Following up an astonishing debut is never
an easy thing. Whether under the guise of music or the auspices of horror
literature, proving to the masses lightning can strike more than once can fill
the creative heart with dread. It was two years ago now that Christopher Ransom
delivered The Birthing House … a kind of wandering homage to
the ghost story’s of old – but bristling with new enthusiasm. Though riddled
with some of the pitfalls of a first appearance, it still conspired to be a
beautiful nativity-fabled gothic deserving of its place on any bookshelf.
Authors like to wear many hats, but it’s
apparent that with his sophomore effort, Ransom is setting up shop with the
modern ghost story. After a quick perusal, I knew what we have here is more of
the same … but this was fine by me. Occasionally writers (like musicians), will
stick to a formula. Thereafter it becomes a kind of territory where the
imagination can frolic.
James Hastings is a body double for the
widely successful hip hop artist Ghost, an obvious literary
reverence or echo to the real life Eminem. After the death of his wife Stacey
in a small and mysterious accident, James – like his alter ego Ghost – goes on
sabbatical to deal with his grief. Soon, his neighbors come into the fray, and
after purchasing a telescope, a spying game then ensues. After the death of his
immediate neighbor, a new resident moves in. She is young, alone, and bears a
striking resemblance to Stacey. A relationship is then forged, and James goes
on an odyssey of pain and learning – tempered by the haunting reality of
Stacey’s ever too real presence. Not only in his house … but in the eyes of his
new neighbor Annette.
As avid readers of dark and speculative
fiction (I assume you all are), most of us know the correlation between music
and fiction: they feed each other – giving rise as influences so the other
exists. And that’s what we have with The Haunting of James Hastings:
a striking hybrid of gothic romance novel and a CD boxset choc full of lyrical
extras. Like his previous book, it takes the cue from novels
like Rebecca and Bag of Bones, but I found at its
heart a beautiful illustration of domestic married life and how emotions can be
woven into the brick and mortar of houses. As a fan of first person narration
only second, Christopher’s voice is so accessible you won’t even know that it
is. A decidedly male voice … but one that resonates with this
reviewer.
While The
Birthing House had a
climax seeming to raise more questions than answers, you’ll find the
revelations ladled on here to be just as hair-raising and surprising than
anything an early M. Night Shyamalan committed to the screen.
