A Pox on the House of Strange
A review of Mark Hansom's "The Shadow on the House"
Dearest Bizarchives readers, we yet again find ourselves working our way through Karl Edward Wagner’s 39 List. Today, our target is the 1934 novel The Shadow on the House by the illusive novelist Mark Hansom. According to our old friend KEW, this peach of a potboiler is one of the Thirteen Best Non-Supernatural Horror novels ever written. Much like the bulk of the 39 List, The Shadow on the House is set in interwar England and mixes magic with science. And like one of KEW’s other favorites, The Deadly Percheron, psychoanalysis features prominently alongside murder and mental instability.
Very little is known about Mark Hansom. According to Midnight House editor John Pelan, “Mark Hansom” was a pen name used by a British author who began his (or her) literary career in 1934. Said literary career was brief and lasted only until the outbreak of the Second World War in Europe. During that time, Hansom penned seven novels and one short story. Pelan suggests that given the author’s presumed age (mid-twenties) and his intimate familiarity with London’s upper-class lifestyle, Hansom was more than likely a wealthy gentleman who worked in publishing before being killed during the war. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is that The Shadow on the House was Hansom’s first published work. Now that’s too good to be true…
The novel concerns the twisted love life of one Martin Strange. Martin is one of the wealthiest men in England, and yet the beginning of the story finds him a somewhat shy and awkward young lad adrift in the imperial metropole. Fortunately for Martin, his cousin, Christopher Knight, manages to win him an invitation to Lady Somerton’s coveted dinner party. Why is such a spot at the Somerton dinner table desired by all the bachelors of London? Well, Lady Somerton is the aunt and guardian of the breathtakingly beautiful Sylvia Vernon. Miss Vernon’s beauty is only outshined by her carefree manner—Martin describes her as “one of the most unaffected girls I have ever met.” In summation, Sylvia is a pretty woman who acts like the girl next door. The fact that she is also rich doesn’t hurt her appeal either.
Martin falls in love with Sylvia upon first sight. However, at that same dinner party, he learns that Sylvia’s hand has been promised to Christopher, and the bride-to-be is smitten with her beau. Martin curses his bad luck and grouses that he must admire the young lady from afar.
Things take a shocking turn after the dinner party concludes. Following a strange (no pun intended) dream, Martin awakes in the morning to learn that Christopher has died overnight. Professor Wetherhouse, whom earlier had bored his audience at the party with talk about ghosts and the supernatural, informs Martin that Christopher died after a horrific struggle with some unknown assailant.
It’s murder!
After jumping ahead a few months, we learn that the police have already given up their hunt for Christopher’s killer. In the meantime, a distraught Sylvia has accepted Martin’s hand in marriage, and the two begin their preparations for well-heeled wedding near Bolton Towers (the Strange family estate). The bizarre deaths continue, however, and the second body belongs to Mick, another one of Martin’s cousins. Mick, who is so wealthy that he speaks often of buying property simply to pay for its destruction, is found dead outside of Green Bay Mansions. Cause of death: fall from a ninth-floor bedroom window.
The two deaths cause Martin to have worse dreams than before. Many of these dreams feature an ancestor named “Mad Roderick”—a 17th century nobleman whose portrait is so frightening that is causes nightmares. Martin also learns more unsavory family history from his butler Makepeace. Apparently, Martin’s grandfather, Abraham Strange, had a nasty run-in with a man named Sir Osmond. The feud was over a woman (the enchanting Cecilia), and it ended when Sir Osmond died under mysterious circumstances. Makepeace’s story underscores something dreadful: from “Mad Roderick” to Abraham’s possible murder of Sir Osmond, a cruel and vicious streak runs in the Strange family, and as such, their estate is haunted by vengeful ghosts.
Martin’s mind begins to falter just as his life ascends. Now married to Sylvia, Martin is encouraged to hire a new servant. The man is named Mr. Ashton, and he comes with a glowing recommendation from Professor Wetherhouse. Martin never cottons on to Mr. Ashton, and near the novel’s climax, Martin outright accuses Ashton of both stalking him and perpetrating the murders. Mr. Ashton is no murderer, though. In fact, he is a world-renowned psychologist and hypnotist named Sir James Lambert-Smith. He and Professor Wetherhouse are on a mission to study a dangerous somnambulist who kills in his sleep. The two gentlemen believe that the next victim is to be Sylvia Vernon, who spends her final moments in the novel cursing Martin and denying her love for him. I think, dear readers, you can figure out the novel’s conclusion with all of this evidence.
The Shadow on the House successfully pulls of the unreliable narrator trope, which is no easy feat. Martin Strange is never presented as a lunatic (and indeed, he isn’t one), but we do see enough of his extreme anxiety to understand that he is not of sound mind. Hansom must also be commended for using subtly insofar as the supernatural is concerned. Ghosts are hinted at, but there are never rattling changes or inexplicable howls in the night. The horror happens off-the-page or in Martin’s mind. Even more impressive is Hansom’s ability to mix shuddersome scenes with Bertie Wooster-like whimsy. This, my friends, is a thoroughly English mystery novel with a satisfyingly Victorian ending. Tea and crumpets all around, and a jolly good show to KEW for recommending right. The Shadow on the House is a smart thriller and an enjoyable read.
4.8 out of 5.