ROOTS OF THE WEIRD: WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON DISCUSSED

Interested in the origins of weird fiction? Want to get the real lowdown on William Hope Hodgson? Then join us as we talk to author, editor and scholar Sam Gafford, in an interview which is already being described as sharper than a spinning diskos. The Night Land, Carnacki, WHH’s life, influences, and women – all come under scrutiny. Our Hope Hodgson centenary articles continue today with…

c. sebastian cabrol

SAM GAFFORD ON WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON

greydog: Hi, Sam. It’s an odd celebration, because we feel a mixture of sadness – after all, Hope Hodgson was twenty years younger than greydog when he was killed – and wonder, in that we are still discussing him and his work. You’re one of the foremost WHH scholars around, so we’ll risk a very broad starter question. Basically, why are we still talking about him? What was so different about his work that he stands out even now?

Sam: I’d venture to say that Hodgson is more popular today than he has ever been. His works are constantly being reprinted, much of his fiction is available free online and scholarly interest is at an all-time high. I think that a lot of the reason for this popularity is due to the vivid imagination evident in his writing. Some may come to Hodgson out of historical interest now that he is considered an early pioneer of science fiction and horror but stay because of his stories.

Another thing that might be helping is the fact that, except for THE NIGHT LAND, most of his fiction is written in a vibrant style that is more modern than some of his contemporaries like Wells, Blackwood or Lovecraft. His short stories, in particular, are very powerful and sparsely written similar, in some ways, to a Hemingway. “A Tropical Horror” is a classic example of this as the action begins practically immediately as a giant sea monster attacks a lone ship and its crew. Hodgson gets great acclaim for his novels and deservedly so, but I feel that it’s in many of his short stories that his talent as a writer really shines.

hope hodgson
william hope hodgson

greydog: Hope Hodgson died late in the Great War , of course, as a result of a mortar bombardment. Given the number of war poets and correspondents, is he himself known to have written anything during his military service years?

sam: Hodgson wrote a couple of ‘articles’ regarding some WWI topics such as “How the French Fought the War” and these were widely circulated during his time. He joined up in the opening months of the war in 1914 but was then wounded in 1916 while he was training others in the movement and handling of big guns at Salisbury Plain. He was sent home and spent about a year recovering during which time I believe he wrote those ‘articles’ as well as several other items. Carnacki had been finished years before but the Captain Gault stories show a definite influence of WWI with the abundance of German spies and what was then more modern ships and weapons. There is, of course, always the possibility that he might have been working on more projects that were left unfinished due to his tragic death but we will likely never know about this.

DC COMICS, 2000 Adapted by Simon Revelstroke and Richard Corben

greydog: Sadly not. Letters to, from or about WHH are scarce; occasional ‘lost’ poems have surfaced over the years. We can be pretty sure that no major works have been lost, but speculate for us. Is there much more, in a tangible form, that is likely to be found now, either of his writings or in biographical terms?

sam: As we’ve discussed many times, the lack of primary sources is our greatest hurdle to developing a more rounded idea of Hodgson the man and the writer. We’ve very few letters to consult. I believe that there may be groups of letters that are being held in private collections but, until the owners (or descendants) make them public, we’ll never know.

When faced with such ‘dead-ends’ in research, we have to then look to other sources such as third party memoirs or letters. Sadly, few of these have come to light but I remain hopeful that somewhere there may be a batch of letters or a memoir written by someone who knew Hodgson and mention him in their works. That’s why it’s so important for as many people as possible to be alert and vigilant in finding such obscure references. I still hope that there may be some things yet to come. I feel confident, however, in stating that there are no major lost works of Hodgson’s floating around out there. Any stories that might come to light now are likely to be minor.

Nouvelles Editions Oswald (1988)

greydog: The Night Land and House on the Borderland have few if any parallels in the period when he was writing, and few obvious antecedents. His family were not literary, not did he seem to move socially in such circles. Are there any clear influences on him in these weirder works?

sam: Again, our lack of primary sources stymies us here. Outside of a few reviews that Hodgson wrote of other people’s work, we really have no clue as to what his influences were or what impelled him to write in the first place. Hodgson’s parents were both educated and literate people so it is likely that they encouraged this trait in their children. In his biographical essays about Hodgson, R. Alain Everts states that Hodgson’s siblings remembered him as always reading.

