W.H. Chesson and "Possessed"

Johnny Mains's latest discovery was published earlier this month by the British Library in their Tales of the Weird series. It is the first ever reprint of a forgotten 1927 novel by the pseudonymous "Rosalie and Edward Synton" entitled Possessed. My copy arrived a few days ago, and I haven't had the chance to read it yet, but I noted in the introduction that Mains quotes from a short review of the book by the journalist Wilfred Hugh Chesson "of the famed W.H. Chesson diaries." 

Are Chesson's diaries really well-known? I happened upon Chesson some twenty years ago, and was struck by his numerous reviews in The Occult Review, covering expected writers of the weird, like Bram Stoker and William Hope Hodgson, but also covering many more names then-unfamiliar to me, like Regina Miriam Bloch, and Vere Shortt.  The reviews ran from 1905 through 1931--I wasn't able to get copies of every one that had been indexed (and some years of The Occult Review had not been indexed), but I got a fairly thick folder of a bunch of them. They made for interesting reading, and gave me many titles to seek out.

Chesson was one of those figures who become more and more interesting as one learns about them--at least that was the case for me. He wrote a few novels, one of them, A Great Lie (1897), is a fantasy about  a crippled fisherman's son who body-swaps into a handsome man, and whose behavior and morality are altered. It has been suggested that it was influenced by M.P. Shiel, but my friend the late John D. Squires, one of the great Shielians, told me that A Great Lie predated Chesson's friendship with Shiel (which began after Chesson's wife's death in 1906), and that any influence by Shiel on A Great Lie was unlikely, for Shiel hadn't published much before 1897. 

John also told me about Chesson's many reviews of Shiel's books, and of the inscribed leatherbound set of Shiel volumes that one of Chesson's daughters owned (she committed suicide in 1926 or 1927, shortly after her marriage). Chesson's first wife, the poet Nora Hopper (1871-1906), was, and remains, better-known than Chesson. She was the chief breadwinner of the family, and wrote in her application to the Royal Literary Fund the year before her death that her husband had had "a complete mental breakdown and is now suffering from persistent spiritualistic delusions." After Hopper's death of puerperal fever in April 1906, Chesson, unable to cope, arranged to have one of their three children, the only son, Dermot, adopted by the Spence family. As Dermot Chesson Spence he published the weird fiction collection The Little Red Shoes and Other Tales in 1937. Chesson remarried in 1923 and raised another three children. 

Chesson also had been a reader for the publishing firm T. Fisher Unwin in the 1890s, and it was he who recommended to his colleague  Edward Garnett the publication of the manuscript of Almayer's Folly (1895), which became the the debut book by Joseph Conrad.  

Those "famed" Chesson diaries are now held at the Special Collections Division at the Georgetown University Library, covering primarily 1904 through 1934. They were catalogued in 2008, just before one of my visits with Georgetown friends, so I spent a few hours perusing them, fascinated by the details and saddened by the content. I had no real aim in reading them (though I took some notes on what Chesson wrote about giving up Dermot to the Spence family for adoption, and some on the weird dreams he recorded). I have long felt that Chesson deserves a retrospective article on him.

Chesson remained friendly with Shiel until the latter's death in 1947. Chesson himself died on 16 February 1953, aged 82. 

I close here with his September 1927 review of Possessed. 

Possessed. By Rosalie and Edward Synton. London: Hutchinson & Co. (Publishers), Ltd. 7s. 6d. net.

It would he hard to name a subject of discussion richer in debating material than the death-penalty, and those who read Possessed will have a lively consciousness of the tyrannies of justice possible under existing rules. Still the novel, though it provokes controversial thought, is not in the least a tract: rather is it an occult “shocker,” exciting curiosity in a more weirdly unpleasant mother-in-law than I remember to have hitherto met in my travels through fiction. An atmosphere of fetid hypocrisy portentous of crime accompanies her: she is worthy to be the villianess in a romance by Wilkie Collins.

Why does she apparently want to destroy her daughter and her daughter’s soldier-husband?—that is the question which eggs one on to the denouement, The title gives a clue to her awful predicament, and it would be unfair for me to provide another. The novel may be recommended to readers who like a “creepy feeling” with very little psychology and scarcely any interruptive elements.

