Perceval Landon Wrote One of the Best Ghost Stories Ever and Then Dipped

There is something very satisfying about having a favourite ghost story. Bonus points if the only way to acquire it is either in a volume of other ghost stories, or through Project Gutenberg (Australia).

Which, sidebar, there was no way to download that text from Project Gutenberg Australia so the only way to assure it fell into my hands for all eternity was to copy and paste it into Ellipsus, edit the atrocious typos (Project Gutenberg Australia what happened girl) and finally save it as PDF.

Thurnley Abbey by Perceval Landon.

Edited version of one of the only covers I could find.

Originally made known to me in a book I do not remember actually putting inside my home (Classic Victorian & Edwardian Ghost Stories by Someone Who Picked Them Very Badly), Thurnley Abbey is kind of my platonic ideal of a ghost story.

It follows our first narrator on board a mail-boat bound for "the East". Here he meets a man, Alastair Colvin, whom he initially writes off as your run of the mill gruff military type, before Colvin later approaches him and asks to share his berth. Our narrator is understandably taken aback by this, but Colvin begs to explain himself, which he does.

What follows isn't unique in a plot sense, not really, it's a rather standard haunting. But there is a quality to Thurnley Abbey that I find very rare in stories, ghost or not, from that time.  The fear experienced by Colvin and his hosts is so visceral and intimate it takes you off guard. Not to spoil too much, but at some point Colvin, his friend and his friend's wife hold a fearful vigil through much of the morning, and the humanity of this scene is deft and unparalleled. 

The emotions feel subtle and almost modern in their understanding. There is no element of the fantastic here, no grand descriptions of fright. Just pure simple terror.

Colvin crushes the skeleton of the ghost with a visceral physicality, something unique to the standard of an ethereal, untouchable supernatural figure. The spirit itself is horrifying in a way that thrills even after having re-read it so often. The atmosphere of this whole story is so eerie and intense, and the details creep up on you in suffocating increments until it finally culminates in an explosive rage before simmering into a regretful sort of dread.

Thurnley Abbey is a fantastic endorsement of a simple concept with a dedicated execution. The idea that stripping back a story is what reveals it's better, richer layers.

Not complicated, but endlessly fruitful.

It's a bit too short too comfortably bind it into a physical volume, and a bit too large to cram into a zine, but my God am I going to try something. I love this story very dearly.

As for the author himself, Perceval Landon is slightly more interesting than might appear. Only slightly, mind you, but he has furnished me with a lovely little cache of trivia for me to annoy my loved ones with.

Born on the 29th of March, 1869 (nice), Perceval Landon was a writer, traveller and journalist. Initially gaining recognition for something to do with something about England meddling where it probably isn't supposed to, Landon is now more known for Thurnley Abbey as well as being a close personal friend of Rudyard Kipling, the author of, you know it, Puck of Pook's Hill.

Perceval Landon, May 1919

Jesting aside, Landon's career was an extensive one and the man travelled almost constantly from age 21. Thurnley Abbey itself was commended by none other than M.R. James, a person I will also talk about at some point.

Most charming of all, though he wrote a few other stories (which I cannot find, perhaps another Project Gutenberg expedition looms), Landon wrote Thurnley Abbey, a fairly seminal work of ghost fiction, and then never wrote another. 

It remains his most well known work, and off the back of it a career was not built. 

On the 23rd of January, 1927, Landon passed away. He was succeeded by no wife.

Kipling, who apparently wrote a poem dedicated to his late friend, was too distraught to attend the funeral. I think I should very much like to read that poem.

All in all, I just wanted to write something of a dedication, or recommendation, of a story I think well worth the read if you travel in this genre. If you do travel here you are most likely familiar with it already.

But by and far, Thurnley Abbey is my favourite ghost story. It is certainly the most gruesome one.