Hodgson was intelligent and had a curious mind which is evident in his writing. His first published items were articles about ‘physical culture’ which appeared in SANDOW’S MAGAZINE which was the equivalent of a modern ‘bodybuilding’ magazine today. Again, Everts essays have Hodgson’s siblings recounting how he loved to regale them with stories which, no doubt, became even more fantastic when he came home during his off months at sea.

When I was asked at a convention, “What do you think inspired Hodgson to write?” My answer was “Poverty.” Although a bit flippant, there is much truth in this. When Hodgson returned from the sea and after the failure of his ‘School of Physical Culture’, he was the primary means of support for his mother and sister. He had to make money and, after enjoying some success with his exercise articles, must have concluded that this was a quick and enjoyable way to pay the bills. I think that he was also very eager to be accepted by the ‘writing’ world but never quite got there despite his books often getting very eager reviews.

Hyperion (1976)

greydog: How do you feel about attempts to make The Night Land, a long novel which does have its problems of style and language in places, more ‘accessible’?

sam: Although I understand the desire to make THE NIGHT LAND a bit less intimidating to new readers, I don’t particular agree with doing this. As difficult as the style Hodgson choose for this book is, and it is undeniably difficult, by editing or, even worse, rewriting the story, I think we do Hodgson a disservice. I have always championed the concept that the author’s vision, good or bad, should be respected and preserved which is why I also disapprove of Lin Carter’s ‘editing’ of the novel when it was reprinted as part of the Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series. Who are we to say that we know better what the story needs than the author? The book, short story or any written work should stand, of fall, on its own merits.

The only time I would agree with changing the text is when it is adapted for a different medium like radio, television, movies or graphic novels. Certainly, anyone doing a graphic novel interpretation of THE NIGHT LAND should not be required to put everything from the novel into their vision. Otherwise, leave it alone and enjoy it the way that Hodgson meant it to be enjoyed.

hope hodgson
art by sebastian cabrol

greydog: We’re sometimes struck by the male physicality of much his work – men DOING, or failing to do. Is anything known of his views on women?

sam: Ironically, I’ve written on this topic before in my article “Hodgson and Women”. It’s a very interesting thing to consider. Once again, the lack of primary sources means we don’t know how Hodgson felt about women so we have to infer things from his writings.

We know that Hodgson’s life was primarily dominated by women. He left home at 13 and, during his time at sea, his father dies. He returns home to live with his mother and sister and takes the role as family provider and, in keeping with the societal norms of the day, likely the family protector as well.

He does not marry until 1913 when he is 35 years old which is, in and of itself, odd for the people at that time. There are rumours of an earlier romance which ended poorly but we have no details on this.

If we look over the progression of Hodgson’s writing from the novels and short stories through to the Captain Gault stories, we see a change in attitude towards women. In the early stories, women are something to be loved and, above all else, protected from the harsh realities of the world. We see this ‘damsel in distress’ theme often in his early work which was also a popular trope at the time.

But, by the time we reach some of the Captain Gault stories, this opinion towards women changes. No longer are women thought of as objects of romantic love and adoration but instead as crafty, insidious creatures that are, above all else, untrustworthy. Gault outsmarts several women because he simply cannot bring himself to believe or trust a woman.

It is a remarkable change and one that we can only speculate upon. Did his ruined love affair create a distrust towards all women which resulted in him remaining unmarried for so long? Or did something occur during his marriage that also changed his views? We will never know for sure.

greydog: As we’ve said on greydogtales before, Carnacki the Ghostfinder is probably second only to Sherlock Holmes in the number of pastiches and re-imaginings of a single-author detective from that period. How do you feel about the original Carnacki stories, which H P Lovecraft thought were Hope Hodgson’s weakest pieces (though HPL had not read the longest tale, ‘The Hog’)?

sam: I have never understood Lovecraft’s dislike of the Carnacki stories. As a youthful admirer of Holmes, you would think that Lovecraft would be delighted with this character that approaches supernatural mysteries in a logical, scientific manner. Instead, Lovecraft (much as other writers including Ellery Queen) berates Hodgson for trying to create such an unnatural blending of genres.

