Mr. Gaunt and Other Uneasy Encounters

By the time I cracked John Langan’s MR. GAUNT AND OTHER UNEASY ENCOUNTERS, Halloween had already passed, and the ghosts and ghouls were retiring in preparation for the Super Bowl of feasts — all except Langans’ little beasties. The book is a collection of five ghostly tales, for which he did a beautiful job of reanimating classic creatures into a fresh, bumpy arm full of goose flesh.

The first encounter, “On Skua Island,” begins with a gathering of friends around the dinner table in an old house on the cape, as a storm blows in off the ocean on a cold February night. I was like a guest of the house as the eight moved with their drinks from the table to the comfy, fire-lit living room. They entertain each other discussing classic horror tales, their origins and how they tapped basic human fears. Dracula, mummies and zombies banter back and forth as movie adaptations and the creative quirks put forth into each manifestation are discussed.

One rather mute guest, having been all but silent and solitary during his visit to the cape, begins to relate a story which unveils an island called Skua, members of Britain’s MI-5 and a stone burial column with ancient Viking writing that he was called upon to decipher. The rest of the story involves the digging and finding of an ancient Viking princess buried and cursed. Trained men go missing as the teller relates his eventual escape.

“Mr. Gaunt,” the book’s namesake and my favorite tale from the grouping, begins with the audio tapings of a recently deceased father and his warning/confessions of his youth. This is a well-crafted read, but so as not to ruin the fun, I’ll just tell you black magic and skeletons are involved. Langan’s skeletons are not the bone-rattling weaklings of the past, but ominous and chilling, even if completely surpassed by the evil of a dark sorcerer whose self-serving nature and power are truly wicked and spine-tingling. What a wonderful read on a dark night with a glass of fine scotch.

“Tutorial” is a tale involving a gifted writer who doesn’t see the need to follow the rules of structure as laid out in Strunk and White. Mr. Williamson admits he has little use for the little beige book and finds himself slipping through the rabbit hole and into the hands of a secret organization of scribes designed to safeguard the most precious of things: “There is nothing outside the text … everything is textual, everything is words, can you think without language.” That’s a very interesting question and premise, as Williamson finds himself being bent to the will of the underground organization: Conform or cease your writing completely. There is no other way, and they’ll be watching.

You’re also treated to a short story involving a couple on the run from a wild pack of werewolf-type beings in a post-apocalyptic world. This is one of my favorite settings, more than likely due to my adolescent years and the threat of the Red Menace and nuclear holocaust. And the final, longest story features Dennis and his discovery of a discarded sculpture, which ends up possessing his body and soul, eventually tearing him asunder.

There is one more pleasing nugget in the compilation: story notes. Langan has included them at the end of the book. He writes, “I’m one of those people who flips to the back of the book to read the story notes, the afterword, first. I’ve always loved the glimpse such things provide into the writer’s world. If you’re someone who feels the same way, here you go. If not, no hard feelings.”

These are simply enjoyable. I actually chose to savor his notes like a morsel; to be eaten after the main course was consumed. The odd writings and re-imagining of things scary was pleasing, and the reason and rhyme behind those ideas intriguing. Enjoy. —Bart Brunscheen

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