Tuesdays with Ambrea: No One Goes Alone by Erik Larson

 

Reviewed by Ambrea

 

William James, a pioneering psychologist of the nineteenth century, decides to lead a small expedition to a remote island off the coast of England.  Despite its idyllic appearance, not all is well on the Isle of Dorn – and Professor James, along with a motley crew, has decided to explore it.

Josiah Frost, a member of the postal service and an amateur enthusiast of telegraphy, has been roped into the investigation.  He doesn’t expect much from the trip – an opportunity to test his own tinkering with wireless telegraphy, at best, or a short holiday, at worst – but, from the beginning of their trip to Dorn, nothing goes as planned.  And, soon, Josiah and his companions will find their lives in danger as something sinister stalks the island.

I decided to borrow No One Goes Alone, because I enjoyed Erik Larson’s Dead Wake and Devil in the White City.  He uses a narrative style of writing that’s both entertaining and enlightening, crafting a rich, vibrant story and providing insight into historical events that, truthfully, I’d never have realized where quite so riveting.  I was also a little excited about the idea of listening to a ghost story, since No one Goes Alone was only published as an audiobook.

Now, when I started this audiobook, I had very high hopes.  It had everything I could either expect or want in a novel:  a passably likeable main character with Josiah Frost; a solid narrator with Julian Rhind-Tutt; a creepy premise; and an excellent writer.  Even better, No One Goes Alone started out strong.  I immediately liked the depth and the detail of the narration, as well as the little glimpses of history – like the Society for Psychical Research, or the early use of wireless telegraphy by Marconi, or the escalating tensions between world powers – and the sense of slow-building menace.

I was impressed.

And then I wasn’t.

For me, No One Goes Alone seemed to fall apart at the end.  I started to get strong Haunting of Hill House vibes.  (No wonder, since Larson explicitly states he was inspired by Shirley Jackson.)  It started to become more psychological, and I began to wonder:  is this really happening?  Is Josiah losing his mind?  I mean, he begins to hyper fixate on another visitor to the island – an illusionist and confidence man named Adam Winter – and he seems to begin descending into madness.

 

Which might have been preferable, honestly?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like Shirley Jackson well enough and I like psychological thrillers, but I wasn’t in the mood for that.  I wanted a ghost story.  I didn’t want to listen to a tale that blurred the line between reality and madness.  I wanted rattling chains; I wanted disembodied voices and moving furniture; I wanted shadows edging along at the periphery of sight.  I wanted a clearly defined ghost story, and I think Larson bends his genres a little too much for my liking.

I will note the ending is a complete shocker.  I did not see it coming, let me tell you.  I screamed “What?!” at my car radio, no joke, as I listened and re-listened to the last five minutes of this story.  I was absolutely floored, which kudos to the author for catching me out of left field with that conclusion, but I was also befuddled.

Not to spoil anything, but I really didn’t expect what happened.  It left me with a lingering sense of unease, as all good ghost stories do – so mission accomplished – but it also left me feeling like I was at loose ends.  I have questions, now.  I need to know what happens next – and, more importantly, I need to know how.

Ultimately, I’m divided in my feelings for Larson’s first foray into fiction.  If I understood the ending a little better, I think I might enjoy it more; however, as it stands, I’m simply confused and not sure what to make of it.

The Mist in the Mirror by Susan Hill

Reviewed by Jeanne

A young man in a Gentlemen’s Club in England makes the acquaintance of Sir James Monmouth, an older member who asks that he read a manuscript about certain events in Sir James’ life.  This request comes about after a discussion among some of the younger members regarding ghosts. Most of the rest of the book is the manuscript, a first person narrative by Sir James about an experience in his youth.   As the story begins, Monmouth is newly arrived in England after being reared abroad by a guardian.  He’s traveled in many exotic lands, but the death of his guardian has left him in want of direction.  Accordingly, he has come to London in search of material on the mysterious Conrad Vane, a travel writer whose adventures excited young Monmouth’s imagination.  He has been able to find very little in the way of autobiographical information on Vane, so he hopes to find enough to write an article or perhaps a book on the man.

 His inquiries about Vane seem to draw uneasy responses from those who knew of him, but the fascination remains strong and he sets off for a school Vane attended.  He is cordially received but instead of answers he seems to find more questions. Vane seems as elusive as ever. Then he begins to experience a series of somewhat unsettling events. . . glimpses of a pale young boy, sounds of sobbing from an unknown source, and strange dreams—or are they dreams?

Hill wrote the (to my mind!) classic Woman in Black, and this book reminds me very strongly of that title, as it uses a similar framing sequence for the main story and is written as if it were a Victorian memoir. Also like that title, the book doesn’t wrap things up in a neat little package at the end.  There’s a lot to ponder and things alluded to but no cut and dried resolution.  This is not a complaint.  I rather prefer it to easy answers, especially given the subject matter.  After all, the supernatural is all about mysteries and questions, not certainties. Her characters are memorable, even those playing small roles, and the settings are extremely vivid.

If you’re not in the mood for long, descriptive sentences or if you’re hankering for action, this isn’t the book for you.  On the other hand, if you like lots of atmosphere, dank halls and meager fires, strange weeping in the night and fevered dreams, mahogany tables and baize doors, then this might just be your cup of Earl Grey.  I must say it cooled down my perception of a humid July day quite nicely, what with the snow and cold winds beating against windows. I almost got out a quilt.

(Yes, I had to look up to see what a “baize door” was.  Apparently at one point doors were covered with cloth to help soundproof them; green baize is often used on gaming tables, such as those for blackjack or billiards.)