Weird Fiction Old, New, and In-Between III: The Occult Detective Story – Rafe McGregor

The third of six blog posts exploring the literary and philosophical significance of the weird tale, the occult detective story, and the ecological weird. The series suggests that the three genres of weird fiction dramatize humanity’s cognitive and evolutionary insignificance by first exploring the limitations of language, then the inaccessibility of the world, and finally the alienation within ourselves. This post introduces the occult detective story.

 

Ghosts and Detectives

In the late nineteenth century, magazine contributors on both sides of the Atlantic began to explore ways in which the relatively new and incredibly popular figure of the private detective could be merged with the much older but still entertaining milieu of the ghost story. One of the progenitors of this exploration was Sheridan Le Fanu (1814-1873), with Dr Martin Hesselius in In a Glass Darkly (1872). The combination of detective protagonist and ghostly setting saw the initial blossoming of a subgenre of ghost-finders, paranormal physicians, and occult psychologists, with notable contributions by: Arthur Machen (1863-1947), with Mr Dyson in ‘The Inmost Light’ (published as The Great God Pan and The Inmost Light in  1894); Elizabeth Thomasina Meade Smith (1844-1914, writing under the penname L.T. Meade) and Eustace Robert Barton (1869-1943, writing under the penname Robert Eustace),  with John Bell in The Master of Mysteries (1898); Kate O’Brien Ryall Prichard (1851-1935, writing under the penname E. Heron) and Hesketh Hesketh-Prichard (1876-1922, writing under the penname H. Heron), with Flaxman Low in ‘The Story of the Spaniards, Hammersmith’ (published in Pearson’s Magazine in 1898); Algernon Blackwood (1869-1951), with Dr John Silence in John Silence (1908); William Hope Hodgson (1877-1918, pictured), with Thomas Carnacki in ‘The Gateway of the Monster’ (published in The Idler in 1910); and Aleister Crowley (1875-1947), with Simon Iff in ‘Big Game’ (published in The International in 1917). The first woman occult detective was probably Ella Mary Scrymsour-Nichol’s (1888-1962, writing as Ella Scrymsour) Sheila Crerar, whose adventures began with ‘The Eyes of Doom’ (published in The Blue Magazine in 1920). The most striking feature of this list is the overlap with the canon of weird fiction. Le Fanu was a precursor to both genres and many of H.P. Lovecraft’s (1890-1937) best-known stories could be described as occult detective fiction (although his protagonists rarely survive sufficiently unscathed for further investigations). Of the five authors I identified as canonical in part I, this leaves only Edward Plunkett (1878-1957, writing under his aristocratic title Lord Dunsany), but several of his Jorkens short stories (the first collection of which, The Travel Tales of Mr. Joseph Jorkens, was published in 1931) combine mystery with fantasy.

The occult detective became a staple of the cheaper weekly and monthly magazines of the Golden Age of the pulp era, particularly Cassell’s Magazine and Weird Tales. As that era came to an end interest in the subgenre waned, being sustained through the nineteen fifties, sixties, and seventies by three main sources: Dennis Wheatley’s (1897-1977) series of eleven novels featuring the Duke De Richleau (published from 1933 to 1970 and including The Devil Rides Out in 1934); the dogged persistence of short story writers such as Seabury Quinn (1889-1969), whose Jules de Grandin appeared in Weird Tales from 1925 (‘The Horror on the Links’) to 1951 (‘The Ring of Bastet’) and were frequently reprinted and collected during the sixties and seventies; and the successful migration from short story to small screen evinced by the popularity of BBC1’s Adam Adamant Lives! (1966-1967), ITV’s Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) (1969-1971), and ABC’s Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974-1975). The revival of interest in the occult detective at the end of the twentieth century was heavily influenced by migration to another medium, the graphic novel, specifically the Hellblazer and Hellboy comic series, the first created by Jamie Delano and featuring John Constantine (which began in 1988, pictured) and the second created by Mike Mignola and featuring the eponymous half-demon investigator (which began in 1994). The last decade of the twentieth century saw the subgenre regain some of its mainstream appeal, appearing in novels, television series, and feature films. The most commercially successful of these are likely: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake (the series subtitled Vampire Hunter, with thirty novels 1993-2023); the CW’s Supernatural (fifteen seasons 2005-2019); and M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense (1999). 

