Cyanide in the Sun and Other Stories of Summertime Crime edited by Martin Edwards

Cyanide in the Sun and Other Stories of Summertime Crime is one of the six books I brought with me on our recent trip to Prince Edward Island. I started it on the first day of autumn, which sounds like an incongruous time to be reading a short story collection with a summer theme. However, the stories are not only set in summer, they all feature characters on holiday, too. A fact I was not aware of until I had started reading. This collection turned out to be exactly what I wanted to be reading on my trip. 

Short stories are great for when you only have small pockets of time to read in. And I have to admit that while away I was so overly stimulated by the beautiful landscape and all of the day trips we had lined up, that I was not able to carve out as much time for reading. In what time I did have available, I was often a bit distracted. I still bookended my day with reading, but not for an hour or more at a time, which is what I usually do at home.

In this collection, I discovered lots of new favourites and I have a sneaking suspicion that this book will find its way into my suitcase on my next holiday.

“Kill & Cure” by Guy Cullingford (1958)

A crime writer suffering from nightmares is prescribed a fortnight holiday at a private hotel in Bunmouth. There he just seems to get accustomed to being away from his typewriter when something extraordinary happens with one of his fellow guests. This was humorous, shocking, and very well-told in just a few pages. What a great start to this collection!

“Day Excursion” by Wilfred Fienburgh (1954)

Short and cute scene with Sergeant Pockle on a train with a bunch of “day trippers returning home from Seagate”. All is quiet in the carriage when a little boy claims he spots the man who stole his mum’s purse earlier in the day. Really lovely scene-setting in this story. Despite its brevity we get a sense of Pockle’s humour and general personality, and the other characters are equally well-drawn. 

“The Secret of the Mountain” by C. Bobbett (1928)

A man has a fatal accident on a mountain in the Lake District. His wife, Mrs. Watson suspects it was not an accident, but that an ex-business partner of her husband’s, Mr. Kent, was in some way responsible. Travers, a Scotland Yard detective, investigates. Half the fun of this one is how Travers goes about his investigation and search for the proof of murder. The only thing that didn’t work for me was the framing device, which felt unnecessary and a bit confusing to my tired brain.

“Unlucky Dip” by Andrew Garve (1956)

This is a story that is as clever as it is short. And it is very short indeed. A man dies by drowning during his regular 7:30 a.m. swim, possibly as a result of a muscle cramp. But what of the bruising around his shoulders?

I loved the setting of this one. Just imagine living somewhere with such easy access to the sea that you could enjoy the luxury of a morning swim each day! The downside, of course, is the chance of meeting your death there.

“Quarrel at Sea” by Victor Canning (1956)

This is another one set by the sea. It relies on the victim’s watch to tell the story of time of death, but not in the way you may expect. I just loved it!

“The Holiday” by Ethel Lina White (1938)

I love the start of this one.

Nearly everyone in the small block of old-fashioned mansion-flats seemed to be going on holiday, with the exception of Charles Bevan.

Checked in his ambition to become one of Trenchard’s young men, for the past eight months he had been lying in a back ground-floor flat, which looked out into the well of the courtyard. He disliked reading, so had nothing to do but listen to the rush of bath-water down the pipes from six o’clock in the morning, and to watch the lights appear in the opposite building until the final eclipse. (61)

I assumed “Trenchard’s young men” had something to do with the military, but I had to look it up. Hugh Trenchard, 1st Viscount Trenchard (1873-1956) was important in the establishment of the Royal Air Force. So our man Charles Bevan was unsuccessful at becoming a pilot, which I suspect was a disappointment a number of men had to face during the First and Second World Wars.

But let me describe the premise…

What happens when a bank robber holds up in a woman’s apartment when everyone else on her floor is on holiday. This was a surprisingly touching story with a satisfying ending. I should not have expected anything less from Ethel Lina White. After all, she did write my second favourite British Library Crime Classic, The Wheel Spins. I have yet to read something by White I didn’t love.

“Even Murderers Take Holidays” by Michael Gilbert (1950)

This one shows the author’s sense of humour, as much as his sense of justice. It’s a really fabulous holiday read told from the perspective of Croft, a hired killer. At the beginning of the quotation below, he is describing the benefit of never having met his victims before they become “objects of his professional attention”.

Anonymity was one of the advantages of professionalism.

Nevertheless, there’s no denying, he sometimes felt the strain. And when you feel strain you need a holiday. A quiet holiday, with all business barred. A holiday beside the sea.

At random Croft had selected Blymouth, on the South coast.

The season was nearly over and the first gales of autumn were emptying the promenades and bringing down, with the yellow leaves, the prices at the many boarding houses. (82)

This is a perfect story to be reading at the end of summer or in early autumn. And I have to say, that I applaud his timing for a holiday. I much prefer autumn gales to the stiffling heat of the hot summer sun. But you just know that Croft is going to ruin his holiday when he suddenly finds himself on the job.