W.H. Chesson

 

Victor Gollancz's "Connoisseur's Library of Strange Fiction" and Its Successor Series

The London publisher Victor Gollancz (1893-1967) clearly had a soft spot for eclectic books, including fantasy. Twice during his lifetime he published a series of fantasies, though he carefully avoided calling them such. 

The first series he called "The Connoisseur's Library of Strange Fiction," subtitling it "A Series of Reprints."  He announced five books though in the end he published only four.  In numbered order they were:

The 1946 Gollancz edition

1. A Voyage to Arcturus, by David Lindsay.  Published August 1946 at 8s 6d, just a little over a year after Lindsay's death.  Gollancz had bought the publishing rights to Arcturus and The Haunted Woman from Lindsay's widow. This edition includes a one-page "Publisher's Note" by Victor Gollancz, which publishes for the first time the (accurate) statement that of the small 1920 first edition of Arcturus, "596 copies were sold and 824 'remaindered.'" Most rare booksellers have latched on to the first number and ignored the second one, making the first edition of Arcturus seem all the more rare.  But those 1,430 copies were in fact sold, as the original publisher's ledgers confirm.

2. The Haunted Woman, by David Lindsay.  Published in January 1947 at 7s 6d.

3. Medusa, by E.H. Visiak. Published January 1947 at 7s 6d. Gollancz himself had published the first edition of this book in 1929.

4. The Place of the Lion, by Charles Williams.  Published in February 1947 at 7s 6d. Gollancz himself had published the first edition of this book in 1931.

5. The Confessions of a Justified Sinner, by James Hogg. In earlier volumes of this series, the James Hogg book was listed as number 4, with The Place of the Lion as number 5. But when the latter was published, the ordering was reversed. No Gollancz edition of the James Hoog book was ever published.  The Cresset Press published an edition in September 1947.  Perhaps Gollancz didn't want to publish a book which had a planned competing edition.

The second series of reprints came a few decades later, under the title "Rare Works of Imaginative Fiction: A Series of Re-Issues." This time Gollancz published, in three groups, eight of the nine titles that he announced. Three are reissues from the 1946-47 series:

1. The Purple Cloud, by M.P. Shiel. Published 13 June 1963 at 18s.

2. A Voyage to Arcturus, by David Lindsay. Published 13 June 1963 at 18s.

3. Medusa, by E.H. Visiak. Published 13 June 1963 at 18s.

4. Wylder's Hand, by J.S. Lefanu. Published 24 October 1963, presumably at 21s.

5. The Greater Trumps,  by Charles Williams. Announced but never published. Gollancz himself had published the first edition of this book in 1932.

6. The Lord of the Sea, by M.P. Shiel. Published 24 October 1963, at 21s.

7. The Haunted Woman, by David Lindsay.  Published 16 April 1964 at 21s.

8. The Isle of Lies, by M. P. Shiel. Published 16 April 1964 at 21s.

9. The Ghost Ship & Other Stories, by Richard Middleton. Published 16 April 1964 at 21s.

In all, these titles lived up to the advertisements describing the series as "The Connoisseur's Library of Strange Fiction" and "Rare Works of Imaginative Fiction." 

 

revised 2 September 2022

The Allison & Busby Fantasic Fiction Library

In October 1986, three books appeared in trade paperback in the UK, inaugurating the "Allison & Busby Fantastic Fiction Library." Each gives unadorned texts, without any extra matter such as informed introductions or interior illustrations.  Each of the three books uses a piece of art (or a portion thereof) from the previous century as cover art.  The art is not especially compatible with the book on which it appears, but it isn't horrendously incompatible either.  The books are:


Lilith, by George Macdonald, with the cover art from "Pandora" by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

 
The Purple Cloud, by M.P. Shiel, with cover art from"The Scapegoat" by William Holman Hunt


A Voyage to Arcturus, by David Lindsay, with cover art "The Glacier of Rosenlaui" by John Brett.  Sadly the text of the novel, though re-set, follows that of the corrupt 1963 Macmillan edition, which was line-edited by the publisher, resulting in literally thousands of changes—some merely punctuational but a large number are word changes and rephrasings that alter Lindsay's text.