Character and Setting

The essence of occult detective fiction has remained largely unchanged since its initial popularity, the combination of a crime fiction character with a horror fiction setting. This combination creates an immediate tension because ever since Edgar Allan Poe introduced C. Auguste Dupin in ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’ (published in Graham’s Magazine in 1841) the detective has been the man or woman of reason, a rational agent who restores the moral and social order following its disruption by harm or crime. Poe referred to all three of Dupin’s cases as ‘tales of ratiocination’ and the same could be said of the investigations of Dupin’s most illustrious descendants, Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot. In contrast, the setting of horror fiction may be more or less like the real world, but there is at least one aspect of that world into which the irrational in the form of the divine, the supernatural, or the paranormal intrudes. One may catch only the briefest of glimpses of it or it may be supervenient on science, but the divine, supernatural, or paranormal is always in excess of human reason, rationality, and ratiocination. One of the advantages of occult detective fiction is that creators can introduce an additional layer of suspense in having the detective investigate both criminal and supernatural cases and Hodgson employed this device with Carnacki very successfully. The world of the occult detective must nonetheless be one in which the supernatural intrudes into the natural in some way, whether or not that intrusion is revealed in every case.

The crucial tension between the rational detective and the extra-rational setting is difficult to master and demands a rigorous internal logic, which may also be more or less revealed in the narrative. There is a special relationship between detective fiction, including occult detective fiction, and narrative. In every narrative there is a real or imaginary sequence of events that takes place in the storyworld. In an autobiography, this sequence of events would begin with the author’s birth or – more commonly – the birth of her parents or grandparents and end shortly before the decision to write the autobiography or with the publisher’s decision to publish the manuscript. In a detective story, the sequence of events begins with the murderer planning the murder or with a person’s decision to disappear and ends with the murderer being identified and usually (but not always) brought to justice or with the missing person found (whether dead or alive). Typically, the story will start after the discovery of a corpse and end before the trial begins. Even within that limited period, however, the represented events will be a selection of all of those that take place in the storyworld. In both documentary and fictional narratives, the narrative is thus a superstructure underpinned by the base of the real or imaginary sequence of events. Detective fiction standardly dramatizes, stages, or thickens the relationship between story and sequence of events by presenting both the story of the crime (the sequence of events) and the story of the investigation (the story itself) together, with the progression of the detective involving her repeating, retracing, or revisiting the progression of the criminal. The tension between the story and the sequence of events is in addition to the tension between the rational detective and extra-rational setting and the combination of the two is, I think, a large part of why occult detective fiction has proved so difficult to master.

Archivists, Musicians, and Priests

I concluded part II by defining weird fiction as philosophical in virtue of presenting or representing a fully-fledged and fleshed-out worldview, generically hybrid in character, and foregrounding the difference between the world as we think it is and the world as it actually is. This definition would include most of the occult detective stories I have mentioned so far and my take on the genre is that it is most accurately categorised as a subgenre of weird fiction rather than a subgenre of either crime or horror fiction. If one is seeking a more specific definition, then there is no need to reinvent what has already been established: occult detective fiction is philosophical in virtue of presenting or representing a fully-fledged and fleshed-out worldview and foregrounding the difference between the world as we think it is and the world as it actually is and featuring a detective protagonist in an apparently supernatural setting. I shall have more to say about the instantiation of the second part of this definition in occult detective as opposed to other weird fiction in part IV. Like the weird tale, the occult detective story is best-suited to shorter formats, such as the short story, novella, graphic novel, and feature film. I include feature film rather than television series because television in the twenty-first century has taken a narrative turn, by which I mean that each season of a series (if not the whole series) tends to tell a single story rather than a different story each episode. One of the great exceptions to this rule of thumb about occult detective fiction is Amazon Prime Video’s Carnival Row (two seasons 2019-2023), specifically the first season, which is vastly superior to the second.

The most exemplary short story series is by Sarah Monette (b.1974 and also writes under the penname Katherine Addison) and features Kyle Murchison Booth, an occult detective who is an archivist at the Samuel Mather Parrington Museum. Booth’s first case, ‘The Wall of Clouds’, was published in 2003 (in Alchemy) and his first ten cases were collected in The Bone Key: The Necromantic Mysteries of Kyle Murchison Booth (2007, with a second edition published in 2011). Seven more short stories and a novella, A Theory of Haunting (2023), have been published since (for a total of eighteen cases), although the stories can be difficult to find online. I mentioned the most accomplished occult detective novella in part II, Victor LaValle’s (b.1972, pictured) The Ballad of Black Tom (2016), a deconstruction of Lovecraft’s less accomplished occult detective story, ‘The Horror at Red Hook’ (published in Weird Tales in 1927). While my graphic novel recommendation is somewhat outré, I trust it will resonate with readers of my generation (particularly those from the UK), Mark Millar and Chris Weston’s all but forgotten Canon Fodder (published in 2000 AD 1993-1995). Like Carnival Row, the first instalment is followed by a disappointing sequel, but the digital versions of both are still available from Rebellion. For a feature film, one can do no better than Alan Parker’s Angel Heart (1987), starring Mickey Rourke, Lisa Bonet, Robert De Niro, and Charlotte Rampling, which is an adaptation of William Hjortsberg’s Falling Angel (1978) and one of the few cinematic adaptations that is unquestionably better than the novel on which it is based.