Several times, in the course of the ensuing days, Croft warned himself not to be a fool. He reminded himself of the old saying that you should never mix business with pleasure. A holiday was a holiday.

Worse, he was stepping outside his own strict line of business. But however hard he argued he could not argue away the tangible figure of five thousand solid, indisputable, Bank of England pounds.

For years he had been acting as an agent. Now was his chance to become a principal.

For years he had been removing unwanted persons in return for—what? A pittance, a salary. Here was the big money, waiting to fall into his hands. (83-84)

This story was so good! Gilbert just lines up all the pieces of this story so brilliantly. It’s full of an inevitability that is no less satisfying when the obvious conclusion comes to fruition.

“‘Mr. Bearstone Says…’” by Anthony Berkeley (1943)

This one kept me guessing right until the end, and it did not end up where I thought it would at all. A man dies while out for his morning swim, and his wife is near hysterical about it. But what of Mr. Bearstone, the ex-business partner of Mr. Hutton? What if Mr. Bearstone and his lover, Mrs. Hutton, were in cahoots? Of course it was possible, but the station sergeant, Roger, met Mrs. Hutton at a party in November 1939 and got the impression that she was a very silly creature. Now, some years later, the question is, could such a silly woman be trusted as an accomplice to murder? This was another goodie!

“In the Picture” by Nicholas Bentley (1956)

There is an atmospheric, almost Ripley-esque feel to this story. Two couples go to France for a holiday, but one of the members of the group has a plan to appease his jealousy towards his admirable wife. This was another short one, of which, there are a number in this collection. Normally, I gravitate towards longer short stories, but I have to say I found all of the stories in this collection to be really strong, and this one was no different. 

“And the Police Were Not Called” by Bernard J. Farmer (1951)

This is a cute little mystery featuring a police constable who is staying on holiday at a boarding house where missing five pounds goes missing. 

“Consider Your Verdict” by Anthony Gilbert (1956)

A woman, our narrator, meets a man on holiday. She makes herself sound wealthier than she is, because she wants to impress him. Meanwhile, he fails to mention he’s a conman. This was a fun one. Moral of the story… One should not tell lies! 

Side note… The conman is named Gil Arnott. I always get a bit of a thrill when I come across a my own last name (Arnett), even if it is a variant spelling and it’s just the character name of a criminal. Is anyone else like this?

“Crooked Harvest” by Shelley Smith (1947)

Nigel Armstrong, an antique dealer imagines himself rescuing a woman that he has recently met and fallen for. When the opportunity arises to save her from a crook he seizes it with unexpected results.

The opening made me laugh.

Nigel Armstrong wondered disconsolately why he had ever imagined that a quiet holiday in the country would be fun. It was dull, unbearably dull. No one to talk to, nothing to do but walk. He kicked an inoffensive stone along the lane. It wasn’t true that country folk were friendly, they were hatefully reserved and stuck up.

That adorably pretty Miss Brown, for instance. Her house was a stone’s throw from his, they saw each other daily, and yet he could not get into conversation with her. (129)

Nigel has basically described my ideal holiday, or life, for that matter. Countryside, dull, no one to talk to, and lots of walks. Add books to the list and you can sign me up. 

You will be glad to know that Nigel’s holiday does pick up quite a bit.

“Cyanide in the Sun” by Christianna Brand (1958)

The problem with having a favourite author is that you come to expect quite a lot from them. Christianna Brand is the author of my favourite British Library Crime Classic, London Particular, so I expected this one to be my favourite story in the bunch. It was not. Her book, Cat and Mouse, took me reading it a second time to really enjoy it, so perhaps I will have to give this one another go, too.

A serial killer who preys on random strangers stalks the seaside town of Scampton. The means of murder, cyanide in the food. The whodunit aspect was obvious to me from the start, so obvious I thought it could not possibly be them. The howdunit was much more interesting, but that it required an explanation dampened the punch. 

“The Fly” by John Bingham (1953)

A man dies while night fishing in Norway. It could be an accidental death, but Superintendent Wills, an experienced fisherman himself, thinks not. This story was short and smart. 

“A Holiday by the Sea” by Will Scott (1924)

Giglamps, a do-gooder tramp, and his new friend, Cheerful—who isn’t—catch a ride to Margate. There they find themselves on the trail of a pretty boy conman, and his band of thieves. This was such a fun one! Giglamps was such a character! I would love to read the collection of Will Scott’s short stories featuring this character, called simply, Giglamps (1924).

The passage I am about to share is a smidge spoiler-y, so skip it if that bothers you. But I had to share it because it’s such a great example of Giglamps’ voice.

“[I]t’s really remarkable the amount o’ good we done by comin’ to Margate for eight hours, although there’s all the cops in Kent lookin’ for us, although the only chance we had to bathe was in trouble. We never got no nearer the sea than the smell, but we done a mighty lot o’ good. Except to ourselves.” (183) 

Doesn’t he sound fun?!