For myself, I find Carnacki to be Hodgson’s greatest creation and his enduring popularity shows that I am not alone. To me, they are great stories that masterfully combine mystery and horror (as did some of Poe’s finest stories) and endlessly enjoyable to read. It is amazing to consider that Carnacki has become so popular when Hodgson himself only wrote 9 stories with the character and, of those, only 6 were printed in his lifetime. A true testament to the brilliance of the concept!

greydog: Absolutely – a landmark in the development of the occult detective as a concept. Presumably, since you’ve published two volumes of Carnacki stories by contemporary authors, you still get some satisfaction from good pastiches and re-workings of the Ghost Finder? Are there approaches to the canonical material for which you don’t particularly care?

sam: I haven’t ever come across anything that I positively hated although there have been some that I just think didn’t work. Some writers, like William Meikle, understand the Carnacki concept implicitly and write at such a level that they could easily compete with Hodgson’s own stories. Much like Lovecraft’s Mythos stories, I think it’s a wonderful sandbox to play in and I would hope that Hodgson would agree. I think that perhaps the one rendition I cared the least for was Alan Moore’s interpretation of Carnacki in his LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMAN graphic novel series. Carnacki is portrayed as a bit of neurotic mess rather than the strong, albeit often frightened character he needs to be.

carnacki by m s corley. copyright m s corley 2017

greydog: We are hugely fond of the Ghost Finder ourselves, as is obvious. Now, if someone said they had never read any WHH, where would you suggest they start?

sam: It may come as some surprise but I’d probably not suggest starting with the novels. I think that reading the short stories like “A Voice in the Night”, “A Tropical Horror” and the Sargasso Sea stories give a much stronger impression of his writing. If pressed to recommend a novel, I’d likely pick THE HOUSE ON THE BORDERLAND as it is a work that is completely without equal anywhere. Definitely leave THE NIGHT LAND for last. If someone were to try that novel first, they would likely come away from it with a bad impression of Hodgson’s writing despite the imaginative power it displays.

carnacki
art m wayne miller

greydog: On a personal note, we did ask you ages ago if you felt Hope Hodgson’s work had influenced your own work, but you’ve been writing and been published quite a bit since then. Is he still more of a background mist than an imminent fog-bank when you write?

sam: I’ve yet to write a ‘Hodgsonian’ story in the same way that I’ve written many Lovecraftian type tales. Or, at least, a story that on the surface would be something I could point to and say, “That’s Hodgson right there”. Rather, I take away from Hodgson the same thing I take from Lovecraft which is feeling of ‘cosmic horror’ that is so prevalent in both writer’s works. That concept that there is something out there that is so horrible and so amazingly indifferent to humanity is, at its heart, the foundation of all of my own writing and I do feel that I got a great bit of that concept from Hodgson.

greydog: Much the reason why we often refer to Hope Hodgson as at least the ‘uncle’ of weird fiction. So, finally, no plans to follow up on your H P Lovecraft graphic book ‘Some Notes on a Non-Entity’ with a Hope Hodgson version?

sam: That is unlikely for two reasons:

  1. We don’t have enough biographical information to do a comprehensive graphic novel and,
  2. My collaborator, Jason Eckhardt, would likely kill me if I even suggested this with the amount of research and drawing detail that would be involved.

greydog: Both very fair points. Sam, many thanks for joining us.

sam: Thanks for having me!


APART FROM his critical work on Hope Hodgson, Sam Gafford has had four recent publications (of his own writing) which should be of interest – a novel, a whole collection of his short stories, an excellent and strange period novel concerning Arthur Machen and the Whitechapel Murders, and a graphic book on H P Lovecraft’s life. You can see them below, with links.

UK http://amzn.eu/gjLSwhu

US http://a.co/h2zK0wE

sam gafford

UK http://amzn.eu/dAMsDBT

US http://a.co/82l4wTc

UK http://amzn.eu/hoFGBN5

US http://a.co/0yFcCUJ

some notes on a non-entity

UK http://amzn.eu/9pwepgd

US http://a.co/2X79YO8


We’ll be back in two or three days with something entirely different – as usual….