 

Recommended Reading

Fiction

William Hope Hodgson, The Casebook of Carnacki – Ghost Finder, Wordsworth Editions (2006).

Sarah Monette, The Bone Key: The Necromantic Mysteries of Kyle Murchison Booth, Prime Books (2011).

Rafe McGregor, The Adventures of Roderick Langham, Theaker’s Paperback Library (2017).

Nonfiction

No comprehensive or authoritative study of occult detective fiction has been published to date and the best sources of information are the editor’s introductions in these three anthologies (I began writing such a study in 2020, during the pandemic, but as soon as I understood what a mammoth task it would be, realised I’d rather spend the time continuing the cases of my own occult detective):

Peter Haining (ed.), Supernatural Sleuths, William Kimber (1986).

Mark Valentine (ed.), The Black Veil and other tales of Supernatural Sleuths, Wordsworth Editions (2008).

Stephen Jones (ed.), Dark Detectives: An Anthology of Supernatural Mysteries, Titan Books (2015).

Koshchei the Deathless, by Mike Mignola and Ben Stenbeck (Dark Horse) | review by Stephen Theaker

This review previously appeared in TQF67 (July 2020).

This Hellboy spin-off, a graphic novel written by Hellboy creator Mike Mignola, focuses on Koshchei the Deathless. He is a character from Eastern European folklore who appeared briefly in Hellboy as the servant of Baba Yaga, the Russian witch who lives in a house with chicken legs.

Book notes #7

Notes and ratings from TQF50 and TQF51 for books I didn’t review for TQF. Credits from Goodreads; apologies to anyone miscredited or missing.

Half a King (Audible), by Joe Abercrombie. Deposed boy king tries to survive on his wits. Good, especially in the way it reflects on whether fighting his way back to power benefits the country or just him. [I did finish my review of this eventually: here it is.] ***

Harley Quinn Vol. 1: Hot in the City (DC Comics), by Jimmy Palmiotti and Amanda Conner. Ropey comic about the Joker’s girlfriend. Trying to be Deadpool or Hitman with added cheesecake, and doesn’t work. At the time of writing it’s only 50p or so on Kindle. I wouldn’t pay much more than that for it. **

Hellblazer: City of Demons (Vertigo), by Si Spencer and Sean Murphy. Very good miniseries about John Constantine’s half-demon blood being used to infect people in London. Excellent artwork. Would have loved a full run in this style. ****

Hellboy in Hell, Vol. 1: The Descent (Dark Horse Books), by Mike Mignola. Hellboy has been killed and gone to hell, where he wanders around and meets various demons, including (maybe) his dad. Gorgeous art, but it’s just the beginning of a story. ***

Hellboy, Vol. 2: Wake the Devil (Dark Horse Books) by Mike Mignola, James Sinclair and Pat Brosseau. Rasputin’s ghost gathers his followers to resurrect the vampire Giurescu, servant of Hecate, and in battling them all Hellboy finds out more about himself and the destiny others have in mind for him. Wonderful art and a great story. ****

How to Write Everything (Oberon Books), by David Quantick. Okay, with some good advice, but a bit thin, given how much experience he has. For example he says he’s written ten thousand reviews but only talks about it for half a page (and not all the advice is admirable: “If you are are going to make a review up, make it look convincing”). On interviewing, I got a lot more out of Jason Arnopp’s How to Interview Doctor Who, Ozzy Osbourne and Everyone Else. ***

JLA, Vol. 1 (DC Comics) by Grant Morrison, Howard Porter, John Dell, Mark Millar, Oscar Jimenez, and many more. My favourite superhero comic of all time, I think. Grant Morrison gets such a great handle on all the big characters, while giving the outgoing cast an honourable, brave exit. Howard Porter’s artwork isn’t always anatomically perfect, but it’s always exciting, like a lightning bolt across the page. *****

Joe the Barbarian (Vertigo) by Grant Morrison and Sean Murphy. A boy with diabetes trying to survive a serious hypoglycaemic attack has visions of a fantasy world where his toys are alive and in great danger. This was pretty good, but I found it hard going. I love Dave Stewart’s colouring on the Hellboy books, but coupled with Sean Murphy’s art style it created panels that were really tough to figure out. We return to reality too often for the fantasy to take hold. Still, the cameos from toys looking a lot like Master Chief, the Transformers, GI Joe, etc were good fun, as were the authorised appearances from Batman, Superman, Robin and John Constantine. And how long has it been since Grant Morrison last wrote for the Zoids? ***

Lagoon (Hodder & Stoughton), by Nnedi Okorafor. Aliens land in the ocean off Lagos, and one of them comes out and takes human form. The city isn’t ready for them. Reviewed for Interzone #252. ****