“Two on a Tower” by Michael Innes (1956)

A tidy little story about a couple and a friend who travel together to Italy, with deadly results. Smartly worded, brief, with a strangely satisfying conclusion.

“The Summer Holiday” by Celia Fremlin (1983)

Celia Fremlin just writes the best crime fiction. This was tense, believable, but also completely unbelievable—if you know what I mean. Clever and deceptively simple. There is no mystery here, but with this much tension and atmosphere, it doesn’t need one. I loved it!

She would never have believed that widowhood would suit her so well. She would have said, if you’d asked her, that she was one of those unassuming, dependent little women who would be lost without a man to lean on.

And now here she was not feeling lost at all, not the least bit. It was amazing—and, in a way, rather disturbing. (191)

One of my favourite things about Fremlin’s writing is her ability to write women who subvert expectations. In this one, Emmy will stop at nothing to avoid going on holiday with her family, even if it results in the police getting involved.  

“The Summer Holiday Murders” by Julian Symons (1960)

My favourite of the bunch has to be this long, almost novella length story. It had great pacing, kept me guessing, and I suspected just about every character, but the culprit. 

One of the women on a coach tour is found drowned in a pool, having appeared to have fallen down some rocks and hit her head. It could have been an accident. But what about the copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes with the pages torn out that was found beside her? When a writer of detective stories who is on the tour researching his next book, inserts himself into the investigation things really start to heat up! It’s just so good! I really must read more by this author in future.

Like a cruise, there is something so sinister about a coach tour. All those people of various backgrounds in forced proximity with each other, being carted around for brief stops, and planned surprises feels like the prime scenario for crime to flourish. And flourish it does in this story!

I love how Martin Edwards signs off his introduction to this collection, not least because I read this book while on holiday. 

If you’re reading this collection on holiday, I hope you enjoy it—but keep your eyes peeled for sinister strangers prowling around your resort or hotel corridors, and if you’re travelling in a group, do watch out for your fellow passengers. They might not be all they seem… (11)

I must admit, it made me feel grateful that I knew who I was holidaying with quite well, and we only had two nights during which we would be rolling the dice with our safety while staying at a hotel!

Thank you to British Library Publishing for kindly sending me a copy of Cyanide in the Sun for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

A Halloweird Readalong

You are cordially invited ✨

To attend a readalong of British Library Publishing’s haunting collection Halloweird: Classic Stories from the Season of Samhain.

👻 Held by: Sabine and myself

⏳ Date: 1-31 October 2025

🗣️ Final discussion: Saturday 1 November 2025

📍 Location: Instagram group chat

🧡 #HalloweirdReadalong

📮 To RSVP: Contact Sabine (on Instagram @sabines.literary.world) or myself (on Instagram @carosbookcase or email me) to be added to the group chat.

The fine print…

This collection contains four poems and 16 short stories, ranging from three to 34 pages in length. We will be reading at a rate of one short piece per day, allowing two days for any of the longer stories. But don’t worry, we will keep things relaxed with everyone welcome to read at their own pace.

Ring in spooky season in style. Join us for a deep dive into the weird, the wonderful, the ghostly, and the ghastly of Halloween with Halloweird. 🎃

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

The Dead of Summer: Strange Tales of May Eve and Midsummer edited by Johnny Mains

Since enjoying The Ghost Stories of Wilkie Collins back in January, I’ve been dying to read another of the books in the Gilded Nightmares collection from British Library Publishing. The books themselves are simply gorgeous, as you can see evidence of in the photos accompanying this post. The benefit of attractive packaging is that someone, like me, who may not initially be attracted to this series, is more willing to give it a chance. The Ghost Stories of Wilkie Collins is what it says on the tin. Either it will be your thing, or it won’t. It really just depends on if you like Wilkie Collins and ghost stories. But a collection of short stories on a particular theme, say strange stories set in the summer, is another thing entirely. It depends on what stories have been chosen for the collection.

I was about halfway through the first story in The Dead of Summer: Strange Tales of May Eve and Midsummer when I sat back for a moment to appreciate what a great time I was having. The fourteen stories found in this collection were originally published in 1823 right through to 2020, and are ordered chronologically. They are chilling, haunting, spooky. They will make you feel the summer heat and send shivers down your spine. Some of them will turn your blood cold. I got such a thrill reading this late at night, as many of the most terrifying things do tend to happen at night in these kinds of stories. However, in his introduction, Johnny Mains, encourages readers to “take this book outside, find a place where the glare of the sun won’t hit your page and blind you, and let the bliss begin” (xii). Or the nightmares, as the case may be. 

“The First of May; or Wallburga’s Night” by Caroline Pichler (1823), translated from German by R.P. Gillies (1826)

This story involves witches, standing stones, May Day, and a jealous woman who has her heart set on one man. But the man has married another woman. One who is much too trusting and kind for her own good. Positively haunting! 