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THOSE LURCHERS IN THE MIST

The world is made of sand. And rocks. And the North Sea. Here you can observe many fascinating species of wildlife, and omigod, there are two terrible, long-legged creatures charging out of the fog! Baring great white fangs, salivating and heading straight for us…

Woof.

Oh, it’s you lot. What have you been up to?

DJANGO: I peed on many stuffs. Salty stuffs.

CHILLI: Had a drink. This water still tastes icky.

we is off up the ‘cliffs’

Our recent trip to my home territory on the Yorkshire coast involved a lot of the North Sea. Much of it was hanging in the sky, as we spent four days in fogbanks, mists, sea-frets and other suspended wetnesses. It felt very much like November. Which made no difference to the lurchers. So we braved the mists and icy winds, never quite sure what was around the next headland – or where the other person was.

Occasionally other brave souls would loom from the grey curtain, muttering “Now then,” which is a greeting of wild and ecstatic companionship in East Yorkshire. And one fellow walker paused to explain out she hadn’t brought her dog’s ball. “Pointless,” she said. “Neither I nor the dog can see where the hell it goes.” It really was that dense at times.

a moment of almost visibility

The wild coast always has an effect on the little donkeys. Energy levels go up, especially with the older dog, Chilli, who only usually agrees to one walk a day (one and half if she’s feeling generous). Take her near the sea, and suddenly she is booming about in huge circles on the sands. She loves it. Django sees more opportunities to bumble about, and goes into his normal sniffing and peeing routine with added enthusiasm. Why stay at home peeing on daffodils when you can come here and pee on a dead lobster?

lurchers on mars

(Our previous lurcher, Jade, took a very different view of the coast. Being a very neurotic rescue, poor soul, she would mostly stand in the middle of the flat sands and bark, distinctly unsure about all this wettery. Small rivers and streams she liked; a whole sea was far too much, thank you.)

run, chilli, run

During the times when we could see anything, I played ‘fetch’. It was great. I would throw a stick or a piece of kelp, the mighty lurchers would chase it, and then… I would go and fetch it. As usual, Django and Chilli viewed my persistence with interest. They were all for having a run, but once a stick stopped moving, it was on its own. Seeing that I looked disappointed, Chilli did bite some of the kelp in half, but then wandered off again. So no change there.

if you want that stick, YOU go get it

Of course, we went once more to the village of Auburn, because it isn’t there any more. The sea took it, long ago. But there is a wonderful stretch of sands there, mile upon mile.

the earl’s dyke

Between Auburn Beck and the The Earl’s Dyke, there is little but sand and the low crumbling cliffs, not chalk but muddy clay. Ideal for a lurcher who wants to do some rock-climbing without having to carry ropes and pitons.

more exciting mist

And this time we did see seals what had got sick of them surging waves and did want a kip. Full of concern about stranded marine mammals and so on, we went closer and were greeted with a lot of sharp teeth and growling barks of “Can’t a chap have a lie down on his own beach these days?” A Marine Rescue guy had been called out already by some previous walker, and we stood on a long, deserted beach as he demonstrated responsiveness in young seals. He waved a piece of cloth near one, and it bit it. Hard. “Put you in hospital, that would,” he said cheerfully. “Blood poisoning in a day.”

Most curiously (and to our relief), our lurchers had no interest whatsoever in the seal. Chilli had run off up a beck to see if she could find drinkable water, and Django was busy peeing on stuff. Water in; water out. And the fog rolled over all of us.

There is only one drawback to these visits. The sofa at the place where we stay is small, as are the armchairs. Every evening consists of major battle manoeuvres to get on the sofa first, and then the Oppression of the Hierarchy. Or in other words, Chilli is the Boss.

If she gets on first and claims it, Django paces around the house, moaning, until he abandons hope and lies down on the rug with a dissatisfied Whumppfle.

hell hounds on sofa

If he gets on first, Chilli pokes me with a sharp set of claws a few times to see if I’m going to do anything about it, and then hops on next to him, shoving him to one side. His eyes roll, and he squishes into the corner of the sofa, trying to find somewhere to put his sixteen legs.