And with these initial releases, the series died. Alas. Allison & Busby had been founded in 1967 by Clive Allison and Margaret Busby.  In 1987 the firm was acquired by W.H. Allen, Ltd. According to Margaret Busby this represented "finally succumbing to the exigencies of being penniless."  Whether the fantasy series died before or after the acquisition is not known. 

A few last books of 2015

I'd just like to add a few recommendations for two nonfiction titles from 2015, and one translation.

It was very gratifying to see Harold Billings's third volume of his M.P. Shiel biography come out, An Ossuary for M.P. Shiel (Bucharest: L'Homme Recent, 2015). It slimmer than one could have hoped for, and limited to only 85 copies, but it covers the most important aspects of Shiels last years, and serves as an epilogue to Billings's two much more substantial volumes on Shiel's life. And it commemorates the 150th anniversary of Shiel's birth. 

The table of contents

Another outstanding non-fiction title from this past year is Richard J. Bleiler's study of Arthur Machen's 1914 fictional newspaper story, "The Angels of Mons", being taken up as a real event. The Strange Case of "The Angels of Mons": Arthur Machen's World War I Story, the Insistent Believers, and His Refutations (McFarland, 2015) is a kind of casebook which reprints a great deal of the original documents from around one hundred years ago, and puts them in their appropriate context. 

Finally, a small plug for the new French edition of Hope Mirrlees's Lud-in-the-Mist (1926), translated by Julie Petonnet-Vincent as Lud-en-Brume (Editions Callidor, 2015), with very nice pencilled illustrations by Hugo de Faucompret.  I wish all the illustrations had been in color, like the cover (see below).  The book includes translations of Neil Gaiman's Preface from 2000 and my own Introduction from 2005.

The Sesquicentennial of M.P. Shiel

A rare photo of Shiel in 1908

A quick post to let us all reflect upon the 150th anniversary of the birth of Matthew Phipps Shiel, who was born in Montserrat on 21 July 1865.  Author of such classic works as Prince Zaleski (1895), Shapes in the Fire (1896), The Purple Cloud (1901), and many others, Shiel settled in England in the mid 1880s, and died in Chichester, Sussex, on 17 February 1947.

Harold Billings is the author of M.P. Shiel: A Biography of His Early Years (2005), and M.P. Shiel: The Middle Years 1897-1923 (2010).  We look forward to the third and final volume of this definitive biography

R.I.P. - Roger Dobson, author and bookman

I am sorry to report the very sad news that Roger Alan Dobson, author, journalist and bookman of Oxford, has died. He was the co-editor, with me, of several booklets about Arthur Machen, of Aklo, the journal of the fantastic, and The Lost Club Journal (devoted to neglected writers). He also wrote radio plays, including a successful BBC Radio 4 production about the Kingdom of Redonda, the Caribbean literary realm associated with M.P. Shiel and John Gawsworth, which fascinated him: in recognition of his work here, Spanish novelist Javier Marias ennobled him in his Redondan court as the Duke of Bridaespuela .

Roger was proud of his Manchester upbringing, and wrote a study of Ann Lee, the Manchester Messiah, about a local prophetess. He was a regular contributor to the Antiquarian Book Monthly Review (ABMR) on recondite literary subjects, including one article which made out the case that Sherlock Holmes must have gone to a Manchester college. This exhibited the sense of mischief Roger often brought to bookish matters: he was also implicated, with his friend the bookseller Rupert Cook, in the letters and writings of the hoax poet (who showed signs of coming alive), C.W. Blubberhouse. He also contributed lively and learned material to Colin Langeveld's Doppelganger Broadsheet, sometimes as the querulous 'Professor Herbert Trufflehunter'.

I came to know Roger in the early Nineteen Eighties when I was told he was an enthusiast of Arthur Machen, whose work I discovered at the age of seventeen. This proved to be a considerable under-statement. Roger knew more about Machen than anyone else I ever met, and between us we started a modest campaign to revive interest in him, which was at a low ebb in the early Eighties. We met or corresponded with many who had known Machen, including his son Hilary and daughter Janet, and close friends such as Colin Summerford and Oliver Stonor: in time, we found others who were intent on celebrating him, leading to the Machen societies, journals and other publications since. Roger wrote the Machen entry in the Dictionary of National Biography, after rightly arguing for his inclusion: edited John Gawsworth's biography of Machen; co-edited Machen's Selected Letters (with Godfrey Brangham and R.A. Gilbert, 1988); and contributed to Faunus, the journal of the Friends of Arthur Machen, with illuminating essays on Machen mysteries. A checklist of his writings is in preparation.