“The Suitable Surroundings” by Ambrose Bierce (1889)

A haunted house, a man reading by candlelight, and a manuscript read in suitable surroundings. But all does not go as expected. Out of the entire collection, only this one and one other didn’t quite hit for me. That’s the thing about spooky stories, even the best ones are not going to work for everyone.

“A Midsummer Night’s Marriage” by J. Meade Falkner (1896)

A man buys a signet ring from an antique store, then one midsummer night he finds himself travelling back over 200 years before. This one is full of foreboding, and I just loved it. It will make you think twice before picking up secondhand jewellery, no matter how attractive it looks in the shop window.

“The Looking-Glass” by Walter de la Mare (1923)

Dark and dreamy, with a walled garden and a young girl, Alice, whose imagination is captured by the place and the lore told to her by a curmudgeonly old woman called Sarah. The Secret Garden meets Alice in Wonderland, if the oracle was an old woman named Sarah who hates birds and would blow them all to ribbons if she had the means.

“Midsummer at Stonehenge” by F. Britten Austin (1927)

We follow Wolfhound and Wheatear as they travel to Stonehenge with the other Sun worshippers, and celebrate the Summer Solstice there. This was enlightening and answered a lot of my questions about the Sun People and the form of worship that may have taken place at these standing stones. The author’s note at the end is a reminder that authorities on the subject contradict each other and that whatever theory an earnest searcher of the true story adopts will “have to make a quite considerable use of his imagination” as the author has done (124). My only complaint about this one is that it felt a little heavy with research, if you see what I mean, but at the same time I did appreciate the information, and the details around what the festival might have looked like with the market, the people, the livestock, the camping, really brought this to life for me.

“The Black Stone” by Robert E. Howard (1931)

Johnny Mains’ introduction to this story has a sort of disclaimer.

So, you’ve been given a hint about the gruesomeness contained in “The Black Stone”, but don’t let that put you off. In a departure from Howard’s ultra-macho characters, our bookish and learned narrator sets off for Hungary due to a mention of “The Black Stone” which piques his curiosity. Our narrator ends up near the monolith on Midsummer’s Day and at that point the story manages to outdo Conan the Barbarian for barbarianism. Don’t say you’ve not been warned. (126) 

I can’t say I wasn’t given good warning. I almost wish I had not read this one. Almost. This utterly disturbing story is not for the faint of heart. But I am supremely fascinated by the concept of an object or place being a conduit to the past and I will read any story that has this at its heart.

“The Withered Heart” by G.G. Pendarves (1939)

A box, a spell, a fortune, and a beautiful woman who wants it, but at what cost? This atmospheric story had hint of Edgar Allan Poe about it. The spooky part takes place on the evening of 31 May, but this one really put me in the mood for Halloween.

“May Day Eve” by Nick Joaquin (1947)

Starts in 1847, then fast forwards to 1890. After a dance, a group of girls having a sleepover are told a tale by an older woman who is a servant in the house.

[I]t was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the night, she said—for it was a night of divination, a night of lovers, and those who cared might peer in a mirror and there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry. (178)

But there are words to be said aloud, and things do have a way of turning on their head on May Eve.

“If all goes right, just above your left shoulder will appear the face of the man you will marry.”

A silence. Then: “And what if all does not go right?” asked Agueda.

Ah, then the Lord have mercy on you!”

“Why?”

“Because you may see—the Devil!” (179)

This was spooky, atmospheric, and really did not go where I expected. Believable and sad, and definitely a story against mixing yourself up in magic. 

“The Sale of Midsummer” by Joan Aiken (1970)

The village of Midsummer is up for sale. A television crew goes to interview the locals about their thoughts on the sale, and if there is any credence to the legend that Midsummer exists only three days each year. This was my first time reading anything by Joan Aiken, and now I really must read more.

“Night on Roughtor” by Donald R. Rawe (1973)

Three young men visiting Cornwall for the summer plan to sleep out on Roughtor. A local woman warns them against it, but the men scoff, and claim it’s just superstitious nonsense. Up on the mountain they have a night to remember, or not, as the case may be. 

“We saw a will o’ the wisp,” cried Browne-Smythe.

He spoke excitedly so that the other two recoiled silently.

“Old Bertie here started the damned thing,” said de Vere Ellis in exaggerated laconic tones. “Lit a match for a smoke as we started up the hill. Must have ignited a pocket of marsh gas.”

“Gave me quite a jolt, actually,” said Browne-Smythe. “One second there was nothing there, and the next this kind of purple ghost was dancing like a monkey round us. Burnt out after a few minutes, of course.” 

They busied themselves arranging the tent. McMahon lit a couple of oil lamps and tied them to the tent poles. No one spoke; they were perhaps little fearful of betraying the fact that the place was affecting them strongly. Each knew that this night on Roughtor was going to be far less of a joke than they had imagined; but none would admit it. (211)

I really loved this one! I enjoy hiking and camping, myself, which is in part why this one might be my favourite in the collection. It is also so full of atmosphere and the descriptions were so clearly drawn that I was completely on board with the incredible things they see and experience on Roughtor. I do love a story with a storm, and this is one of epic proportions. But I hope to never come across anything like what these three do in my own outdoor adventures!