Lobster Johnson, Vol. 1: Iron Prometheus (Dark Horse Books), by Mike Mignola, Jason Armstrong and Dave Stewart. A superhero fighting Nazi spies in a spin-off from Hellboy and the BPRD. ***

Lobster Johnson, Vol. 2: The Burning Hand (Dark Horse Books) by Mike Mignola, John Arcudi, Tonci Zonjic, Dave Stewart and Scott Allie. Lobster Johnson and his team must protect a journalist; gangsters have recruited supernatural assistance. Terrific art and a great story. ****

Lobster Johnson, Vol. 3: Satan Smells a Rat (Dark Horse Books) by Mike Mignola, Tonci Zonjic and Scott Allie. A collection of smashing short stories with Lobster Johnson battling supernatural spies, gangsters and gods in the thirties. I love that his in-fight banter is simply a series of curt ejaculations. ****

Atomic Robo, Vol. 2: The Dogs of War – reviewed by Stephen Theaker

Created by Nikola Tesla, Atomic Robo is a stout robot with big, expressive eyes who seems to have spent the twentieth century fighting evil and having adventures. There are similarities with Hellboy – his dry sass, the art style, his strength and toughness – and in some ways the comic does for science and adventure stories what the Hellboy comic does for supernatural tales and the weird. Unlike Hellboy, Atomic Robo wears trousers and shirts, which may seem a silly thing to note, but there’s no doubt that it’s part of the character’s appeal: it is visually intriguing to see a robot wearing clothes.

Twisthorn Bellow by Rhys Hughes

As its subtitle explains, Twisthorn Bellow concerns itself with "the unusual escapades of a self-exploding golem with a twisted horn and attitude somewhere on the astral plane and also on foot right here". Hopefully that's clear! He's a powerful golem created to protect England and annihilate evil. The book's dedicated in part to the memory of Philip José Farmer, and though there aren't many stylistic echoes here of his work, it's easy to see why Farmer would attract Hughes' admiration. Both writers delight in high concepts, intertextuality, puns, and following nutty ideas right through to the end.

In this book the idea is a Doom Patrol or B.P.R.D. devoted to the promotion of British interests, assembled by Shylock Cherlomsky, a madman with an obsessive hatred of the French. It's at its best when the monster squad gets out and about – early episodes take place largely within the base, giving the book a more claustrophobic feel than is usual for Rhys Hughes' work. The action scenes, though sketched with a raised eyebrow, are vivid and dynamic, Twisthorn's kpinga and its "madly sprouting blades" being put to devastating use on all manner of ne'er-do-wells, including "ghouls, banshees, centaurs, abominable snowmen, warlocks, mandrakes, perytons, lamias, musicians, elves, harpies, robots, moths and sundry French things".

It's not quite as commercial as I expected – it's not at all a book where Hughes has reined himself in or tried to conform to the expectations of a wider readership – and I'm not entirely sure why that disappointed me, since I enjoyed the book all the same. This is good monster fun, with some surprising cameos, including Philip José Farmer himself and a big red fellow who has no time for Twisthorn's nonsense. I read this at about the same time as Maurice Renard's Doctor Lerne, Subgod – the first book I've read that was narrated by a table! – and how funny then to find this book narrated by... well, I won't spoil it. Though I have stood on it.

Twisthorn Bellow, Rhys Hughes. Published by Atomic Fez.

Hellboy, Vol. 1: Seed of Destruction, Mike Mignola and John Byrne

When looking at a collaboration between two creators whose work you know individually, it’s easy to jump to the wrong conclusions about who contributed what. With AI, for example, lots of people said they hated the Spielberg bits and loved the Kubrick bits, without really knowing which was which.

I don’t want to make that mistake reviewing this Hellboy book. Certainly, it seems much more like a traditional super-hero comic than later volumes, especially in the first half of the story, and it’s tempting to put that down to John Byrne’s scripting. But I’ll resist that temptation: I think it’s more that these four issues see Mignola himself finding his own voice after leaving Marvel and DC, his own style of storytelling.

I loved the artwork. Though Mignola’s work is very stylised, and can from time to time be a little confusing, it’s very beautiful, and suits the subject matter perfectly. I always enjoy the fact that Hellboy is asymmetrical; however nice this demon is, you should always feel a little bit uneasy about him.

The story here is a straightforward pastiche of Lovecraft, but that’s not a bad thing when it’s done so well. It’s very different from the first movie, sharing only the bare bones of the plot, so don’t be tempted to pass it over for that reason. It’s not one of those books where, once you’ve seen the film, reading the book feels like going through the motions.

Hellboy, Vol. 1: Seed of Destruction, Mike Mignola and John Byrne, Dark Horse, tpb, 128pp.