But Machen was far from Roger’s only literary interest: he was immensely well-read, and talked charmingly and with infectious enthusiasm about many other, especially semi-forgotten, figures. For some years he and I would meet in Oxford, where Roger had a bedsit at 50, St John Street, a former home of Tolkien, and have long talks about books and authors who ought to be revived. Roger’s special passion after Machen was George Gissing, whom I then did not quite get (I suppose because he was insufficiently ‘like’ Machen): but he insisted on the wonder of The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft, and I have recently come to see why: how I wish I could tell him.

Roger had been a journalist in Manchester and Bristol, and still occasionally did freelance work, but (like Machen) he came to dislike this, and preferred to write on literary themes. However, he never lost the journalistic knack of knocking on doors to elicit information, when he wanted to pursue a writer’s homes and haunts, which included Machen’s house in the Chilterns (then owned, to Roger’s delight, by a gentleman with the Welsh kingly name of Cadwallader); and the grave of the alchemist Thomas Vaughan in an obscure Oxford village (“the graveyard plan is on the back of a cornflakes packet”, the sexton told us).

Roger was a very private man: though I was among his closest friends in those Machenstruck days, I never learnt very much about him, except his bookish enthusiasms. He was devoted to literature and, as with Machen and Gissing, it seldom rewarded him materially: but it gave him rarer things; the joys of scholarship, shared discoveries, and the stubborn integrity of a proud spirit.


Mark Valentine



Below: Roger Dobson (right), with other Machen friends, striding off down the old lane from Llanddewi Fach to Llanfrechfa, a favourite walk of Machen's (photographs: Iain Smith).

R.I.P. John D. Squires (1948-2012)

John D. Squires at Pulpfest 2010*

I'm very saddened to note here the passing of the eminent Shielian, John D. Squires, on 2 November 2012, at the age of sixty-four.  He had been in ill-health for several years.  Our condolences go out to his daughter and other family members, and to his many friends.  John was one of the world authorities on the life and writings of M.P. Shiel, among his many other interests. Professionally he practiced law, having received his advanced degree at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, after his undergraduate degree from Harvard University. A number of John's essays related to M.P. Shiel can be found online here (scroll down, where they can be found in a special section). A memorial service will be held in Greensboro, North Carolina.

*Photo from Morgan Holmes's report of Pulpfest 2010.

Shiel in Penguin Classics

How interesting, at last, to see M.P. Shiel's The Purple Cloud enter the canon of Penguin Classics.  This new edition has a lengthy introduction, and notes, by John Sutherland, whose Longman Companion to Victorian Fiction (1989; revised 2009) is as useful and wonderful as his more recent Lives of the Novelists: A History of Fiction in 294 Lives (2011) is glib and disappointing. 

Sutherland's Introduction to The Purple Cloud repeats and echoes some of the unfortunate glibness of the Shiel entry in Lives of the Novelists (e.g., where the latter refers to "the excessively minor poet John Gawsworth", this dismissal is lightened in the Introduction by the addition of parentheses to "the (excessively) minor poet John Gawsworth"---is such snideness really necessary?). But overall, his Introduction is informative and up-to-date---it is especially rewarding to see the pioneering biographical work of Harold Billings frequently cited, and the work of Kirsten MacLeod as well.  Billings's two volumes (the third is in progress) on Shiel's life are presently available only in the fine small press editions (here is the publisher's webpage for the first volume), and MacLeod's revelatory article is in an academic journal, so it is very good to see the excellent results of years of research being utilized in the mainstream. 

The book is out in England (click here for the Amazon.co.uk link), and should be out soon in the US (click here for the Amazon.com link).

The Realm of Redonda--Facts and Legends

John D. Squires has posted an especially interesting essay on the history of the kingdom of Redonda, from its Sheilian sources on to the various modern day claimants.  The full title is "Of Dreams and Shadows: An Outline of the Redonda Legend with Some Notes on Various Claimants to its Uncertain Throne", and it's posted here.  

An extensive ancillary piece, "The Redonda Legend: A Chronological Bibliography" appears here.