DJANGO: I is oppressed.

CHILLI: I is comfy. Ha ha.

It’s a cruel world by the North Sea.

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William Hope Hodgson – A Hundred Years Passed

A shorter and more sombre piece today, specifically to mark the centenary of the death of writer William Hope Hodgson (15th November 1877 – 17th April 1918). Many listeners will know that Hope Hodgson was a huge influence on me in my teens, and continues to be so as I write these days. Without family or collegiate precedents, Hope Hodgson embarked on a literary career which produced some of the most striking weird fiction of his time, work which still has a powerful impact today.

“…In (his) three novels, in The Night Land, and in some of his short stories, he showed a mastery of the bizarre, the mysterious, the terrible that has not often been equalised outside the pages of Edgar Allan Poe.”

Arthur St. John Adcock, journalist, poet and later editor of The Bookman

Coming before H P Lovecraft and the Weird Tales circle, he produced tales of both cosmic and maritime horror, along with brooding poetry and, unexpectedly, perhaps the first ‘true’ occult detective in literature, Carnacki the Ghost Finder. His work has been re-published many times and in many languages; occasional ‘lost’ poems have been found over the years, and we have frequently featured contemporary writers who have been inspired by Hope Hodgson, drawn directly on his themes, or produced skillful pastiches to expand his worlds.

As this is the 17th April, and thus the anniversary of the day he fell during a bombardment, we’re not going to drift into lengthy commentary here. Over the next few weeks, we’ll be running a number of Hope Hodgson pieces on greydogtales.com, but today we simply remember him. This edited entry from Great War Lives Lost summarises the man:

Wednesday 17th April 1918

Lieutenant William Hope Hodgson (Royal Field Artillery) is killed by a mortar shell at age 40. He is the son of the late Reverend Samuel Hodgson and is a… writer and author. He produced a large body of work, consisting mostly of short stories and novels, spanning several overlapping genres including horror, fantastic fiction and science fiction. Early in his writing career he dedicated effort to poetry, although few of his poems were published during his lifetime. He also attracted some notice as a photographer. Born 15th November 1877 in Blackmore End, Essex Hodgson ran away to sea at the age of thirteen and eventually served in the Merchant Marine. In 1898 he was awarded the Royal Humane Society medal for saving another sailor who had fallen overboard in shark-infested waters After a bodybuilding business venture failed he decided to support himself by writing. Two of his most noted works, “The Voice in the Night” and “The Boats of the Glen Carrig”, are based on his experiences at sea, and much of his work is set aboard ships or features seafaring characters.

More details of some of the tragic losses on that day and during the war can be found on their website: https://greatwarliveslost.com/2018/04/16/wednesday-17-april-1918-we-lost-1292/

From his poem ‘Bring Out Your Dead’:

And I, am I guiltless? What shall I cry
When the Trumpets thunder across the sky
To know what soul I have caused to die;
Ah, then, O People, then must I
Bring out my Dead! Bring out my Dead!

You can read the full text of the poem on Sam Gafford‘s excellent WHH site: https://williamhopehodgson.wordpress.com/2014/04/30/bring-out-your-dead-a-poem/

So today we remember him, and all of those who have drawn on his work as writers or artists, and who have marvelled at his work as readers. Out you go, old fellow.

 

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Alan M Clark: Shadows of Whitechapel

A brooding man from Oregon comes closer, his gaze fixed on yours. He places a red-stained hand on your shoulder, and says… “It’s OK, this is only paint. Want to do some writing with me? It’s about Whitechapel and 1888.” To which the answer should be No, because I usually have little time for Jack the Ripper and the occasionally distasteful mythologising around him – or her.

But this man from Oregon is author and award-winning artist Alan M Clark, who did something very different with the Autumn of Terror in his series of intricate novels about the women who were killed, and their often tragic lives. And I had foolishly let one little thing slip concerning Mr Dry, the infamous Deptford Assassin, and those particular events. So I said Yes, instead. Alan is excellent to work with, and the project has proved very interesting.