“Where Phantoms Stir” by Mary Williams (1976)

At first her face was merely a disc of white in the thickening waves of curling mist; then, as the light cleared momentarily, he saw the figure of a girl approaching hesitantly from the side of the lane. From what he could see of her she was wearing the current style of dress… long maxi skirt and a kind of shawl thing round her shoulders. Her pale hair caught the fleeting glow from distant bonfires where beacons blazed to honour Midsummer Eve; then as quickly, her form was taken again into the swirl of falling cloud shapes, leaving only the brief impression of delicate features and pleading stare of enormous, haunted looking eyes. (223)

A man, Charles, on a “tramping holiday in Cornwall” helps a young woman find her way to her father’s house in the fog on Midsummer Eve. They get there and discover the table set for a banquet and her father awaiting his guests. He certainly does not seem happy to see his daughter, and is even more displeased when he sees she has brought someone with her. She tells her father that Charles gave her the courage to come. Charles soon finds out why she needed it, when he sees who has been invited to dinner.

“Foxgloves” by Susan Price (1995)

Midsummer’s Eve, too—an unlucky night to be out. It was one of the “turning days” of the year, according to his granny, like Halloween, Christmas Eve and May Day. They were the days when the year turned from winter to spring, from spring to summer, from summer to autumn, and then to winter again. They were different from other days... More open. The nights were even more so. Ghosts walked on those nights that couldn’t walk other nights; things were seen on those nights that couldn’t be seen on other nights... On those nights, magic worked. According to Granny. (240-241)

A teenage boy has an argument with his girlfriend, missing the last bus he has to walk home three miles on a sultry Midsummer’s Eve. Should he talk the long walk by the road, or the shortcut through the woods. And did his Granny say that seeing foxgloves in the woods were lucky? Or was it unlucky? Don’t go in the woods at night if you are scared. Fear is your brain trying to protect your body, you silly boy! This terrifying story was first published by Scholastic in a collection called 13 Again. I wonder if the rest of that collection is as unsettling as this one!

“The Midsummer Emissary” by Minagawa Hiroko (1996), translated from Japanese by Ginny Tapley Takemori (2012)

A student gets caught on an island after a storm destroys the remaining bridge. When he goes to the riverbank to look for a ferry, there is only a boat half filled with water. He swears he heard a voice behind him, but no one is there, still there is an image in his mind of a woman, how she is dressed, down to her close-cropped hair. Unsettling and unbalanced. I didn’t know where I was at with this one. 

“Heaven on Earth” by Jenn Ashworth (2020)

A man and his wife are on honeymoon at a five star hotel somewhere tropical, known to be heaven on earth, when the pandemic hits. I saw where this one was going at about the halfway point, and for me it would have been more effective it had ended shortly after. It was quite compelling up to that point, but when I reached the end I was hoping for something more. This is the only story, besides “The Suitable Surroundings”, that I was not thrilled by. 

I think finding twelve thrilling, creepy, spooky, and, at times, downright chilling stories that I loved, out of 14 are really great odds for a short story collection. The stories are for the most part either set during May Eve or Midsummer, but they are all set sometime in the summer, which makes between the first of May and the Summer Solstice the most obvious time to read this collection. However, I am really happy I read this book in August, because I tend to link spooky stories more with Halloween, or even Christmas. Despite the heatwave we are currently experiencing in my part of Canada, since the first of August I have had this feeling that summer is almost over and it is time to start thinking about more autumnal books. So this one really helped to satisfy the urge to rush into the next season with my reading, while helping me to tick another summer book off my TBR. 

I talked about the gorgeous cover at the outset, but I wanted to say how impressed I am with the quality of the binding, the thick paper, and the overall feel of the book. It gives one the feeling of luxury and quality, even before you start reading and discover the high standard of writing contained in this collection. The one place this book falls short is in the gilding. When I finished reading The Ghost Stories of Wilkie Collins I noticed that some of the gilding had rubbed away, so I would encourage people to use care when reading from the Gilded Nightmares books. Let me be clear, I have no idea if it is even possible to make gilding that does not wear away from handling. But I didn’t want The Dead of Summer to get damaged, so I tried not to handle the cover while I was reading. Yes, I realise this sounds a bit bonkers. Just hear me out. Basically, I sat the book open in my lap on top of pillow, because I wanted the gilding to remain perfect, and I was very pleased with the result. The added benefit to this is that my arms didn’t get tired from holding up a heavy hardcover. Win-win. Longterm, I’m thinking of making a fabric cover that I can slip on my Gilded Nightmares books while reading, because you know I’m going to put the rest of the books in this collection on my wishlist. In the meantime, I'm really looking forward to getting to the two others I have on my shelf, Bewitched: The Ghostly Tales of Edith Wharton and Halloweird: Classic Stories from the Season of Samhein. 

