Edith Nesbit came much later in my literary life. My list of gothic writers were relegated to the males who dominated the scene, beginning with the master of the macabre Edgar Allan Poe followed by his contemporary HP Lovecraft. Then a trip to Singapore and a visit to a bookstore resulted in this serendipitous find, “The Power of Darkness: Tales of Terror”. It was the only copy left, so I quickly grabbed it from the bookshelf.
Most popularly known as a writer of children’s tales, Nesbit’s ghost stories and tales of terror take you on a psychological supernatural journey. Upon reading the first few stories, I was suddenly reminded of Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”, which is scary, but minus the graphic bloodletting that other writers are known for. It’s your imagination that takes you to a world of horror that, surprisingly, commingle with, depending on the story, pity laced with understanding. You find yourself nodding at the plausibility of the existence of angered spirits, spirits in limbo, and ilk. This pseudo-epiphany comes from reading the preface which discussed the background of Nesbit and how her failed relationships unwittingly became the foundation of the supernatural beings that figure prominently in the stories. The preface, I found, offers the answers to questions plaguing the mind, such as “Where did she come up with such an idea?”, “Are they based on personal experience?”, “What was in her life that pushed her to write in this genre?” It’s reminiscent of one’s reading of Poe’s writings – his tumultuous life beset by personal and professional problems alike that became the impetus for his pioneering macabre stories.
Over a flute of champagne or cup of Asian Dolce latte, a foray in Nesbit’s world of horror can be enlightening. Against the oxymoronic backdrop, one gleams an insight to the workings of the mind and psyche of human beings who, with their fragile lives, are embroiled in one catastrophe after another.