Here’s Alan himself on the issues, the process and the state of this dark affair so far…


Shadows of Whitechapel

Is the image above a picture of Jack the Ripper’s last victim, Mary Jane Kelly? No, probably not. The woman in the photo is an attractive woman from the late Victorian period. Based on her clothing, makeup, and hair style, I’d say she might have been a prostitute. I placed the picture in this post to give a face to Mary Jane Kelly. Miss Kelly was a 19th century prostitute, a ladybird, she might have said. As far as I know, there are no pictures of her face.

I have been collaborating with author, John Linwood Grant in the past few months on two novels involving Mary Jane Kelly. They are related pieces with linked storylines, but written separately—he’s writing, The Assassin’s Coin, concerning the professional beginnings of his wonderful character, Mr. Dry, the Deptford Assassin, and I’m writing, The Prostitute’s Price, the fifth novel in my Jack the Ripper Victims Series. The links between the two stories are plot elements involving some characters, with the time period, and the environment common to both works. Some scenes occur in both novels, written from the POV of my main character in my story, his main character in his. The goal is to have two novels that, when read together, intertwined as we’re calling it, give the reader a broader understanding and a larger experience of each story. When published, the book will have chapters alternating between his novel and mine. The novels will possibly also both be published independently because each one is designed to be a complete standalone story.

The Jack the Ripper Victims Series

My Jack the Ripper Victims Series is about the lives of the murderer’s victims, depicting what we know about each of the women in dramas that are fiction, but well-researched and meant to give readers a sense of what life might have been like for them in London of the time. There are five canonical victims of the Whitechapel Murderer. Before I started this project with John, I’d written novels about the first four: A Brutal Chill in August, about Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols, Apologies to the Cat’s Meat Man, about Annie Chapman, Say Anything but Your Prayers, about Elizabeth Stride, and Of Thimble and Threat, about Catherine Eddowes. The fifth book in the series is The Prostitute’s Price.

Although I’d intended to write the novel about Mary Jane Kelly, the Ripper’s last victim, I found myself shying away from the effort and then avoiding the work entirely for a time.

Miller’s Court, just outside the room where Mary Jane Kelly was murdered. Artwork by Alan M. Clark copyright © 2018

If you’ve seen the crime scene photos, perhaps you’ll understand why. At least two exist, one that is perhaps the primary taking in the whole scene, the other a close up. Much of the “trash” in the photographs exists because the images now available are from photographic products that have deteriorated with age. Those materials would be going on 130 years old. They have what looks like dust and scratches or perhaps water damage that led to mold, mildew, fungus. Whatever the cause, the deterioration has a very dirty look, making what is a disgusting scene, usually seen in a brown sepia-tone, look even worse. Taken in London’s East End in 1888, the images seem to speak accurately of what was a very filthy part of the world in the late Victorian period, indeed a place and time with some of the most impoverished people the world has known. Yet when the photos were first created, they probably had much less trash in them, and would have provided a clearer view of the victim, Mary Jane Kelly.

I considered showing the grimy photos here, but decided that those who haven’t seen them are better off. Unfortunately, these words may pique the curiosity of some who will look for the photographs.

Here is a photograph of the outside of 13 Miller’s Court, to give you an idea of what the photography of the time looked like.

Photograph of the exterior of 13 Miller’s Court taken around the time of Mary Jane Kelly’s murder.

The mutilation of the corpse in the photo is so extreme that it somehow wounds my sense of human worth and dignity. The outrage of the wasted humanity is bad enough, but seeing those pitiful remains on a bed in a small, squalid single-room dwelling, I also suffer an odd claustrophobia, a feeling of being trapped in that tight space at 13 Miller’s Court, where true horror took place. That gives me such a cold, dreadful feeling, I didn’t want to begin the work on the novel about Mary Jane Kelly.

Despite my revulsion, having written novels about the first four victims, I had to complete the project with the fifth.

“Miller’s Court” copyright © 2016 Alan M. Clark

In the midst of considering how best to start, John Linwood Grant asked me to write an introduction for, A Persistence of Geraniums and Other Worrying Tales, a wonderful collection of his short fiction that he calls Tales of the Last Edwardian.