Thank you to British Library Publishing for kindly sending me a copy of The Dead of Summer: Strange Tales of May Eve and Midsummer for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

The Ghost Stories of Wilkie Collins edited by Xavier Aldana Reyes

I hope you all had a relaxing and fun festive season and a very happy New Year! We watched a lot of Christmassy movies, read as many seasonal books as we could, and ate just the right amount of sweets to keep us going. Well, we might have overindulged a touch! We had a lovely white Christmas, then a big melt with a ton of rain, but by New Year’s Eve the temperature dropped and snow fell across the countryside like a dusting of icing sugar. And it has snowed here every day since. Twelve days and counting! What a great excuse to curl up with a hot cup of tea by the fire and dip into some ghost stories. That is, right after you have exerted yourself outside with a brisk walk, of course! 

I had not read anything by Wilkie Collins since reading The Moonstone for a Victorian literature class in uni. I remember it was a favourite of many of my classmates, which surprised me, because I wasn’t blown away by it. However, when you are taking five English courses, all of which have you reading a minimum of one assigned novel per week, plus reading the current research, and writing essays, not to mention going to lectures and seminars, sometimes it can be hard to find joy in what you are reading. I always gravitated towards the novels I read before I started uni, but I’m guessing that had a lot to do with how I read before I started university. There was no rush to get through a book. I read in my leisure, and even when I was reading a weighty tome, it was for leisure.

So, as I said, I had not read any Wilkie Collins in a while, and what a shame that is, because I absolutely loved reading this collection. I grew up reading Charles Dickens, so the language of Collins, a contemporary and friend of Dickens, felt like slipping on a favourite sweater that had got pushed to the back of the drawer and forgotten. What a joy to find the sweater still fits!

“The Last Stage Coachman”

Originally published in 1843, this story was haunting and a bit scary. The narrator comes across an inn, which would have been used in the days of the coach, but has since become derelict. He is bemoaning the loss of the coach in replacement of steam trains, when he spots a coachman. But the coachman is changed of yore. Altered by his fate, the coachman’s clothes hang off him in tatters. His face is lined, and his expression changed. This coachman is not smiling in greeting anymore. 

The story provided me with a perspective of the advent of steam trains that I had not considered. The fact that people might actually mourn the loss of the coach isn’t something that had occurred to me. But I found myself thinking about the changes to rural areas when a highway is put in, diverting traffic away from the smaller communities and their businesses, causing them to have to close up in favour of these big box stores that open just off the highway. The same thing must have happened when the rail lines were put in. This was a great start to the collection. It made me very excited for what was to come.

“Nine O’Clock!”

This is a chilling story about a family prophecy. First published in 1852, but set on June 30, 1793 when a prisoner awaits execution by guillotine. The Girondin party in the first French Revolution are to be taken out to make way for the Robespierre and the Reign of Terror. Many of the prisoners, laugh and joke and make light of their impending doom, even going so far as to place bets on what time they are to die, as a way of dealing with the serious nature of what is to happen in the morning. But one man, Duprat, stands apart. He is serious but calm, and his good friend Marigny asks him why. This was such a compelling story. Sucked me right in!

“Mad Monkton”

First published as “The Monktons of Wincot Abbey” in 1855 in Fraser’s Magazine, this one made an appearance in the collection The Queen of Hearts in 1859, under the title “Brother Griffith’s Story of Mad Monkton”. But whatever you want to call it, at just under 70 pages and divided into four chapters, this one feels more like a novella than a short story. 

Told from the perspective of a neighbour we hear the story of a mysterious family who keeps themselves apart from the rest of the community. It’s rumoured that there is a strain of madness that runs through the family. So when the last surviving son leaves the country to look for the body of his recently deceased uncle, who he was all but a stranger to him and not a particular favourite of anyone, by all accounts, everyone thinks he must have succumb to the madness of the Monktons. The fact that he has recently become engaged to a young woman in the community, only adds to the strangeness of his departure. But he insists he must find his uncle’s body before he can marry. The narrator, this neighbour, ends up helping the man find his uncle‘s body. 

It is terrifically creepy, gothic, disturbing, and I found myself, like the narrator, questioning Monkton’s sanity. I really enjoyed this one. It is a highlight of the collection, as far as I am concerned.  

“The Dream-Woman”

This one was first published in 1855 under the title “The Ostler” in Household Words, then in 1874 it was expanded to appear in The Frozen Deep and Other Stories. A lot of these stories have a frame narrative which, for the most part I don’t think is necessary to the integrity of the story, however, in this one, I think the frame adds to the atmosphere of the story. A doctor is called to a rural area. Once his errand is finished he looks for someone who can give him a ride, as his horse has hurt himself. Calling at an inn, he asks if there’s someone available. The landlord tells him his regular person is out, so they will have to wake up Isaac. 

“Wake up Isaac?” I repeated; “that sounds rather odd. Do your ostlers go to bed in the day-time?”

