cigarette-smoking skeletons and lovers seduced by the dead.
A Pocket Full of Rye by Agatha Christie
I have a bit of a soft spot for Agatha, and besides, a murder mystery now and then does everyone good. Like all her stories, every time you think you know the murderer, suddenly they are killed and you’re right back to guessing. Beginning with the death of Mr Fortescue, slumped over his desk with his morning tea dripping into the carpet, we follow Inspector Neele on his search for the killer. Is it the secretary, who prepared the tea? The meek, timid maid who seems to know something she shouldn’t? Mr Fortescue’s beautiful second wife who, with her lover in tow, puts on a wonderful display of anguish for the police? Despite the slightly outdated language some may find a bit of a slog, Christie mysteries are easy to read, surprisingly humorous tales where it’s safer not to get too attached to characters: they’ll probably be dead soon.
“Women were all the same. They promised to burn things and then didn’t.”
Read for: inventive forms of murder, a newfound fear of scones and Christie’s favourite ingredient: love letters that disguise an ominous truth.
The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
This short story is based on the author’s own experiences of depression, and a “cure” which drove her to insanity. A haunting, deeply felt read that is brutal in its baring of truth, we are drawn into the narrator’s raw, feminine madness. Confined to a room by John, her husband, our narrator remains alone with her own harrowing thoughts, staring at the yellow wallpaper until it subsumes her. An incredibly complex story for so few pages, Gilman strips bare womanhood, and in clear, straightforward prose, twists female oppression to shock even the most hard-hearted of readers.
“The fact is, I am getting a little afraid of John.”
Read for: a peek at true madness, a husband worthy of all the disgust you will feel and a disturbing conclusion that horrifies even as it breaks your heart.
Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay
A supposedly fictitious classic, anyone who has wandered the Australian outback will agree with those who claim this tale is based on fact. The day is hot, and long, and waiting. There is a group of schoolgirls, an infatuation, many coy looks and a picnic. Four girls disappear into the Rock – and they do not come out again. From start to finish, this tale embodies the feeling of looking over your shoulder; you turn each page with the niggling suspicion that something, soon, is going to go wrong.
“He was in Australia now: Australia, where anything might happen.”
Read for: cruel, sharp longing, unexpected thrills and an eerie reminder that the natural world is very much alive.
The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell
Based on true events and a tantalising rumour, O’Farrell’s latest novel tells the story of Lucrezia, who at fifteen is married to Alfonzo, the man promised to her sister. Alfonzo is charming and sweet, and takes Lucrezia on a trip to the country. She knows one thing: he has brought her there to murder her. A gripping tale, the story is told through chapters alternating between her childhood and Lucrezia’s present, as she allows her husband to kiss her while wondering how long it will be before she is dead. Slowly we come to understand that Lucrezia is not the weak, spineless child everyone believes her to be. Dismissed by her father, believed by her mother to be a curse, teased and ignored by her siblings, Lucrezia is drawn to a tiger in her father’s menagerie. Seated before the cage, looking into yellow eyes, it is there she feels love for the very first time – and when she discovers her strength.
“Once again, Lucrezia seems to hear the rasping voice of his sister Elisabetta saying into her ear: You have no idea what he is capable of.”
Read for: love in all its forms, primal fury, and the ultimate page-turning question: we know Lucrezia ends up dead – what we don’t know is how.
Martha is a neuroscience and literature student from Warrane. Her time is happily spent peering down microscopes and drafting her first novel. She is a lover of stories and astrocytes, and big green fields. You can find her at mdavidjetis@gmail.com