A PERSISTENCE OF GERANIUMS by John Linwood Grant

The Edwardian period begins after the end of the Victorian period. We were both writing stories that take place in similar eras, and each of us enjoyed the other’s work. Several of the stories in A Persistence of Geraniums and Other Worrying Tales are about his character, Mr. Dry, the Deptford Assassin. I’d read at least three stories involving the character already, but loved them enough to read them again. In one, John gives a brief backstory for the assassin in which Mr. Dry has dealings with Jack the Ripper during the Autumn of Terror. Brief though it is, knowing quite a bit about the crimes and investigation, I found the backstory quite plausible and that gave me an idea of how to approach my novel about Mary Jane Kelly. I asked John to collaborate, and he accepted the challenge.

Here is a representation by artist Walter Sickert of Miller’s Court from very close to the time of the murder.

Illustration by Walter Sickert that appeared in the Penny Illustrated Paper about a week after the murder of Mary Jane Kelly.

I won’t say more about the backstory of Mr. Dry here, because that is at the heart of the two novels we’re writing and I don’t want to give anything away.

I’ve always loved discovery in creative endeavor. Collaboration, with two or more imaginations coming together, is chocked full of it. This collaboration of intertwined novels is truly a strange one. Our assumptions about it have evolved. At the beginning, we intended to write one novel and work on that together. I presumed we’d both contribute to each chapter. Then we decided, that since we each had our own POV characters to deal with, John would write every other chapter and I’d write the rest. I’d done that with Jeremy Robert Johnson in our collaborative novel, Siren Promised. The approach worked well. Our different writing voices gave our characters distinctly different personalities. Then I proposed to John the idea of writing the separate, but related novels that could be intertwined.

Here’s why: Over the years I’d learned that frequently readers shy away from collaborations because they might know the work of one author of a collaborative novel, but not both. If they like the work of one of the authors, and don’t know the other, they sometimes think that if they buy the book, they’ll get a piece of writing by the author they do know that is watered down by the contribution of the author they don’t know.

With what were doing, one can read the novels together or separately, read one and not the other, and still have a whole experience. Of course I suggest readers enjoy both.

Writing separate novels, we are truly only consulting with one another about how to address the elements common to both works. That has taken some doing, and has been a fun process, involving much consultation via email, chat, and skyping, with an eight hour time difference between us, as John lives in Yorkshire, UK, and I’m in Eugene, Oregon in the United States.

The second image in this post is an expanded view of Miller’s Court, part photo manipulation, part drawing. If you click on it, you can see it larger and in greater detail. It is the core image in the short animated film, I did titled “13 Miller’s Court.” The broken window belongs to the room I spoke of in this post, 13 Miller’s Court, where Mary Jane Kelly was murdered. The image is derived from the black and white image with this post titled ”Miller’s Court,” and photographs of the actual Miller’s Court, also posted here, taken in the 19th century. The drawing is my reimagining of he illustration by the artist, Walter Sickert, that appeared in the Penny Illustrated Paper about a week after the murder. It is colored pencil on gray paper.

Because of my background as a horror illustrator, many who have not read the novels in the Jack the Ripper Victims Series presume they are horror novels. They are not, though they certainly have horrific elements. They are tales of survival within a harsh environment, dramas with strong female leads. They are, in fact, written for women, yet not exclusively so. Men like them too. Each one is from the singular POV of one of the victims. As a male author, it has been a great challenge to write from these feminine POVs, one that I’ve enjoyed immensely, and has helped me to love women all the more.

Thanks to John Linwood Grant for helping me enlarge the series with his own amazing contribution.

The novels The Assassin’s Coin, by John Linwood Grant, and The Prostitute’s Price, the fifth novel in my Jack the Ripper Victims Series will come out later this year in a book tentatively titled 13 Miller’s Court.

—Alan M. Clark

Eugene, Oregon



On the subject of Whitechapel and the Autumn of Terror, whilst I do steer clear of most interpretations I can at least recommend Sam Gafford’s novel Whitechapel (2017). This excellent book takes the whole matter in a somewhat different direction, with a complex interwining of classic author Arthur Machen, the London of the time and cosmic horror. Great read – available in print or Kindle formats on Amazon UK and Amazon US.

http://amzn.eu/dk9WcAE

http://a.co/dxYUYM4

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Literature, lurchers and life