“This one does,” said the landlord, smiling to himself in rather a strange way.”

“And dreams, too,” added the waiter; “I shan't forget the turn it gave me, the first time I heard him.”

“Never you mind about that,” retorted the proprietor; “you go and rouse Isaac up. The gentleman’s waiting for his gig.” (104)

The narrator’s interest is peaked, as he thinks this ostler, Isaac, could be an interesting medical case. And so we find out the story of how Isaac came to be at this working at this inn and why he sleeps during the day. Let me tell you, he has good reason to be afraid of sleeping at night! 

This one was unsettling and creepy, in the best way. Like “Mad Monkton” and some of the other stories in this collection, the story has a sort of inevitability to it. I read a lot of mystery novels and short stories, which tend discredit the possibility of the supernatural being to blame in favour of a human cause, so it is a rare treat to read something like this that entertains and even encourages those what-ifs.

“The Dead Hand”

The darkness forced his mind back upon itself, and set his memory at work, reviving, with a painfully vivid distinctness the momentary impression it had received from his first sight of the corpse. Before long the face seemed to be hovering out in the middle of the darkness, confronting him through the window, with the paleness whiter, with the dreadful dull line of light between the imperfectly closed eyelids broader than he had seen it—with the parted lips slowly dropping farther and farther away from each other—with the features growing larger and moving closer, till they seemed to fill the window and to silence the rain and to shut out the night. (141-142)

I don’t want to share too much about this one because I think the story spins out very nicely and is especially effective when you know very little about what is going to happen. Here’s the premise… A man arrives in a town in the middle of race week and there are no rooms available to rent for the night. He is desperate and is on the brink of thinking he will have to sleep outside, when he finds an inn far off the beaten with a bed available. Immediately agreeing to the price the landlord stipulates, he finds out too late that he will be sharing the room with a dead man. First published in Household Words in 1857 as “The Double-Bedded Room”, this one was thrilling, really well executed, and nothing like what I was expecting. 

“Blow Up with the Brig!”

I have an alarming confession to make. I am haunted by a ghost.

If you were to guess for a hundred years, you would never guess what my ghost is. I shall make you laugh to begin with—and afterwards I shall make your flesh creep. My Ghost is the ghost of a Bedroom Candlestick. (155) 

So begins “Blow Up with the Brig!”. It has a humorous beginning, but by the end, you see the man has good reason for being haunted by a candlestick. As with all of these stories the tale l is spun out in such a way by the teller that there’s an inevitability to the conclusion. But this makes it no less creepy, terrifying, and exciting to read. It was first published in 1859 as “The Ghost in the Cupboard Room” in All the Year Round. 

“Miss Jéromette and the Clergyman”

“The Clergyman’s Confession” is the title this one was first appeared as when it was published in Canadian Monthly in 1875. It opens with our narrator reading a collection of famous trials that has been recently published, when his brother, a clergyman, recognises the case he is reading. 

“You don’t mean to say you know anything about the Trial?”

“I know this,” he said. “The prisoner was guilty.”

“Guilty?” I repeated. “Why, the man was acquitted by the jury, with the full approval of the judge! What can you possibly mean?”

“There are circumstances connected with that Trial,” my brother answered, “which were never communicated to the judge or the jury—which were never so much as hinted or whispered in court. I know them—of my own knowledge, by my own personal experience. They are very sad, very strange, very terrible. I have mentioned them to no mortal creature. I have done my best to forget them. You—quite innocently—have brought them back to my mind.” (171-172)

Part murder mystery, part ghost story, this story is creepy and again has a sort of inevitability to the ending. I really enjoyed it, though it was quite sad.

“Mrs. Zant and the Ghost”

This one dates to 1885 when it was published in Harper’s Weekly, under the title “The Ghost’s Touch”. What a strong story to end on! Unlike many of the stories in this collection, which have a rural setting, this one is set in London with the inciting incident occurring in the middle of the day in Kensington Gardens. But it is no less unsettling for it! Mrs. Zant is haunted by the ghost of her dead husband. He seems to be trying to warn her about someone, but Mrs. Zant is hesitant to believe the ghost. This one was a favourite of mine and the perfect one to end on. And it is probably one of the safer stories in this collection to read before bed!

Many of these stories are set in the autumn months. Although, “Mrs. Zant and the Ghost” is different in this regard, too, as it is set in April. Ghost stories can be enjoyable any time of year, but I think the cooler months are when I favour them the most. Curling up with this one during the long winter nights with the wind whistling outside, I found to be particularly atmospheric.

All of the publishing dates and original story titles can be found in Xavier Aldana Reyes’ insightful introduction. I thought it might be helpful to include that information in my review for anyone who is trying to figure out if any of these stories can be found in other collections.

It is hard to believe that six months ago, I did not gravitate towards short story collections and now I get so excited when I get my hands on one. In the past year I have read nine collections, eight of which happen to be published by the British Library, and all of which I thoroughly enjoyed. I have read a lot and consistently my whole life, so I thought my reading taste was fairly unchangeable. Apparently, not!

I had such a great time reading Wilkie Collins’ ghost stories that it has me eyeing my old copy of The Moonstone. It might be time to give it a second chance.

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Thank you to British Library Publishing for kindly sending me a copy of The Ghost Stories of Wilkie Collins* for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

*This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell's, which means I will make a small commission if you choose to make a purchase through this link. See Affiliate Disclosure at sidebar for details.

The Philosophy of Christmas by Caroline Taggart

Caroline Taggart’s The Philosophy of Christmas was my most anticipated read this holiday season. The gorgeous cover captivated my imagination, and I was very eager to see inside, which is why I am so excited to be sharing some of the delights this book had to offer. Get ready for a photo heavy review. But if you are at all concerned that I’ve shown all the best bits. Not to worry! I’m only displaying a fraction of the many gorgeous illustrations to be found inside of this book.

Despite my enthusiasm for this title, as someone who does not gravitate towards nonfiction, I was a bit worried about how I would get on with this book. Would it be one of the books that fall under the category of those I want to like, but are ultimately not for me? My mind was put at ease as soon as I read the introduction. The tone leans more towards the conversational than the textbook and I knew that this was one nonfiction book that I could enjoy with a cup of tea and a mince tart in the evening without overtaxing my tired brain.

I love that the first section is entitled “In the Beginning...” an illusion to the book of Genesis that plays on the multilayered origin of Christmas as being rooted in the Midwinter festival of Saturnalia celebrated by the Ancient Romans and the Winter Solstice celebrations of the Pagans of northern Europe. These celebrations were then adopted by Christians to celebrate the birth of Christ. The book goes on to explain the creation of St. Nicholas as a way of redirecting the focus of away from the gods Saturn and Odin, which the festivals of Saturnalia and the Winter Solstice had at the basis of their beliefs.

But before you start to think that this book is just about ancient history, I will assure you that it moves on to sections describing the foods of Christmas and how they developed, the decorations, especially the plants associated with the holiday, greeting cards and how they have changed through the ages, as well as festive entertainments, such as carols and games.

Besides the tone, what really worked for me in this book is that instead of merely starting with the earliest origins of Christmas then working its way through to the present day, it starts with the early origins and then goes through the different subjects mentioned above, while moving back and forth in time. That might sound like it would be confusing, but I assure you, this method goes with the conversational tone of the book, as well as providing a logical progression that feels easy and natural. 

One of the tidbits of information I found interesting was the explanation for how Santa’s elves came about. 

In many northern European cultures elves have long been benevolent characters who work behind the scenes (they help out a poor shoemaker in a story by the Brothers Grimm), so, once you'd decided that Santa must have a workshop in which to produce all those toys, staffing it with elves was a logical thing to do.

The first use of this idea is credited to Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888), author of Little Women, who wrote but never published a book called Christmas Elves. But it took off when the influential American magazine Godey's Lady's Book used an image of toymaking elves on the cover of its Christmas issue in 1873. (33)

Like this idea of Santa’s elves, many of the traditions and beliefs surrounding Christmas have grown and developed over time. It’s a fascinating hodgepodge that is ever changing.

At just over 100 pages long, this slim book makes for an enjoyable way to spend an evening, or with its short sections, you could dip in and out of it over a number of days. This slow reader enjoyed it over two evenings, taking time to pour over the beautiful illustrations, which, in addition to the red and white framed sections that had me reaching for the candy canes, and the multicoloured pages of salmon red, light teal, and muted gold, make this book a delight for the eyes. 

I will admit I did know a lot of the history behind the holiday before picking up this book. However, it was through facts I had read and heard over the years and I did not have a book like this on my shelves. The Philosophy of Christmas is so beautiful, I know, I will enjoy it just as much as I did this year in the years to come.

This book is a great jumping off point if you don’t know a lot about the origins of Christmas and want to learn more about how the holiday that is celebrated today has come into being. It has inspired me to find some more books on the subject that go into a little more depth. Caroline Taggart has anticipated just such an event, and in the back of the book you will find a list of the sources she used and titles for further reading on the subject. If anyone has any recommendations for other books one the subject, especially about how the Victorians celebrated Christmas, I would love to hear about them in the comments.

I think this lovely book would make a great gift. It’s a sturdy little hardcover that is small enough to slip into someone’s stocking. You could wrap it in paper or if it’s going in a stocking I would simply add a red ribbon, allowing the plummy purple and gold accented cover to shine.

I’m willing to admit that I caught myself singing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”, while taking photos these photos. I will also admit, I do not know all the words! That should show you to what extent this book brought out the festive spirit within me. I hope it does the same for you and yours!

Thank you to British Library Publishing for kindly sending me a copy of The Philosophy of Christmas for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell's, which means I will make a small commission if you choose to make a purchase through this link. See Affiliate Disclosure at sidebar for details.